Amazon

by Peter Darman

  After the courtyard had emptied I questioned her as we walked back into the palace, Praxima and Diana comforting Gallia, my wife’s eyes moist with tears.

  ‘Why did you give that accursed thing to your sister?’ I hissed.

  ‘The amulet? I would have thought it was obvious.’

  ‘It is not so kindly explain,’ I demanded. ‘The thing is evil and should have been destroyed after the incident at Sigal.’

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘What a simple view of a complex world you have, father. Demons are neither good nor evil.’

  ‘I know Pazuzu is the king of the wind demons,’ I said, ‘who brings famine during the dry season and storms and locusts in the rainy season. He also has the power to spread terrible diseases with his dry, fiery breath.’

  She nodded approvingly. ‘Very good, father, and you are right. But let me ask you a question. You have travelled to Hatra, Babylon, Seleucia and other great cities in the empire. But in all your travels have you ever seen a statue of Pazuzu?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  I felt like a child being grilled by a schoolteacher but I indulged her.

  ‘Because no one in their right mind would erect a statue to an evil deity.’

  She nodded. ‘You are partly right. A full-sized statue of a demon would attract the attention of its subject, much like a flame attracts a moth. But an amulet, being smaller, draws Pazuzu’s attention but its diminutive size concentrates the demon’s powers towards protection.’

  I was sceptical. ‘Protection against whom?’

  She tutted. ‘Lamashtu, of course.’

  Daughter of the Sky God Anu, Lamashtu was the fiercest of female demons who murdered unborn children and new-born infants. I looked at her and remembered the terrible price Sakastan had paid when Claudia had summoned Pazuzu. The death of new-borns throughout the kingdom had cast a pall of gloom over the land that would take years to erase. Like being struck by a lightning bolt I suddenly realised why Claudia had given Isabella the amulet – Pazuzu was the enemy of Lamashtu.

  ‘Isabella is pregnant?’

  She nodded. ‘Tell mother, it will comfort her.’

  I hugged Claudia, causing her to frown. The old Claudia would have loved such a gesture but my daughter the Scythian Sister disapproved of overly emotional gestures. An evil leer spread over her face.

  ‘Perhaps I should acquire another amulet for Silaces because Pazuzu can also be invoked against impotency. I assume the old dog is with his young slave?’

  ‘With his wife,’ I said, ‘yes.’

  ‘There is something nauseating about old men crawling over young women. It is quite disgusting, as is he.’

  I was surprised by her moralistic tone. ‘They seem happy enough.’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, he’s happy enough, practising his loathsome lust on Cia’s young body. And she is eternally grateful he freed and married her, or so she gushed to me a few days ago. But lust and gratitude do not mix, father, though perhaps she will bring about the bursting of Silaces’ heart and inherit his kingdom.’

  I thought about the time Silaces and Cia had been locked away in their bedroom during their stay.

  ‘Or perhaps he will get her pregnant.’

  ‘Poor girl,’ was her final comment.

  Later I told Gallia that Isabella was pregnant, neither she nor Salar being aware until Claudia had told her on the palace steps. That night I went to bed a happy man with my first grandchild on the way. It was a ray of light in what was to become a darkening world.

  Chapter 4

  ‘I’m not riding to Ctesiphon and my advice to you all would be to take the same course of action,’ said Silaces.

  ‘Or inaction,’ replied Gafarn.

  The meeting room in the Headquarters Building was stifling, the dire news that had arrived from Ctesiphon earlier adding to the oppressive atmosphere. We all drank greedily from the water jugs on the table and wiped the sweat off our necks and brows. Gallia’s face was flushed and Praxima’s cheeks were the colour of her hair. Only Cia seemed relaxed and free from perspiration. Silaces by comparison was sweating, irritable and up for a fight, unfortunately not the one currently faced by Phraates.

  Taking advantage of the wounding of Kujula and the subsequent withdrawal of Kushan armies from the empire, Tiridates had struck west at the head of an army of horsemen to topple Phraates. The latter had issued an appeal to march my army to Ctesiphon forthwith, and I assumed similar appeals had been sent to the capitals of those kings gathered around the table.

