The Parthian (6 page)

Inside the city, in its northern sector, stood an area surrounded by a second stonewall. This was the palace quarter, which also housed the imperial barracks bloc, the city’s temples and the houses of the aristocracy. This inner city also had four gates, which were more like small citadels than mere gatehouses.

Hundreds of years ago the area now occupied by Hatra was an oasis, fed by freshwater springs that pumped water from deep within the earth. It was these springs that filled the city’s massive moat, watered its citizens and kept the gardens green and fountains working. But the area around the city was deliberately deprived of water to keep it desert. My father said that this was because, should an enemy army besiege the city, it would have no supplies of water for its troops or animals.

We rode across the causeway that led to the outer wall’s northern gate, then under the wall and across the wooden bridge that led to the inner wall’s northern gate. Spearmen stood to attention on each side of the bridge and trumpeters sounded the salute as we entered the environs of the palace quarter. Once over the bridge and through the gate, we rode into the great square. On normal days the square was quiet as no stallholders were allowed to ply their trade on its sacred stones. Sandwiched between the royal palace and the Great Temple, the square was reserved for august occasions only. Today was such a day. It was a massive rectangle, and on its south side was the royal barracks housing the king’s bodyguard and their horses. These comprised a sprawling mass of stone billets, stables and offices. Beyond the barracks were situated the houses of Hatra’s nobles and prosperous citizens. Anyone could purchase a spacious house in the inner city, if they had the wealth. Today, Hatra’s finest citizens were gathered in the square to pay homage to the king and his army, and to me also, I surmised.

On the steps of the royal palace, surrounded by courtiers and priests, stood my mother, Queen Mihri. Every son will say that his mother is beautiful, but I believed that my mother was the most striking of all, and her appearance today only reinforced my opinion. Two years older than my father and nearly as tall, she was dressed in a pure white gown with a delicate gold belt around her waist. The gown covered her arms and legs, while on her head she wore a gold crown engraved with the image of Shamash at the front. Her long, black hair was naturally curly, though today it had been oiled, swept back behind her neck and fastened by a gold hair clip. A slave held a large sunshade over her as protection against the sun that was now high in a clear blue sky. Either side of my mother stood my two teenage sisters. Adeleh and Aliyeh. Like myself and my parents, they were both tall and olive skinned. Adeleh, the younger of the two at sixteen, had a round face and was always smiling. She had a carefree nature unlike her sister, Aliyeh, who was thinner and far more serious. Too serious, I always thought, for a girl of only eighteen. Immediately behind my mother and sisters stood the high priest of the Sun Temple, Assur. Now over sixty years old, his long hair and bushy beard were white. Thin as a lance, with a long, bony almost serpent-like face, his black eyes fixed me with a steely gaze as I dismounted at the foot of the palace steps. As a young boy he had always terrified me; indeed, I thought he was Shamash himself come to earth. Truth was he still unnerved me, though today I hoped he was pleased that I had brought a great gift for his temple.

My father, also dismounted, stood beside me and then walked to my mother. She bowed and he stepped forward and embraced her, to the light applause of the nobles and their families standing in the square. He embraced my sisters and then turned and nodded to Assur. The priest held out his hands and looked to the sky.

‘Let us pray to the Sun God,’ as one we all knelt and bowed our heads. Assur’s voice was loud and strong as he made his dedication. ‘O, Great Shamash, O light of the great gods, light of the earth, illuminator of the world’s regions, exalted judge, the honoured one of the upper and lower regions. Thou dost look into all the lands with thy light. As one who does not cease from revelation, daily thou dost determine the decisions of heaven and earth. Thy rising is a flaming fire; all the stars in heaven are covered over. Thou art uniquely brilliant; no one among the gods is equal with thee. Great Shamash, bless those here assembled to honour you. And bless in particular King Varaz and Queen Mihri, who by your infinite wisdom have produced their son and your servant, Prince Pacorus, who now returns safely to worship you, having smitten his enemies.’

I was bursting with pride as his words resounded across the square. He bade us rise, then strode over to the soldier holding the eagle, took the Roman standard and then marched across the square towards the Great Temple. Because Shamash was the Sun God, the main entrance to the temple, a large porch flanked by two wings that jutted into the square, faced east. Shamash can see everything on earth, and is the god of justice. Shamash 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 in the west. He travels through the Underworld at night in order to begin in the east the next day.

