Carrhae (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Peter Darman

  Dobbai spun round and pointed a bony finger at him. ‘Even though you have been in Parthia for many years you still retain the arrogance of your race, Roman. If the city is left undefended then it will fall.’

  ‘Then your words concerning the griffin were false,’ Domitus shot back at her.

  She curled her lip. ‘Even the most simple-minded person knows that city walls need to be defended. Why would the gods help those who refuse to help themselves? Would you go into battle without your sword, Roman?’

  Domitus looked around and smiled. ‘Of course not.’

  Dobbai regarded him coolly. ‘Then Dura must remain protected at all times.’

  ‘And what of the Armenians?’ I asked.

  She shrugged. ‘What of them? The old fool Tigranes believes that the empire is weak and will fall into his lap. He will soon be disabused of that notion.’

  But the empire was weak, and even though I concluded the meeting by informing all present that we would wait until we received word from Orodes I worried that the Armenians would flood into Hatra and Gordyene with ease. Following the Battle of Susa the victorious kings badly needed a period of rest in which to rebuild their forces. The Kingdoms of Hatra, Gordyene, Babylon and Media, to say nothing of Dura, had suffered substantial losses, especially among their heavy horsemen. To wage another war would sap their depleted resources further. My spirits were not improved when I received a letter from Orodes at Ctesiphon, the palace of the high king, informing me that aside from royal bodyguards the Kingdom of Babylon would be able to field a mere ten thousand horse archers, two hundred mounted spearmen and no foot soldiers to counter the Armenian threat. Those few foot soldiers the kingdom possessed – five thousand – were needed to garrison the cities of Babylon, Kish and Seleucia and the royal compound of Ctesiphon itself. Just as I could not leave the walls of Dura undefended, so Orodes could not denude the cities of his wife’s kingdom of soldiers lest civil disorder broke out. The temples and palaces were a tempting target for organised bands of thieves and other undesirables who infested every city on earth.

  ‘He’s king of kings now,’ said Domitus, ‘so he can summon the forces of all the kingdoms in Parthia.’

  The day after the meeting I had made an evening visit to his tent in the legionary camp located half a mile west of the city. Now that he had a wife – Miriam – and a residence in the city he usually spent the evenings inside the city walls, but he was sleeping in his tent as the army made ready to embark on a field exercise.

  I poured myself a cup of wine and sat facing him at the table.

  ‘There are only two kingdoms that have been largely untouched by the recent civil war,’ I replied. ‘Carmania in the southeast corner of the empire and Nergal’s Kingdom of Mesene to the south. Carmania is around twelve hundred miles from Hatra and even if its king, Phriapatius, has been summoned it will take his army ten weeks to travel the length of the empire before it is any use.’

  ‘Nergal will come,’ Domitus assured me. Nergal was a Companion, one of those who like Domitus had returned with me from Italy following our time fighting by the side of Spartacus.

  ‘Nergal will come,’ I agreed, ‘and will join with Orodes and then we will join with them. Let us hope it will be enough.’

  ‘And the other kingdoms?’

  I sipped at the wine. ‘Exhausted by years of strife they will be reluctant to send troops to the west and leave their own lands vulnerable to attack. The nomads of the northern steppes and the Indians would exploit any weakness along the empire’s northern and eastern borders.’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘It is down to us, then.’

  I tried to smile. ‘It has always been down to us, my friend.’

  ‘It won’t take long to build up the army,’ he reassured me. ‘There is always an endless supply of young men presenting themselves at the gates of the Citadel to volunteer their services.’

  Service in Dura’s army was open to anyone and advancement was dependent on merit alone. That said, there were certain qualifications that Domitus as its general had insisted on, which were the same as those applied in the Roman Army. These were: a healthy body with all limbs intact (it never ceased to amaze me the number of one-legged individuals who tried to enlist on the grounds that sitting in the saddle did not require the use of two legs!), unmarried, no dwarfs, good eyesight and a good character. All those initially accepted were inducted into the replacement cohort where a further weeding-out process began to determine their suitability for a life in the military.

