by Peter Darman
‘They have horsemen,’ he agreed, ‘but they are only used after the legions have broken the enemy, that and for scouting.’
He pulled his cane from his belt and was about to beat his mare on the hip.
‘Don’t use your cane on your horse,’ I ordered him. ‘A horse is directed by weight distribution, leg pressure, verbal commands and the bit in his mouth, or her mouth in your horse’s case.’
‘I’m amazed you can remember all that in battle,’ he said.
‘It comes naturally after a while,’ I said. ‘If you spent more time in the saddle you would soon get used to riding.’
‘You can forget that,’ he insisted. ‘As soon as we get back to Dura my feet will be moving me around.’
To spare our bodies from the worst of the heat we wore large white cotton cloaks from our shoulders that also covered the hips of our horses. Our helmets dangled from our saddle horns and we wore broad-brimmed floppy hats on our heads. The horses also wore ‘hats’ to shield their heads from the sun.
When Byrd and Malik returned in the company of Yasser, Domitus’ ‘wounds’ were treated by an aged healer who smeared myrrh on the general’s rump to treat his blisters. That night Yasser entertained us in his large goatskin tent. We sat cross-legged in a circle on the floor as his men brought thin metal platters heaped with rice and roast goat. We ate with our fingers, the hulking figure of Yasser sitting next to Gallia, milk dripping on his thick black beard as he drank and laughed with my wife.
‘I will ride to Uruk and lend King Nergal some of my warriors,’ Yasser promised me. ‘Your wife has been telling me about your recent victory. Your fellow king will be wishing to exact revenge for the invasion of his kingdom.’
Yasser was not concerned about the politics of the empire or the safety of Mesene, but as an Agraci raiding and plunder was in his blood and he sniffed an opportunity to lead his warriors on an expedition of slaughter. I often thought that the peace between Dura and Haytham brought nothing for the Agraci to do save provide protection for the trade caravans that criss-crossed their land.
‘I’m sure King Nergal will welcome any reinforcements,’ I replied.
He pushed a mouthful of rice into his mouth. ‘And you, lion of Parthia, will you take your army east to kill Mithridates?’
How I would have liked to answer yes to that question but I had no appetite to plunge the empire into another civil war.
‘Mithridates will answer for his crimes,’ I answered evasively.
We left Yasser to his thoughts of rape and plunder and continued our journey north, finally reaching the southern boundary of my kingdom on the fifth day. There were no settlements this far south of Dura but the mass of date palms growing near the river was testimony to a time before the Agraci when the city’s rulers had cultivated the land dozens of miles south of the city. There still stood the remains of villages, mostly derelict mud-brick walls that had once been villagers’ huts. We stayed in one such abandoned settlement on the evening of the fifth day, dozens of flickering campfires ringing the mud-brick remains where the horse archers were cooking their evening meals. Nergal had given us a hundred camels that carried our tents, food, supplies and fodder. We had also half-emptied his armouries of arrows, which I had promised to replace as soon as I reached Dura.
‘It’s good to be home,’ remarked Domitus, sitting with his back against the remains of a wall, the flames illuminating his chiselled features.
I looked around at the miserable remains of the village.
‘Hardly the most luxurious of Dura’s settlements.’
‘In time the farmers will return,’ said Byrd.
‘That is my aim, Byrd,’ I replied. I nodded at Malik. ‘Now we have peace on Dura’s southern and western borders my intention is to bring the people back to these parts.’
‘Pacorus the farmer. I can’t see it,’ opined Domitus. He nodded at the meat cooking on thin spikes over the fire.
‘I hope you are not trying to poison us, Malik.’
The Agraci prince flashed a smile. ‘The problem with you, Domitus, is that you see the desert as your enemy.’
‘That’s because it’s full of poisonous snakes, scorpions and spiders,’ he replied. ‘Like those you are cooking. Make sure you don’t give me any meat with poison in it. I’ve suffered enough on this trip.’
Gallia shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t have thought a few blisters would bother a man who has fought in so many battles.’
