by Peter Darman
‘A wise decision,’ I said. ‘Fear and panic can spread like a plague through a kingdom. What is Crassus doing now?’
Domitus shrugged. ‘Nothing as far as we know.’
‘Autumn approaches,’ said Chrestus. ‘It is doubtful he will make any further moves until next spring.’
I nodded. Why should he? He had arrived in Syria and had achieved a series of easy victories while using the Armenians and an Egyptian army to divert our attention.
‘And what of our Armenian friends?’ I asked.
‘Artavasdes does nothing but sit on his arse,’ said Domitus. ‘Surena is still raiding his territories, though.’
‘High King Orodes demanded his presence at Hatra,’ said Chrestus.
‘He ignored the summons,’ added Domitus.
I sighed. ‘I may ride to Gordyene to see Surena, to convince him that he must act in unison with us all for the good of Parthia.’
‘He does not care about Parthia,’ remarked Dobbai. ‘He is lost to you, son of Hatra. You made him a king and now he turns his back on you. And yet he may still have a part to play, for good or ill.’
‘I always knew he would turn out to be no good,’ said Gallia. ‘He was always too sure of himself, too full of his own importance. He will not be missed.’
She had always disliked Surena, notwithstanding that he had married Viper, but now her Amazon was dead she felt no need to hide her animosity towards the King of Gordyene. For myself I had always liked Surena and still felt responsible for him. In my eyes he remained that wild boy of the Ma’adan who had rescued me from a cruel death at the hands of King Chosroes all those years ago.
‘Surena is a valuable ally in our war against the Armenians,’ I insisted. ‘His anger will burn itself out.’
‘You are wrong, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai, ‘it will grow in intensity until it consumes him.’
‘He fights his own private war,’ remarked Domitus disapprovingly. ‘If he had coordinated his efforts with ours then we might have beaten the Armenians, leaving us free to face Crassus.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘nothing more will happen until the spring most likely, which gives us time to prepare at least.’
But in truth we had achieved nothing. Crassus had made easy gains, Artavasdes hovered over Hatra like a thundercloud and Gafarn’s nerve was visibly crumbling. The Romans and Armenians had witnessed his propensity for rashness and were almost inviting him to attack them, knowing that if he did they would easily defeat him.
‘We should invade Syria,’ remarked Domitus casually, ‘take the fight to the enemy.’
‘You would like that, wouldn’t you,’ I said.
Domitus stood and began pacing in front of the map of the empire, then stopped and pointed at Antioch with his cane.
‘With Peroz’s men we have nearly twenty thousand troops. We can march north, cross the border and be in Antioch in a week.’
‘To what aim?’ I asked. ‘Crassus’ army is mustered in the north, near Zeugma.’
‘To burn Antioch,’ replied Domitus.
I shook my head. ‘No, Domitus. Burning Antioch would avail us nothing and would only provoke Crassus into action. If he severed our line of retreat we would have to fight him, outnumbered most likely, in hostile territory. The risk is too great.’
‘Then enlist Nergal and Atrax to your cause,’ he suggested, ‘that will even the odds.’
‘Syria,’ I told him, ‘is not the problem, Crassus is. And I would prefer to fight him on a ground of my own choosing.’
Domitus muttered to himself and sat back down, which brought the meeting to a close. As my right hand was still sore afterwards I borrowed one of Aaron’s treasury clerks and dictated a number of letters, one to Gafarn accepting responsibility for Domitus’ insolence and promising that I would deploy troops on my northern border to give the impression that I was preparing an invasion of Syria. I sent a letter to Phriapatius saying that Peroz had turned into an excellent commander and had distinguished himself in the recent battle with the Egyptians. Finally I sent a despatch to Surena requesting that he travel to Assur where we could discuss recent events.
