Parthian Dawn (29 page)

She shook her head. ‘You are wrong, for the news of Pacorus of Dura travels like wildfire to the far corners of the empire. The people here were worried about the Romans massing to the north, but when we heard that you were coming their fears vanished like spring snow.’

‘I come to advise Phraates, nothing more.’

She curled her lip. ‘Phraates? A man whose own son rebels against him. He is a broken reed.’

I pointed a finger at her. ‘He is the King of Kings. I voted for him and will stay loyal to him, whatever happens.’

She smiled a beautiful smile and embraced me. ‘Pacorus the strong, Pacorus the unyielding. I think Phraates thanks Shamash every night that he has such warriors as you by his side.’

‘Shut up,’ I chided her, ‘you are being ridiculous.’

Atrax himself then appeared dressed in his leather tunic reinforced with small steel scales. He had the angular face and lithe body of his father. His light-brown hair was shoulder length and his beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. He embraced me warmly.

‘We ride out tomorrow to face the Romans?’

I saw Aliyeh looking at me. ‘We go to discuss matters with the Romans,’ I corrected him.

‘You have beaten them many times, I have heard.’

‘A few times, yes.’

‘Then I’m sure they will run back to Rome when they know that you are with us,’ he beamed.

‘Perhaps, Atrax, perhaps.’

Farhad had made great efforts to assemble his army at short notice, calling in his lords from far and wide. And so, on the morrow, as we descended from his fortress at Irbil, ten thousand soldiers cheered his dragon banner. He had five hundred cataphracts of his own, to which were added a thousand horse archers of his royal guard. The lords of his kingdom brought their own retinues — horse archers, mounted spearmen with great round shields that protected the whole of their sides from their neck to their thighs, spearmen on foot with long shafts that were tipped with wicked points and had ferocious butt spikes, and foot archers who carried only their bows and quivers. Trumpets and horns blasted as Farhad and his son took their place at the head of their army, while behind them horsemen banged on kettledrums to encourage the troops. These instruments were a pair of hemispherical wooden drums with animal hide stretched over them, positioned either side of the front of the saddle, the rider striking the membranes with wooded sticks to produce a thumping sound that reverberated across the plain. And in front of the host marching north to meet the Roman invaders of our empire flew the banners of Dura, Susiana and Media.

It was fifty miles north to our meeting point at the border between Media and Gordyene, at the Shahar Chay River in the Urmia Plain. The Shahar Chay was one of the rivers that flowed into Lake Urmia, the vast saltwater lake that marked the northern boundary between the Parthian kingdoms of Gordyene and Atropaiene.

The Umbria Valley is wide and fertile, and even though the spring had yet to erupt the area was still covered in green. This was rich country, and despite the fact that Media did not benefit from the Silk Road the kingdom was blessed with rich agricultural lands that produced grapes, honey and apples in abundance. In addition, the lush pastures meant good breeding grounds for horses that were sold throughout the empire; indeed, my father often purchased mounts for his own army to supplement the stud farms of Hatra.

We arrived at the river to find the Romans already formed up on the northern side, row upon row of legionaries dressed in mailed shirts, helmets and carrying
pila
and shields. I counted two eagles, which equated to two legions, though there was also an abundance of auxiliary troops — slingers, archers and lightly armed spearmen carrying large round shields — deployed on the wings of the legions. Horsemen were stationed on the extreme flanks of each wing, though they were sparse in number, perhaps six hundred in total. I estimated the length of the Roman line to be two miles. In front of the legionaries, on beautifully groomed and equipped horses, were the senior Roman officers, half a dozen in number.

The river meandered lazily towards the great lake, for as yet the spring melt waters from the mountains had yet to flow and swell its torrent. The day was crisp, windless and calm, and were it not for the thousands of soldiers present it would also be peaceful. I smiled to myself when I saw the raft anchored in the water. The Romans, efficient as ever, had secured it in the mid-point of the river. The water itself was shallow at this spot, though the high banks on either side showed how it rose when the melt waters were raging.

