by Peter Darman
‘Welcome Silaces,’ said Orodes, ‘please take a seat.’
He pointed at an empty chair beside me that Silaces walked to after bowing his head to Orodes.
‘The office of king of kings is an onerous one,’ said Orodes, who remained standing, ‘though one of the more agreeable privileges that comes with it is the ability to reward loyalty and courage. Silaces, you have never faltered in your loyalty to your dead king or your homeland. During the terrible years of civil strife when you and your men were exiles from Elymais you continued to serve the allies of your kingdom, first with Pacorus and then assisting Surena in liberating Gordyene.’
Everyone began rapping their knuckles in the table in agreement, much to the embarrassment of Silaces. Orodes raised his hands to request silence.
He continued. ‘And so as a reward for your unfaltering loyalty I have decided to appoint you King of Elymais. May your reign be long and prosperous.’
Silaces’ mouth opened and closed but no words came out so shocked was he. I slapped him on the shoulder and once again the other kings rapped their knuckles on the table.
Orodes sat down. ‘But I am afraid you and your men are still needed here for the time being so you will not yet be able to sit on your throne. And well done.’
I rose and offered my hand to Silaces who also stood. The others likewise offered him their congratulations and such was the commotion that no one noticed the figure of Surena framed in the doorway.
Dressed in an iron scale armour cuirass, black shirt, black leggings and black boots, he looked like an avenging demon. Gone was the carefree, impious youth I had brought back with me from the great marshlands many years ago. His long black hair was unkempt and his eyes were cold and menacing. In truth I scarcely recognised him.
‘The wanderer returns,’ said Orodes with a trace of mockery. He pointed at an empty chair. ‘We have left a place for you but thought you would not be attending, such is the paucity of communications with Gordyene of late.’
Surena sauntered over to the chair and flopped down in it. ‘I have had important matters to attend to.’
He nodded at Silaces and managed a half-smile in my direction.
‘Is not the summons of the high king important?’ asked an exasperated Gafarn.
Surena snapped his fingers at a slave to indicate he wished to be served wine.
‘Not more important that defending my kingdom, no,’ Surena replied insolently. The company of Sarmatians had clearly not improved his manners.
It was fortunate that Orodes was a master at diplomacy as he let the insult pass and everyone retook their seats. The high king acquainted Surena with what had happened in his absence who was genuinely pleased that Silaces, whom he had fought beside in the liberation of Gordyene, was now the king of Elymais, and thought the plan to send Phriapatius north a sensible one.
‘And so the only matter that is left to be resolved is Crassus and the Armenians,’ announced Orodes. ‘We cannot fight one war in the east and another in the west at the same time; the risks are too great. As we are already at war in the east I see no option but to try to postpone conflict in the west until matters in the east have been resolved to our advantage. This being the case I have decided to request a one-year truce with the Romans.’
Atrax, Nergal and Silaces said nothing though Gafarn looked disappointed, which was noticed by Orodes.
‘I realise that the Armenians still have control of the north of your kingdom and Roman troops occupy your western towns, Gafarn, but when the nomads and Yuezhis have been dealt with the full might of the empire can be turned west to eject the Armenians and Romans from Parthian lands.’
Orodes smiled at me. ‘I would like Pacorus to go to Syria to treat with Crassus, a man whom he has had previous dealings with, and persuade him that peace is preferable to war.’
‘How will I do that?’ I enquired.
‘Simple, my friend. Your fame as a great warlord, combined with your position as Parthia’s lord high general and the offer of gold, will be difficult for the Romans to resist.’
I was confused. ‘Gold?’
Orodes leaned back in his chair. ‘This Crassus is a greedy man, that much I know. He covets wealth above all and so I will offer him riches. Ten thousand talents of gold to be precise, if he agrees to twelve months of peace.’
Ten thousand talents was a colossal amount of gold. ‘I did not realise that the treasury at Ctesiphon was so full,’ I said.
