Carrhae (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Peter Darman

  ‘Very well,’ I said, ‘begin production of the new arrows, though you cannot recruit any more armourers. Four hundred plus their apprentices is quite sufficient.’

  ‘But I have your permission to offer overtime, majesty?’ he quizzed me.

  I jabbed a finger in his broad chest. ‘Just make sure that this new venture does not turn into a way of making your armourers richer than they already are. Aaron has shown me the expenses incurred by your workshops and they are already prohibitive.’

  He looked hurt. ‘Your soldiers are equipped with the finest weapons and armour that men can make, majesty, and I have assembled the most skilled smiths in the world. But they don’t come cheap.’

  He had a point, but my treasury was not a bottomless pit. ‘Just keep costs under control, that is all I ask.’

  Afterwards I went to see Marcus Sutonius, a former Roman captive and now my quartermaster general. He still lived in the walled residence where he and his fellow Romans had been held following their capture after I had defeated Lucius Furius before the walls of Dura. Then they had been surly prisoners but now they were enthusiastic members of the army. Many had married Parthian women and lived in the city with their wives and children, but Marcus, a confirmed bachelor, had remained where he had first been confined. The building was now full of studies, archives and workshops and he had a small team of young men that he was training to be future engineers of the army. He was now almost completely bald and rather portly, but his mind was as sharp as ever.

  I found him pouring over notes at his desk in his study. The walls of which were filled with pigeonholes holding a multitude of scrolls. He waved me in when he saw me and looked surprised when Scarab followed behind.

  ‘This is Scarab, Marcus, my new squire.’

  He smiled thinly at him and then pointed at a chair on the other side of the desk. I removed some notes that lay on it and sat myself down.

  ‘I have just been to the armouries where Arsam showed me his new arrows.’

  Marcus looked up and smiled. ‘Very efficient, aren’t they? You should equip all your horse archers with them.’

  ‘That is what Arsam said and as I told him, the treasury does not hold an inexhaustible amount of gold.’

  He leant back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. ‘It would be a wise investment.’

  ‘Mm. Well, let’s see. Three thousand horse archers each with a quiver of thirty arrows. That equates to ninety thousand arrows. Then there is the camel train carrying spare quivers: a thousand camels, each one carrying fifty full quivers. A further…’

  I tried to do the sums in my head.

  ‘One and a half million arrows,’ Marcus answered for me.

  ‘Quite impossible,’ I said. ‘The cost would be ruinous.’

  ‘You sound just like Rsan,’ he smiled. ‘The city’s finances are in a healthy state, are they not, majesty?’

  ‘They are,’ I agreed. We still had much of the Jewish gold that we had received in return for arming Alexander’s soldiers in Judea.

  He leaned forward, his visage serious. ‘Then I would strongly advise you to begin equipping your archers with these new arrows. It will pay dividends.’

  I had always heeded the advice of Marcus and I did so now, though I still had serious reservations about such a large outlay of money.

  ‘As your quartermaster general, majesty, it is my task to ensure that your army is equipped with the most effective weapons and armour.’

  ‘That is just what Arsam said,’ I replied.

  ‘He is a wise man.’

  I had a feeling that they had worked out their strategy before they brought this matter to my attention. They had conspired to outmanoeuvre me and had succeeded so I gave in gracefully.

  ‘You are authorised to begin equipping the horse archers with these new arrows, Marcus, though I have told Arsam he will have no extra staff to produce them. That being the case, how long will it take?’

  Marcus rose from his chair and walked over to the pigeonholes facing his desk and pulled out a parchment. He unrolled it and handed it to me.

  ‘Six months should suffice.’

  He had compiled a most detailed production schedule, though I noticed there were no details of costs.

  ‘Very comprehensive, Marcus, my congratulations, though costs are conspicuous by their absence.’

  ‘No expense is too great if it safeguards the kingdom, majesty.’

  I left his office a happy man, content in the knowledge that he and Arsam had the best interests of my kingdom at heart.

  On the way back to the Citadel Scarab questioned me about the armouries, wanting to know whether those who worked in them were slaves.

