by Peter Darman
‘What part would you like me to play in this plan?’ he asked me.
‘You may do as you like, lord king.’
We sat alone cross-legged on carpets and among cushions in his great tent. Outside the bustle and noise of Palmyra filled the air. They were the sounds of much activity and indicative of great prosperity, but Haytham seemed concerned.
‘I must wash the swords of my warriors in the blood of my enemies, Pacorus, to avenge the death of Vehrka, else I will appear weak to my people.’
‘When the Romans arrive, lord,’ I said, ‘there will be more than enough enemy blood to go round.’
‘The Romans will again try to take Palmyra. Though we are a nomadic people and can relinquish this place easily enough, I must defend it. To abandon it would be shameful.’
‘The Romans will invade Parthia first, lord,’ I told him.
He looked surprised. ‘It would make more sense to march from Emesa east to Palmyra and then Dura.’
‘The Romans will wish to join with their Armenian allies to the north, lord. They will cross the Euphrates at Zeugma to gain access to the land between that river and the Tigris.’
‘Your squire, the tall one with broad shoulders and black hair,’ he said suddenly. ‘He pays too much attention to Rasha. I saw them exchanging glances last night. Tell him that she is not for his eyes.’
The threatening tone in his voice told me that it had been a mistake to bring Spartacus to Palmyra. I assured Haytham that in future I would leave my squires at Dura.
‘The Nubian you can still bring. He at least knows his place.’
Despite his incurring the animosity of Haytham, which would normally have resulted in his swift execution, Spartacus was in high spirits as we made our way back to Dura. As usual the road was heaving with traffic – mules and camels loaded with goods, carts being pulled by mangy donkeys, travellers on foot, mystics, guards on horseback escorting their masters’ caravans – the air was filled with dust and the aroma of animals and their dung. These sights and smells gladdened my heart for they were a sign of commerce and Dura’s prosperity.
‘These people and their animals stink,’ complained Spartacus behind me.
We were riding by the side of the road, the smell and dust of hundreds of animals and men filling the hot, still air.
‘What you are seeing is the lifeblood of the empire,’ I told him. ‘Without the Silk Road and the caravans that travel along it Parthia would be impoverished. Hatra would be nothing but an outpost in the desert without the Silk Road.’
‘They still stink,’ he mumbled.
‘What do you think of the princess, Scarab?’ I heard him say to my Nubian squire.
‘A jewel of the desert,’ replied Scarab.
‘I like her,’ proclaimed Spartacus.
‘You cannot have her,’ I said to him. ‘Haytham was most displeased by your behaviour at the feast.’
‘I did not touch her,’ he protested.
‘Haytham is no fool. He sees and hears everything. Do you think he did not notice a great strapping oaf leering at his daughter, or catching her eye and eliciting a smile from her? You delude yourself and you would be wise not to get on the wrong side of him.’
‘He does not frighten me,’ he remarked casually.
I halted Remus and wheeled him around. The fifty horse archers of my escort behind also halted.
I jabbed a finger at my cocky nephew. ‘You should fear him. He would slit your throat without a thought if he thought you had dishonoured his daughter.’
He was outraged. ‘I would never dishonour Rasha.’
I let my hand drop. ‘I know that. But you must understand that she is Agraci and will marry an Agraci lord.’
‘I am a prince and higher than a lord,’ he declared proudly.
Scarab grinned at me from under his floppy hat.
‘He does not care if you are a prince. You are Parthian and Rasha is Agraci and the two do not mix.’
‘You are his friend, uncle. In Hatra people say that the Agraci and Parthians are mortal enemies, and yet you and he visit each other and regard yourselves as brothers.’
I shook my head. ‘It is not the same. I am not lusting after his daughter, which by the way is conduct unbecoming of a Parthian prince.’
‘I am only half Parthian,’ he said. ‘I was raised a Parthian but I was born a Thracian.’
I smiled. Gafarn and Diana had promised that he would know of his blood parents and they had kept their word.
