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by Peter Darman

  Phraates placed his hands together and rested his elbows on the mirror-like desktop.

  ‘And King Silaces, did he leave Dura before my summons?’

  ‘He did,’ I answered immediately.

  Fortunately, Phraates has a short attention span and moved on to another topic.

  ‘When do your siege engines arrive, King Pacorus?’

  ‘They are still at Dura, highness,’ I smiled.

  He thumped the table. ‘Then please order them to Ctesiphon with all haste. The gates of Babylon have been slammed in my face and I intend to batter them down.’

  I heard Gafarn sigh and out of the corner of my eye saw Nergal give a slight shake of the head.

  ‘It would be best to starve the city into surrender,’ I advised.

  ‘No!’ Phraates shouted. ‘I intend to make an example of those who have risen in revolt against me. Babylon was my mother’s city and it is a gross insult to her memory that its citizens have rebelled against her son.’

  ‘Surely, majesty,’ I said softly, ‘to burn such a beautiful city would also be an insult to your mother, who was one of my dearest friends.’

  ‘And mine,’ added Gafarn.

  Phraates’ smile returned. ‘I know you were close to my mother and it comforts me to know you are among my most loyal subjects. But traitors must be punished, is that not so, Silani?’

  ‘It is as you say, highness,’ said the general.

  ‘The army of Persis is already on its way,’ announced Phraates. ‘Silani, send word to Susa that the satrap is to bring his soldiers here also. I intend to surround Babylon with a mighty army.’

  He had a point about crushing revolts but the expenditure in lives trying to storm the formidable walls of Babylon would be high. I was still at a loss as to why the House of Egibi had fomented a revolt, especially as it appeared Tiridates had withdrawn his army. Successful businessmen rarely gambled with their fortunes, much less their lives, but perhaps Phraates had goaded the two brothers to breaking point. One thing was certain, though, I would not be wasting Dura’s soldiers by hurling them against the walls of Babylon. The soldiers of Persis and Susiana would have that dubious honour.

  After the meeting I informed Gafarn and Nergal I was visiting the Temple of Shamash that had been built near the palace, ironically so that my sister Aliyeh could pray to the god she had worshipped since childhood. Aliyeh no longer visited Ctesiphon but the temple still stood. It was a miniature version of the Great Temple in Hatra. Because Shamash was the Sun God, the main entrance to the temple, a large porch flanked by two wings, faced east. Shamash can see everything on earth and is the god of justice. He and his wife, Aya, have two children. Kittu represents justice, and Misharu the law. Every morning, the gates of Heaven in the east open, and Shamash appears. He travels across the sky and enters Heaven again in the west. He travels through the Underworld at night in order to begin in the east the next day.

  I walked through the porch into the temple’s interior, the walls and marble columns white and the many windows allowing sunlight to flood in to dazzle the senses. Behind the altar covered by a white cloth was a large gold disc cast to resemble the sun and along the walls were incense burners containing saffron and frankincense, which when lit gave off white smoke to enable mortals more easily to converse with the Sun God. The temple was empty aside from a solitary figure going to each incense burner to light the contents.

  She was an attractive young woman with thick black hair falling to her shoulders, the white robe showing off her shapely body, her feet encased in soft leather slippers. She gave me a dazzling smile when I passed her, causing me to stop and stare at her.

  ‘Can I help you, lord?’

  ‘No, I am here to gather my thoughts and pray to the Sun God.’

  She lit one of the burners, glancing at me with her hazel eyes as she did so.

  ‘These are troubling times, lord.’

  ‘Indeed. Are you a slave?’

  She laughed. ‘No, lord, I am a free spirit.’

  It was an odd thing to say and I was at a loss to understand why a woman who was not a slave had been entrusted to light the incense burners, a task usually reserved for priests. And there were no female priests serving the Sun God. Serving Ishtar, yes, but not Shamash. She moved away from me as she walked to another incense burner.

  ‘All eyes are on the east, lord,’ she said, ‘whereas they should be on the north.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  She was now near the entrance to the temple, blowing out her candle to walk into the porch.

  ‘The north, son of Hatra, that is where the answer to the riddle can be found.’