The Romans sent over a mounted courier asking if we needed a boat to transport Phraates and his representatives to the raft, but Phraates declined. He did not trust the Romans, I think, though in truth he was in no danger of being assassinated. The Romans liked to defeat their enemies on the battlefield with the world watching, not murder them like thieves in the night. We would ride our horses into the water — I joined Phraates, Farhad and Enius, together with two other men who would take our mounts back to the southern riverbank until our discussions were completed. We relayed this to the courier, who took the message back to his masters. The Romans sent the same number of representatives as us, though they did use a small boat that was rowed across to the raft. Phraates, Enius and Farhad looked magnificent that day in their scale armour of burnished silver plates, shining steel helmets sporting plumes and richly adorned shirts. I too had made an effort to impress, in my black cuirass, Roman helmet with its white crest and white tunic. We all wore our cloaks, for the air was cool on the water.

The Romans, by comparison, presented a more weatherworn appearance, especially their commander, a man in his early forties who was almost bald aside from some hair above his ears. He had a narrow, lean face that looked like a strip of parched rawhide with a slim nose running down the centre. He stood at least six inches shorter than us and had a compact frame. No doubt Phraates took his smaller stature as a sign of inferiority, but I could see that this Roman had a professional bearing whose narrow eyes missed nothing. The officers with him were dressed as he was— helmets with red crests, muscled cuirasses and red cloaks and tunics. Each carried a
gladius
at his hip. One of them stepped forward and saluted.

‘Greetings, my name is Titus Amenius, tribune of Rome. I would like to present to you my general, the consul Lucius Licinius Lucullus, Governor of Asia and Cilicia.’

I heard Phraates take a sharp intake of breath, for to use such a title implied sovereignty over the lands that did not belong to Rome, for ‘Asia’ was an all-encompassing word.

Lord Enius stepped forward and bowed his head to the Romans.

‘Greetings. I am General Enius, commander of the army of Phraates, King of Kings of the Parthian Empire and ruler of all the lands from the Euphrates to the Indus.’

Lucullus raised an eyebrow at this, for his presence here today was a sign that Phraates did not at this time rule all of the area that Enius had just described. Enius then presented Farhad and myself, stating that we were the kings of Media and Dura respectively. Lucullus said nothing, though he kept looking at me as we all sat down in the high-backed chairs made more comfortable by cushions that had been arranged beforehand. A pagoda made from canvas and poles had been erected on the raft, though the sky was clear and I doubted that we would see any rain this day. There were no refreshments on the raft, for protocol dictated that no bread or wine could be shared with potential enemies. Phraates spoke first, looking directly at Lucullus.

‘Why do the Romans make war upon Parthia?’

Lucullus leaned back in his chair and regarded this foreign king sitting opposite him. Domitus had once told me that the Romans equated long hair with effeminacy and weakness, and as most Parthians wore their hair long, no doubt Lucullus thought us all inferior. In addition, the other kings sported beards and moustaches, though ever since my time in Italy I had maintained a clean-shaven appearance.

Eventually Lucullus spoke, his voice deep and commanding. ‘I am empowered by the Senate and People of Rome to make war upon Rome’s enemies. For many years our great republic has been at war with King Mithridates of Pontus and King Tigranes of Armenia. This war is now coming to an end with the defeat of those two enemies. Balas, late king of Gordyene, gave aid to Tigranes and was similarly defeated. As a result, Gordyene has become a client kingdom of Rome.’

‘The land you occupy is Parthian,’ said Phraates purposely.

‘The land we
won
in battle belonged to an enemy of Rome,’ replied Lucullus.

Phraates looked hesitant and cast a glance at me. A strong-willed man like his father would have thrown the Roman’s words back in his face, but Phraates was not such a man. An awkward pause followed. I decided to end it.

‘How many wars can Rome afford to fight?’ I asked.

‘King Pacorus,’ said Phraates, ‘is a man who has knowledge of your people.’

‘Thank you, highness,’ I said. ‘So tell me, Consul Lucullus, are you empowered to wage war on the Parthian Empire, a war that will make your conflicts with Pontus and Armenia seem like mere child’s play by comparison?’

Lucullus now studied me more closely. He must have recognised my Roman cuirass and helmet, but I was obviously not a Roman. His officers also focused their attention on me, nodding and whispering to each other.

‘I am empowered to make war on all of Rome’s enemies,’ replied Lucullus.

‘But Parthia and Rome are not at war,’ I said.

‘Not yet,’ uttered one of Lucullus’ men, which earned him a rebuke from his commander.

