by Peter Darman
‘And what purpose would that be?’ I asked.
She pursed her lips. ‘How should I know? I am not a god.’
‘You are right, there,’ remarked Domitus casually.
Dobbai turned on him. ‘Have a care, Roman, your gods have no power here. “The Follower” will stop your kin.’
‘Follower?’ asked Gallia.
Dobbai waved a hand at us. ‘I have said enough, go back to listening to the ramblings of the Cappadocian pot seller.’
She shuffled from the room, leaving us none the wiser. I told Byrd to continue, who informed us that Pompey had declared the whole of Syria a Roman province.
‘Can he do such a thing?’ asked Rsan.
‘With eight legions he can,’ answered Domitus, who looked at me. ‘What will you do?’
I suddenly felt the weight of expectation bear down heavily on my shoulders. They were all looking at me, waiting for my speech of deliverance. My next words would probably decide my own fate and that of the kingdom of Dura.
‘We have no choice, we must march north to meet the Romans before they set foot on Duran territory.’
‘We will be outnumbered by more than two to one,’ said Godarz with alarm.
‘If we do not engage them at the border,’ I continued, ‘they will destroy all the villages and lords’ strongholds as they march south. Each lord will fight them and be defeated in turn, and by the time this Pompey sets down before the city we will have lost half our army.’
‘We could harry them as they marched south,’ suggested Nergal, ‘launch hit-and-run raids on their army and attack their supply lines and garrisons they leave behind, like we did last year.’
‘If we had time on our side I would agree,’ I replied, ‘but we do not. And there are a lot more of them than last year. Hit them hard before they set on Duran territory, that is the only option.’
Domitus looked up. ‘And then?’
He knew as well as everyone else that we would not be able to defeat eight legions plus auxiliary troops and horsemen. We might scatter their cavalry easily enough, but when it came to fighting their legions we did not have enough men. There was an unbearable silence as each of us created what would happen in our minds. Domitus would lead his men against the Roman line while Nergal and I defeated their horsemen, but in the centre Domitus would be forced back as the sheer weight of numbers began to tell. On each wing our horsemen would wheel inwards and strike at the enemy’s flanks and try to get behind him, but we would be met by unbroken shield walls and would be forced to call off our attacks. And in the centre the Roman legions would be grinding down the foot soldiers of Dura into dust.
‘There is no alternative,’ I said at last. ‘That is my plan. We march in two days.’
Messages were sent to the lords to muster their men and then link up with the army as it marched north to Dura’s northern border. As the city and the legion’s camp outside the city burst into activity, I went to see Godarz. I found him in his residence issuing orders to a group of city officials concerning the collection of food from outlying areas. I stood outside his study until he had finished.
‘Collect as much as you can. We will slaughter the livestock and salt the meat. Don’t bother with fruit, but bring in enough wheat so we can produce biscuit in the bakeries. It keeps for months and is reasonably nutritious.’
He dismissed them and they filed out of the room, some of them slightly startled by my presence. I went into the room.
‘Expecting a long siege, Godarz?’
He stood up. ‘Pacorus? I didn’t expect you to be here.’
I sat down in a chair opposite his desk. ‘Take a seat, my friend.’
‘I wish I was marching with the army,’ he said, taking his seat across the table.
‘Your place is here, and I have an important mission for you.’
He wore a confused expression. I continued. ‘We both know that Dura will not be able to hold out for long against a large army, especially if there is no hope of relief.’
‘But surely?’ I held up my hand to still him.
‘I do not intend to sacrifice the people of this city needlessly. If you receive word that the army has been destroyed, I want you to evacuate the city. Seek refuge in Hatran territory. Better that than death or slavery.’
‘That is an order that only you can give.’
I smiled. ‘If the army is beaten then I shall be dead, my friend, in which case you will command the city, so please do as I say.’
‘What of Gallia?’
‘She is marching with the army.’
He was horrified. ‘And Claudia?’
‘Will remain here with Dobbai. If the worst happens make sure they both get to Hatra. They will be safe there, or as safe as anyone can be in this world.’
