by Peter Darman
‘Our escort has arrived, lord.’
‘So it seems. You had better stay close.’
‘What do we do now?’ asked Gallia.
‘We carry on, my sweet.’
As we continued our trek west another party of horsemen, six in number, appeared on our right flank, at a similar distance to those on our left. The terrain was becoming hillier now, great sandstone slabs rising out of the ground. We ambled around one such pillar of stone and were confronted by line of at least a score of warriors on horseback. Remus, sensing danger, whinnied in alarm and we halted.
Each warrior was armed with a spear and sword at his waist. On their heads they wore turbans that covered the lower half of their faces. Only their dark eyes were visible. They carried large round shields on their left sides and wore black flowing robes covering their arms and legs. They were mounted on horses that could only be described as beautiful. Parthians love their horses, but I could see that this group of Agraci also held their mounts in high esteem. Their horses were big and powerful, deep chested with short heads, broad foreheads and wide jowls. They were a mixture of greys and chestnuts. Each one was wearing a red halter decorated with cowries and other adornments, finished with two groups of tassels, one on each side of the noseband. The tassels were braided, with the tops gathered and secured by gold threads. The horses’ chest sets were also decorated with coloured beads, cowries and golden silk threads, while red and gold tassels adorned each rider’s saddle.
One rider had halted in front of the group. He was a large, broad-shouldered individual who carried no spear or shield; his only weapons a curved sword with a white horn handle in a black sheath with a gold tip. He nudged his horse forward until he was around twenty paces from mine, fixing me with his black eyes as he did so. He halted and looked at Rasha then removed his turban to reveal a big, square-shaped face with a long nose and a thick, close-cut black beard. He dismounted from his horse and smiled at Rasha.
‘Have you no greeting for your father?’ His voice was deep, his coarse accent typical of the desert peoples.
‘Father!’ Rasha jumped from her horse and ran over to him. He scooped her up in his long arms and held her close. Then putting her down he examined her closely, no doubt to make sure she had not been harmed. Thankfully the marks on her ankles where she had been chained had disappeared. He stood up to face me, his right arm around her shoulder. He said nothing as he regarded us, while behind him his men eyed us menacingly. I decided to break the silence.
‘My lord, my name is…’
‘I know who you are, Pacorus, King of Dura, but I am intrigued as to why you would bring your queen with you?’ He glanced at Byrd. ‘And you bring so few warriors. Where is your army, your famed legion?’
‘I did not think it proper, lord, to enter your kingdom with an army at my back.’
His face betrayed no emotion as he no doubt weighed up our fate. ‘And now you expect me to let you return to your city unmolested?’
‘That is your prerogative, lord. My only thought was to return your daughter to you and therefore atone for the injustice done to your family by my predecessor.’
‘A Parthian army rides into my kingdom, attacks my people and steals my daughter. Parthians are not welcome here.’
‘I am not a Parthian, King Haytham’ said Gallia, ‘so what will you do with me?’
Haytham was taken aback. No doubt a woman had never spoken to him thus, or indeed anyone. Then the semblance of a smile creased his lips.
‘So, you are the famed Queen Gallia, the beauty from overseas who fights like a man. You too we have heard of. No doubt you have heard that we are savages.’
‘I have heard much, lord,’ she replied, ‘but I judge people according to how I find them. I hope you are a man who does the same.’
He said nothing for a while but just stared at us. It was Rasha who broke the silence.
‘Where is your camp, father?’
Haytham looked at his daughter and smiled. ‘Not far. Shall we invite your friends to accompany us?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, ‘we have had a very tiring day.’
He looked up into the sky and then at us. ‘Come, you will enjoy my hospitality tonight.’