  And then she was gone. I ran to the temple entrance and through the porch, exiting the building into the bright sunlight. To find the temple terrace empty. I desperately searched for her but found only a gaunt priest walking towards me, who stopped and bowed his head when he recognised me.

  ‘Can I help you, majesty?’

  ‘Follow me,’ I commanded. ‘What women serve in the temple?’

  He was shocked. ‘No women serve in the temple, majesty.’

  ‘Then please explain to me how I have just conversed with a young woman who was lighting the incense burners.’

  ‘I am here to light the incense, majesty, none other is entrusted with such a sacred task.’

  We walked back through the porch and into the temple.

  ‘Then please explain to me how they are all lit.’

  But there was no white smoke and the incense burners stood unlit. I stood in the centre of the temple with a priest who believed my wits had deserted me.

  But I was older and though perhaps not as wise as I should be, I did not ignore the advice of an old friend. I sent a message to Sporaces ordering him to ride north with two companies of horse archers and scout the land in a wide arc. I confided in Gallia what I had seen in the temple and she was convinced, as was I, that it had been Dobbai.

  ‘But she was an attractive young woman,’ I told her.

  She cupped my face. ‘We were all young and good looking once.’

  I kissed her lips. ‘You still are, my love, even if I sometimes feel as though I am about to shatter into pieces.’

  She glanced at my leg. ‘The old wound?’

  ‘Among other things. It’s getting harder to vault into the saddle and my back can’t take long rides anymore.’

  ‘Perhaps you could carry a stool with you to assist you to get into the saddle,’ she giggled. ‘What will you do when Chrestus and the legions arrive?’

  ‘March them back to Dura, most likely. Better that than wasting lives in a siege.’

  ‘Phraates is proving a bad high king, Pacorus, even you must concede that. He has alienated the eastern kings by treating them with indifference, he has waged war against Media, and has even earned the animosity of Atropaiene by his foolish denunciation of Prince Ali.’

  ‘You are right,’ I conceded, ‘he needs wise counsellors around him, not the fawning Ashleen and Timo.’

  ‘Where is the high priest?’ she asked.

  Timo had been conspicuous by his absence and further investigation revealed he was secreted in the Temple of Marduk where he was fasting and praying for Phraates’ deliverance from Tiridates’ rebellion. His prayers seemed to have been answered as the rebels’ army had seemingly disappeared along with the high priest. But both would reappear soon enough to plunge Ctesiphon into chaos.

  I was dozing on a couch in the shade of our bedroom balcony, the soothing sound of the fountain in the private garden a few paces away lulling me into slumber. It was another hot and dusty day and I was glad to be out of the sun. Gallia, Diana and Praxima had been invited to the royal nursery to admire the infant Phraates. The only reason Gallia had gone was to get Phraates to give her and her friends a tour of the Hall of Victory that contained the captured Roman eagles and standards. I told her it was futile because only kings were allowed inside the building, and then only by invitation. But
she insisted that three queens could make the high king relent. So I was left alone to doze and slip in and out of consciousness. Until I was disturbed by a knock at the door.

  Irritated at being woken, I shouted at whomever it was to go away.

  Another knock.

  ‘Go away or you will be flogged, and I will do it myself,’ I threatened.

  ‘It is Sporaces, majesty,’ came the reply.

  He looked like he had been in the saddle for days, his hair matted and dirty, his tunic grimy and his beard unkempt. I offered him water and he drank greedily, catching his breath between gulps. He tried to speak but I held up a hand to him.

  ‘Compose yourself and for the sake of your heart take some deep breaths. Sit down.’

  While he did so I spoke for him, pacing in front of him as wiped his filthy face on a white towel from the table beside the couch.

  ‘I assume you have found Tiridates and his army?’

  A nod.

  ‘And I also assume it is quite large?’

  Another nod.

  ‘Approaching from the north?’

  A third nod. His breathing was less laboured now and he had finished gulping down water. He exhaled deeply and went to get up but I gestured for him to remain where he was.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘King Darius marches with Tiridates.’