The next few weeks were remarkable only for their inactivity. The troops of Mesene, Media, Babylon and Susiana returned to their homelands as an uneasy peace descended on the empire. Byrd rode from Palmyra and brought news that Crassus was awaiting the arrival of horsemen from Gaul who were commanded by his son. It was an indication of his lack of trust in Syrian cavalry that he was wished to receive reinforcements from hundreds of miles away rather than recruit mounted troops locally. Gafarn sent a terse note complaining about Domitus’ attitude but thanking me for deploying more troops on the Syrian border. Phriapatius, on the other hand, sent a very long and appreciative letter thanking me for nurturing the talents of his son and informing me that his eastern army was assembling slowly but steadily. Accompanying the letter was a consignment of gold to pay for the wages of Peroz’s soldiers and fodder for their horses. Aaron was most pleased when I informed him.
I stood with him in the courtyard as the bars of gold were unloaded from the camels and itemised on papyrus. Two thousand Carmanian horse archers had escorted them, and in gratitude I sent back with them two-dozen warhorses bred on Dura’s stud farms for their king.
When Godarz had been city governor it had been agreed that Dura should breed its own horses for the army, though it had proved a long, difficult and costly business. Even my father had refused to sanction the purchase of stallions from Hatra’s studs to Dura. My father’s pure whites that provided the mounts for his royal bodyguard were the envy of the empire and were fiercely protected. Horse theft was a capital offence and the sentence was also visited upon the family of the perpetrator. I had dreamed of my own cataphracts riding pure white horses but Strabo, whose knowledge about horses and how to breed them was exemplary, told me that I was wasting my time.
The finest Parthian horses were a breed called Nisean that were found in Hatra, Media, Atropaiene and Hyrcania. Descended from ancient Scythian stock they were very strong, tough and resilient. Noted for their speed and endurance on long marches they were ideal for Parthian warfare. My friendship with Atrax and Aschek resulted in Strabo being able to purchase a number of pure blood mares and stallions from both of them that formed the foundation of Dura’s breeding programme. My father also relented and authorised the sale of a number of horses from his own farms, though no whites.
I had wanted Remus to sire a line but Strabo was at first against it.
‘We don’t know his ancestry,’ he told me. ‘He might pass on a deformity or weakness to a foal.’
‘Remus is a fine warhorse,’ I said to him.
‘None finer,’ he agreed, ‘but within him he may have an ailment that he is immune to but one that he could still pass on to his offspring.’
‘We will just have to take a chance on that,’ I replied.
And so we did, mating him with a cremello mare brought from the lush green plains of Media. Despite Remus being the king’s horse and the veterans of many battles the mare must have had the dominant blood for the foal that she produced was golden in colour like many Nisean horses, with a coat that shimmered in the sun. We named him Tegha, meaning ‘blade’. Like all Niseans he had long ears, almond-shaped eyes and a sparse mane and tail, with a lightly muscled long back, flat croup, deep chest and long neck. My dream of having a herd of whites may have come to nothing but as the years passed Dura produced a good number of homebred bays, blacks, palominos, chestnuts and greys.
Though the cost may have been high the revenues from the trade caravans, the taxes paid to the treasury from the lords’ estates and duties imposed on the businesses inside the city meant the treasury was always full, and that meant Aaron was mostly happy. Rsan had trained him well, though, and he kept watch over the kingdom’s wealth like a hawk. To the continual annoyance of Domitus every item of expenditure had to be discussed at the weekly council meetings and itemised once it had been agre
ed upon.
Two weeks after the horses had been sent to Phriapatius I went to see Aaron in his treasury, as usual surrounded by diligent and serious clerks making notes. The treasury was positioned directly opposite the palace and was a two-storey building above ground with a basement beneath that had been hewn out of the rock upon which the Citadel stood. This was where the bars of gold and chests of gold coins and drachmas were stored. The ground floor comprised two rooms that held records and another two where Aaron’s clerks worked. The first floor was where Aaron had his own office, with three other rooms that housed more records and his chief clerk.
