by Peter Darman
‘Only Roman merchants in Trapezus, majesty, welcomed by King Pharnaces, their new friend.’
It took us ten days to reach Trapezus, a fortified city nestling at the base of the foothills of the Pontic Mountains. Greek settlers had established the city over six hundred years before but now it was wholly Pontic, lion banners hanging from port offices and from the towers of the fort. In the airless humidity they hung limply from their flagpoles, a poignant symbol of how a once great kingdom had been emasculated by the Romans. With the money provided by Akrosas we were able to purchase horses, tents, food and fodder for our onward journey south. Once more we donned flowing robes and headdresses to disguise our faces, not that I expected our identities to be discovered.
We left Trapezus the day after we had landed in the city. I thanked Captain Hestiodorus and wished him fair winds on his voyage back to Histria. I wondered how long it would be before Roman merchants and officials would be resident in that city. The power of Rome seemed like a great shadow that was spreading remorselessly over the known world. It was the first time that Hippo had ridden a horse and she was distinctly nervous as she tried to wrap her shapely thighs around the saddle’s horns, having exchanged her dress for a pair of leggings that clung to her legs in the humidity and raised the morale of the male members of our party. Not that we needed cheering. We were going home and as soon as Hippo, flanked by Cleon and Gallia, had become accustomed to sitting on the back of her mature grey mare, we commenced our journey south through the great passes of the Pontic Mountains. Our destination was Zeugma, the former Parthian kingdom that was now also a client of Rome, ruled by the decrepit King Darius, who I had once met when I had been a headstrong prince of Hatra.
We rode through dense hazelnut forests, the trees extending up into the mist-wreathed mountains. At night we camped by the side of gushing rivers, streams and crystal-clear lakes. The mournful howling of wolves could be heard outside our tents every night and occasionally a brown bear would approach our camp in search of food, to be driven off by whoever was standing guard. There were many travellers on the road as we headed south, like us making camp on the outskirts of the cities we journeyed through – Satala, Melitene and Samosata – before reaching Zeugma.
The humidity had disappeared when we reached Darius’ capital but it was still hot, the lush landscape of Pontus being replaced by arid desert as we crossed into Roman Syria and headed southeast towards Dura. We were going home.
Chapter 17
Four months to the day after leaving my kingdom we trotted by the spot where Pompey and I had agreed the boundaries of Dura and Syria, a kontus and gladius arranged side by side on top of a stone obelisk. Surena, Drenis and Arminius gave a cheer as we passed the marker, Domitus reaching over and shaking my hand as we rode past it. There were no other riders on the road as we continued on into the Kingdom of Dura, the blue waters of the mighty Euphrates on our left flank. I began to think of Claudia and seeing my old friends when I heard Domitus’ voice.
‘A reception party.’
His eyes were keener than mine as I stared into the shimmering heat haze. But then I spotted them: riders approaching at some speed.
I turned to the others behind me. ‘Some of my horse archers.’
There were nine of them, all dressed in white tunics and riding well-groomed horses that shone in the sun. My chest filled with pride as I watched them approach, three flanking left, three flanking right as the others slowed their horses in front of us. Our party of ten must have appeared suspicious to the young, confident junior officer who commanded the horse archers, our robes caked in dust and our faces and heads covered.
He raised his hand to us. ‘Halt!’
The two riders behind him rode their mounts up to his side as those on our flanks nocked arrows in their bowstrings and turned their horses to face us.
‘No sudden movements,’ I said to the others.
The officer looked at me and then at my companions.
‘Wise words. State your business.’
‘We are travelling to the city of Dura.’
He leaned forward in his saddle. ‘I asked what was your business, not your destination.’
‘Are not travellers welcome in the Kingdom of Dura?’
‘I have my orders to intercept any suspicious-looking parties,’ he said curtly, ‘especially those coming from Syria. Very few traders come from Syria, much less parties of armed horsemen with no goods.’
‘Are we at war with the Romans?’ I asked, concerned.
