Companions (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Peter Darman

Gallia walked up and embraced him. ‘Praise the gods that you are safe, Domitus.’

  He gave her a weak smile and turned when he heard giggling, to see Surena, resplendent in his bronze scale armour and red tunic, embracing Viper. Normally such a display of affection would attract whistles and whoops from the soldiers, but they just stared at the couple with listless expressions.

  ‘He always comes up smelling of roses,’ was the only comment Domitus made.

  As far as I could tell he was unhurt, though several of the metal discs that adorned his mail armour had been knocked off and his helmet’s crest was all but gone. I also noticed that the leather facing on his shield was badly torn. For a while he said nothing as he looked up and down at his spent legionaries resting, some drinking from water bottles, others apparently asleep. At length he straightened his back and gave a loud sigh.

  ‘Those soldiers from Charax were well armoured and trained,’ he told me. ‘Each man wore a bronze helmet that covered his head, carried a shield that protected the area from the shoulders down to the thigh and wore greaves that shielded the area from the knees to the feet.’

  He raised his cane and pointed the tip at my neck. ‘But they had a weak spot, the exposed neck area, which we could stab at. I thank Mars for our javelins, though, for without them we would have been hard pressed.’

  ‘We had an easier time on the flanks against the warriors of Sakastan,’ I said.

  Domitus let his cane drop. ‘Surena,’ he bellowed. ‘Get your arse over here.’

  Surena kissed Viper once more and ran over, his bronze armoured cuirass shimmering in the sunlight that was roasting horses and men and adding to the thirst that gripped our soldiers.

  Surena grinned. ‘Yes, general?’

  ‘Where is Nergal?’

  ‘Out of the city,’ said Surena, who grinned triumphantly at Gallia.

  ‘Why?’ snapped Domitus.

  ‘Because he heard that an enemy army had sailed up the Tigris,’ said Surena. ‘He got that news from the Ma’adan. It was obviously a ruse to lure him and the army away from the city.’

  ‘Obviously,’ said Domitus irritably. ‘So who is in charge until he returns?’

  Surena drew himself up and stood rigidly to attention. ‘I am, general.’

  I was surprised. ‘You, Surena?’

  He grinned again, which did nothing to improve Domitus’ mood. ‘Yes, lord. The garrison commander was killed when the enemy first attacked so I took over.’

  He pointed at his phalanx of Ma’adan. ‘We held the enemy at the canal with the help of the garrison.’

  ‘Well, then, commander,’ said Domitus firmly, ‘my men need water and carts to transport the wounded inside the city so they can be treated.’

  Surena pointed towards the canal. ‘There is plenty of water in the canal, general.’

  Domitus glared at him. ‘It’s full of dead, bleeding bodies, boy.’

  ‘General Domitus is right, Surena,’ I interrupted, keen to prevent any potential violence between the two. ‘We badly need medicines, water and transport.’

  Surena saluted and ran back to his men.

  ‘If it wasn’t for Viper I would banish that arrogant young puppy,’ sneered Gallia.

  Like Domitus she had never taken to Surena, my former squire who was now a member of Dura’s cataphracts. But he was a brave, resourceful young man who had a quick mind. And he was a born leader, a man others followed because he had absolute faith in his own abilities and overflowed with confidence. My wife and the commander of my army believed it was arrogance, nothing more, but I knew Surena had the potential to be a great warlord.

  He was also a good officer. He despatched runners to the city to order that Uruk’s northern gates be opened and supplies and carts be sent to the army that had saved the city. A grateful populace also arrived with the transports carrying water and beer for the victors, though Domitus prohibited his men drinking any alcohol. To fill a dehydrated and exhausted body with beer would invite delirium and unconsciousness. I stayed on the field of battle until the last of the wounded had been evacuated on carts and the sun at last began to drop on the western horizon. It was a huge, blood-red ball that provided a fitting epitaph to this costly day. Domitus handed me a full water skin and I drank from it greedily. My arms and legs ached and I had a headache but at least the fearsome heat was abating.

