by Peter Darman
My commanders were surprised to see me, even more so as I was horseless.
‘Where is the queen?’
‘Safe in Seleucia, majesty,’ answered Azad.
‘Where is your horse, majesty?’ asked Sporaces.
‘Dead.’
‘The king and queen of Mesene have also fallen,’ Prince Pacorus told them both.
‘This is a black day for Parthia,’ remarked Azad.
Chapter 6
We cremated the bodies of Nergal and Praxima in the courtyard of Seleucia’s palace, hundreds of Dura’s soldiers looking on at the dead couple who had been such a part of their kingdom’s life for as long as they could remember. The Amazons stood in silence, raising their bows in salute to the woman who had been the first commander of the famed female warriors before all of them had been born. Praxima: the red-haired Spanish woman, former slave, fearless fighter, loyal friend, a semi-god in Uruk and the Queen of Mesene. Gallia’s face was a mask of steel as she beheld the flames consuming the corpse of her friend, beside her Diana holding her face in her hands, her body shaking with grief.
I still could not believe I was watching Nergal burn. The man I had known for almost forty years, who had been captured with me in Cappadocia, had been my deputy in Italy with Spartacus and who had returned to Parthia to command Dura’s horse archers. He and Praxima would have been happy to live out their lives in the city but the gods had another fate in store, and the campaign against King Chosroes had led to them becoming proclaimed divine beings in Mesene’s capital, Uruk. They had been good rulers, both of them never forgetting their experiences as captives and thus not being uncaring concerning the sufferings of society’s poorest. I liked to think they had been loved in Mesene. I had certainly loved them both. And now they were gone.
‘Their loyalty will not be forgotten.’
I was surprised to see Phraates beside me. He had been conspicuous by his absence during the retreat across the bridge and the closing of the city gates. The garrison, such as it was, and Dura’s horse archers manned the walls immediately afterwards, expecting an assault against the city. But the enemy was content to take possession of Ctesiphon and make camp around it. Tiridates did send a detachment of horsemen to secure the eastern end of the bridge but his men did not venture across to the other side.
‘I regret not getting to know them both,’ continued Phraates, ‘ I should have visited Mesene and thanked them in person for supporting my accession to the throne and their help in defeating the invasions of Mark Antony. I know you were close to them both. My sincere sympathies, King Pacorus.’
I was in no mood to talk but I nodded in thanks. His words surprised me. Perhaps the events of the last few days had made him realise he had taken the support of the kings of the empire for granted. Perhaps he was maturing at long last. Or perhaps he realised his life hung in the balance and if I decided to hand him over to Tiridates on the morrow, Gafarn would not object and his head would soon be adorning the walls of Ctesiphon’s magnificent gatehouse.
As the massive pyre burned itself out, leaving a large bed of red embers and no sign of the two bodies, people began to drift away, including Phraates. I stayed along with Gallia, Gafarn and Diana, all of us standing watching the red glow diminish as the purple ball of the sun rose above the palace walls to herald a new day. It was cold now but in our numb state we were not aware of the temperature. And then there was only a pile of grey ash – all that remained of our friends. I turned to Gallia who gave me a cursory glance.
‘Blood for blood,’ she said curtly before turning to march back to the palace.
Diana’s eyes were red from crying but now the tears had stopped and her ashen face registered no emotion at all. Gafarn put his arm around her and led her from the cold courtyard, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I did not know what the next few hours would hold but I was determined I would not abandon Phraates. I had taken an oath of loyalty to him, which I would not break, but more importantly I was determined the deaths of Nergal and Praxima would not be in vain.