  Silaces looked at each of us. ‘You all know what I’m planning makes sense but are reluctant to say so.’

  ‘Phraates is high king,’ I said.

  Silaces wiped his neck with a cloth soaked with sweat. ‘Only because we saved his arse at Phraaspa and your nephew did the same when Mark Antony and your sister climbed into bed together.’

  Diana grimaced but Gafarn was nodding.

  ‘And then we had to save her when Spartacus threatened to conquer all Media,’ he continued. ‘Why should we spill more blood to keep a man on the high throne who is clearly not up to the task?’

  ‘We took an oath of loyalty to Phraates,’ I reminded him.

  ‘He’s only high king because of your efforts,’ said Silaces.

  ‘He has a point, Pacorus,’ agreed Nergal.

  ‘Phraates is a fool,’ added Praxima.

  ‘Have you forgotten the obscenity he committed against your sister?’ asked Gafarn.

  ‘I course not,’ I shot back, ‘but let me ask you all a question. If we allow Tiridates to topple Phraates, a precedent will have been set. What is to prevent another removing Tiridates by force, and on and on? To sit back and do nothing is to invite endless war. After all the bloodshed following the death of Sinatruces, I would have thought the last thing you would want is fresh civil strife.’

  ‘Sounds like we already have civil strife,’ said Gafarn.

  ‘Not if we confront Tiridates with an army before he gets to Ctesiphon,’ I stated.

  I stood and walked to the map on the wall.

  ‘The King of Aria is obviously no great general.’ I traced a finger from Aria to Ctesiphon. ‘He is far from home and without allies. What condition will his army be in by the time it has ridden hard for hundreds of miles?’

  ‘It takes time to assemble an army, Pacorus,’ cautioned Nergal.

  I looked at him and then the map. He was right. If we waited for all our forces to gather together in one place, that would give Tiridates time to strike for Ctesiphon. But if we rode east straight away…

  ‘If we ride tomorrow,’ I announced, ‘then we can be at Ctesiphon in five days.’

  They looked at me in astonishment.

  ‘Ride with what?’ asked Gafarn.

  ‘Five thousand horse archers, a thousand cataphracts, one hundred Amazons and your personal escorts,’ I replied.

  ‘Are you mad?’ scoffed Silaces. ‘Less than ten thousand men to battle Tiridates and presumably the other kings of the east?’

  ‘Long odds, Pacorus,’ agreed Nergal.

  But in my mind I was beginning to formulate a plan that would deal a fatal blow to the ambitions of Tiridates.

  ‘Not if we get to Ctesiphon before Tiridates,’ I argued. ‘You forget that Phraates can draw soldiers from nearby Babylon to swell our numbers.’

  Gafarn was unhappy. ‘Having spent almost your entire career slaughtering the soldiers of Babylon, I would have thought you above all know their usefulness is negligible at best.’

  ‘Their foot soldiers, yes,’ I answered, ‘but the horse archers and mounted spearmen are good enough. And don’t forget Phraates can also summon the forces of Susiana. Together with our own forces it will be enough to give Tiridates a bloody nose. He is far from home and has no supply base. How long will he and his army be able to subsist far from home and in enemy territory?’

  My words were met with sceptical expressions so I decided to for
ce the issue.

  ‘I will be taking my horsemen east tomorrow morning.’

  ‘And horsewomen,’ said Gallia.

  ‘I will be riding with you,’ stated Praxima.

  Nergal shrugged. ‘Me too.’

  ‘We will also be accompanying you,’ said Diana.

  ‘I will always support you, Pacorus,’ stated Silaces, ‘but I cannot join you. Phraates is a poor high king and this revolt against his reign is testament to that. You are risking everything for a lost cause.’