‘What is a Thracian?’ asked Scarab as we resumed our journey back to Dura.
‘A native of Thrace,’ I said.
‘And where is Thrace, majesty?’ he enquired further.
‘A land far to the west of here,’ I replied.
‘You were born in this land?’ he asked Spartacus.
‘I did not say that. I said I was born a Thracian,’ he snapped.
Scarab, clearly intrigued, continued to press my nephew for answers. ‘Then where were you born?’
‘Italy if you must know. I was born in Italy and my father and mother were both slaves. Are you satisfied?’
Spartacus’ smile and cheerfulness disappeared as he sat sullenly in his saddle.
Scarab broke the silence. ‘I too was born to slaves. We have no say over the circumstances of our birth, only the life we live afterwards.’
‘Well said,’ I told him. ‘What Spartacus forgot to tell you, Scarab, was that when they died his parents were both free. More than that, his father was also a great warlord, one of the greatest the world has ever known.’
I looked back at them both and saw Scarab slap my nephew on the arm. ‘I had no idea. I thought you were just a rich, pampered prince.’
‘He is that too,’ I said.
Chapter 9
Two days after we had returned to Dura another letter arrived from Silaces, this time addressed to me. It was delivered during the weekly council meeting in the headquarters building where a sweating Arsam, fresh from his workshop, was informing everyone that the last deliveries of the new arrows had been issued to Vagises’ horse archers: the final batch of half a million steel-tipped missiles that could go through our own shields with ease and could also pierce mail armour. The expenditure, as Aaron informed us after Arsam had been dismissed, had been extremely high, not only in steel but also in additional labour costs.
‘The armouries are already filled with bronze arrowheads,’ he stated, reading from the detailed itinerary handed to him by one of his clerks, ‘and now they are to be packed with additional arrows. I have to tell you, majesty, that the army is draining your treasury.’
‘You sound just like Rsan when he was treasurer,’ said Domitus, causing my governor to frown.
‘We must be prepared for when hostilities break out, Aaron,’ I said.
‘My men are eager to test their new arrows on the Romans,’ said Vagises.
‘I remain to be convinced,’ sniffed Domitus. ‘No Roman army has ever been defeated by arrows alone. It will take more than a few archers to stop Crassus.’
‘We will have more than just a few archers,’ I told him.
‘Perhaps Prince Peroz might like to issue his men with the new arrows,’ suggested Aaron, ‘then we could charge his father and thus alleviate the burden on Dura’s treasury.’
Domitus shook his head and smiled while Rsan nodded in agreement and Dobbai snoozed in a chair by the window. She opened her eyes and tugged on Gallia’s sleeve as she gazed into the courtyard at a courier pacing towards the headquarters building.
‘Ill tidings.’
Moments later one of the guards knocked on the door and entered, saluting stiffly.
‘Letter from Assur, majesty.’ He handed me the folded parchment, bowed his head and then left, closing the door as he did so.
I broke the seal and read the contents. I threw the letter on the table.
‘Surena has attacked Armenia.’
Domitus took the letter and read it himself, running
a hand over his cropped skull as he did so.
‘Looks like the peace with the Armenians is over, then.’
I placed my elbows on the table and held my head in my hands. Silaces had reported that Surena had written to him that he had unleashed his Sarmatian mercenaries, supported by five thousand horse archers, against the Armenians. Silaces did not know why he had done so other than to provoke Artavasdes into retaliating and launching another invasion of Gordyene, which Surena could once again defeat.
‘I told you, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai, ‘when a wild creature is in pain it will lash out in fury, and so it is.’
‘You should write to Surena ordering him to desist his activities,’ said Gallia.
‘It is too late for that, child,’ said Dobbai. ‘The marsh boy has tossed a burning torch onto a pile of hay. It will cause an inferno that will sweep over the land.’
‘Even if Surena obeyed you,’ said Domitus, ‘the Armenians will want revenge for what he has done.’