‘Gallia will fight?’
I nodded. ‘Of course, she and her women are itching to get to grips with the enemy. You know what they were like in Italy.’
‘You could evacuate the city now and leave it to the Romans.’
Now it was my turn to be horrified. ‘No, Godarz, what sort of man would that make me? I do not intend to run from the Romans. Remember what Spartacus told us — it is better to die on your feet than forever to live on your knees.’
‘He still casts a shadow over us all,’ mused Godarz.
‘Indeed he does.’
‘You know, I always believed that he would fail in the end. The world was not ready for a man such as Spartacus. But I have a feeling that his memory will outlast us all and will reverberate through history.’
‘I would like to think so, Godarz, I would like to think so.’
‘Well,’ he stood up, ‘I can’t sit here chatting to you; I have a city to organise.’
The rumour of the approaching Roman army spread like wildfire and soon the volume of caravans on the road diminished to a trickle and then stopped altogether. This cast Rsan into the pit of despair but I told him there was nothing to be done, and in truth I was glad for it was one less thing to worry about. Not that there was any alarm in the city. The citizens had already been evacuated once, albeit for a short time, and they must have expected the same this time. After all, the Romans had been defeated here once, why not again? This result had given them a false sense of optimism; but then, that was better than panic.
It is around three hundred miles from Antioch to Dura, though the journey can be shortened by striking southeast from Antioch, across the desert, to reach my city. But that involves crossing vast stretches of wasteland, and whereas a lone traveller or a small group may attempt it, especially if they have a local guide to plot their course from waterhole to waterhole, no commander would lead his army into such a desolate vastness. Instead, Pompey would lead his legions directly west to the town of Aleppo, a centre of Greek learning and culture, and then west again until he reached the River Euphrates. He would then march down the west bank of the river, thus ensuring his men and animals had plentiful supplies of water, until he eventually reached Dura. It would take him just over three weeks to reach the city, which meant that I had a week to get the army to the kingdom’s northern frontier to meet him before he set foot on Duran territory. Preparations had gone smoothly, however, and the army was ready to march north when an agitated Domitus arrived at the Citadel. I was in the treasury explaining to Rsan that he must box up the city’s reserves of gold and silver for transportation across the river to Hatra in the event of my defeat.
‘I will leave sufficient soldiers behind to act as a guard for the treasure, but it is imperative that it gets to my father’s city. You are one of the few who know about the city’s evacuation and you must not tell anyone else.’
He was delighted that I had entrusted so big a secret to him, though perturbed about what it meant for his precious treasure.
‘But, majesty, I, you, have a great deal of gold and silver stored here, and if word got out that it is being moved.’
‘That is why it must remain a secret, Rsan. Tell no on
e, not even your most trusted official. On pain of death.’
He went ashen faced, but then recovered when I laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Just keep it to yourself and liaise with Godarz, who also knows of my plan.’
Domitus came in unannounced and threw his helmet on Rsan’s table. ‘You need to keep that bitch under control.’
Rsan frowned at such rude behaviour but said nothing. He knew to stay clear of an angry Domitus.
‘What bitch is that?’ I asked.
‘Your sorceress, that’s who.’
‘Dobbai?’
‘Yes, and lucky for her that she has your favour, otherwise I would have slit her throat there and then.’
‘Calm down,’ I said, ‘and tell me what she has done.’
Dobbai usually restricted herself to the Citadel, occasionally going into the city to purchase herbs and spices for her concoctions, usually potions to cure Claudia’s teething problems and other minor ailments or to produce incense that she burned in her private quarters. She had endless arguments with Alcaeus concerning medicine and the treatment of illnesses. Alcaeus accused her of being a charlatan who took advantage of people’s fear and ignorance, while she accused him of being an ill-educated foreigner who had no business telling her about things he did not understand. But now she had commandeered a cart and driver and had visited Domitus’ camp, whereupon she had begun to order the soldiers to stop what they were doing immediately and seek refuge in the city, otherwise the desert sands would bury them. These men were battle-hardened veterans but they knew of Dobbai’s prophecies and her words had spread alarm throughout the camp like wildfire, much to Domitus’ fury.