After a wash and change of clothes I convened a council of war, and despite having had no sleep since the previous evening, I felt alert and keen to do something rather than wait for Tiridates to make his move. The palace was adorned with purple bull banners of Babylon and Dagan’s soldiers in their purple uniforms gave an impression of stability and power. The governor lived like a king in Seleucia’s large palace with its extensive ornate gardens and rooms adorned with frescoes depicting scenes from Babylon’s past. There were more marble statues in the palace than guards, or so it seemed, bringing to life the great kings who had once ruled the Kingdom of Babylon – Cyrus the Great, Darius the Great, Xerxes and Nebuchadnezzar, to list but a few. We sat in an airy room with white marble tiles on the floor and muscled male slaves cooling us with large fans, others serving wine, cakes and fruit in gold bowls. The mahogany table we sat at had a beautiful polished top we could see our faces in. I stared at my visage and a tired old man looked back at me.
The meeting was delayed while Phraates saw to a private matter. Chief of Court Ashleen, eager to save his own life, had neglected to ensure the infant Phraates was evacuated from Ctesiphon, with the result the baby was left behind. He may or may not have had his mother murdered but Phraates was a doting father and was incensed when he learned of Ashleen’s mistake. His trusted adviser was marched kicking and screaming into the execution yard where he was beheaded. His body was thrown into the Tigris and his head was put on a spike above the city gates.
Afterwards an angry Phraates sat at the table after serving justice on his adviser and demanded a course of action that would exact revenge on Tiridates. Gallia, uninterested, sat brooding and toying with her dagger on the tabletop, much to the consternation of the fawning Dagan. Diana was staring into space and Gafarn made an attempt to look earnest.
‘We must abandon Seleucia,’ I said at last.
Phraates groaned. ‘I have lost my capital, my son and now you suggest I abandon the last loyal city in Babylonia.’
I did not sweeten my analysis. ‘Babylonia is already lost. It is only a matter of time before Tiridates’ army crosses the river and lays siege to the city. The combined army of Dura and Hatra is on its way but I would prefer to direct it from the saddle rather than be trapped here in Seleucia.’
‘As would I,’ added Gafarn.
I looked at Dagan. ‘Of course, a resolute governor could hold out for many weeks, giving us time to prepare a proper campaign plan to defeat Tiridates.’
Dagan started to sweat and stammer. ‘But the city is unprepared for a siege, majesty. The garrison is small and supplies are low.’
‘Why is that?’ demanded Phraates.
Dagan’s mouth opened and shut but no words came out. His life hung in the balance but Phraates was distracted by the palace steward entering the room and whispering in his ear.
‘Here?’
The steward nodded. ‘She has important news, highness.’
‘Well show her in, idiot.’
The steward bowed, turned and clicked his fingers, prompting the two Scythian axe men flanking the doors to open them. In swept Claudia, her robes and face covered in dust, to everyone’s astonishment.
Gallia jumped up. ‘What are you doing here?’
Claudia bowed her head to Phraates.
‘I rode with Chrestus and the legions. You will be pleased to know General Herneus has linked up with him and now the two are marching down the western side of the Tigris.’
She glanced at those at the table. ‘Where are Nergal and Praxima?’
‘Dead,’ said Gallia harshly.
A brief look of despair spread over Claudia’s face and for an instant she resembled a vulnerable child, before the cold Scythian Sister returned.
‘Their deaths will be avenged, but not today.’
‘A chair for the princess,’ ordered Phraates.
A chair was positioned next to mine and my daughter seated herself in it, a slave pouring wine in
to a silver rhyton for her to gulp from greedily.
‘You need to leave Seleucia immediately, lord.’
Phraates regarded her for a few moments, his gold-edged purple robe contrasting sharply to her dust-stained black garb.
‘And why is that, princess?’
She took another gulp and looked at a slave holding a wine jug.
‘Because there are over one hundred thousand troops at Ctesiphon,’ she answered.
‘This we know,’ I told her testily.
‘But did you also know that Satrap Osrow is marching at the head of an army to Ctesiphon.’
Phraates showed her his smug face. ‘Of course, we ordered him here.’
‘He marches to join Tiridates, having been promised the crown of Persis if he did so,’ announced Claudia.
‘How do you know this?’ I demanded.
‘Because the Scythian Sisters are privy to information that kings are not,’ she snapped at me. ‘The King of Aria has the high throne and will do everything in his power to kill the previous incumbent.’