Assur wore a golden sun symbol on the back of his white priestly robe, as did his priests who served him, and who now followed him up the steps of the Great Temple. At the entrance to the temple Assur turned and faced the crowd, his priests filing past him into the building.

‘This offering to Shamash will now be placed in His temple, so He may know that the city of Hatra loves and fears Him. Praise be to Shamash, and may He bestow great fortune on those who devote their lives to His service. Amen.’ The crowd shouted ‘amen’ and then began to file into the place of worship. The Great Temple was the earthly home of Shamash, and once inside we were treated to a rather tedious sermon from Assur. Once it was over and we had filed outside, many elder nobles and their families came to me to offer their congratulations. Those of military age were in the army. These men and their sons and grandsons were the backbone of my father’s bodyguard, the cream of Hatra’s society: men of courage and honour whom I was proud to serve with. Any man could offer his services to my father’s army, but only those born and bred in Hatra could enter his bodyguard.

That night there was a lavish banquet in the palace and I got very drunk. I didn’t intend to, but the celebratory atmosphere, seeing my mother again and being acclaimed a hero by some of the most beautiful young women in the city got the better of me. Why not enjoy myself, I thought? I was, after all, the conqueror returned home, the vanquisher of the might of Rome and still only twenty-two years old. So I drank and drank until I collapsed face-first onto the floor. In truth I only remembered the start of the evening; the rest was a blur. But I do remember the stony stare of my parents and the look of horror on the face of Assur as I made an idiot of myself. The rest was darkness.

I was rudely awakened by someone throwing cold water over me in the darkness. I coughed and gasped at the same time and tried to catch my breath.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ I moaned weakly, astounded that someone had the audacity to do such a thing.

‘Get up. You are required to attend morning exercise,’ I recognised Vistaspa’s emotionless voice.

‘Lord Vistaspa, I …’

‘Get up. Now! You think our enemies will wait until a spoilt boy recovers from his hangover after making a fool of himself?’ He grabbed me by the hair, yanked me out of bed and threw me to the floor. The first shards of daylight were lancing through the shutters of my room. Vistaspa’s face was a stone mask in the half-light.

‘The company is already assembled, lord prince,’ he spat the last words in sarcasm. ‘Get yourself dressed and be in the square in five minutes. Full armour. Shield, helmet and spear.’ Then he marched from the room, leaving me soaking and groggy.

‘Gafarn, Gafarn,’ I half-shouted. My mouth was dry and I felt sick.

‘Highness?’ a weak voice murmured from under the window. Gafarn had obviously slept a few feet from me and had barely stirred as Vistaspa had stormed in.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Too much to drink, highness,’ he replied.

‘Fetch my armour and spear’. There was no reply. He had obviously gone back to sleep. I walked over to where he lay and kicked him.

‘Get up and get my armour and spear.’

He rose unsteadily. ‘Yes, highness.’

After gulping down some water, I left the palace and made my way into the square. The dawn had broken now, though the morning was still cool. I wrapped my cloak around me, with my shield on my left arm, a spear in my right and a helmet perched atop my head. I didn’t have time to strap it on, an omission I was soon to regret. When I arrived in the square a company of the king’s bodyguard was standing to attention, a column of two files fifty ranks deep. Vistaspa stood at its head, looking more stern than usual, which was saying something.

‘The noble Prince Pacorus has finally arrived, gentlemen. But what’s this?’ He strode over to me and knocked my helmet off the head. ‘Is that the way you wear your helmet?’

‘No,’ I replied. My stomach felt worse than ever, and all I wanted to do was lie down.

‘No, lord,’ he bellowed. ‘Address me properly when you speak to me, boy.’

‘Yes, lord. Sorry, lord, I…’

‘Silence, he snapped. ‘Pick up your helmet and get in line. There, at the head of the column. Move!’

I put my helmet on and trotted to stand beside Vata, who acknowledged me.

‘Watch yourself, Pacorus,’ he said quietly, ‘he’s in a foul mood. I think he wants to take out his frustration on us.

‘Why’s he frustrated?’ I asked.