  ‘No,’ I told him, ‘they are all free men who are paid for their services, very well paid in some cases.’

  ‘Then what is to stop them running away, divinity?’

  I laughed. ‘Nothing. If they do not wish to work for me then they are free to seek employment elsewhere.’

  ‘But the work they perform is important to you, divinity?’

  ‘Invaluable,’ I replied.

  He looked thoughtful. ‘Then would it not be better for you to employ slaves to do this most crucial work, knowing that they cannot leave your city?’

  ‘I do not keep slaves, Scarab, and never will. Besides, I have found that men work better if they have a choice in the matter, and toil harder if their backs are not lashed by the whip.’

  When we reached the gates of the Citadel I stopped and pointed down the main street of the city that led to the Palmyrene Gate. I dismissed Thumelicus and his escort and stood with Scarab observing the crowd of people that filled the thoroughfare, along with their carts, camels and mules.

  ‘There are no slave markets in Dura, Scarab, and the city is all the better for it. Slavery brings nothing but misery and I will not tolerate it.’

  When we walked into the Citadel I saw Dobbai standing at the top of the palace steps. She beckoned me over. I told Scarab to go and find the chief stable hand, whom I had spoken to earlier concerning finding a suitable mount for my squire. As we walked through the porch and entrance hall I told Dobbai about the new arrows that Arsam and Marcus had been developing. She was underwhelmed to say the least.

  ‘It will take more than a few arrows to defeat the Armenians and Romans. The empire is in great danger. Its enemies grow stronger while Parthia grows weaker. I have underestimated the threat it faces.’

  ‘When Orodes arrives our combined forces will march north to deal with the Armenians before Crassus comes.’

  She shook her head. ‘The Romans in Syria will join with the Armenians before then to make a great army that neither you nor Orodes will be able to defeat.’

  ‘It is comforting to know that you have so much confidence in me.’

  We had reached the throne room by now, my griffin banner hanging behind the two thrones at the far end. Aside from guards at the doors the room was empty and my footsteps echoed around the chamber as I walked towards the door that led to our private quarters, Dobbai trailing after me.

  ‘I want you to send Gallia and the children away,’ she said suddenly.

  I stopped and turned to face her.

  ‘Away, why?’

  ‘Send them to stay with one of your lords for a few days. The one-eyed one, he will do.’

  ‘Spandarat? Why?’

  ‘You must trust me. But you should know that if they stay here they may be in danger for there will be a price to pay.’

  I wondered if she had been out in the sun too long and was suffering delirium, but her face was a mask of steely determination and I knew that she was deadly serious.

  ‘They should leave tomorrow morning and must not return until I decide that it is safe for them to do so.’

  I was both confused and bemused. ‘What is the nature of the danger you allude to?’

  An evil smile crept over her face. ‘Of a divine kind. You wish to save the empire, son of Hatra?’
/>   ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then you must assist me in enlisting the aid of the gods.’

  Gallia was most unhappy when I informed her that she had to leave the city with our daughters the next day and at first refused. However, following a discussion behind closed doors with Dobbai she reluctantly acceded to the old woman’s wishes. Spandarat’s large stronghold was located only twenty miles northeast of Dura so the journey would not be long and I knew that she and my daughters would receive a warm welcome.

  ‘What a ridiculously sentimental person you are,’ Dobbai scolded as she stood with me at the top of the palace steps watching Gallia, my daughters and her Amazon escort ride from the Citadel the next morning.

  ‘She is the Queen of Dura, son of Hatra, and has the power of life and death over the kingdom’s subjects, not some landless vagrant who goes in search of people’s charity.’

  After they had left Dobbai sent the palace’s chief steward into the city to purchase the wood of a tamarisk, or salt cedar as it is sometimes known, an evergreen tree with grey-green foliage and revered in many lands as the tree of life. When he returned she ordered half a dozen carpenters from the palace to cut the trunk into six equal portions and gave one to each of the craftsmen. She was seated on Gallia’s throne beside me as she gave each carpenter a scroll that contained a name that he was to carve on each piece of his tamarisk. They were told to return to her the next morning with the carved pieces.