  ‘It takes a year to turn a recruit into a fully trained legionary Domitus, and we do not have that length of time.’

  ‘Perhaps we could speed up the process,’ he mused, ‘seeing as a lot of those presenting themselves at the Citadel are runaways from Syria and have probably seen some sort of military service.’

  I thought of the long line of scrawny individuals in threadbare clothing I had seen that very morning, some of them bearing brands on their foreheads signifying they had been Roman slaves – FUG, fugitivus – runaway; KAL, kalumniator ¬– liar; and FUR, fur – thief. Others had ears that had been bored – the mark of a Mesopotamian slave, no doubt having fled from other Parthian kingdoms, perhaps even from Hatra that lay just across the River Euphrates. Others had made the journey from Egypt, runaway slaves who had worked in the pharaoh’s gold and copper mines.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘We stick to the system that has made Dura strong.’

  ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘that means the legions will be two thousand men down when we march.’

  I finished my wine. ‘Can’t help that.’

  ‘And the horsemen?’

  I stood up and walked over to the entrance of the tent. As it was summer and it was hot the flaps were tied back to allow what was now only a whisper of wind to enter. Outside was the parade ground and beyond it the camp’s central avenue that led to the main entrance flanked by neat rows of tents.

  ‘The older squires can be promoted to make up the losses among the cataphracts and Vagises will send messages to the lords asking that they spread the word among their retainers that I am looking for new horse archers. We should be able to replace the losses we suffered at Susa in three months.’

  ‘You think we have that long?’

  The sky was pink as a yellow sun descended in the western sky to signal the end of another day.

  ‘I hope so. I sincerely hope so.’

  I turned and walked back to the table.

  ‘The one thing in our favour, the only thing thus far,’ I said, ‘is that we have time to defeat the Armenians before Crassus arrives.’

  The next day I sat in the throne room and dictated letters to Orodes, Surena, Atrax and Gafarn. Rsan fussed over the scribes like a mother hen while Gallia, sitting next to me, observed the proceedings.

  I informed Orodes that Dura’s army would prepare to march north but would wait until he arrived with what forces he could muster from Babylon and Susiana. The latter kingdom was his own and ordinarily would have supplied a great many soldiers, but most of them had been slaughtered at Susa when we had defeated Narses and Mithridates. Those still alive would be needed for garrison duties, for to leave the kingdom’s towns and cities undefended would be to invite the hill men who infested the nearby Zagros Mountains to pillage them at will.

  I pledged aid to both Surena and Atrax, King of Media. Media lay to the east of Hatra and south of Gordyene. But I informed them both that at present I was unable to offer any assistance, but hoped that they could assist each other. They could also call upon King Aschek of Atropaiene. The latter was always reluctant to embroil his kingdom in conflict but as his realm was positioned directly east of Gordyene he knew that if Surena fell then his lands would be open to an Armenian invasion. I also knew that Orodes would request the assistance of Nergal and so I also sent a letter to Uruk stating that I looked forward to linking up with him and his men when we assembled our joint forces.

  As a scribe sitting
at a desk in front of me completed each letter, the parchment was folded and then Rsan sealed it with hot wax, into which was pressed my griffin symbol. Then it was given to a waiting courier whose horse stood ready in the courtyard.

  ‘What are you going to say to Gafarn?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘That I will wait until I receive word from Orodes,’ I replied, and then pointed to a scribe waiting for instructions.

  ‘He will expect you to reply that you are marching to Hatra straight away.’

  ‘It would be better to wait for Orodes and Nergal,’ I reiterated. ‘Our combined forces joined with Hatra’s will be more than a match for the Armenians, who have yet to make any moves aside from declaring war on the empire.’

  I again indicated to the scribe that I was ready to begin dictating when Dobbai ambled into the room, and proceeding to ignore us walked over to the table Rsan was standing by, a rolled parchment in her hand. Ignoring him she picked up the crucible of wax that was being heated over an oil lamp and poured some on the parchment to seal it, then took the wax stamp and pressed it into the hot substance. By now everyone in the room was looking at her as she went about her business seemingly oblivious to our presence.