  ‘Consider this, my friend,’ I replied, sweat trickling down the back of my neck to soak my tunic. ‘Tiridates was part of the coalition that desired to attack Sakastan when Phanes was appointed lord high general in the east. That coalition was defeated but the King of Aria’s ambition obviously knows no bounds. If he becomes high king, what is to prevent him punishing Dura, Hatra, Mesene and Gordyene when he is ensconced at Ctesiphon?’

  ‘That’s true,’ nodded Nergal. ‘He will remember Lake Nawar.’

  We had raided the combined army of Drangiana and Aria at Lake Nawar, ironically guided there by a supposed spice trader named Vima, who turned out to be Kujula himself. The Kushan emperor desired to weaken the eastern Parthian kingdoms prior to his invasion and we had played right into his hands. But that is another story.

  ‘If Tiridates becomes high king then Salar and Isabella will be vulnerable,’ said Gallia, ‘and as a mother I cannot stand by and allow that.’

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ said Gafarn.

  Gallia and Praxima were unhappy with the attitude of Silaces and were deliberately absent when he and Cia left the Citadel that afternoon. But Nergal, Gafarn and I held no grudges and respected his decision. He disliked Phraates and the feeling was mutual. It was a major failing of the high king in a nutshell and was the reason he was now facing a very real threat to his throne.

  After Silaces had departed I assembled the army’s commanders on the palace terrace, the thought of roasting again in the Headquarters Building too much to bear. I briefed them concerning the urgent crisis and declared my intention to lead a column of horsemen to Ctesiphon. Chrestus was unhappy we were leaving the legions behind but accepted that ten thousand foot soldiers would slow the rate of march from forty miles a day to at least half that.

  ‘What about Kalet and his lords?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘It will take at least two days, probably longer, to gather the lords and their retainers and we do not have the luxury of time.’

  Sporaces, the commander of Dura’s horse archers, lean and tall, was wearing a deep frown. Marcus Sutonius, the Roman who headed Dura’s siege train and was my quartermaster general, was also perplexed.

  ‘The horsemen will be without a camp at night, majesty, thus making them vulnerable to attack.’

  ‘Can’t help that, Marcus,’ I said, ‘speed is of the essence.’

  He shook his head. ‘Dividing the army to safeguard Ctesiphon is a mistake, majesty, if I may be so bold.’

  ‘Speak freely,’ I told him.

  Servants placed pastries, fruit, water and wine on the table, pouring whatever drink was desired by those seated under the awning into goblets.

  ‘Ctesiphon’s walls are now repaired,’ said Marcus, ‘which means the complex can easily be defended by the garrison there. I assume the high king will be drawing soldiers from the garrison of Babylon and nearby Seleucia?’

  ‘I expect so,’ I replied.

  ‘Then it makes sense to allow King Tiridates to lay siege to Ctesiphon, especially because as far as I know Aria has no siege engines.’

  He smiled at Chrestus. ‘Then the army under the command of General Chrestus can attack the Arians and destroy their camp. An army without horses, food, tents and other supplies will quickly wither and die.’

  ‘What you say is correct, Marcus,’ I said, ‘but it assumes Phraates will adopt a rational mind to the situation he finds himself in, which I am doubtful of. To compound matters, his advisers leave a lot to be desired and will only contribute to the high king panicking and making wrong decisions. However, if we arrive at Ctesiphon before Tiridates then I am confident we can defeat him in the field, or at the very least defend the palace complex until Chrestus arrives with the legions.’

  Azad, the powerfully built commander of Dura’s cataphracts, turned a date in his fingers.

  ‘Is there any information on the strength and composition of the enemy army, majesty?’

  ‘None,’ I told him.

  Normally Talib and his scouts would be sent ahead to collect intelligence on the enemy but he and they were resident in Palmyra and so would take no part in the ride to Ctesiphon, though they would accompany Chrestus and the legions.

  Marcus nibbled on a pastry then suddenly stopped and studied me.

  ‘I find it most odd that King Tiridates should cross the empire without first securing allies to support his venture, majesty. Even if he takes Ctesiphon, he and his army will still be surrounded by actual and potential foes.’