  She sent a guard to the treasury to bring Aaron to the throne room with a pouch of gold coins, which was given to the chief steward with instructions to go back into the city and bring back six sculptors who worked with clay. Aaron quite reasonably asked what the money was for and was given short shrift by Dobbai, who waved him away. When he said that he was not accustomed to giving money away freely she reminded him that had it not been for me he would have been nailed to a cross by the Romans, which meant that I owned his soul and he should do as he was told. Aaron took umbrage at this and stood before her with his arms folded.

  ‘Any expenditure should be ratified at the council meeting, majesty,’ he protested.

  ‘He is the king,’ snapped Dobbai, jerking a thumb at me, ‘and can do what he wants with his own money.’

  ‘The contents of the treasury belong to the king, of course,’ riposted Aaron, ‘but he has charged me with its safekeeping to ensure it is not frittered away on frivolities.’

  Dobbai glared at him. ‘Frivolities! The safety of the empire is not a frivolity, Jew. The matter that concerns me is of the greatest import.’

  Aaron laughed. ‘I hardly think a pouch of coins is going to change the course of history.’

  Dobbai’s eyes burned with anger. ‘Get out! Before I weave a spell to turn you into a frog that will be eaten up by a cobra.’

  Aaron pointed a finger at her. ‘You are an abomination in the eyes of god.’

  Dobbai laughed. ‘What god is that, Jew?’

  ‘The god of Abraham who created the world and everything in it.’

  ‘Your god is weak and helpless,’ she sneered, ‘and has no power here. What sort of god lets his people be turned into slaves without raising a finger to help them?’

  Aaron looked at me, shaking with rage. ‘What she says is blasphemy, majesty. I must protest in the strongest terms. If this was Judea she would be stoned for saying such things.’

  Dobbai laughed even louder. ‘Judea? The last I heard it was a Roman province. And whereas your god does nothing while its people are crushed I intend to enlist the aid of our gods to turn back the invaders.’

  Aaron was going to reply but I held up my hands to call a halt to their bickering. I placed an arm around Aaron’s shoulder and thanked him for his diligence and loyalty and asked him if he would liaise with Marcus and Arsam concerning the production of the new arrows for the army’s horse archers. Dobbai watched him go contemptuously.

  ‘The Jews are a most tiresome people,’ she muttered, making herself comfortable on Gallia’s throne.

  ‘Aaron is a good man,’ I said. ‘You should treat him with respect.’

  She waved a hand at me. ‘Why, because he can count beyond one hundred? He has proved useful in filling your treasury with gold but now his usefulness has come to an end. You should get rid of him.’

  ‘I will do no such thing,’ I replied. ‘He is loyal, hard working and diligent.’

  ‘So is a mule,’ she retorted, ‘but you would not make one your treasurer. You should have a man who worships our gods instead of a foreign heathen.’

  Now it was my turn to laugh. ‘Look around you, Dobbai, this city is full of foreign heathens. Men and women from the four corners of the earth have made Dura their home, that is what makes it strong.’

  She curled a lip at me, reached into her robe and pulled out a folded papyrus sheet. She unfolded it and handed it to me.

  ‘Here. Go and collect these.’

  I took it and saw six names written on it: Domitus, Kronos, Drenis, Vagises, Vagharsh and Thumelicus.

  ‘Go and collect them and bring them here,’ she ordered.

  I waved over one of the guards but she held up a hand to him.

  ‘No, you must be the one who gathers them, son of Hatra.’

  And so I left her in the throne room as I went to the stables to collect Remus, on the way passing the chief steward who was ushering the sculptors through the reception hall. I also encountered Thumelicus and told him to attend Dobbai in the palace, ignoring his probing questions and ordering him to change the habit of a lifetime and obey commands without question. I rode to the headquarters tent in the legionary camp where Domitus and Kronos were planning a large-scale exercise involving both legions in the desert. When I told them that they were both to report to the palace immediately they asked why. I told them that I knew as much as they did.