  I cleared my throat. ‘In case you had not noticed I am in the middle of important business.’

  Dobbai gestured to one of the waiting couriers, who looked at Rsan in confusion.

  ‘Come here, boy,’ she snapped. ‘Take no notice of the tallyman.’

  Rsan glowered at her then turned to face me. ‘Majesty, I really must protest.’

  I held up a palm to the courier. ‘These riders carry letters that concern the affairs of the empire, Dobbai.’

  She looked at me with pursed lips and held up the parchment. ‘This is also important, son of Hatra, and must reach its destination speedily.’

  Rsan was now beside himself with anger at being treated so disrespectfully in front of everyone and gestured to the two guards standing by the closed doors to the chamber to come forward. He pointed at Dobbai.

  ‘Escort her to the palace’s private wing.’

  Dobbai spun on her heels to face the approaching legionaries.

  ‘Touch me,’ she said, ‘and your balls will wither to nothing and maggots will grow in your bellies.’

  The two men, veterans of many battles, froze and looked at each other and then at me in alarm, while beside me Gallia suppressed a giggle. I frowned at her before waving the guards back to their posts.

  ‘May I enquire the nature of the important business that is contained in the despatch you are holding?’

  Dobbai turned to face me, a self-satisfied smug look on her face. ‘You may enquire and I may choose to ignore you. But suffice to say that it will be to your advantage in the coming struggle with your enemies.’

  She again waved forward one of the couriers and I shook my head at Rsan who was about to protest. Dobbai handed the man the parchment and leaned towards him to whisper something in his ear.

  ‘The post station in Neh will know where to send it once it has reached there.’

  ‘Neh!’ I said loudly. ‘That is at the other end of the empire. What possible business can you have in Neh?’

  Dobbai ignored me and continued speaking to the courier. ‘Go now and may the gods protect you.’

  He bowed his head to her and then walked from the hall, the guards closing the doors behind him as he left. Dobbai grimaced at Rsan and wandered back towards the private wing of the palace.

  ‘Are you going to say anything further on this matter?’ I asked.

  ‘I would,’ she replied, ‘only you have more pressing matters to attend to.’

  I looked at Gallia and shook my head. Dobbai disappeared behind the door at the rear of the throne room leading to the wing that contained our sleeping quarters just as muffled voices came from behind the closed doors of the main entrance. They swung open to reveal the figure of Byrd.

  Rsan looked nonplussed as my chief scout strode towards the dais and halted before me. His swarthy face and slovenly attire were covered in dust and it was obvious he had been in the saddle for hours. He nodded at Gallia and then me.

  ‘Romani are going to invade Haytham’s kingdom,’ he announced without emotion.

  I stood up and gestured for him to sit on my throne.

  ‘When?’ I asked.

  He slumped down into the high-backed chair.

  ‘Two weeks,’ he replied. ‘My office in Antioch told me of this and I inform Haytham. He gathers his forces to meet Romani at the border.’

  I pointed at the guards by the doors.

  ‘Go and find General Domitus and request his presence here, Lord Kronos as well. Rsan, where is Aaron?’

  ‘In the treasury, majesty,’ he answered.

  ‘Get him too.’

  I ordered water to be fetched for Byrd as we waited for Domitus and the others to arrive. The scribes sat at their desks looking at each other in confusion as I began pacing in front of the dais mulling over this most unfortunate development. Gallia brought me back to the present.

  ‘Are you going to answer Gafarn’s plea for help, Pacorus?’

  I stopped pacing. ‘Hatra will have to look to its own means for the present, my sweet.’

  However, while I waited I did dictate a letter to Gafarn and another to Orodes informing them of Byrd’s news and that it would now be impossible for Hatra’s army to march north until the threat that had appeared in the west had been dealt with. Rsan returned with Aaron ten minutes later and twenty minutes after that Domitus and Kronos appeared. Byrd was still seated in my chair as the clerks and couriers filed out of the chamber and the doors were closed behind them. Domitus nodded to Byrd.

  ‘I take it you have not summoned us here to announce that you have renounced your throne and Byrd is now king.’