Orodes placed his hands behind his head. ‘It isn’t. I will have to request donations from every kingdom in the empire to amass such an amount, but the point is that you dangle it in front of Crassus so he will take the bait.’
‘It will not deter him from wanting to conquer Parthia,’ I said. ‘It will more likely make him more desirous to take possession of a land that has seemingly limitless riches.’
‘But it will buy us time, Pacorus,’ replied Orodes, ‘and at the moment that is a more precious commodity than gold.’
‘You are wrong.’
Surena had contented himself with drinking his wine and seemed not to be taking much notice of proceedings, until now.
‘You have something to say, Surena?’ asked Orodes.
Surena drained his cup and pointed at a slave holding a jug of wine and then at his empty vessel. ‘You waste your time talking to the Romans. I agree that Pacorus, that is King Pacorus, should go to Syria, but he should have an army at his back with which to destroy the legions there and burn Antioch to the ground. That is the only language the Romans understand.’
For a moment everyone thought he was joking but we quickly realised that he was deadly serious.
‘Have you forgotten about the Armenians?’ asked a somewhat discomforted Orodes.
‘The armies of Hatra, Gordyene and Media can take care of the Armenians,’ Surena replied confidently, ‘while Dura’s army, supported by Babylon and Mesene, can lay waste to Syria.’
‘My sources have informed me that Crassus has nine legions in total,’ I said to him, ‘in addition to troops he has raised locally. He can put fifty thousand men into the field.’
‘And you can match those numbers, lord. With your army and your lords you can march with over thirty thousand men, plus the armies of King Nergal and King Orodes, another fifteen thousand men. And there are Haytham’s warriors.’
Gafarn was appalled. ‘Haytham?’
Surena cast him a disparaging glance. ‘It is well known that Dura and Haytham are allies and have assisted each other in their wars. Haytham would gladly provide warriors to plunder Syria.’
‘Just as your men have plundered Armenia?’ said Orodes.
Surena smiled. ‘Of course. Gordyene is no longer troubled by Armenian incursions now that my soldiers have taken the fight to the lands of Artavasdes. The soldiers of this Crassus already sit in some Parthian towns. It is an insult to the empire.’
‘Perhaps we should make you lord high general, Surena,’ said Orodes mockingly.
‘Perhaps you should,’ Surena replied.
‘Careful boy,’ snarled Herneus, ‘just because you’ve butchered a few Armenians does not give you the right to speak to the high king disrespectfully.’
Surena sneered at him. ‘Take care, old man, you might talk your head off its shoulders.’
Herneus jumped up and grasped the hilt of his sword. Surena laughed.
‘Sit down, Herneus!’ commanded Gafarn.
Surena grinned triumphantly at him as the governor of Assur, his cheeks flushed with anger, slowly retook his seat. Nergal looked at me and shook his head.
‘You should have a care who you insult, Surena,’ I said, ‘one day you might need those whom you now mock.’
‘Your behaviour is unacceptable, Surena,’ said Orodes sternly.
Surena held up his hands. ‘I apologise for my enthusiasm. I prefer fighting to talking and only war will remove the enemy from the empire’s lands. The fact is that every day the Romans and Armenians piss on Parthian
land the more we appear weak and helpless. Only by striking at the enemy’s lands can we reassert our greatness.’
‘We will take back all our lands,’ promised Orodes, ‘but to wage two wars at once is folly.’
‘No,’ said Surena firmly, ‘your plan is folly.’
There were murmurs from the others that he had spoken to the high king so but Surena was unconcerned.
‘Crassus will reject your offer of gold for a truce,’ he continued. ‘It will serve only to make him more determined to launch his war sooner so that he may take possession of all the empire’s riches. He sits in Syria and prepares his army and we do nothing. It is better to kill an enemy than to talk with him, that much I have learned.’
I stared at him and saw a man eaten away by bitterness and anger: bitter that the woman he adored had been cruelly snatched from him and angry against the whole world because of it.
‘Perhaps,’ said Orodes calmly, ‘another high king might agree with you, Surena. But I do not and while I am high king we will follow my plan. If Crassus rejects my offer then you will have your war but we will attempt to buy time first, which will ultimately serve our purpose more.