  ‘I shan’t be sorry to see the end of this day,’ remarked Domitus, looking at the many dead bodies that were being collected for cremation after soldiers of the garrison and impressed labourers had stripped them of anything useful. Our own dead – a hundred legionaries and a hundred and fifty horse archers – had been loaded on carts for cremation inside the city in the presence of the populace in a religious ceremony that would take place at midnight. The wounded amounted to over a hundred legionaries and eighty horse archers, all of whom I hoped would see the new dawn.

  ‘We should get some food in our bellies,’ I said, ‘otherwise we will be fainting by the time the ceremony begins.’

  ‘We should burn our dead here, where they fell,’ growled Domitus. ‘And observed by their comrades, not by ogling civilians.’

  ‘They will not be ogling, they will be paying their respects and praying for their souls,’ sounded a deep voice behind us.

  We both turned to see Rahim, High Priest to Anu, standing with his hands folded across his broad chest. Completely bald, he towered over Domitus by at least six inches. Dressed in a long-sleeved white robe edged with gold, his dark brown eyes stared at my general, unblinking, daring him to challenge the chief representative of the Sky God on earth.

  Domitus nodded at the corpses of the enemy. ‘What about them? Are you going to pay homage to them as well, priest?’

  Rahim raised an eyebrow, or at least the skin above his left eye moved because his eyebrows had been shaved.

  ‘Their souls are doomed. We will burn their bodies to prevent the spread of pestilence.’

  His demeanour suddenly changed as he looked at me and let his arms drop to his sides.

  ‘Hail, King Pacorus. You answered Anu’s call and I thank you.’

  ‘You have his sorceress to thank for him being here, priest,’ sniffed Domitus.

  Rahim regarded Domitus for a moment. ‘Lucius Domitus. The king and queen have told me much about you. About how you were a condemned criminal that King Pacorus rescued from a living death, of how you fought for the slave general and then travelled back to Parthia to become the sword of Dura.’

  Domitus smiled, the first time he had done so this dreadful day.

  ‘You honour me.’

  The rays of the descending sun glinted off Rahim’s gold earrings as he nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘It is said in many of the empire’s palaces and temples, Roman, that you are Namtar, the demon of death, sent by the gods to do the bidding of King Pacorus. Looking around I can see that the gossip has credence.’

  Domitus tilted his head at the priest. ‘You honour me again.’

  ‘But you are wrong about the king’s sorceress, Roman. Who do you think was responsible for sending the message to her? It was Anu, father of all the gods.’

  He raised his shaved eyebrow again. ‘And of evil spirits and demons, including you, Roman.’

  Domitus slapped me hard on the shoulder. ‘This is my lord on earth, and Mars is my lord above.’

  Rahim frowned. ‘Mars?’

  ‘The Roman god of war,’ replied Domitus.

  ‘Your gods have no power in this land,’ said Rahim loudly.

  ‘Well I am not a god,’ I said, ‘and urgently require refreshment and a wash if I am to attend tonight’s ceremony.’

  I led Domitus away by the arm as Rahim strode off to supervise the cremation of the enemy dead.

  ‘There is no point in annoying him, Domitus. He holds great sway in the city.’

  ‘Priests,’ spat Domitus disparagingly. ‘They’re all the same. Arrogant, sanctimonious and a waste of a good skin. Still, I like t
he name they have given me.’

  ‘It is not a compliment, Domitus.’

  He winked at me. ‘Course it is.’

  Domitus may have had a low opinion of priests but even he appreciated the cremation ceremony that evening. He stood with Gallia and me in the compound of the White Temple, the great ziggurat that was the earthly home of Anu. The city’s population had been recruited to build the funeral pyres before the night came, thousands of people bringing felled trees from the huge Royal Orchard that was adjacent to the palace to create a great mound of wood. The ziggurat was built of mud-bricks but was faced with white stone illuminated by dozens of torches positioned along the ramps leading to its summit – the residence of Anu. As such only the high priest, his senior priests and the king and queen were allowed access to its sacred interior.