‘Be careful, Roman,’ my blood was now up, ‘for I have fought and defeated Roman legions in the past. You think we are weak because we grow our hair long and sport beards, but the soldiers you see arrayed against you today are only a fraction of what the empire can muster. You tangle with Parthia at your peril.’

‘Thank you, King Pacorus,’ Phraates was clearly worried that I was provoking the Romans, ‘but we do not desire enmity, but rather wish there to be peace between our two great empires.’

But Lucullus was not listening to Phraates. ‘Where have you fought Romans?’ he asked me.

‘Did I not say? How rude of me,’ I replied. ‘I spent three years in Italy campaigning with General Spartacus. I have to confess that I forget how many eagles we took.’

I noted surprise in his eyes, quickly followed by a cold contempt, while behind him his officers became agitated. I decided to add to their discomfort.

‘And I remember in particular, consul, entertaining your troops on a beach north of Brundisium once. We killed many that day.’

Lucullus’ expression of contempt did not change, but his eyes narrowed as he said to me. ‘You’re “the Parthian”, aren’t you?’

My spine tingled with excitement at the mention of that name. ‘That is what I was called by my enemies in Italy, and it was a title I bore with pride.’ In that moment I felt elated.

‘Yes, consul, I am he.’

‘I had heard that you were dead.’

‘As you can see, consul, reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated.’

To his credit Lucullus did not let his emotions take control of him, though he must have been seething inside. The war that Spartacus waged in Italy was a great insult to the Romans, not least because his army was made up of slaves, who in Roman eyes were like animals that existed only to serve their masters.

‘You were once a slave and now you are a king.’ He tilted his head to one side. ‘My congratulations.’

‘I was a prince,’ I corrected him, ‘before being made a slave by Rome.’

‘Do you seek recompense from Rome, King Pacorus, is that why you are here?’

‘No, consul. I am here because my high king did me the great honour of requesting my presence at his side. In truth I am just one Parthian king among many. But consider this. If but one Parthian with a handful of horsemen can wreak such damage in your homeland, think what tens of thousands could do to your army, an army that is so far from home.’

‘Rome does not respond to threats, Parthian.’

I smiled at him. ‘I make no threat, consul, merely an observation. For are we not here to try to avoid conflict? Why look for war unnecessarily?’

‘Why, indeed?’ added Phraates.

Lucullus regarded us all, weighing up in his mind the options available to him at that moment. And behind us, lined up along the riverbank were our horsemen and foot soldiers, staring across the water at the centuries and cohorts of the Romans. Whatever his thoughts he decided that he would not be drawing his sword this day, for he abruptly stood and raised his right arm in salute to Phraates.

‘Great king, I thank you for your courtesy today. Know that I desire no conflict with the Parthian Empire, and that I will be communicating with the Senate in Rome for the resolution of the issue of Gordyene forthwith.’

Phraates bowed his head in gratitude. ‘Thank you, consul, I have no doubt that we can maintain a beneficial peace between our two great empires. I look forward to receiving a satisfactory conclusion to the matter of Gordyene.’

Lucullus said nothing further to me, though he did take a last look in my direction before he and his officers departed for the far bank, while Enius signalled for our horses to be brought to the raft. Thus ended the diplomacy on the Shahar Chay River.

Phraates was in jovial spirits on the journey back to Irbil, thinking that he had achieved a bloodless victory.

‘You obviously frightened him, Pacorus,’ he said, though I doubted that.

‘If that is all the men he has,’ said Farhad, ‘then we have nothing to fear from that particular Roman.’

How they underestimated the Romans. Media alone could put more men into the field than Lucullus, of that I had no doubt, but Roman strength was built on discipline and organisation, something that most Parthian armies lacked. Lightly armed foot soldiers who worked the land for a living and horse archers who fought as a war band for their lord were no match for highly trained legionaries. Every kingdom had palace guards and formations of professional horsemen, but only Hatra had a standing army plus my own kingdom of Dura. If it had come to a fight this day, Lucullus’ soldiers would have made short work of Media’s army. I kept these thoughts to myself as the host made its way back to Farhad’s capital. Atrax was feeling very pleased with himself. He relaxed on a couch in his father’s palace eating grapes with one hand while his other arm was around Aliyeh’s shoulders.