‘In addition, I have no desire to add Syria to the empire. If we invade Syria; what then?’
‘Then it becomes a wasteland and a buffer between the empire and Roman territory,’ replied Surena casually.
‘We are not Romans, Surena,’ I told him. ‘We do not create a desert and call it peace. What about the thousands of people who live in Syria? Will you kill them or sell them into slavery? I have spent all my life opposing such things and I tell you that I will have no part of a war with such objectives.’
‘It is as Pacorus says,’ added Orodes.
‘You will not be attacking the Armenians and Romans?’ he asked.
‘Not yet,’ answered Orodes.
Surena looked resigned. ‘I see that my words have fallen on stony ground, which is a shame.’ He suddenly stood up. ‘I see little merit in remaining here if all we are to do is talk about appeasing our enemies.’
‘Yet again you show disrespect to your high king,’ remarked Gafarn disapprovingly.
‘You should concern yourself more with defending your kingdom, Gafarn,’ said Surena dismissively, ‘before more of it is eaten up by our enemies.’
‘Is your memory so short, Surena,’ growled Gafarn, ‘that you have forgotten who created you a king? It was Orodes. Or the man who raised you up from living among marsh dwellers and gave you an education in the military arts? It was Pacorus. Do you not think that you are in their debt?’
Surena pointed at Gafarn. ‘I brought Gordyene back into the empire and have been drawing Armenian soldiers to the north to defend their borders when they could have been marching south to Hatra. Given support I could defeat Artavasdes and retake Nisibus, something that you appear incapable of. So in answer to your question I think I have more than repaid any debts I may have accrued.’
He bowed his head ever so slightly to Orodes and then walked from the room, throwing his empty cup at a slave standing near the door.
‘Surena,’ I said before he disappeared into the corridor, causing him to halt and face me. ‘I hope I can rely on your support when the fighting begins.’
‘The fighting has already begun,’ he replied sullenly.
‘If we all go our separate ways,’ I told him, ‘in the end we will all go the same way.’
He turned on his heels and walked briskly from the room, the guards outside closing the door as he left.
‘Arrogant little bastard,’ seethed Herneus, looking at Orodes. ‘You should let me take some men and I’ll bring him back from Vanadzor in chains so he can be punished.’
Herneus was a man of iron and an excellent governor of Assur but he grossly underestimated Surena, a man who had liberated an enemy occupied Gordyene single-handedly.
‘We cannot spare you, Lord Herneus,’ said Gafarn, ‘much as I concur with your proposed course of action.’
‘Surena is intemperate, I agree,’ said Orodes, ‘but his rashness is a result of his immaturity and eagerness to wage war against the enemy. His behaviour was unacceptable and men have lost their heads for less, but right now I cannot afford to lose him or his army.’
‘When the war begins he will bring his army to fight by our side,’ I said, ‘of that I am certain.’
Orodes nodded. ‘Notwithstanding Surena’s opposition to the idea, I would still like you to go to Syria, Pacorus, to offer Crassus my proposal.’
‘You have been to his house before,’ Gafarn said to me, ‘so he should be amenable to hearing what you have to say at least.’
‘That was a long time ago,’ I replied.
‘What is he like, this Crassus?’ asked Herneus.
I thought for a moment. ‘Generous, polite and hospitable are words that could be applied to him.’
‘And merciless. Don’t forget he had six thousand of our comrades crucified in Italy,’ said Nergal bitterly.
‘He is ruthless, certainly,’ I agreed, ‘like most Roman leaders, but Crassus is also greedy. He not only covets land for Rome but also wealth for himself. Twenty years ago he was perhaps Rome’s richest man and the passing of time has not reduced his appetite for gold, his looting of the temple at Jerusalem is testimony to that. It is as if he has to accumulate wealth in the same way that a man needs air to breathe and that may be his undoing.’
‘How so?’ asked Atrax.