Rasha walked back to her horse and Gallia helped her into the saddle. Haytham vaulted back into his saddle and led the way to his camp. His warriors rode all around us, though their demeanour was not threatening. An hour later we trotted into the Agraci camp, a sprawling collection of black tents grouped around one of the many oases that dotted the desert. The camels and horses were tethered among the throng of date palms growing around the waterhole. After we dismounted our horses were taken from us. We were then shown to a large rectangular tent made of strips of woven camel hair laid over a wooden frame. The front section was tied open to allow air to circulate in the interior, and there were rugs on the floor. Moments later Rasha was at Gallia’s side, tugging at her hand for her to go and see her father’s camels. So off they went, leaving me alone with a tall, lean man about my age who had black tattoos on his cheeks. He had removed his turban to reveal long, straight black hair and no beard. He had olive skin and dark brown eyes.
‘My name is Prince Malik, the son of King Haytham.’ His voice was deep like his father’s.
‘I am pleased to meet you, Prince Malik.’
‘Can I get you anything, lord king?’
‘No, thank you.’
He bowed in a perfunctory manner and then turned to leave, stopped and looked back at me. ‘Thank you for returning my sister to us. My father has missed her greatly, as have I.’
With that he was gone. I took off my sword and laid it on the rug, then stretched out beside it. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of men talking and laughing and camels bellowing and roaring. Despite being in the midst of the Agraci I felt no sense of danger or threat, just relief that we had made initial contact with their leader and that he had spared our lives thus far. I must have dozed off, for I was rudely awakened by Gallia throwing herself onto the rug beside me.
‘That child has boundless energy,’ she said. I opened my eyes and saw that she had closed the tent flaps.
I was suddenly alarmed. ‘Where’s Byrd?’
‘Oh he’s all right. Last time I saw him he was deep in conversation with one of their warriors concerning a camel.’
‘Byrd, deep in conversation? Perhaps you were seeing a mirage.’
‘What’s a mirage?’
I propped myself up on an elbow to look at her. ‘An illusion created by the heat. Perhaps this is all an illusion and we are actually lying dead in the desert.’
‘Shut up, Pacorus. I need to get some rest before the feast tonight. It’s being given in our honour, apparently.’
‘Feast?’
‘Oh yes,’ she motioned for me to lie back down and rested her head on my shoulder. ‘You know, for a king you sometimes know so little.’
It was dark by the time we had rested and refreshed ourselves, and when Gallia opened the tent flaps two black-clad warriors were waiting to escort us to our feast. We walked among groups of warriors sitting around fires mostly ignoring us, though one or two did act with surprise when they saw Gallia’s blonde locks shimmering in the firelight as she passed. Haytham’s tent, a cavernous black structure, was pitched beside the water among the date palms. A guard took our swords before we entered the tent. Six warriors sitting in a circle momentarily halted all their talk as Gallia unbuckled her sword belt and handed it to the Agraci guard. We bowed our heads to Haytham and entered the tent. He rose when we entered and invited us to sit on his right side, the place of honour. Also present were Rasha and Malik, the young girl rushing up to Gallia and throwing her arms around her before pulling her by the hand to her place. I saw Byrd chatting to a man who looked as sullen and unkempt as he did. He raised a hand to me and carried on talking. Clearly he had found a kindred spirit. Rugs covered the floor and we sat down cross-legged in the circle.
Haytham clapped his hands and food and drink were brought in and served. This comprised jugs of water and large flat dishes piled high with stewed lamb served on a bed of rice and bread and sprinkled with pine nuts. While we ate I noticed that Haytham took only morsels from what was served, all the time looking at Gallia and me. After we had eaten, washed our hands in bowls of warm water and dried them, Haytham clapped his hands once more. The servants disappeared and the flaps of the tent were closed, leaving us alone with our host and what I took to be his senior commanders.
‘A most sumptuous meal, lord,’ I said. ‘I thank you for your hospitality.’
Haytham nodded. ‘It is given freely. But now, King Pacorus, we must talk of things more serious. What do you want of me?’