The officer looked at his subordinates and laughed. ‘We? What would a shabby looking individual like you know of the affairs of the Kingdom of Dura?’
His smile disappeared as his tone became menacing.
‘Remove your headdresses and identify yourselves.’
The two either side of him nocked arrows and held the bowstrings in their fingers. I was very aware that they could shoot their bows with deadly accuracy in the blink of an eye. I held up my hands and slowly moved them to my shemagh to remove it, announcing after I had done so.
‘I am Pacorus, King of Dura and son of Varaz, King of Hatra.’
I heard Gallia’s voice behind me. ‘And I am Gallia, Queen of Dura.’
The others likewise removed their headdresses, the officer’s eyes widening in alarm as he beheld his king, queen and commander of Dura’s army.
‘Put away your bows,’ he ordered his men before leaping from his horse and going down on one knee before me. His men followed his lead.
‘Forgive me, majesty, I had no idea that you would be visiting these parts.’
‘Get up,’ I told him. ‘What news of Dura?’
He sheepishly regained his saddle as his men put away their bows.
‘Dura, majesty?’
‘What the king means, boy,’ said Domitus gruffly, ‘is the city still standing?’
He looked confused. ‘Dura still stands, general, of course. As long as the griffin guards the city it will never fall.’
He invited us to break our journey at the fort nearest to the border where he was based, but I told him to send a courier pigeon to the city to inform Governor Godarz of our approach and then bade him farewell. Domitus complimented him on his professionalism before he and his men left us. It was a hundred miles from the northern border of my kingdom to Dura so it took us two more days to reach the city, its honey coloured walls glowing in the sun as we approached it on the afternoon of the third day. A permanent dust haze hung over the caravan park to the north of the city walls where dozens of camels, mules and horses of the trade caravans congregated. Other caravans were winding their way slowly west, towards Palmyra, or east, taking them over the pontoon bridge built by an Egyptian engineer. From the square, mud-brick towers of the wall that surrounded the city flew red griffin banners. Gallia came to my side and I reached over to take her hand.
‘It’s good to be home,’ she said, her eyes moist with emotion.
The pungent aroma of the caravan park entered our nostrils before we reached it, the odour of camel and horse dung and men who had not washed for weeks producing a unique smell. Godarz organised a small army of workers to clean the park every day, heaping the dung into wheelbarrows that were taken to the fields to fertilise crops. But such a concentration of animals and filthy men meant that you could always smell the park before you reached it.
As usual there was a great press of people, carts, horses and draught animals around the Palmyrene Gate, but they suddenly parted as a column of riders came from the city.
‘Another reception party,’ observed Domitus. ‘Let’s hope it’s friendlier than the last one.’
They rode two abreast, a hundred cataphracts in full scale armour and wearing full-face helmets, their horses also encased in thick hide and overlapping steel plates. From every kontus flew a pennant with a griffin motif and from every saddle hung an axe and mace. At their head rode a man also attired in gleaming scale armour though his helmet was open faced. And that face was that of my friend Prin
ce Orodes. The horses and their iron-shod hooves kicked up a great cloud of dust as they galloped towards us, civilians scattering out of their way as they approached. No one had taken any notice of our ragged group but they paid attention to the steel-clad soldiers whose approach made the earth shake. They looked magnificent, the sun glinting off whetted kontus points and burnished armour and helmets.
Orodes was wearing a broad smile when he slowed his horse a few paces from mine and drew parallel to me.
‘Hail, King Pacorus, welcome back to your kingdom.’
I extended my arm and we clasped forearms. ‘Greetings, my friend, it is good to see you.’
Gallia drew near him, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, causing him to blush.
‘Welcome back, majesty.’
Gallia sighed. ‘Oh, Orodes, you are so formal.’
He exchanged greetings with Domitus and then began scanning the others in our group.
‘We have all returned, thank Shamash,’ I said, ‘plus others we have collected along the way.’