‘Because,’ I replied, ‘his perception that Parthia is overflowing with gold may lead him to make rash decisions that will play into our hands.’
‘It is agreed, then,’ said Orodes. ‘Pacorus will go to Antioch and play the role of peacemaker.’
I left Assur the next day, Orodes having sent a courier to Phriapatius at Persepolis requesting him to march north at speed to the Caspian Gates and thence to relieve King Musa who was in his capital of Hecatompylos. Thus did I lose forty thousand well-trained and led soldiers, who would be campaigning in the northeast corner of the empire for at least six months, perhaps longer. It would take Phriapatius three weeks alone to reach the Gates, a strategically important pass that runs east and west through a spur of the Alborz Mountains that lay below the southern shore of the Caspian Sea. If Aschek was a competent commander then he could have led the relief expedition but as it was he would be supporting Phriapatius. I cursed the memory of Mithridates and hoped that he was enduring torments in the underworld because he had been responsible for inciting the northern nomads to strike at the empire.
Khosrou and Musa had always had volatile frontiers but any violence was usually restricted to minor raids and looting. When I had first met Khosrou at the Council of Kings at Esfahan all those years ago he had told me that he had encouraged the nomads to try trade instead of raids and had had some success, and had even enticed some of them into the ranks of his army. But Mithridates had bribed the nomads’ chiefs with gold to attack Margiana and Hyrcania during the civil war and their appetite for plunder had returned with a vengeance. Worse, new tribes came from the steppes in the far north, enticed by tales of easy plunder and untold riches. And now they had been united under this Attai. The last thing the empire needed was hordes of barbarians pressing on its northern borders as the Romans prepared to renew hostilities in the west.
‘It is a mistake, Pacorus.’
Domitus reclined in his chair after I had briefed him on what had been decided at Assur. We were sitting in his tent in the legionary camp as the late afternoon was giving way to early evening. I had arrived back at Dura that morning and went to see him after he returned from the exercise that he had been taking part in. It had involved the two legions plus all the cataphracts and two thousand horse archers and had ended with a mock battle five miles south in the desert, in which the legions had drawn up in a hollow square formation and had been assaulted all day and into the night by the horsemen. I picked up the sheet of papyrus from the table and looked at the ‘casualty’ figures
for the exercise.
‘Five killed, fifty wounded and twenty-three horses dead. Was it a real battle?’
‘No, but as near to one as we could get. Keeps everyone on their toes and their skills sharp. They will need them to be when we fight Crassus.’
‘You do not think he will accept Orodes’ offer?’
Domitus laughed. ‘Orodes is a good man and a brave fighter, but until all men think as he does we should keep our swords sharp. Crassus will interpret his offer as a sign of weakness, which it is.’
He picked up a blank sheet of papyrus and laid it before him and then took a pen and began scribbling on it.
‘You say Aschek and the Carmanians that were located at Persepolis have been ordered east.’
I nodded as he scribbled some more.
‘And Surena will not fight?’
‘Oh he will fight,’ I replied, ‘just not on Orodes’ terms.’
He frowned and shook his head as he added up a column of numbers. ‘Then you have lost around seventy thousand troops before the fighting has even begun. Like I said, a grave mistake.’
I told him about Surena’s disagreement with Herneus and Orodes concerning strategy and that he wanted me to invade Syria and reduce its towns and cities to rubble.
‘At least he has not forgotten everything he was taught here,’ said Domitus approvingly.
‘I know you have always wanted to invade Syria, Domitus, but as I told you and as I told Surena it would be a mistake. We may prevail initially but in the end Rome would send more armies to take it back and I do not want an endless war on my frontier.’
‘You have a war on your frontier whether you like it or not,’ he replied, ‘all I was and am suggesting is that it is always better to strike the first blow.’
‘How are Peroz’s horsemen?’ I asked, changing the subject.
‘Fully trained in Duran strategy and tactics,’ he answered proudly. ‘I like him and he’s like an eagle who has discovered a field of lambs now that he has taken up with that whore.’