She looked around the table. ‘And all those who support him. How convenient you have all gathered in Seleucia, a mere stone’s throw away from Ctesiphon. The Egibis have engineered the takeover of Babylon, Tiridates’ army is supplied by its new ally Media and the satrap of Persis is on the way with many foot soldiers who will lay siege to Seleucia.’
She looked at me. ‘Is my summary militarily sound, father?’
Phraates clenched a fist. ‘I will have Osrow’s head for his treachery.’
Claudia smiled. ‘And I would like to be there to see it, lord, but first you must leave Seleucia.’
He sat crumpled in his chair. ‘And go where? Susa?’
‘I would advise against that, highness,’ I said. ‘To do so would mean leaving one city under threat of siege to go to another in the same predicament.’
‘You must go where your enemies cannot find you,’ urged Claudia.
‘I will not flee abroad,’ stated Phraates.
‘You do not have to, lord,’ she told him, ‘there is a place where you can remain hidden until the time is right for you to lead the war of retribution against Tiridates.’
‘And where is that?’ he asked.
‘You must place your trust in me, lord,’ she answered, ‘it is better your location remains a secret from even your most loyal and trusted subjects.’
Phraates looked at me. ‘You are forgetting that the combined army of Dura and Hatra is approaching, princess, which added to the forces within this city will be easily able to retake Ctesiphon.’
‘Perhaps not so easy,’ I said.
‘Explain!’ demanded Phraates, looking daggers at a smug Claudia sipping wine.
‘Tiridates can garrison Ctesiphon but take the bulk of his army north into Media,’ I replied, ‘from where he can cross the Tigris at Assur and raid Hatran territory.’
‘For all we know King Darius is already planning a raid against my kingdom,’ said Gafarn.
‘Ctesiphon is a distraction,’ I stated. ‘Destroying Tiridates’ army is the prime objective.’
‘Then that is what we will do, King Pacorus,’ said Phraates. ‘After all, the famed army of Dura has never tasted defeat.’
Gallia stabbed the dagger into the table, making us all jump.
‘Have you heard nothing, Phraates? Did you not see the size of Tiridates’ army yesterday? You would be dead by now had we not arrived to save you. I have fought in many campaigns and my experience leads me to believe that to stay in this area is sheer folly.’
‘Come with me, lord,’ pleaded Claudia, adopting a surprisingly meek tone, ‘and I promise you not only your life but also your crown.’
Phraates, bereft of the advice of his now dead chief of court and his absent high priest, appeared vulnerable and lost. Whereas before if he had been surrounded by advisers and sycophants he would have been haughty and disparaging, now he was more reflective and subdued. He looked at Silani.
‘What is your opinion of the views of Hatra and Dura, general?’
‘I believe their great experience in matters of war means their views should be listened to, highness.’
Phraates threw up his hands. ‘Very well, we will follow the course of action advised by those at this table.’
Despite his pressing Claudia would not tell Phraates where she was taking him, though he comforted himself that he would at least have his Babylonian Guard and Scythian axe men to protect him.
‘They will not be coming,’ Claudia told him.
‘I must protest,’ blurted out Silani.
‘As must I,’ added Phraates. ‘You expect me to go out naked into the world?’
Gallia rolled her eyes and Diana gave the mere hint of a smile.
‘You will become invisible, lord,’ Claudia told him, ‘as a god is to mortal men.’
It was a clever choice of words for though Phraates was at a low ebb, his vanity was still intact.
He jumped up. ‘I accept your offer. When do we leave?’
‘Within the hour,’ Claudia replied.
After the meeting, I cornered her in the corridor outside.
‘Why are you so keen to save Phraates, you are always telling us about his shortcomings?’
‘The pile of ashes in the courtyard? The pyre of Nergal and Praxima, I presume.’
‘Yes.’
‘Let me tell you about another pile of ashes, father, this one for a living woman called Aella.’
The name meant nothing to me.