  The legionaries and horse archers stood to attention around the funeral pyre, the latter without their horses, which were resting in the royal stables. Also in the compound were arrayed Surena’s Ma’adan, resplendent in their bronze armour and helmets. Members of the garrison ringed the massive stone platform of the White Temple, like the Ma’adan wearing bronze armour and helmets and carrying shields sporting a black viper motif. Clearly Nergal had not had time to choose his own insignia to replace that of Chosroes.

  Byrd and Malik were also standing with us at the foot of the stone steps that led to the first of the ziggurat’s five receding tiers. Byrd’s scouts, though, had absented themselves with their commander’s permission. The Amazons stood with the horse archers, five of their number wrapped in white sheets on the pyre after being slain in the battle. Some of the populace had been allowed into the White Temple’s compound, which was surrounded by a white stone wall, mostly the most influential and prosperous merchants and officials and their wives. The rest were kept outside. Nevertheless, thousands of citizens ringed the temple’s compound, grateful that their city had been saved from being plundered and that they had been saved from slavery or death.

  Gallia looked tired and upset at having lost five of her bodyguard, the price of charging headlong into the enemy, though I did not tell her that. As midnight approached Rahim’s white-robed, shaven-headed priests began chanting, a tedious dirge that only added to my headache that was stubbornly refusing to ease. A dozen of them led bulls by their ring noses to the funeral pyre, though only so they could watch the cremation and not for sacrificial reasons.

  ‘I hope they are docile,’ Domitus whispered to me, ‘otherwise they will stampede when the fire is lit.’

  ‘They are probably drugged,’ I told him.

  ‘Might as well slit their throats, then,’ said the general loudly, causing a priest holding a bull nearest to us to turn and glare at him.

  ‘Bulls are the symbol of Nanna, the Moon God, Domitus,’ I informed him. ‘As such these beasts are sacred and may not be harmed.’

  He was going to say something in reply but was stopped from doing so by the booming voice of Rahim, standing at the top of the steps.

  ‘Great Nanna, brother of Nergal and father of Shamash, deliver the souls of these brave men to heaven that Anu may welcome them into His domain.’

  ‘He forgets that Amazons also lost their lives,’ hissed Gallia. I held her hand to comfort her.

  Rahim nodded to half a dozen of his priests who walked forward carrying torches and set light to the pyre. The latter had been liberally doused with oil to ensure the newly cut wood burned quickly. Within minutes yellow flames were flaring, illuminating the faces of hundreds of legionaries and horse archers drawn up in their ranks, each one no doubt thinking that but for the grace of the gods it could be their bodies being consumed by fire.

  Rahim’s voice boomed again, though this time it had competition from the roaring flames.

  ‘Great Anu, master of men, founder of dynasties, the drop of rain on the branch, the king of all things, we give thanks that You are our security.

  Hail Anu!’

  The citizens and priests answered with their own acclamation of the Sky God and then Rahim raised his arms to still them as the flames began to consume the bodies of the fallen and the heat warmed our faces.

  ‘Anu maketh fear in all things,’ shouted Rahim. ‘He is the clay which is the flesh of all existence. He is the pointing hand and the hand outstretched for mercy. He is the teacher of all. From Him all the oceans of the world gain their power. From Him all is both growth and decay. He is the eye that perceives and the mouth that names. He is the cause of all, the beginning of creation. By Him all things reproduce themselves. He is the cycle of all and the signs therein. He is one; there is no other beside Him.

  ‘Great Anu, we thank you for sending King Pacorus and his army to Your city in its hour of need.’

  Rahim halted his speech to allow polite applause to ripple through the crowd, while the Durans and Exiles rapped the shafts of their javelins against the backs of their shields. When the commotion had died down Rahim spoke again as the pyre became an angry fireball.

  ‘Great Anu, we also give thanks for Your wisdom in sending us Surena, a man of the Ma’adan.’

  Great applause and cheering came from the crowd at the mention of Surena’s name. I looked at Gallia and smiled but she just rolled her eyes.

  ‘Such is Your wisdom, Anu,’ continued Rahim, ‘that you fashioned a saviour from a people that were once Uruk’s enemies, and in doing so have united the people of Mesene and the Ma’adan of the marshlands into one tribe, united behind King Nergal and Queen Allatu. Hail Anu!’