Under the escort of the cataphracts we rode into the city, all of us drawing our swords and saluting the stone griffin atop the Palmyrene Gate as we passed under it, much to the amusement of Cleon and Hippo. The main street leading to the Citadel was lined with legionaries, Durans on one side and Exiles on the other as we trotted across the flagstones and rode to the gates of the Citadel. There was a sharp blast of trumpets when we rode through the gates, a century of legionaries in front of the headquarters building snapping to attention as we rode into the courtyard. The cataphracts took up position in front of the barracks to the left of the palace. On the other side of the courtyard, near the palace, were arrayed a hundred Amazons in mail armour and helmets. And at the top of the palace steps stood Godarz, Rsan, Dobbai and our beautiful daughter.
Gallia had no time for honour parties or protocol as she vaulted from her saddle and bounded up the steps to scoop up Claudia into her arms, my daughter throwing her arms around her mother and bursting into tears of joy. Waiting stable hands walked forward to take our horses, bowing their heads to me as I dismounted and walked up the steps. I placed my arms around Gallia and Claudia and kissed them both. Domitus slid off his horse’s back and walked over to the legionaries to inspect them.
‘Viper,’ called Gallia, ‘dismount and greet your husband.’
A slim figure in the front rank of the Amazons jumped from a horse and ran over to hurl herself into the arms of her husband, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Her helmet clattered on the flagstones as they kissed each other and the Amazons cheered. I tore myself away from my wife and daughter to face Godarz, who bowed his head.
‘I was getting worried,’ he said.
‘I always return, my old friend,’ I replied.
‘All is well, Lord Rsan?’ I asked.
The treasurer bowed to me. ‘Your kingdom prospers, majesty.’
The stable hands took away our tired mounts as I ordered a palace steward to take Cleon, Hippo and Athineos to rooms in the palace.
‘Which one is the slave that you risked your life, your wife and your kingdom to rescue, son of Hatra?’
I turned to face her. ‘No welcome for me, Dobbai, not even a smile?’
She scowled. ‘Did it turn into a vain mission, son of Hatra, an exercise in vanity like I warned you?’
‘On the contrary,’ I corrected her, ‘I not only found Burebista but freed him.’
She looked at Cleon, Hippo and Athineos being escorted into the palace.
‘I recognise the pirate and the young enchantress is obviously not him, so that leaves the angry looking young man beside her.’
‘We left Burebista in his homeland,’ said Gallia as she lowered Claudia to the ground and walked over to embrace and kiss Dobbai on the cheek. ‘He goes to fight beside his own people against the Romans.’
‘So you rescued him from death in the arena so he could be killed in battle. How thoughtful of you, son of Hatra.’
I was too tired to engage in her word games so ignored her as Orodes dismissed the cataphracts and Gallia gave the orders for the Amazons to stand down. I was about to follow her and Claudia into the palace when I noticed that Domitus was still inspecting the legionaries. I descended the steps and strode across the courtyard.
‘Here you are, general.’
The centurion handed Domitus a vine cane as he walked slowly among the mailed soldiers, each one holding a white-faced shield sporting red griffin wings and white plumes in their helmets. I stood to one side and watched as he inspected the soldiers he had created. Afterwards, cane in his right hand, he came over to me and watched them file back to the barracks.
‘I had forgotten how fine the soldiers of this army are, Pacorus.’
‘It is good to be back, I agree.’
I left him conversing with the duty centurion and walked to the stables to see the one who had not been in the courtyard. My steps quickened as I neared the white-walled buildings that held Dura’s finest horseflesh. Stable hands bowed as I passed them and went into the bright and airy building where Remus had his stall. The old hand whom I had left him in charge of smiled and bowed as I approached.
‘Welcome back, majesty.’
I did not reply but Remus must have recognised either my steps or what the stable hand said as he began to buck with excitement, kicking the door of his stall.
‘Hey, calm down,’ I said as the man opened the door and I went inside.
Remus had his ears forward and his tail raised high to show his excited state as he pushed his head into my chest and snorted contentedly. I stroked his head and neck and told him how happy I was to see him, and to my surprise felt emotion welling up inside me. I had not realised how much he meant to me until this moment. His eyes were bright and alert and his coat and tail shimmered in the light. He looked in perfect health.