‘For months Aella, one of the sisterhood, had been advising Tiridates against challenging Phraates for the high crown. Her reward was to be burnt alive by the tyrant, who has also declared war on the Scythian Sisters.’
‘Ah, I see. Purely selfish reasons, then?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘And you do not want revenge for the deaths of your friends?’
I did not answer but the truth was I did.
Claudia grinned maliciously. ‘How fortunate for Phraates that he suddenly has powerful allies. It is more than he deserves, of course, but then the same can be said of most people in this world.’
She walked away me but I chased after her.
‘You will not kill him, Phraates, I mean?’
‘And deny you the satisfaction of putting him back on the high throne? No, father, I will not kill him.’
Slaves had cleared away the ashes of the funeral pyre and washed and scraped clean the cobbles in the courtyard, so no trace of the cremation was visible as Phraates walked down the palace steps in the company of Claudia. Both were dressed in black robes with shemaghs wrapped around their heads. It was a far cry from the rich attire usually worn by the high king but needs must and Claudia was speaking to him constantly as they descended the steps. Slaves brought two camels, which knelt down so the pair could sit in the saddles. Before they did so Claudia shouted at the guards at the gates to open the barriers. I stood with Gallia, Gafarn and Diana atop the steps, an unhappy Silani now beside Phraates.
The gates opened and four individuals on foot and another on a camel entered the courtyard. They were all dressed in rags and their heads and most of their faces were covered. The figure leading on foot was carrying a bell that swung from side to side, making it ring. I realised with horror they were all lepers. I saw their clawed fingers and limps and my blood ran cold. Leprosy was as old as the world itself and sufferers were invariably hounded out of towns and cities to live out their miserable lives in leper colonies, those that weren’t stoned to death first. I instinctively put an arm around Gallia to usher her back into the palace.
Silani drew his sword and Phraates stood frozen in fear.
‘Guards, shoot them down.’
Gallia ran across to the lepers and pointed at the archers on the walls nocking arrows in their bowstrings.
‘Pierce their bodies and the pestilence will be released into the air. You will all become infected and will be dead in less than a month.’
&nb
sp; Her chilling words were sufficient to make everyone freeze, archers reluctant to disobey Silani but even more reluctant to risk becoming one of the living dead afflicted with leprosy.
‘I am Claudia, a member of the Scythian Sisters and I say to you all that there is no risk of infection if you leave my guests alone.’
‘Stay here,’ I told Gallia, hastening down the steps to stand beside my daughter.
‘Are you mad?’ I hissed.
‘Who will look for a king of kings among a band of lepers?’ she retorted. ‘I told him he would be invisible and so he shall be.’
‘You are cruel, Claudia. I would not wish the company of lepers on my worst enemy.’
‘There is no danger father, for I have enlisted the aid of Ningishzida.’
‘Who?’
She rolled her eyes and took something from inside her robes. It was a beautiful silver amulet showing two snakes winding around a winged staff. She held it out to Phraates.
‘For you, lord.’
Even in the presence of lepers Phraates could be swayed by gold or silver, for he momentarily forgot the diseased creatures in the courtyard and walked forward, snatching the amulet out of Claudia’s hands.
‘What is it?’
‘The protection of Ningishzida, lord, God of the Underworld, Fertility and the Healing Force of Nature. You will not contract any diseases while under his protection.’
Phraates turned the amulet over in his hand.
‘Can a mere trinket have such great power?’
‘Do you believe in the gods?’ said Claudia.
‘Of course.’
‘Then what you hold is no mere trinket,’ she told him irritably.
Phraates sniffed the air and looked at the lepers. ‘They stink.’
Claudia chuckled. ‘They probably think the same about you, lord. The perfumes of the rich are not to everyone’s taste. It is time to leave, lord.’
Phraates clutched the amulet tightly as he walked to the waiting camels, biting his bottom lip in apprehension at the coming journey in the company of lepers and a sorceress. Claudia waved forward the leper on the camel, the beast dropping to its knees to allow its rider to dismount.