‘Please go and get her,’ he said to me through gritted teeth, ‘otherwise I swear by Mars that I will cut her head off.’
So I rode from the Citadel to the camp where Domitus had confined Dobbai to his tent and placed her under armed guard. When I arrived she was sitting behind his desk, her hands resting on the polished surface. She leaned back in her chair when she saw me.
‘Where is your Roman pet, son of Hatra?’
‘Your words are not helping, Dobbai, we are preparing to march north.’
She shook her head. ‘You need to get everyone into the city, a storm is coming.’
‘Storm?’
‘I told you,’ she continued, ‘but you chose to ignore me.’
The day was hot and airless, like every other day of late, and the sky cloudless.
‘I have eyes, Dobbai, and the sky has no clouds. There is no wind, so I see no reason to believe that any storm is on its way.’
She rose from her chair and began pacing. ‘You have eyes but cannot see. As for your reason, it is deceiving you.’ She stopped pacing and looked at me, her expression one of almost pleading. ‘Do you trust me, Pacorus?’
A shiver went down my spine. She never called me by my name but she did so now. There was no mockery in her eyes, only a deadly seriousness that made me apprehensive.
‘I trust you.’
‘Then give the order to get everyone into the city. All the buildings must be boarded up and everyone must stay inside. You must give this order today or all will be lost.’
Reason told me that this was idiocy, that to disrupt our plans was foolhardy in the extreme. Yet my instincts screamed at me that it was the right thing to do. So I gave the order.
Domitus was at first enraged by my decision and then dumbfounded, but he carried out my order. I told Nergal to call in all his patrols as thousands of men and horses, and hundreds of carts and wagons filed into the city. The men were billeted in barracks in the city and Citadel, and fortunately there was enough room in the stables to accommodate the horses of the cataphracts, their squires and the horse archers, though it was a squeeze to say the least. But eight thousand foot soldiers could not be housed in the barracks, even with men sleeping on floors, and so they had to be billeted on the city’s citizens. I was thankful that two thousand more were safely housed in the forts that we had built up and down the Euphrates. The citizens grumbled but acquiesced — they had no choice — and the soldiers assisted each household in boarding up and securing the properties. The carts and wagons were stored in the city’s squares and along the sides of roads, and the supplies, spare clothing, tents, weapons and utensils they held were secured in homes, temples, offices and storerooms. Then the carts and wagons were themselves covered over with canvas.
In the Citadel itself soldiers were allocated to any spare rooms and bedded down in the feasting hall, throne room and even in the corridors. The Amazons filled the rooms next to our bedroom, though no one wanted, or dared, to bed down in Dobbai’s room. That night I held a grand meal in the feasting hall, though Domitus sat with a face like thunder and ate next to nothing throughout. He was close to despair, I think, and avoided my gaze all evening. Eventually he slammed his fist on the table and stormed out. I think he believed that I had taken leave of my senses and that we had let any chance of meeting the enemy at the border slip through our fingers. And then the storm struck.
Al-Dabaran, they call it, ‘The Follower’, one of the great sandstorms that sweep down from the north, caused by a prevailing northwesterly wind that kicks up the fine desert sand and dust and carries them south. Where there had been quiet and no wind, suddenly there was a dark sky as a wall of sand descended on the city, accompanied by a howling noise and a fierce wind, a wind that at first rattled the shutters and doors and then, as it grew in intensity, produced a banging noise at though huge fists were hammering on the shutters and doors, demanding entry.
‘It is the storm demons,’ shouted Dobbai, ‘they wish to enter and spread their desolation.’