‘They will want his head on a spear and Gordyene returned to Armenian rule,’ said Dobbai. ‘Are you prepared to grant them those things, son of Hatra?’
I looked at her. ‘No.’
At a stroke my carefully laid plans for the forthcoming campaign had been wrecked by Surena’s foolishness. In his black despair the notion of burning and looting Armenian towns and villages may have been appealing but his actions had placed Hatra in great danger. At the end of the meeting I gave the order to prepare the army to march north and afterwards sent riders to Ctesiphon and Uruk to alert Orodes and Nergal respectively of developments and to ask them to bring their armies north. I wrote other letters to Atrax and Aschek alerting them of events in Gordyene and requesting that they march their forces west to Hatra. We would now have to fight and destroy the Armenians before Crassus arrived.
Dura’s army was up to strength and fully equipped but I worried about the forces of the other kingdoms. Babylon had been ravaged in the recent civil war and had lost many fine soldiers at the Battle of Susa, as had Media, and while I did not doubt the courage and leadership of Orodes and Atrax I was concerned about the quality of the soldiers they led.
Nergal’s horse archers I had no worries about: they were well-equipped and professional soldiers. My only regret was that there were only five thousand of them, the other five thousand he had previously brought with him being the retainers of his lords and thus part-time warriors. And then there was the problem of Hatra’s army, formally one of the most formidable in the empire but now shaken by losses and defeats. Only Dura’s army remained as strong and formidable as it had always been.
As the cataphracts and horse archers were gathered at Dura and squeezed into the legionary camp that held the Durans and Exiles, I summoned the lords to the city to explain to them my plan of action and their part in it. As usual the one-eyed Spandarat was their leader of choice. His hair was almost entirely grey now and was thinning alarmingly, though he was still possessed of that irreverence that he had displayed when I had first come to Dura.
I sat beside Gallia in the throne room and explained to the score of grizzled old warriors that once more they would be responsible for the safety of my kingdom and would provide garrisons for the two large forts at the northern border, the other one on the southern border as well as the additional smaller forts in between. Apart from a small retinue of full-time soldiers that were in effect their bodyguards, the only soldiers that Dura’s lords could call upon were the farmers that worked their lands and the servants that lived in their strongholds.
‘We would prefer to fight,’ said Spandarat to murmurs of agreement from his hoary companions.
‘Believe me,’ I said, ‘there will be plenty of fighting to do in the coming months, but for the moment I need you here watching my back while I deal with the Armenians.’
Gallia smiled at him. ‘Spandarat, we would like you to move into the palace and take care of our daughters.’
Once it had become clear that I would have to march north to fight the Armenians, Gallia had declared that she and the Amazons would be joining me to avenge Viper’s death. I could not see how the Armenians were responsible for Viper’s demise but made no protest – in this war we would need every bow and sword.
He winked at her and smiled. ‘Would be an honour, princess.’
‘Excellent,’ I said, ‘that is settled.’
They grumbled between themselves for a while but Gallia mingled among them and won them over. It was not difficult to do. They had always admired her for her fighting prowess and forthright nature and she in turn always told them how dear they were to her. Initially they had lusted after the blonde-haired, blue-eyed Queen of Dura but now they were older they regarded her as an adopted daughter and doted on her.
It was just as well that they were so compliant as the next day I received a despatch from Gafarn stating that Armenian troops were mustering at Nisibus. A great many of them! His missive dripped with fear and uncertainty and it was clear that his nerves needed steadying.
‘Hatra is a mighty fortress,’ said Domitus dismissively as I sat in his tent while he read the letter. ‘The Armenians have no siege engines and even if they did it would take them many weeks to drain the city’s moat and breach the walls.’
‘Gafarn is not a soldier like you. All he sees is the Armenians massing to the north and Crassus about to arrive to the west. Hatra badly needs a victory.’
He tossed the letter on the table. ‘Hatra badly needs a king who can fight.’