  I did not give his surmising a second thought, but he had a wise head on his shoulders and events were to remind me I should always heed the advice of the doughty Roman.

  I got little sleep that night as the mounted part of the army prepared to ride to Ctesiphon. By the light of torches and oil lamps, cataphracts, squires and horse archers readied themselves for the coming expedition. The armouries stayed open all night to issue weapons, armour and arrows. Horses, sensing the night-time activity and the heightened tension, became restless in their stalls. Tegha was now a very mature male and I did not want to disturb him until the morning, but he and the other horses in the stables in the Citadel sensed the fevered activity and became skittish, the young stallions kicking their stall doors and creating a commotion. So I wandered down to the stables to calm my horse, finding him pacing up and down in his stall like a prisoner waiting to be escorted to the gallows.

  He calmed down when he heard my voice, turning when I entered his stall and uttered soothing words to him.

  ‘We will be riding out early tomorrow, so you need to get some rest. Neither of us is getting any younger and you will be carrying me tomorrow. So settle down.’

  He nuzzled his nose in my chest and snorted contentedly as I stroked him under his chin. The stall was filled with the comforting aroma of horse and hay, tinged with leather from the nearby tack room where the saddles and harnesses were stored. I do not know why but at that moment I thought of Remus, the white stallion who had carried me in countless battles in Italy and Parthia. Perhaps it was the knowledge that once more I was riding to war that provoked the memory, or perhaps it was simply one old man remembering another old warrior. I lowered my head until my forehead was resting on the bridge of Tegha’s nose.

  ‘It seems like yesterday; where did those years go?’

  I opened my eyes and looked at Tegha.

  ‘One day you will be riding beside Remus as one of the herd of our lord, and Shamash willing he will let me join both you in the afterlife. But not yet, my old friend, not yet.’

  In the half-light cast by the oil lamps in the stables his golden coat looked darker than usual but he was still a fine example of his breed. The Nisean was named after the town of Nisaia in the Nisean Plains at the foot of the Zagros Mountains. For hundreds of years they had been the first choice of Persian kings and nobles, Greek generals and Parthian horsemen. The great Alexander of Macedon’s horse, Bucephalus, was a Nisean. But I reckoned Tegha better than even the mighty conqueror’s horse for he had carried me for over twenty years and Alexander was in his grave by the age of thirty-three. I stroked his long ears and admired his lightly muscled long back, flat croup, deep chest and long neck. I patted the latter.

  ‘Get some sleep, you will need it.’

  I gently closed the sliding door to the stall, which, like the others in the block, comprised a lower half of wood and an upper half of grillwork. Nothing could rival the royal stables at Hatra for lavish opulence, including running
water, but nothing had been spared to make the quarters for Dura’s horses as accommodating as possible. All the stalls had wooden walls, the horizontal planks equipped with vertical supports to prevent them bending when kicked by an occupant and thus stopping a horse getting its foot stuck in the boards. The stables were bright and airy with windows and skylights to ensure air circulated freely and the rays of the Sun God flooded into the buildings.

  ‘Excuse me, majesty.’

  I turned to see the master of stables standing across from Tegha’s stall. He bowed.

  ‘Tegha is less restless now, majesty?’

  ‘He will be fine. I will saddle him myself in the morning.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘If you have time, majesty, I have something to show you.’

  He led me out of Tegha’s block to the stable adjacent, tired stable hands stopping their tasks to bow their heads as I passed. I was taken to one of the stalls where a magnificent black stallion was flicking its tail. The two bony knobs on its forehead revealed it to be a Nisean and its powerful frame indicated its great strength and endurance. It was the first time I had seen it and wondered where it came from. As if anticipating my question the master of stables handed me a note.

  ‘King Silaces brought him to the stables just before he departed, majesty, the stallion having been kept in the Elymais camp across the river before then.’

  I took the note and read it.

  A birthday gift, despite you specifically stating you did not want any. Tegha is getting a bit long in the tooth, as are you, so this is a replacement. He’s as fiery as a cornered cobra but he is a special boy.