For five days the storm raged. Such was its fury that no one could venture outside, with visibility reduced to nothing and skin and clothes running the risk of being sand-blasted after even a few seconds of exposure. On the third day the wind increased in intensity, a ceaseless roaring noise surrounding the Citadel and driving everyone inside to distraction. I thought the roof and doors would be ripped off such was its rage. I saw fear in men’s eyes as the wind and sand assaulted our fortress. Claudia screamed and wailed and people began to pray to their gods. I too prayed to Shamash that He would spare us, or at least my wife and daughter. Even Domitus looked alarmed. No, not alarmed, helpless, something I had not seen in his eyes before. This in turn made me alarmed. Nergal held Praxima close and I held Gallia and Claudia, while Dobbai paced up and down, seemingly oblivious to the terror that was spreading among us. Only one person seemed truly unconcerned, happy even, and that was Surena, who held a pale Viper in his arms, her face buried in his chest. And then, after the fifth day, when our nerves had been frayed to breaking point, when we had despaired of getting solace from the pounding noise that filled our world, the wind stopped. There was suddenly absolute silence. At first I thought that my hearing had given out after the days of howling and roaring, but then Dobbai laid a hand on my arm.
‘It is over, they have returned to the underworld once more.’
We sighed with relief and embraced each other. Some fell to their knees, wept and thanked their gods. Domitus caught the eye of Dobbai and nodded in acknowledgement that she had been right. She nodded back. Then it was back to normality.
Domitus called together his officers and began the task of preparing the march north once more. Men were recalled from the outlying forts. Thanks to Dobbai’s warning the army and its supplies were unharmed, and soon men and materials were moving out of the Palmyrene Gate to assemble once more in camp. Shutters and doors had been pummelled by the storm and some roofs had been torn off, but in general the city was relatively unscathed. Then I remembered the stone griffin statue at the Palmyrene Gate. High and exposed, it would have taken a terrible beating from the sand and dust — if it was still there at all. I rode down to the gate and raced up to the battlements, to find the statue untouched. I ran my hand over its contours. It was as if it had just been carved; there was not a mark on it. How could
this be?
It took two days before the army was ready to move. I was still concerned that the Romans had stolen a march on us but Dobbai scoffed at my worries.
‘You think the Romans were able to march through Al-Dabaran? They will be in a perilous condition. It will take them many days to recover from the punishment they have received.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘It is of no consequence.’
‘If it is of no consequence,’ I said, ‘then why did you bother to warn me of the storm?’
‘Because I am fond of your wife and daughter, son of Hatra, that is why. If anything happens to you then they will suffer, and I do not wish to see that. And the gods have not yet finished with you, so go and play at being a general.’
Byrd and Malik rode ahead as the army began its march from Dura, the legionaries marching six abreast and Nergal’s horse archers forming a flank guard for the foot, wagons and mules. Domitus, as always on foot, marched at the head of his men in front of the colour party carrying the gold griffin and the standard of victory. I rode at the tip of the army with Gallia and Orodes. Behind us came the standards of Dura and Susiana, and behind them Gallia’s Amazons. The cataphracts, their squires and camels were in the centre of the column, Domitus and his legionaries trailing behind. Nergal also had two hundred horse archers acting as a rearguard. I left five hundred foot and fifty horse archers behind at Dura, plus the Roman engineers that we had captured.
We marched north at a steady pace, covering around fifteen miles a day, and each day our numbers were increased when we linked up with one of Dura’s lords and his retinue. Many of their sons were members of my cataphracts and each day brought a happy reunion of father and son, sons in some cases. Each lord brought at least five hundred horse archers, so that by the time we reached the northern boundary of the kingdom the army totalled over twenty thousand men. How absurdly proud we all were, for we were unvanquished and rated ourselves among the best warriors in the empire. And we all also knew that our numbers were too few to take on the might of Pompey. We travelled under an intense clear blue sky, the army strung out over many miles as it hugged the Euphrates. Camels grumbled and spat, mules brayed and men sweated. Each night we slept in tents in a large camp erected in the Roman fashion, surrounded by a ditch and rampart surmounted by a wooden palisade, and each day it was disassembled ready for its erection on another site at the end of the march. As men spent between three and five hours a day disassembling the camp, Nergal sent his scouting parties far ahead into the surrounding desert, and ahead of them all rode Byrd and Malik.