‘You are being unkind, Domitus. Gafarn is capable enough and he has Vistaspa to command his army.’
Domitus stood and started to pace up and down, tapping his right thigh with his vine cane as he did so – always a bad sign.
‘Vistaspa is old and had the stuffing knocked out of him at Susa. Does he even command Hatra’s army now? Vata should have been leading it but he managed to get himself killed. There is only one logical course of action.’
He stopped pacing and fixed me with his stare.
‘Would you care to enlighten me, Domitus?’
‘You must go to Hatra and take command of its army.’
In theory it might have been a laudable idea but if I did as he was suggesting it would fatally undermine the authority of Gafarn and make it impossible for him to remain king. There was already a growing number of dissenting voices within the city that were questioning the legitimacy of his reign. They said that it was not right that a former slave of the royal household should have succeeded my father, especially as the rightful heir was alive and ruling Dura. They wanted the two kingdoms to be united under one ruler and it was not Gafarn.
‘I cannot do that, Domitus, for to do so would emasculate my brother’s authority and that I am not prepared to do.’
He walked back to his chair and retook his seat. ‘You’ve been spending too much time in the company of Orodes. You are beginning to sound like him. In any case you are lord high general so in theory you can take control of Hatra’s army as part of your duties.’
‘No. Gafarn needs actions that reinforce his authority, not undermine it. We shall muster the armies of the kings at Hatra and then engage the Armenians, and afterwards march north to retake Nisibus.’
‘And what about Crassus?’
I managed a weak smile. ‘Hopefully we will have defeated the Armenians before he appears. But if he arrives sooner then I will have to deploy the reserve to delay him until we can march back south to engage him.’
He looked baffled. ‘Reserve?’
I tapped my nose. ‘Bringing back Silaces from Gordyene was not only designed to muzzle Surena’s aggression.’
‘Just as well,’ he said ironically.
‘It was also for the purpose of creating a reserve. Lord Herneus, the governor, can muster ten thousand horse archers from the lords under his control. Added to the seven thousand under Silaces that makes a sizeable number of horsemen who can be deployed rapidly north or west.’
D
omitus was not convinced. ‘Seventeen thousand horse archers cannot defeat the Roman legions plus auxiliaries and Roman cavalry.’
‘You are right, my friend, but they can slow them down and give us time. Time, Domitus that is the key. I also intend to transfer the horse archers under the command of Apollonius in western Hatra to Herneus. That will give him an additional five thousand men.’
‘And in doing so,’ said Domitus, ‘you will sacrifice those towns in western Hatra.’
I held out my palms. ‘What can I do? I cannot be in two places at once. Thanks to Surena the Armenians are preparing to launch an attack against Hatra. Ideally we would have been waiting for Crassus at the border but now have to battle the Armenians instead.’
It took only a week before Nergal and Praxima arrived with their five thousand Mesenian horse archers and the thousand camels loaded with food, fodder, tents, spare weapons and arrows. They had crossed the Euphrates near Uruk and then travelled up the western bank of the river through Agraci territory before reaching Dura’s southern border. They camped two miles south of the city while their king and queen were lodged in the Citadel. I was disappointed that Nergal did not bring ten thousand men but he told me that he could not empty his kingdom of soldiers in the face of the impending Armenian and Roman threat.
From Palmyra came Byrd and Malik with their fifty bearded, dishevelled scouts on their wild horses, some of them approaching middle age now but having lost none of that semi-feral nature and appearance that set them apart from the rest of Dura’s army. They really were a law unto themselves; paid by Byrd from an allowance that was sent to him each month by Aaron and taking orders from no one save their paymaster and Malik. Most of them were Agraci but even Malik said that his own people viewed them as rough loners. Domitus believed Dobbai had created them by casting a spell but the truth was that they had become the lucky mascots of the army. Soldiers are very superstitious and when setting out on campaign every man always looked for the wiry men dressed in ragged robes that galloped out of camp before dawn and were not seen again until dusk.