Vata blinked and the colour drained from his cheeks.
‘Father,’ I protested, but he held up his hand to still me.
‘I said normally because events in the east are more pressing and I cannot yet afford to dispense with his services, or yours.’
‘Events in the east?’ I enquired.
An ironic smile crept across his face. ‘Five days ago word reached me at Hatra that a great army has passed through the Caspian Gates and is advancing west.’
Atrax cast me a concerned glance, which was spotted by my father. ‘You are right to be alarmed, Prince Atrax, for a message arrived for you here at Nisibus this very morning.’
My father snapped his fingers and pointed to a servant standing by a pillar to the side of the dais. The man, who held a silver tray in front of him on which was a letter, walked briskly over to Atrax and bowed his head, holding out the tray to my friend. Atrax took the letter and opened it.
‘The seal was unbroken,’ said my father, ‘but if I was to guess I would say that it is from your father urgently requesting your presence at Irbil.’
Atrax read the letter and looked at my father, who leaned back in his chair.
‘You are correct, majesty,’ he said. ‘My father requires me back in Media.’
‘A more serious challenge than killing a few mountain bandits I assume, lord prince.’
My father nodded to Vistaspa.
‘We have received other news, though its accuracy as yet cannot be confirmed,’ said my father’s second-in-command flatly, ‘of a great army assembling at Ctesiphon and another at Persis.’
‘Three armies?’ I said.
My father pointed at Vata. ‘Get a map of the empire and bring it here.’
‘We do not have a map of the empire, majesty,’ said Vata apologetically.
One of his stewards, a gaunt man in his forties dressed in a long brown robe, stepped forward and bowed his head to Vata.
‘The chief archivist may know of such a chart among his documents, lord.’
‘Go and tell him to search his archives, then,’ ordered Vata.
The man bowed and scurried off, leaving the four of us standing before my father and feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
‘You must be thirsty after your great victory,’ said my father mockingly. He nodded to another servant who brought us silver cups filled with wine, serving my father and Vistaspa first.
My father rose from his seat and held his cup aloft.
‘What shall we toast? Victory, or a glorious war before Atropaiene, Media, Babylon and Mesene are all crushed, their cities reduced to ashes and their peoples either killed or enslaved?’
We shuffled on our feet and said nothing. My father drained his cup.
‘Why so bashful? Pacorus, you of all people should be glad that the eastern half of the empire is now marching west. Have you not desired this war for a long time, a final reckoning with Mithridates and Narses?’
‘I have only desired justice,’ I replied through gritted teeth.
Our further discomfort was spared when the steward returned with a stooping man in his sixties at least who was clutching a rolled-up map. He had thinning white hair and took small steps as he shuffled towards the dais.
‘You have a map of the empire?’ my father asked him.
‘Yes indeed, majesty,’ he replied, bowing and dropping the map on the floor. My father rolled his eyes.
‘Place it on the table,’ he instructed.
The archivist bowed again, picked up the map and then shuffled over to the table and unrolled it, brushing away cobwebs from its edges. The hide map was intricately detailed, showing all the empire’s major rivers, kingdoms, cities and mountain ranges.
‘It has been in the library here for at least fifty years though I suspect it is older,’ reported the archivist as he admired it. ‘I believe that it was produced by a Greek whose name escapes me, though he was clearly influenced by his fellow countryman Hipparchos, who I believe lived for most of his life in Greece but who travelled widely in these parts.’
‘Thank you for being most informative,’ said my father, stepping from the dais and walking to the side of the table. ‘You may go.’
The archivist bowed and ambled from our presence.
‘Please join me,’ said my father, his tone indicating it was a command rather than a request.
With our full cups still in our hands we gathered at the table to stare at the map.
My father began to speak, uttering his thoughts rather than engaging us in a conversation.
‘Messages sent from Hyrcania and Margiana indicate that four kings have marched through the Caspian Gates – Monaeses of Yueh-Chih, Tiridates of Aria, Cinnamus of Anauon and Vologases of Drangiana. This host is made up of only horsemen so it may move quickly, and it is heading in our direction.’