  ‘And who are we reporting to?’ queried Domitus.

  ‘To Dobbai,’ I answered.

  He rolled his eyes. ‘I sometimes wonder who rules this kingdom.’

  ‘I do,’ I snapped, ‘now kindly go to the palace. Where is Drenis?’

  ‘At the training posts,’ said Kronos.

  ‘Very well, I will see you both at the palace.’

  I left them both perplexed and rode outside the camp, beyond the western gate, to where rows of wooden posts had been sunk into the ground, against which legionaries could hone their swordsmanship. I saw Drenis standing watching dozens of men practising stabs, feints, thrusts and lunges with wooden swords and holding dummy shields, the practise swords and shields weighing more than the standard-issue items to strengthen each man’s arms. Drenis was tapping his vine cane against his leg, occasionally bellowing at the men to hack harder and keep the shields tighter to their bodies. I slid off Remus’ back and stood beside him.

  ‘Come to work on your sword skills, Pacorus?’

  ‘No, I require you at the palace.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Problems?’

  ‘I hope not. If you could come immediately I would appreciate it.’

  He handed over command of the men to a centurion from the Durans and began marching to the city as I left him and galloped away to find Vagises and Vagharsh. Fortunately they were both in the city and so I rode with them back to the Citadel and waited for the others to arrive. Dobbai asked us to gather on the palace terrace where we were served cool fruit juice in the shade of the pergola. Even though it was late afternoon it was still hot and there was no wind to cool us.

  Thumelicus, on duty at the Citadel, had already made himself comfortable, his great frame occupying a large wicker chair as young servant girls brought him an endless supply of fruit and pastries. Domitus and Kronos arrived soon after and also emptied several cups of fruit juice to slake their thirsts, servants handing them towels to wipe their sweaty faces and necks. The last to arrive was Drenis, who unlike Domitus and Kronos had never learnt to ride and so walked everywhere. When all had assembled and refreshed themselves Dobbai dismissed the servant
s and ordered the doors that led to the terrace to be closed, before standing before us all – a frail old woman dressed in aged robes who drew herself up and looked at us each in turn with her black eyes.

  ‘So, we come to it, the decisive moment in the life of the empire. Parthia is like an injured lion that needs time to recover from its wounds, but there is no time. No time before the Armenians and Romans gorge on its weakened body. If they do then it is all over and Parthia will be no more. The Armenians will take the north and the Romans will conquer the lands between the Tigris and Euphrates, and afterwards those kingdoms that lie between the Tigris and the Indus. This I have seen.’

  I felt a sense of dread shoot through me and looked at Domitus who was staring ahead with a stony, emotionless expression.

  ‘Dura cannot defeat these mighty enemies on its own,’ she continued, ‘even with the assistance of the Agraci.’

  ‘We are not on our own,’ I said. ‘We have a new king of kings who leads a united empire.’

  Dobbai shook her head. ‘You are wrong, son of Hatra. Only Dura among the kingdoms is strong. The eastern realms have been bled white; you should know, you yourself killed most of their soldiers. To the north, Margiana and Hyrcania have been exhausted fighting the numberless nomads of the great steppes. Persis, the former kingdom of Narses, is a shell and Susiana and Elymais are in a similar state. Nergal’s Mesene has not been ravaged by war but is a poor kingdom that can raise few soldiers. You all know the dreadful state that the Kingdom of Babylon has been reduced to, and Media and Atropaiene have also suffered grievously these past few years.’

  ‘Hatra is still strong,’ said Domitus.

  ‘Hatra is perhaps the weakest of all,’ replied Dobbai, ‘for it has lost its greatest son. Without King Varaz there is no one to halt the Armenian flood.’

  ‘What of Surena in Gordyene?’ asked Vagises.

  Dobbai shrugged. ‘He is capable but has to deal with an Armenian invasion before he can provide help elsewhere. But by then the Armenians will have conquered Hatra and the Romans will have invaded the empire. So you see there is only Dura and its army.’