Two guards always stood outside the treasury’s main entrance when the door was open during the day, with another two standing at the top of the stone steps that led down to the underground basement where the gold and money was stored. At the top of the steps was a metal grill that barred access to the gold and money, and only Rsan and Aaron carried keys to the lock that secured it. The basement itself had been converted into a number of rooms where the kingdom’s wealth was stored behind iron bars. Only a select few individuals were allowed in the treasury: including myself, the queen, Domitus, Rsan, Aaron and his trusted clerks.
I walked up the steps and into Aaron’s spacious and bright office, the pair of shutters at the windows open to give a view of the Citadel’s courtyard below. He stood up and bowed his head but I gestured for him to sit. I sat down in the chair in front of his large desk as he finished his writing and put down his pen.
‘How can I help you, majesty?’
‘Have you heard from Alexander lately?’
Alexander Maccabeus was a Jewish rebel who had been fighting the Romans for years. With gold he had purchased a great numbers of weapons from Dura with which he hoped to liberate Judea, his homeland, from Roman rule. But Aulus Gabinius had defeated him and though he still carried on his war against the Romans, he was now little more than a bandit hiding out in the hills of eastern Judea.
‘Still battling the Romans, majesty, I believe, though I have not heard from him in several months.’
‘I have had an idea to assist our ally and your friend,’ I told him.
Aaron looked down at his desk. ‘He has no more gold to purchase weapons, majesty.’
‘It will not require any gold, at least not from him. I intend to send him soldiers so he may carry on the fight against Rome.’
He looked concerned. ‘You intend to march your army into Judea, majesty?’
‘No, Aaron. Dura’s army is needed in Parthia. But there are other soldiers who would be more than willing to go to Judea. For the right price. I thought we might use the gold that Phriapatius sent to hire some mercenaries to send to Alexander.’
Aaron’s concern increased. ‘But that gold is for the upkeep of Prince Peroz and his soldiers, majesty.’
I smiled. ‘Dura has enough food and fodder to support Peroz’s men and their animals, and the meticulous records that you present each week at the council meeting have shown me that the kingdom’s finances are in excellent shape, therefore I see no problem with diverting a portion towards assisting Alexander.’
‘To what end, majesty?’
‘To divert the Romans’ attention away from Parthia, Aaron. To give us time to prepare our defences so that when they turn their gaze once more towards us we will be in a stronger position.’
He fell silent, deep in thought. I noticed that he was wearing a necklace of a silver hand with an eye painted in its centre. I nodded at it.
‘What is that strange symbol you wear at your throat?’
‘A gift from Rachel. It is called a Hamsa and symbolises the Hand of God. It is supposed to bring its wearer health, happiness and good fortune. The eye is to ward off evil influences.’
‘Well, perhaps with the help of your god,’ I said, ‘we might be able to cause trouble for the Romans in Judea.’
He shook his head. ‘God will not help us.’
‘Why not?’
‘We are paying for our own sins and the sins of our fathers. God punishes us for not following His laws.’
‘He has abandoned you?’ I asked.
‘We are His chosen people, majesty, He will never abandon us.’
I was confused. ‘But he allows the Romans to conquer your homeland and to enslave your fellow Jews. It seems to me that he has chosen you for nothing more than misery.’
He smiled knowingly. ‘The Jews were chosen to hear His truth and relay God’s message to the world.’
I found the religion of the Jews most strange. They worshipped a god who had no name and did not help them when they most needed assistance. It was a testament to their faith that they did not stop their worship of him.
When I raised the issue at the next council meeting Domitus was most unimpressed.
‘Mercenaries? And where are you going to get them from?’
‘The Zagros Mountains, of course. Surely you have not forgotten our great victory at the Battle of Susa? You remember when we were assaulted by the hill men on the second day of the battle.’
‘I remember,’ he sniffed. ‘Half-naked savages armed with clubs and other makeshift weapons. I would not call them soldiers.’
‘We can furnish them with weapons easily enough,’ I replied, ‘and then Alexander can come to Dura and take them back to Judea.’
‘We slaughtered thousands of them at Susa,’ remarked Domitus. ‘Are you sure there are any left.’
‘Oh believe me, Domitus, if there is one thing I can say with certainty: there is an endless supply of hill men.’