  An hour later, changed and looking more like the commander of my horse archers, Sporaces stood facing Phraates on his throne, imparting the intelligence he and his men had gathered during the reconnaissance. An ashen-faced Silani stood by the side of the dais with a sweating Ashleen, the rest of us standing in a line behind Sporaces. The throne room was filled with courtiers, officials, priests and clerks, but the only sound in the chamber was the voice of Sporaces. Phraates was studying him intently as he revealed what he knew.

  ‘The enemy army is camped some fifty miles north of Ctesiphon, highness, spread along the Tigris, which provides water for the thousands of horses and camels.’

  ‘What banners are among the enemy army?’ asked Silani.

  ‘The winged horse, deer, snow leopard, white dragon and three tongues of flame, lord,’ answered Sporaces.

  Phraates looked quizzically at his general to reveal his unbelievable ignorance concerning the banners of the kingdoms he supposedly had lordship over. Silani stepped on the dais to whisper in his ear but I knew who the emblems belonged to well enough: Drangiana, Aria, Anauon, Media and Yueh-Chih. It was a powerful coalition.

  Phraates stood. ‘It is fortunate Tiridates and his fellow rebels are close because they have saved us the time and effort of having to march to them. We will engage this nest of rebels and destroy it forthwith.’

  Rapturous applause greeted his pronouncement and he smiled as he basked in the adulation of his court.

  ‘Highness,’ I said loudly and forcefully.

  Phraates rolled his eyes but nodded to Ashleen, who called for quiet.

  Phraates sat. ‘You have something to add, King Pacorus?’

  ‘My commander has estimated the size of the enemy army, highness,’ I told him, ‘which will have a bearing on our immediate strategy.’

  ‘My estimate is that the enemy army numbers around one hundred thousand men, highness,’ said Sporaces, to groans and gasps from the court.

  ‘Silence!’ snapped Phraates. He pointed a ring-adorned finger at my commander. ‘Did you and your men make a detailed count of the number of soldiers the foe possesses?’

  ‘No, highness, but…’

  Phraates held up a hand. ‘So your tally is merely an estimate.’

  ‘Yes, highness, but…’

  ‘You are dismissed,’ commanded Phraates.

  Sporaces bowed, about-faced and marched briskly from the chamber. I saw Gafarn shake his head, a gesture spotted by Phraates.

  ‘You have something to say, King Gafarn?’

  ‘I was just wondering how less than ten thousand men can defeat a host ten times larger, highness.’

  Nergal laughed but Phraates was far from amused, jumping up from his throne to storm from the chamber.

  ‘The kings and queens will attend me in my private quarters,’ he commanded.

  Afterwards we stood before his desk drawn up in a line like schoolchildren, Phraates jabbing a finger as he vented his spleen.

  ‘I will not have scaremongering in my court, not at all. It is irrelevant how many the enemy numbers.’

  The finger was pointed in my direction. ‘I seem to remember being bored rigid when I was a child when my father described how ten thousand Parthians defeated five times their number at Carrhae. You remember that battle, King Pacorus?’

  ‘Vaguely,’ I replied to chuckles from Nergal and Gafarn.

  ‘Perhaps old age has dimmed your courage, King Pacorus, for I am sure a younger King of Dura would not have hesitated when a foe was so temptingly close.’

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘What?’ snapped Phraates, his cheeks flushed with anger.

  Silani entered and bowed his head. ‘Apologies, highness, but the enemy has been spotted north of Ctesiphon.’

  ‘How far away?’ I asked without bothering to wait until Phraates spoke.

  Silani’s eyes darted between Phraates and me.

  ‘Answer him,’ ordered the high king.

  ‘Twenty miles, majesty.’

  ‘It looks as though we are about to discover if the old Pacorus is as brave as the younger one,’ quipped Gafarn.

  ‘I need to see the enemy for myself,’ I said. ‘In the meantime, I would advise abandoning Ctesiphon and taking refuge in Seleucia.’

  Phraates was appalled. ‘Abandon Ctesiphon? Have you taken leave of your senses?’

  ‘Ctesiphon has no moat, its perimeter wall is long, which requires many troops to man it. The water supply can be easily cut whereas at least Seleucia is on the Tigris, and finally, Ctesiphon is full of courtiers, slaves, priests and palace officials who will quickly exhaust its food supplies.’