He pointed to the area between Lake Urmia and the Caspian Sea.
‘They mean to attack Media, Atropaiene and then Hatra, all the kingdoms that have supported Dura against Mithridates.’
His hand moved further south across the map.
‘If the reports concerning Mithridates and Narses are true, then they are gathering another army at Ctesiphon. This can only mean that they will once again strike at Babylon.’
I looked at Orodes and saw alarm etched on his face.
‘Mesene can aid Babylon, father,’ I said.
My father looked at me and then at Vistaspa, who now spoke.
‘Word is that King Phriapatius of Carmania is moving west with his army and has reached Persepolis.’
‘Which means,’ continued my father, ‘that he will attack the Kingdom of Mesene, which in turn will prevent King Nergal from assisting Babylon. Thus does Mithridates gather the whole of the east to attack us.’
I looked at the map and my heart sank. I had been so preoccupied with planning and preparing my own campaign against Mithridates and Narses that I had given no thought to the notion that they might be doing the same. But now it seemed I had underestimated them once again. The silence in the hall was deafening as we stood rooted to the spot. Atrax broke the silence.
‘I must return to Media, lord.’
‘Let us hope, lord prince,’ said my father, ‘that there is still a Media to return to.’
Atrax left the next morning with his bodyguard. He came to see me in camp before his journey, promising to aid Surena when he could but fearing that the great army moving towards the borders of his father’s kingdom would absorb all his time, to say nothing of Media’s resources. I stood with Domitus and Orodes and watched him and his men ride from camp. I placed an arm on Orodes’ shoulder.
‘Do not fear, my friend, the walls of Babylon are stout and high.’
He smiled wanly. ‘Even the strongest city cannot hold out indefinitely, Pacorus.’
I knew what he was thinking: that he should ride south with his men and be by the side of Axsen when the storm broke against Babylon’s walls. But I needed his men with me where they would be more use rather than cooped up inside a city. That said, if he decided to ride to his beloved there was nothing I could do. I prayed that for the moment his head would rule his heart.
We went back inside the tent and took our seats at the table, an air of uncertainty hanging over us. Domitus extracted his dagger from his sheath and began toying with it.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘are we marching back to Dura?’
‘That would seem to be the most logical course of action,’ added Orodes. ‘If the Kingdom of Babylon falls then Nergal at Uruk will be cut off and Mithridates will be able to reduce Mesene with ease. And after that Dura will be attacked.’
He was right, but I was loathe to leave my father’s kingdom knowing that a great army was marching in its direction. And yet if Babylon fell then Nergal would also be destroyed and after that Dura would feel the wrath of Narses and Mithridates. I suddenly realised that I had only one chance to make the right decision, for otherwise all would be lost. How the gods must b
e enjoying this.
‘Hatra’s army is strong,’ I said. ‘We will march south to aid Babylon. There may be three armies attacking our friends and allies, but only one of those is important, the one led by Mithridates and Narses. Destroy that and we win the war.’
Orodes was nodding and Domitus had stopped playing with his dagger.
‘It is agreed, then,’ I said. ‘We march east to the Tigris and then down its west bank to Babylon, and then we will have a final reckoning with Mithridates and Narses.’
I heard the sound of horses’ hooves outside and then men’s voices. The flap of the tent opened and my father walked in followed by Vistaspa and two agitated sentries.
‘It is fine,’ I told them.
They disappeared as my father helped himself to a cup of water from the jug on the table and then sat in one of the chairs, Vistaspa standing behind him.
‘This is an unexpected pleasure, father. Have you come to inspect my camp?’
‘A courier arrived two hours ago with news concerning the army advancing from the east. It has divided just west of the Caspian Gates. One half under Monaeses and Tiridates is moving northwest towards Media and Atropaiene; the other led by Cinnamus and Vologases is heading directly west towards Hatra.’
‘The enemy splits his forces,’ remarked Domitus.