  ‘The Romans are about to invade Haytham’s lands,’ I said.

  Domitus nodded thoughtfully. ‘How many men?’

  ‘Two legions,’ replied Byrd, ‘plus light troops and horsemen. They will cross border in two weeks.’

  Byrd told us that Haytham had summoned his lords and their followers to join him at the border.

  ‘Which is where?’ asked Kronos.

  ‘Around a hundred miles west of Palmyra.’

  Domitus looked alarmed. ‘Haytham intends to engage the Romans in battle?’

  Byrd nodded then shrugged. ‘He is Agraci king. He cannot look weak to his people.’

  Domitus ran a hand over his cropped scalp then looked at me. I knew what he was thinking. Brave though Haytham’s warriors were, they would be no match for trained Roman legions. It could be a bloodbath.

  ‘I tried to tell Haytham that Romani are fearsome soldiers,’ said Byrd despairingly, ‘but he no listen.’

  ‘Unless he gets lucky he will fail,’ remarked Domitus.

  ‘Haytham did not send me, Pacorus,’ said Byrd, ‘but I ask you to support him in this war.’

  I looked at him and then Gallia and remembered the first time that we had met the Agraci king, when we had taken his daughter Rasha back to her father following her incarceration at Dura. There had been only four of us on that journey – Gallia, Byrd, Haytham’s daughter and myself – that had taken us deep into Agraci territory lying to the west of Dura. He could easily have killed us all, especially me, a Parthian, one of the implacable enemies of his people. But he had allowed us to live and from that time friendship had grown between Dura and the Agraci. Since then Haytham had come to my aid twice: once when I had faced the Roman Pompey and a second time when Narses and Mithridates had me cornered like a rat. What’s more Malik, Haytham’s son, was a close friend who had accompanied me on many campaigns and Rasha was like a daughter to me. Haytham was my friend and ally and I would not desert him.

  ‘Dura will assist Haytham, Byrd, have no fear.’

  Gallia smiled at me approvingly.

  ‘Is that wise, majesty?’ queried Rsan.

  ‘Haytham is Dura’s friend, Rsan,’ I answere
d. ‘He has come to my aid more than once. What sort of man would I be if I deserted him now?’

  My governor brought his hands together in front of his chest.

  ‘Indeed, majesty, but with Hatra in peril is not your first duty to your brother, a family member and a fellow Parthian?’

  ‘Hatra’s army is strong, Rsan,’ I assured him, ‘but Dura cannot tolerate the Romans occupying Palmyra, which is only seven days’ march from this very chamber.’

  But Rsan was not thinking about strategy or the Romans.

  ‘There may be some who might criticise your decision to favour the Agraci over your own people, majesty.’

  Gallia crossed her arms and fixed Rsan with her unblinking eyes. ‘And who would they be, Rsan?’

  My governor suddenly looked most uncomfortable. ‘Not I, majesty, of course not.’

  ‘Of course not,’ remarked Domitus dryly.

  ‘But the courts of other Parthian kings may be surprised that you would support Haytham instead of your brother.’

  ‘I have never been interested in the opinions of other courts, Rsan,’ I replied, ‘especially as a good number of them have spent the past few years trying to destroy me. As for Gafarn, the walls of both Nisibus and Hatra are strong and Gafarn can muster tens of thousands to fight the Armenians. It will avail us little if we defeat the Armenians only to see Dura captured by the Romans, who will then use this city to launch a full-scale invasion of the empire.’

  Byrd stood up, walked from the dais and embraced me. ‘Then I can tell Haytham that the army of Dura will be marching to reinforce him, Pacorus?’

  I smiled at him. ‘Yes, my friend, you can tell him that we are on our way.’

  Rsan was shaking his head but my mind was made up.

  ‘It will take us a week to get to Palmyra,’ said Domitus. ‘How long did it take you to get here, Byrd?’

  ‘Just under four days.’

  Domitus was most concerned. ‘Which means that Haytham will leave Palmyra in two days if he is going to give battle at the border. We will never catch him up.’