Domitus watched Malik turning the bits of meat over the fire. ‘Battles are easy affairs and don’t last that long, not like the hours of misery my backside has had to endure over the past few days.’
‘The myrrh did not help?’ grinned Malik.
‘It helped,’ conceded Domitus, ‘though I will probably have a scar. What is it?’
Malik held up one of the spits. ‘This? Lebetine viper. Very tasty.’
He replaced the sizzling meat over the fire.
‘As I said, Domitus, you see the desert as your enemy but the Agraci view it as their friend. Take these snakes, for example. If one bites you then you will most likely die.’
He removed one of the spits and passed it to me.
‘But if you catch one, skin it and cook it over a fire then it will feed you. And the venom is in their fangs, which are in the head, which we cut off. So you see, Domitus, it is quite safe to eat.’
He also handed spits to Gallia and Byrd before holding one out to my general. The meat was chewy but had a pleasant taste and was very filling.
‘Not bad,’ conceded Domitus.
The next day Malik, Byrd and the scouts rode north ahead of the main column to alert the soldiers of the nearest garrison of our approach. This would be a small mud-brick fort, one of fifty that I had established north and south of Dura – twenty-five to the north and the same number to the south – positioned a short distance from the Euphrates. Each one was enclosed by walls, ringed by a wide ditch and had a small barracks for forty men – half a century – plus stables for four horses. They were positioned at five-mile intervals to give Dura ample warning of the approach of any enemy threat.
When we arrived at the fort we found that the garrison arrayed on parade in front of the stronghold. Domitus’ mood improved enormously as he inspected the two score of legionaries and their commander. He found nothing out of order. Following the inspection the commander, a fresh-faced man in his early twenties, invited Domitus, Gallia and myself to take refreshments in his headquarters, in truth nothing more than an office containing a desk, pigeon holes along one wall that contained scrolls, wooden shutters either side of the door that opened out on to the courtyard and half a dozen stools arranged along one wall.
Gallia preferred to stay with the Amazons but I wanted to send a message to Godarz via courier pigeon that we would be arriving back at Dura in two days. So while I sat at the table and scribbled a note to my governor, Domitus shared a cup of wine with the youthful commander.
‘Do you see anything down here?’ he asked.
The commander shook his head. ‘Occasionally a group of Agraci will visit us, but otherwise no, general. Very quiet.’
Domitus took a swig of the wine. ‘Good, long may it continue to be so.’
He told his subordinate about the battle at Uruk, the defeat of the enemy and about the two thousand legionaries that had been left with Nergal in case there was another attack against Mesene.
‘When are we marching against Mithridates, general?’ he asked. ‘Or are we going to let him march against us so we can defeat him on our own soil.’
I stopped writing and looked up at him.
‘What do your men say of Mithridates?’
He was slightly taken aback. ‘Forgive me, majesty, I did not mean to speak out of turn.’
‘You didn’t,’ I told him. ‘But answer the question.’
He glanced at Domitus who nodded.
‘The men say that Mithridates and Narses are cowards who deserve to die and that Dura�
�s army is the instrument to carry out the sentence.’
‘And what do you say?’ I probed.
He looked my directly in the eye. ‘I agree with my men.’
I handed him the small note. ‘See that this is sent on to Dura’s governor.’
He took it, saluted and barked to a guard outside to enter. He held out the note.
‘This is to be sent to Dura, see to it.’
The legionary took the note, saluted and left. It would be rolled up, placed in a small container that would be fixed to the leg of a courier pigeon, which would fly to the next fort where it would be read and sent on to the next fort and so on until it reached Dura. It would be on Godarz’s desk before the end of the day. I rose, walked over to the earthenware jug and poured myself a cup of wine. It had a bitter taste.
‘Where are you from?’ I asked him.
‘Gordyene, majesty.’
‘King Balas’ kingdom,’ I said. ‘You are a long way from home.’
‘Dura is my home,’ he said firmly. Domitus smiled approvingly.