My father smiled at him savagely. ‘That is right, Roman, he divides his forces, so confidant is he that he will be victorious. And by doing so he gives us a small chance, a glimmer of hope, to avert disaster.’
He drank from his cup and looked at me.
‘Perhaps we may achieve more if the famed army of Dura will stay in these parts to aid me.’
‘We have a chance to trap and destroy the invaders,’ added Vistaspa.
‘I had thought of taking the army south to aid Babylon,’ I said, looking at Orodes. ‘Surely Hatra can raise enough men to match the combined forces of Anauon and Drangiana?’
My father nodded. ‘I can raise a host of men, yes, but they are not trained soldiers, not like those whose only task is war. I still need Vata to hold the north but will take his five thousand men with me. The lords in these parts can muster their retainers to hold Nisibus and the surrounding area. Gafarn can hold the city of Hatra with the garrison and a muster of my lords – a total of sixty thousand men, give or take. That leaves me with seven thousand horse archers and a thousand cataphracts that I will collect at Hatra, plus my bodyguard and Vata’s five thousand horse archers.’
‘Thirteen and a half thousand men,’ said Domitus.
‘How many march against you, lord?’ asked Orodes.
My father looked at Vistaspa, who answered.
‘We have no accurate reports, but a tally of eighty thousand has been mentioned more than once.’
Orodes’ eyes widened at this great figure and even I was a little surprised.
‘With your own army, Pacorus, that will give us a fighting chance,’ said my father.
‘Under thirty thousand men,’ added Domitus.
Vistaspa looked confused. ‘Do they not teach mathematics in Italy, Domitus? You marched into these parts with over twenty thousand men.’
Domitus looked at me to reply.
‘I sent some horsemen away with Atrax,’ I lied, ‘as reinforcements.’
My father frowned. ‘It would be better if they had remained. Still, we might yet prevail.’
I ordered food and drink to be brought from the field kitchens as he and Vistaspa revealed their plan to us. They had brought with them the map of the empire that the pedantic archivist had unearthed among his records, and which was now spread on the table before us. Despite the current dire situation the western kingdoms found themselves in, my father and his subordinate appeared to have been animated by the prospect of the coming fight.
I looked at the map, specifically at the course of the River Tigris, which the enemy had to cross to enter Hatran territory.
‘The first question is, where will the enemy strike?’
‘That is easy enough,’ replied Vistaspa, pointing at the river to the east of the city of Hatra. ‘They will cross the Tigris at Assur, which lies only sixty miles to the east of Hatra.’
‘Even though it is now nearly summer,’ added my father, ‘there are only a few places that large numbers of horsemen can ford the Tigris. Assur is one such place. The water level will have dropped by now and its depth will be around six feet, perhaps less. The Plain of Makhmur lies across the river from Assur, which is flat and fertile. An army can establish a camp there prior to fording the river. Once over the river they can ride across flat land all the way to Hatra. They have to be stopped at the river.’
‘They could be allowed to cross the river and advance inland,’ I suggested, ‘to walk into a trap.’
‘I do not want eighty thousand horsemen running amok in the east of my kingdom,’ replied my father. ‘No, they have to be stopped at the river.’
‘How far away is this place, this Assur?’ asked Domitus.
‘Two hundred miles south of here,’ replied Vistaspa.
‘Ten days’ march,’ mused Domitus. ‘And how far away is the enemy from Assur?’
‘They have halted at the city of Ecbatana, two hundred and fifty miles east of the Tigris,’ said Vistaspa. ‘The governor, one of Mithridates’ friends, is entertaining Cinnamus and Vologases, so I have heard.’
Domitus stared at the map and counted on his fingers.
‘They can reach the river in nine days.’
My father smiled. ‘Do not worry, Roman, they will linger at Ecbatana a while longer.’
‘We have received reports that a lavish festival has been laid on to celebrate their arrival,’ said Vistaspa, ‘with games, apparently.’
‘We will leave at dawn,’ I announced.
My father smiled and Vistaspa nodded approvingly.
‘Trees,’ Domitus said suddenly.
Orodes looked at him in bewilderment.
‘Trees?’