  The crowd began chanting ‘hail Anu’ as Domitus leaned towards me.

  ‘I told you Surena always comes up smelling of roses.’

  The next day, as the wounded were treated, horses groomed and examined for any wounds, Domitus sat with his officers in one of the palace’s offices and made a list of those who had been killed, wounded or had distinguished themselves in battle. The latter was always of intense interest among the different branches of the army, not least because of the rivalry between the Durans and Exiles and horse archers and cataphracts. However, though Domitus always reported to me with pride the names of those who had displayed heroism above and beyond the call of duty, he was even prouder when he reported that there were no instances of cowardice.

  ‘It proves that hard training pays dividends in battle,’ he always used to tell me. ‘If every drill and trumpet call is second nature to a soldier, so familiar that he can do it in his sleep, and he has faith in his commanders and equipment, then the battle is already half won. But do you know what is the cement that holds men together in the furnace of combat?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Loyalty.’

  ‘To me?’ I enquired.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he scoffed. ‘Loyalty to the men standing next to him and behind him. Men fight and die for their friends, not for kings or consuls.’

  The death of the garrison commander during the siege had de facto made Rahim the governor of the city in Nergal’s absence. It was a role he slipped into easily enough. He was, after all, the spiritual leader of the kingdom and so assuming secular power was a natural step. But it was only for a day because Nergal and Praxima returned to Uruk with a small escort on the second morning following the cremation of the fallen.

  The first we knew of their arrival was when a panting soldier arrived at the palace from the city’s eastern gates with news that the king and queen were approaching. Surena ordered the garrison to immediately stand to arms and parade on the square in front of the palace, and issued the same order to his Ma’adan. Gallia left us to assemble the Amazons while Domitus suggested that an honour guard from the Durans and Exiles should also greet their arrival. I agreed and walked with him to the barracks where my men were quartered. It was fortunate that because Chosroes was a tyrant he had recruited many guards to ensure his safety, which were housed in barracks in the expansive palace compound in the northeast of the city, adjacent to the Royal Orchard where Chosroes had hunted. The soldiers that Ner
gal had left behind to guard the city had comprised four hundred of Surena’s Ma’adan and five hundred spearmen and archers of the garrison.

  Rahim and fifty of his priests arrived sweating and panting at the palace moments before Nergal and Praxima rode through its entrance. They rushed to the top of the steps where I waited with Domitus, Gallia, Byrd and Malik. On one side of the square stood two centuries of Durans and the same number of Exiles, alongside them fifty of my horse soldiers and the Amazons. Opposite stood Surena in front of his Ma’adan and two hundred men of the garrison. There was absolute silence when the returning rulers trotted through the gates of their palace. The garrison’s signallers blew their horns and the Durans and Exiles their trumpets as Nergal and Praxima vaulted from their saddles and bounded up the steps. Ignoring all protocol they embraced Gallia and me and then Domitus, Byrd and Malik.

  Rahim’s eyes widened in shock as he beheld me and my friends touching the king and queen’s semi-divine bodies. Rahim knew that Nergal and Praxima were not gods but he and everyone else who lived in the kingdom believed that they had been sent by Anu to rule over them. The ancient tablets held in the shrine at the summit of the ziggurat told of the arrival of Nergal and Allatu at Uruk, showing the former to be a man with the legs of a cock and the latter having the head of a lion. The fact that Nergal had long, gangly legs and Praxima red hair was confirmation that they were indeed sent by Anu. That and the fact that the tablets also foretold Nergal arriving at the city at the head of an army, which he had done as the commander of my horsemen.

  Rahim’s priests fell to their knees and placed their foreheads on the stone tiles as the high priest bowed his head.

  Gallia had tears in her eyes as she held Praxima. It had been my idea to make her and Nergal rulers of Uruk but I often had pangs of guilt about doing so. Gallia and Praxima had forged a close friendship in Italy and both had survived the slave revolt to make their home at Dura. When I had stormed Uruk and installed her and Nergal on its throne I had also deprived my wife the company of one of her closest friends, the other being Diana. Now both lived far from Dura.