This Agraci king was clearly no fool. He knew that I could have sent his daughter back to him with a lowly escort of a few guards. I did not need to bring her myself. He knew this, as he also knew that my mission had a dual purpose. I decided to be direct and not insult his intelligence.
‘I desire peace between our peoples, lord.’
As a tired Rasha fell asleep in Gallia’s arms, Haytham said nothing for a long time. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. Eventually he spoke.
‘For years your people, the Parthians, have hounded and killed the Agraci, driving them from their lands and treating them no better than animals. Even your own father, King Varaz, has led raids against my people. And now you, his son, sit in my tent and ask for peace. As a father I thank you for giving me back the life of my daughter, but as a king this is an irrelevance. So I ask you, why should I should be interested in peace with you?’
I knew that what I said in reply would determine whether my reign at Dura would be a success or failure. In my mind I had formulated a plan that I had not even told Gallia of. Now was my chance to put it into action. But only if the right words came from my mouth. I said a silent prayer to Shamash that He would assist me.
‘King Haytham, everything you say is correct. Your people have been wronged by mine, and there is nothing I can say that can change that. However, I would ask that you look to the future rather than the past. If we can have peace between the Agraci and Dura, then the result will be mutual benefits.’
‘What benefits?’ I knew that I had pricked his interest.
‘As you know, the trade caravans that travel between the Orient and the west bring great wealth to those kingdoms they journey through. Hatra, my father’s kingdom, is the richest in the Parthian Empire because of the duties it charges on the non-stop traffic that goes between east and west.’
One of the warlords present interrupted me. ‘Wealth that Hatra has used to purchase weapons and men with which to murder the Agraci.’
‘Silence!’ Haytham’s shout caused me to jump and Rasha to open her eyes.
‘Please continue, King Pacorus,’ he said, more quietly, freezing the man who had spoken with his iron-hard stare.
‘It is five days’ ride from Dura to your capital at Palmyra, and another five west to reach the coast of the Mediterranean. The owners of the caravans would gladly pay to have access to the coast through your territory. There are many in Egypt who crave the spices, silk and riches of the East, and would pay handsomely for them.’
Haytham smiled. ‘So you wish to become rich.’
I saw no reason to lie. ‘Of course, why not? We can both become rich. Is that not more desirous that butchering each other and having the vultures pick at our bones in the desert?’
‘I propose a peace treaty between us. Dura will make no further encroachments upon your territory. Your people can have access to Dura’s markets, and you will be able to levy customs duties on all trade caravans that pass through your territory. In return, I ask that your raids upon my territory cease immediately.’
I pointed at the man who had spoken out. ‘You talk of Hatra being able to purchase weapons and men and you are right, but peace makes trade possible and trade brings wealth. And with wealth you too can purchase weapons, horses and armour to remain strong.’
Haytham nodded thoughtfully. ‘You speak with a maturity far in advance of your years, young Parthian. Some say that you are favoured by the gods. I do not know of such things and in any case your gods are not mine. But I do know that you do not lack in courage, for to venture into an enemy’s lands with only two companions is brave indeed, if a little foolhardy.
‘I will think on your proposal. In the meantime, know that you are free to return to your city and your people. I will send my answer to you in due course. I will say no more on the matter. I bid your goodnight.’
He rose, smiled at Gallia and then picked up his sleeping daughter from my wife’s arms. Everyone stood up and bowed their heads as Haytham headed for his sleeping quarters. The evening was at an end and so we were shown back to our tent, Byrd to his.
In the morning we took our leave of Haytham, Gallia and Rasha embracing as they parted from each other. Byrd was sitting emotionless on his horse and Malik was standing next to his father. Haytham’s face was a stone mask as we rode from his camp escorted by a dozen of his warriors. They followed a hundred paces behind us, then around noon wheeled away and disappeared into the desert. Byrd rode ahead, leaving me alone with Gallia.
‘Do you think Haytham will accept your offer?’
‘I hope so, it will make things a lot easier.’
‘What things?’