  ‘And none can fight,’ stated Nergal bluntly.

  ‘What sort of high king deserts Ctesiphon?’ sneered Phraates.

  ‘A wise one,’ I answered.

  I bowed my head, turned and marched from his office, followed by the others. A gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach was a bad omen and my nausea got worse when I had Tegha saddled and rode him out of Ctesiphon to link up with the waiting Sporaces and a company of horse archers beyond the gatehouse. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. Gallia rode past us to gallop to the Duran camp, which was in a heightened state of activity. In her wake came Nergal, Praxima, Gafarn and Diana, Nergal halting his horse as the others galloped past.

  ‘If the bridge falls we are finished, Pacorus.’

  He shouted at his horse to move before I could answer, disappearing in a cloud of dust thrown up by his beast’s iron-shod hooves on the parched earth. In the distance I could see another dust cloud, which ominously seemed to fill the whole horizon – the army of Tiridates.

  ‘The high king thinks you exaggerate the size of the enemy army,’ I told the commander of my horse archers.

  Sporaces nodded towards the horizon. ‘Perhaps he should take a look for himself, majesty.’

  I nudged Tegha forward, the gnawing in my stomach feeling like a hand was twisting my guts into a ball inside my belly. We cantered across the barren, dusty plain towards the north, the terrain as flat as paving slabs. Ctesiphon had been deliberately sited on the barren, featureless eastern side of the Tigris where its brilliance and opulence could shine undimmed against the bleak backdrop. It was a glittering jewel laid upon a parched yellow surface, and if Phraates was not careful it would become his tomb.

  The dust tickled the back of my throat and made me cough, the searing heat soon soaking my tunic and the silk vest beneath in sweat. We all subconsciously slowed our mounts as we neared the approaching horde, which seemed to be floating on a glassy sea as the heat haze distorted shapes on the hori
zon. I held up a hand to halt the column. The host was moving slowly. The men had probably been in the saddle for hours and in the heat both they and their horses would be tired. That would give us more time. I nudged Tegha forward and he broke into a canter, the others following. After a few minutes of riding I could make out opposing figures more clearly. I saw horse archers, lots of horse archers, all wearing what appeared to be dirty white tunics. I saw banners but because there was no wind they barely moved on their flagstaffs. They saw us too and directed their mounts towards us.

  ‘Ready,’ shouted Sporaces.

  A hundred bows came out of their cases and arrows were nocked in bowstrings but there was no panic. The enemy was still perhaps a mile away. When we had ridden to within around a quarter of a mile the enemy halted, deploying into a line. The main body of the enemy army was still several miles distant so I surmised they were the advance scouts.

  ‘We could assault them, majesty,’ suggested Sporaces.

  ‘There’s no point; they will only withdraw to entice us towards their main body. We don’t have time to play cat and mouse. I’ve seen enough.’

  I turned Tegha, dug my knees into his side and he broke into a trot then a canter. We were around five miles from camp and as we rode across the dirt plain south I could see horsemen on my left. The enemy was obviously intent on reaching the Tigris south of Ctesiphon and I had no doubt Tiridates’ soldiers were also advancing on the river to the north, which meant the palace complex would soon be surrounded, with only one escape route – the bridge over the waterway.

  It was a stone structure spanning the Tigris with a length of four hundred paces and wide enough to allow three horsemen to ride side-by-side. It was sited two a half miles west of Ctesiphon and was normally thronged with camels from the east taking silk to the west, donkeys piled high with wares and civilians on foot trying to avoid the beasts of burden and the dung they deposited. Greek engineers had built it when Alexander of Macedon had conquered the world and it stood as a lasting testament to the supremacy of Greek engineering and mathematics. It was also our only hope.

  The huge dust cloud on three sides of Ctesiphon that heralded the arrival of Tiridates’ army prompted those with wise heads, if not stout hearts, to flee the palace complex, together with their families and anything of value that could be loaded on two-wheeled carts. The trickle of nobles leaving the gates became a veritable flood as the enemy got closer. Dagan, the worthless governor of Seleucia, had not sent any soldiers of the garrison to Ctesiphon, though at least the gates of the city remained open. For now.