‘Some slave girl must have turned him down last night. Plumped for his horse instead.’

I laughed, which in the circumstances was the worst thing I could have done. Vistaspa was in front of me in an instant, his face inches from mine.

‘So, little shit, found something to laugh about, have we? Would you like to share it with us all.’

‘No, lord. It was nothing.’ Vata stood like a statue, staring directly ahead.

‘Prince Pacorus thinks he is a great war hero, don’t you,
boy
.’

‘No, lord.’

‘Didn’t tell anyone that he was nearly skewered by a Roman prisoner because he wasn’t looking, or that if I hadn’t have put an arrow in the man the crows would be picking at his bones right now. We’ve wasted enough time. Column will advance in quick time. March’

We marched out of the square at a fast pace, a hundred men in full war gear, moving through the inner city, over the moat and then through the northern gate into the desert. Vistaspa kept a cruel pace, and after thirty minutes I was struggling. My mouth was parched and the sun’s rays were roasting my helmet, increasing the throbbing in my head. All around me the men’s breathing became heavy as we marched through the barren landscape.

‘Increase pace.’ Vistaspa moved into a light run and we followed, my thighs aching more with each mile we travelled. The previous evening’s indulgence was catching up with me fast. I began to cough and breath heavily. I gulped in hot air, which tortured my lungs.

‘Run, you dogs.’ I was convinced Vistaspa was trying to kill me as we ran across the shimmering desert. The sun was high in the sky and pummelling us with a murderous heat. My mouth was parched and my lungs felt as though they were going to burst through my chest. My shield and spear felt like heavy weights, the burden of carrying them engulfing my arms in a searing pain. Those behind me were struggling as well, though Vata seemed to be coping well. We had been marching for two hours now under a vicious sun, and I knew I couldn’t go on for much longer. Sweat was pouring off my forehead into my eyes and the helmet’s cheek guards were rubbing against my face.

‘Halt!’ Vistaspa suddenly stopped and I and Vata nearly clattered into him. ‘Two ranks. Move!’

Behind me the men raced to left and right to form into two lines of fifty soldiers, one behind the other. We had reached an area of low-lying hills, and from behind one emerged a camel train. I estimated that it was a least a mile away, maybe less.

‘Level spears,’ ordered Vistaspa. ‘that train is our target.’ He drew his sword. ‘When I give the command, you will charge and capture it.’

I was astounded. We were nearly spent, and yet he wanted us to charge across open ground for a mile.

‘For Hatra,’ Vistaspa sprang forward and we followed, shields to our front and spears levelled. We yelled our war cry as we raced towards our target. I was amazed at Vistaspa’s stamina, a man of fifty who was out-running us all. After about half a mile our lines were ragged as men stumbled as their legs began to give way. Yet they pushed themselves beyond endurance. A piercing pain shot through my right side, causing me to wince in pain. Sweat poured into my eyes and my vision became blurred.

‘Come on, Pacorus, straight on. Don’t give up.’ I hardly recognised the strained cries of Vata beside me, but his encouragement did force me on. On we went, our pace having slowed into a trot.

‘Move, you lazy bastards,’ bellowed Vistaspa, as he widened the gap between himself and us. Where did he get his energy from? I was having difficulty breathing now as the caravan loomed large in front of us. I heard men groan around me and the sound of clatter as some fell to the ground, no doubt to be yanked back up by their equally exhausted comrades. It felt as though my chest was in a vice that was being closed shut. I couldn’t breath, my vision went black and I couldn’t feel my legs. I saw a group of camels ahead and figures scurrying around them, and then all was black.

I was awakened by water being poured over my face. I opened my eyes and saw Vistaspa holding the leather water sack from which the fluid poured. Beside him stood my father. I tried to get up but my limbs refused to move.

‘Will you excuse us, Vistaspa,’ said my father.

‘Of course, sire.’

Vistaspa walked away as my father knelt beside me.

‘Give your body time to recover. Compose yourself. While you are doing so, you might to reflect on your behaviour last night. You embarrassed your mother and I but, far worse, you embarrassed yourself. You must be an example, my son, not a figure of derision. If you want to be a peacock, go back to Zeugma and live with Darius and his young boys. You are a son of Hatra and are expected to act as such. Remember that, above all.’