‘When did you leave Gordyene?’ I asked.
‘After my father was killed at Tigranocerta, majesty.’
Balas had allied himself with the king of Armenia, Tigranes, a great warlord, when the Romans had invaded Armenia. But a Roman general named Licinius Lucullus had fought their combined army at a place called Tigranocerta. It was said that the army of Tigranes and Balas numbered over one hundred thousand men, but it had been no match for Roman tactics or discipline and at the end of the battle Balas was dead and Tigranes defeated.
‘Does your family still live in Gordyene?’
‘No, majesty,’ he answered. ‘My mother and sister live in Dura. We crossed the border and went to the city of Nisibus where Lord Vata is governor. After resting there a few days, where Lord Vata provided food and tents for all the refugees from Gordyene, I heard that the Kingdom of Dura was recruiting soldiers for its army. So we continued on south to Hatra and then Dura.’
‘You and your mother and sister walked all the way from Gordyene?’ I asked.
I knew that many men had made the long journey south following the occupation of Gordyene by the Romans but I had heard of no women making the journey on foot.
‘Yes, majesty,’ he declared proudly.
I finished the wine and placed the empty cup on the table.
‘The next time you are in Dura, commander, please convey my gratitude and compliments to the womenfolk of your family.’
The rest of the stay involved myself and Domitus inspecting the fort’s barracks, small hospital, granary, workshop and stables. We ended the tour by scaling the ladder that led to the top of the watchtower where a lookout could observe the surrounding terrain for miles around. I told him he was relieved until we came down. He saluted and left us.
We stood in silence for a few minutes, taking in the view: the blue waters of the Euphrates to the east, groves of date palms adjacent to the river to the north and unending desert to the west.
‘Imagine that,’ I said at length. ‘Walking for hundreds of miles to get here, and with two women in tow.’
‘It’s like I told you. This army contains soldiers who have steel in their veins. That’s why it is so respected and feared.’
I turned my face away from the harsh land of sand and rock.
‘Which is more preferable, Domitus, to be respected or feared?’
‘To be feared,’ he replied instantly. ‘If an enemy fears you then the battle is already half won.’
‘Do you think Mithridates and Narses fear us?’
He scratched his close-cropped scalp. ‘Definitely. That’s why they attempt to conquer the kingdoms of your friends instead of attacking Dura, and use others to do it. They are like those snakes that Malik killed and roasted. They will only strike when the time is right. Unless you march against them, that is.’
‘It is too risky.’
He gave me a sly glance. ‘We could cross the Euphrates, march across your father’s and Vardan’s territory and strike at Ctesiphon before Mithridates has time to muster an army. Kill him and that devil of a mother of his and half of your troubles will be over. You know how dilapidated Ctesiphon’s defences are.’
‘You want me to violate the territorial integrity of Hatra and Babylon, attack Ctesiphon and kill the high king?’ I said.
He grinned wickedly. ‘Glad to see all that royal education you had as a boy wasn’t wasted.’
‘I’m Parthian, Domitus, not Roman.’
But I knew that he was right about one thing: Mithridates and Narses would continue to attack my family and allies. His idea was tempting and I had openly declared my hatred and contempt for Mithridates for killing his own father. I had no proof except the assurances of Dobbai that it was so. But if I too killed a high king then I would be no better than Mithridates. And that I could not live with.
The rest of the journey consisted of visiting each fort along our route with Domitus inspecting its garrison. It was a pleasant enough pastime and each commander took great pride in showing off his men and their pristine quarters. Gallia dazzled them with her smile and gracious attitude and as we neared Dura itself we began to come across newly established villages whose farmers were working the land. The garrisons of the forts had assisted in digging the canals that fed the farmers’ fields, with the result that between every village and the Euphrates there sprang up intricate irrigation systems. The villagers worked long hours in the fields under a merciless sun that turned their arms and legs dark brown. Their main crops were barley and millet, but they also grew onions, radishes, garlic, leeks, turnips, flax and lettuce. The treasury had supplied each new village with seeds for the crops as well as a small number of sheep, goats and cows, which had been assigned to the headman. In return each settlement was expected to submit a yearly quota of flax, wool and grain. The trade caravans paid for the army’s horses, weapons and armour but it was the farmers who filled the bellies of my soldiers and provide them with the material for their uniforms. They and the kingdom were prospering and it was a happy state of affairs.