‘He did not pine for me, then?’ I joked.
‘For a few days he did, majesty, but he knows we love him and Prince Orodes took him out every day so he could get his exercise.’
‘He let Orodes ride him? I am surprised.’
‘Oh no, majesty, the prince rode his own horse when he took Remus out. Prince Orodes said that only you should ride him.’
I smiled. Same old Orodes: a stickler for protocol.
It was amazing how quickly things returned to normal. Hippo and Cleon were given a room in the palace, Domitus went back to commanding the army, Alcaeus back to leading the corps of physicians and Drenis and Arminius returned to their duties. Athineos was also quartered in the palace where he spent most of his days drinking wine and arguing with Dobbai about the existence of sea monsters and mermaids; he telling her that he had slept with one of the latter but she insisting that only one of the former would tolerate carnal relations with him. They seemed to like each other’s company and for that I was glad as it stopped him slipping into a drunken gloom.
Normality also involved the weekly council meeting held in the headquarters building, which could be immensely tedious though on this occasion I was eager to hear news about the situation in the empire.
‘Fortunately neither Mithridates nor Narses got wind of your extended leave of absence, Pacorus,’ said Orodes who decided he should stand while giving me his briefing, which Domitus and Gallia found most amusing.
‘There are no reports of any incursions into King Nergal’s kingdom, nor indeed any activity concerning Ctesiphon or Persepolis at all.’
‘No doubt the bloody nose that we gave Narses’ agents at Uruk has convinced him and his false high king that we are not to be trifled with,’ I said contentedly.
‘I doubt that,’ said Dobbai, ‘Mithridates and Narses will strike at you directly, son of Hatra, when they judge it right to do so.’
‘Though King Tiraios has paid with his life for his failure,’ reported Orodes. ‘He and his family were executed and replaced by one of Narses’ satraps. His name is Sporaces, so Nergal informs me.’
I nodd
ed. ‘Excellent. That makes it a lot easier.’
Dobbai eyed me suspiciously. ‘Easier for what?’
‘Nothing. Thank you, Orodes.’
I looked at Rsan, ‘Lord Rsan, perhaps you could give us a summary of the state of the kingdom’s finances.’
Rsan stood up but I indicated that he should remain seated. He turned to one of his scribes who handed him a scroll.
‘Before I begin, majesty, this arrived a few days ago, addressed to you. The courier who brought it said that it should be delivered to your majesty’s treasurer. Rsan handed me the scroll. I broke the wax seal and read it. It was a bill of sale. I handed it back to Rsan.
‘See that this is paid immediately.’
Rsan read the scroll and went ashen faced.
‘Surely this is a misunderstanding?’
I shook my head.
He continued to look bewildered. ‘But, majesty, this is a bill to pay a woman on the island of Cyprus five thousand drachmas, plus a supplementary amount of two hundred drachmas for expenses incurred pertaining to a one-armed slave named Adad.’
I nodded.
‘Five thousand, two hundred drachmas?’ he said again, thinking perhaps that the sum might diminish the more he uttered it.
‘The advice of Julia saved our lives,’ said Gallia, ‘it is a small price to pay, I think.’
‘The queen is right, lord treasurer,’ added Domitus, ‘even though the old witch is an extortionist.’
‘You cannot put a price on the help of the gods, Roman,’ snapped Dobbai. ‘You should be thankful that Julia assisted you.’
‘We are,’ I said. ‘So please arrange payment forthwith, Rsan.’
He grumbled some more and shook his head but seeing the futility of any argument moved on to give a long and dreary rundown of the revenues enjoyed by the kingdom. His summary being that trade was healthy, crops were in abundance and tax revenues were growing.
‘Though the army is a heavy drain on finances,’ he concluded.
Godarz had nothing to report concerning affairs within the city itself.
‘Day-to-day business continues as normal, the trade caravans provide the city’s brothels with a healthy trade and we regularly hang thieves, rapists and murderers, impaling the latter along the roads as a warning to others.’