‘Are there any trees at Assur?’
My father frowned. ‘You are a keen student of foliage, Roman?’
Domitus looked at me. ‘Remember Mutina all those years ago, how we faced a forest of stakes? I have not forgotten that day.’
I nodded. ‘You are right, well done. And no, as far as I can remember there are no trees in the vicinity of Assur, at least no tall ones.’
‘Then we will be marching in three days’ time,’ said Domitus.
Having explained what Domitus was referring to, my father and Vistaspa rode back to the city to inform Vata that they would be taking his troops with them when they rode south and that he was to summon the lords and their men to perform garrison and caravan protection duties.
It took two days to recall Vata’s men from the outlying villages and assemble them in Nisibus, during which time Domitus and Kronos organised parties to cut down as many trees as they could. Six cohorts were sent into the forests to fell trees and the others organised transport to ferry the lumber back to camp where it was fashioned into six-foot-long stakes. Working all day and through the night with the aid of torches and great fires made from freshly cut branches – which produced a great deal of choking smoke – in two days we must have cut down a thousand trees. After we had finished it looked as though a giant had been to work at the edge of the forest with a massive scythe.
I asked Vata to send additional wagons from Nisibus to carry the wood and eventually we filled a hundred and fifty for the journey south. The day before we left Byrd and Malik returned to us with their scouts to report that Surena and his men had entered Gordyene unseen. I told them both what had happened since they had been away and how we were marching south to Assur. That night I wrote a letter to Gallia telling her everything that had happened and adding a footnote concerning Orodes’ desire to marry Axsen. I also asked her to remain at Dura. I said nothing of the army forming at Ctesiphon preparing to march against Babylon. If she got wind of the city being in peril she might be tempte
d to muster Dura’s lords and march south to Axsen’s aid. If she did they would be cut to pieces by Narses’ heavy cavalry. I prayed to Shamash that He would prevent Dobbai having any visions about Babylon’s predicament until I returned to Dura.
Heavily loaded with provisions and lumber the army marched southeast to the Tigris and then followed the river south to Assur. As the days passed the heat of a Mesopotamian summer began to roast our backs as the country turned from a lush green to a parched brown and then a sun-blasted yellow. The men stashed their leggings on the wagons and horsemen brought out their floppy hats to shield their necks and faces from the unrelenting sun. We made twenty miles every day, most of the horsemen walking beside their mounts for most of the journey, riding only when they were sent out on patrol. Even though we were in my father’s kingdom I sent out reconnaissance patrols to scout the surrounding country, and Byrd and Malik rode far ahead, sending patrols into the villages. With eighty thousand or more enemy soldiers somewhere on the other side of the Tigris I did not want to run into any nasty surprises on our journey south.
The first five days were quiet and uneventful, the only opposition being the heat and the dust that was kicked up as we marched across the parched earth. The days were cloudless, windless and very hot; the nights clear, cooler and welcome. On the sixth day, in the early afternoon, Byrd and Malik rejoined the army after having spent the night with some of their men south of the army. They found me walking with Orodes, Domitus and Kronos in front of the Duran Legion’s colour party. The sun was illuminating its golden griffin and making it appear almost molten.
‘No sign of enemy,’ reported Byrd.
‘We have ridden to within forty miles of Assur, Pacorus,’ added Malik, ‘and have made contact with outriders from the garrison. They too have seen nothing.’
‘It would appear that we have stolen a march on the enemy, then,’ I said. ‘What news of my father?’
‘The king is marching from Hatra with his army, Assur’s men inform us,’ replied Byrd. He nodded towards the river. ‘Water very low, Pacorus. Easy for horses to cross.’
He was right about that. The passing of the spring floodwaters swells the Tigris, especially when it receives the waters of the Upper Zab River that flows into it fifty miles upstream of Assur. But now summer was here the waters had subsided and the depth had dropped, the high-sided banks the only indication of the levels the waters had reached during the spring. Now the Tigris was a lazy brown monster that meandered its way south across the great plains of eastern Hatra and western Media.
Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 42