But the next day a very unhappy Orodes presented himself.
He arrived at the head of a hundred of his bodyguard: cataphracts attired in scale armour and helmets, though minus tubular steel armour on their arms or legs. Their horses were not wearing scale armour but instead beautiful large red saddlecloths and on their heads had burnished steel armour that glinted in the sun. Each horseman carried a kontus and was also armed with a sword, mace, dagger and axe. Behind Orodes a standard bearer carried the banner of the prince’s native land, Susiana: a great red flag showing an eagle with a snake in its talons. His men wore bright red tunics beneath their armour, white leggings and brown leather boots. The overlapping scales fixed to the thick hide they wore over their tunics were steel and shimmered in the sun like fish scales. They were a magnificent sight.
Orodes was in the company of Malik and Byrd, who as usual had ridden ahead of our column with the scouts, though only to relieve their boredom as we were now close to Dura and there was no danger of being surprised by an enemy.
I halted the column as Orodes rode up and raised his hand to me.
‘Hail, Pacorus. My congratulations on your victory.’ He bowed his head formally to Gallia.
‘Lady.’
I looked at Domitus, both of us realising that there was something wrong with the usually affable prince of Susiana.
‘What is troubling you, Orodes?’ I asked.
He said nothing for a few seconds as Gallia smiled kindly at him. But then he took a deep breath and exhaled.
‘I was left in command of Dura’s army, Pacorus, a matter of great responsibility when war may break out in the empire at any time.’
‘I would trust no other man to safeguard my city and kingdom, my friend,’ I said.
His eyes still blazed with anger. ‘I know that. And you know that I would gladly lay down my life for you and your family without a moment’s
hesitation.’
Domitus shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. ‘Is there any point to this?’
I held up a hand to him. ‘What is troubling you, Orodes?’ I asked again.
‘I cannot have my authority undermined, Pacorus,’ said Orodes firmly. ‘I may be an exiled prince with no lands or money but I still have my honour.’
‘You have more than that, lord prince,’ said Gallia softly, who was concerned that Orodes was in a state of distress. ‘You have the love and loyalty of your friends who will never abandon you.’
Orodes smiled at her but then fixed me with a determined stare as I racked my brain trying to think who had undermined him. Godarz? I dismissed the idea. For one thing they were friends and my governor would never interfere in the day-to-day running of the army. Rsan? It was inconceivable. My treasurer was loyal and conscientious but would never challenge a prince of the empire, even less the son of the late High King Phraates.
‘Your sorceress,’ said Orodes.
‘Dobbai?’
‘She has sent two companies of horse archers to the Syrian border,’ said Orodes through gritted teeth. ‘Two hundred horsemen despatched without my knowledge or authority. It makes me a laughing stock, Pacorus. It is intolerable.’
He was right and I was angry. But why would she do such a thing? Domitus was also not amused.
‘She risks starting a war with the Romans,’ he said. ‘In which direction did the horse archers go?’
‘West to Palmyra,’ said Orodes.
‘Malik,’ I said, ‘I would ask you to ride to your father’s capital immediately and try to find out what has happened to two hundred of my men.’
Malik raised his hand and wheeled his horse away.
‘I go to,’ stated Byrd as he tugged on his horse’s reins and followed his friend.
The calm, relaxed atmosphere that had hung over the column changed to anxiety and haste as we rode hard for Dura. Orodes was on my left and my wife on my right as the scouts followed Byrd west into the desert and Orodes’ bodyguard rode in column formation beside the Amazons.
‘When did the horse archers leave Dura?’ I asked.