‘The defences of Dura need strengthening, the legion needs to be fully equipped and I need to have a force of cataphracts. All this will be possible if Haytham agrees to peace.’
‘For someone who wants peace, you sound as though you are preparing for war.’
‘If Dura is strong then enemies will think twice before attacking it.’
‘You are speaking of the Romans?’ she said. ‘You think they will attack us?’
‘I think the Romans have an insatiable desire to conquer the whole world. You know them; they will come. And I will be ready when they do.’
But thoughts of the Romans had to be put aside for the moment as I waited for Haytham’s answer to my proposals. There was much rejoicing when we got back to the city, not least because everyone thought that we would die at the hands of the Agraci. In the days following I travelled to the estates of all the landowners in my kingdom. Though their failure to present themselves upon my arrival at Dura could be construed as an insult, I decided to ignore their slight; after all, their sons had been prisoners in the city. And so I met them one by one. I took Nergal and fifty horsemen, plus my griffin banner, and was in truth well received. I was honest and forthright with each one, telling them of my trip into the desert to meet Haytham and my desire for peace with the Agraci. I also told them that I had said that his raids upon their lands must stop and that I was waiting for his answer. The expressions on their faces told me that they remained sceptical that I would receive the answer I desired, but I think they were pleasantly surprised I had bothered to visit them and inform them of my plans. Each one asked if it was true that Gallia had accompanied me on my mission, and I told them it had been so. I think they were disappointed she was not with me during my visits to them. I told them I would be inviting them all to a banquet in due course, and assured them the gates of the city and Citadel would be open the whole time during their visit.
‘Do you think you have won them over?’ I sat with Gallia on the balcony of our bedroom perched high on the cliff overlooking the Euphrates below. She was combing her hair, which sparkled in the light of the late afternoon sun.
‘Who?’ I said. ‘The Agraci or the lords?’
‘Both.’
I shrugged. ‘We will know soon enough.’
I looked at her. Her fine features and perfect skin making her every inch the queen she was.
‘I know Dura isn’t Hatra.’
She looked at me quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I know that Dura is a fortress city and doesn’t have the gardens and grand palace that you were used
to at Hatra. I’m sorry if it is a disappointment.’
She put down her comb and fixed me with her blue eyes. ‘Sometimes, Pacorus, you are a complete idiot.’
‘What?’
She gestured at the balcony with her arms. ‘This is my home, the place where I hope to raise a family, the place where I want to grow old. Why should I care if it does not have ornamental ponds or exotic animals wandering around in lush gardens? I would not wish to be anywhere else.’
Of course, she was right. I was a fool. All her life she had never known a home. She had grown up in her father’s berg in northern Italy, was then sold into slavery, had lived in tents during her time with Spartacus, and finally had spent time in my father’s palace in Hatra. Now, for the first time, she had a place that was hers.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Quite right, too.’
In truth our home was far from lavish, frugal would be the correct word to use. All my father’s money had been deposited in the treasury where it was watched over by Rsan, who displayed the same reluctance to part with any of it as Addu had at Hatra. Every drachma was itemised and locked in a vault below the treasury. Nothing was spent on furnishings for the palace, my only concern being the equipping of the legion. Aside from the Companions who had brought their arms and armour from Italy, most of the men had no equipment.
‘I need five thousand mail shirts, shields, swords and helmets,’ said Domitus, ‘plus another five thousand javelins to start with.’
Rsan was shaking his head. ‘Impossible. Such an expenditure would empty the treasury.’
Now that Domitus has settled the legion into its camp, he was impatient for it to be fully equipped. All three of us were standing in the armoury, a squat, thick-walled building that had grills on its small windows and one small wooden door faced with iron. It was filled with rows of empty stands that used to hold spears and swords, though there were a few bundles of arrows stacked on shelves.
Domitus drew his own sword, a Roman gladius with razor-sharp edges. He moved closer to Rsan and held the point of the blade only inches from his belly.