The Zagros Mountains occupied a large area of central Parthia. Made up of numerous parallel ridges of limestone and shale whose highest peaks were permanently covered with snow, the Zagros were also filled with fertile plains, fast-flowing rivers, ravines and villages filled with wild people called hill men. The people of the Zagros lived in tightly knit clans whose leaders spent most of their lives in blood feuds with neighbouring clans, though they were more than willing to temporarily put aside their differences to fight on behalf of others as long as the price was right. Mithridates had used gold to hire tens of thousands of hill men in an attempt to destroy us at Susa and now I was determined to go down the same route.
I rode with Domitus, my two squires and a hundred horse archers to the city of Susa, the capital of Susiana and Orodes’ homeland, to recruit my detachment of hill men. Before we departed Dura I wrote to Orodes requesting that he meet us at Susa to both facilitate the raising of my mercenary band and to discuss the strategy for next year. He and his men had returned to Babylon by this time and Atrax and Aschek had also travelled back to their homelands. As promised I had moved troops – a thousand horse archers – to the frontier with Syria where they rode into the desert each day and arrayed themselves on the border in a provocative manner. On the other side of the border Roman legionaries did the same in what became a daily ritual.
I took Spartacus with me to take his mind off Rasha, or at least place several hundred miles between him and her, as I did not trust him from trying to sneak into Agraci territory to see her. I knew they wrote to each other on a regular basis but also knew that Haytham would kill him without a thought should he set foot into his domain. I took Scarab because I wanted to show him as much of the empire as possible.
It took us eighteen days to reach Susa – a distance of five hundred miles – following a similar route that our army had taken in the civil war against Narses and Mithridates. Seleucia was still being rebuilt and Ctesiphon refurbished and when we reached the latter we were informed that Orodes and Axsen had travelled together to Susa with the soldiers of Susiana who had marched all the way from Hatra.
After crossing the Tigris and riding along the eastern side of the river for four days we left the waterway and travelled across the desert for two days before reaching the verdant foothills of the Zagros Mountains. It was still hot but the humidity rose markedly as we entered the Valley of Susa and then headed south to the city itself.
‘A bit different from the last time we were here,’ said Domitus.
‘Indeed,’ I agreed. ‘Then we had to fight our way to Susa.’
‘I remember being in Hatra when the heralds announced your great victory, uncle,’ said Spartacus. ‘It was a day of great joy and even greater sadness when we learned that King Varaz had been killed. I wish I could have been by your side at that battle.’
‘We lost a lot of good men that day,’ commented Domitus sadly. ‘We could have done with them by our side when we face the Romans and Armenians.’
‘I fear we will lose many more good men next year,’ I said.
‘It is the enemy who will be losing men, uncle,’ boasted Spartacus, ‘if they are anything like the Egyptians.’
I looked at Domitus who shook his head. My nephew had had a taste of battle and had found it agreeable and now he thirsted for more. Whereas I saw death and the promise of ruin he saw nothing but glory, reinforced by the youthful conviction that he was invincible. He was now nearing the end of his time as a squire and would soon be joining the ranks of Hatra’s cataphracts, which he might one day command. If he stayed alive; if we all stayed alive.
‘Actually it was not my victory at Susa,’ I told him, ‘Surena was the architect of triumph.’
‘We could certainly do with him by our side next year,’ remarked Domitus.
‘You have changed your tune,’ I said. ‘I remember the first time I rode into camp with him next to me. You were most disparaging about him then.’
‘That was a few years ago now,’ he replied. ‘You made him into a fine soldier and commander. You tamed him.’
‘I fear I only tamed him for a while, Domitus. I think he has turned wild again.’
‘All over the death of a woman,’ mused Domitus. ‘Pity he cannot find another to warm his bed.’
I looked at him. ‘Viper was his true love and now the flame that burned inside of him for her has been extinguished, to be replaced by the cold of his wrath and suffering. Finding another to soothe his rage against the world will not be easy.’