by R. W. Peake
“I know that you didn’t send your favorite wife to Susa,” he had informed Valash on the night that Valash’s carefully balanced existence was disrupted forever. “And,” Tiridates continued, “I also know that the boy you said was your heir is not your favorite and the one you plan on naming your heir stayed here.”
How Tiridates had gleaned this valuable piece of information Valash had no idea, although in the moment, it did not matter; this would be something to investigate at a later date. Provided, of course, he thought with morbid amusement, I’m alive to do it, which at that moment Valash would not have wagered a drachma that he would be whenever whatever this was came to a resolution. Outwardly, his face was impassive as Tiridates calmly explained how neatly, and from Valash’s perspective, thoroughly this man who was technically a subordinate in both the military and social order had ensnared Valash in his plans. Plans that, as Valash sat there listening to Tiridates grow increasingly enthusiastic with every breath, bordered on madness, although he was careful not to let those thoughts show in his expression. Nevertheless, once Tiridates was finished, the one thing that Valash knew with any certainty was that if he wanted to live to see another sunrise, he had to convince Tiridates that he was, if not enthusiastic about what his underling had done, at least accepting of it to the point the other man was not suspicious. Now, as he sat in his chair listening to the loathsome man give the other two nobles, Musa and Vonones, their orders for the next phase of Tiridates’ grandiose plan, he truly did not know whether to laugh or cry. It was not so much that what Tiridates had in mind was ludicrous, although it was, at least to Valash, who had actually seen the Roman war machine firsthand. Instead, it was the very idea that there was any chance of success that was laughable, while the prospect of certain defeat and the destruction that would come from that inevitability was what forced Valash to keep the tears from flooding his eyes through an effort of will. From a tactical standpoint, on the other hand, as loath as he was to give Tiridates any credit, and despite his lukewarm interest in martial matters, Valash recognized that it was a sound plan, actually bordering on brilliant in some ways. At the very least, he thought, still wordlessly watching the other three men enthusiastically discussing their own ultimate destruction, it encapsulated the Parthian way of waging war. Not that it would do anything but prolong the inevitable, when one, or even worse, more of the dreaded Legions of Rome showed up outside the walls of this city, then reduced them to rubble before swarms of heavily armored, well trained, and veteran Legionaries came rushing through these streets, putting everyone to the sword and in a veritable eyeblink destroy everything that his family had worked to build over the previous century.
“Lord Valash!”
Despite only hearing his name once, when Valash lifted his head to look at Tiridates, he instantly discerned this was not the first time the man had uttered it, so he cleared his throat to stall for time before asking, “Yes, Lord Tiridates?”
“I said,” Tiridates’ face was taut with suppressed anger, reminding Valash that, just as one of his wives and five of his children were to the Romans, he was as much of a hostage to this man, “now that we’ve discussed your plan of action, is there anything you have to add to it, before we send Musa and Vonones out to begin executing it?”
“Yes, Tiridates,” Valash lied, knowing he was being rash but was sufficiently angered to retort, “I know what you asked. I was simply trying to think if there’s anything that you missed.”
For an instant, Valash was certain that he had enraged Tiridates to the point where he would betray himself to the other two men as the real architect of this disaster in the making, but somehow, he managed to control himself, offering Valash a stiff bow, saying in a monotone voice, “Of course, Lord. My apologies. So, is there anything that I missed, Lord?”
“Actually,” Valash countered, surprising himself as much as he saw it surprised Tiridates, “there is.” Turning to address the other two men, Valash said gravely, “We must all be prepared for what will happen once the Romans rouse themselves and come in this direction. There will be much suffering on the part of our people at their hands, so it would behoove us not to add to their miseries in the form of reprisals for those headmen of villages who choose to cooperate with the enemy instead of seeing their villagers slaughtered.”
This was too much for Tiridates, and Valash could see that he barely caught himself in time to keep his tone carefully modulated as he objected, “While that would be wise behavior under normal conditions, Lord, we cannot allow our peasants to offer any aid or succor to our enemies.” In a gesture that was overly dramatic, even for a member of the Parthian nobility, Tiridates smashed his fist into the palm of his other hand as he declared, “Anyone who does so must be crushed, without remorse, without mercy!”
Valash, his face impassive, asked in a deceptively mild tone, “And if we do this, between what the Romans will do and this…crushing,” he could not keep the sarcasm from his voice, something Tiridates clearly heard, given the sudden flush to his face, “that we will administer if these peasants aren’t as brave under torture as we would certainly be…will anyone be left for us to rule?”
This was met with silence as Tiridates glared at Valash, but it was actually Musa and Vonones who Valash was concerned with, and he was cautiously pleased to see them exchange a troubled glance.
Recognizing he had pushed Tiridates as far as he dared, at least for the moment, Valash stood and said briskly, “Otherwise, Tiridates, you have done an admirable job of explaining our plan to Musa and Vonones, and I think that they know what must be done.”
“Lord, you are too kind,” Tiridates’ tone had returned to that of the courtier, bowing as he spoke in Valash’s direction, “but please do not give me credit where none is due. This was your conception, and you deserve all of the credit. I merely relayed all that you told me.”
Because of his position, only Valash could see the look of glittering menace in Tiridates’ eyes, but he was forced to pretend that the man was sincere, and he returned the bow with equal falsity. Somehow, he thought, I will have to find a way to make Tiridates pay for what he’s done; all I have to do is live long enough to see it through. As for now, I’m the leader of a rebellion I never wanted, so I suppose I have no choice but to do my best to be successful.