Parthian Dawn (33 page)

Then I saw the ranks of the Babylonian foot come into view, ragged compared to the legion. But at least they still existed. The side of my face still burned and I could feel blood trickling down my neck. I sheathed my sword and removed my helmet. The cheekguard that had been hit by the mace was dented and its hinge smashed. Around me were men sitting on their horses in a state of exhaustion, the scales on their armour battered and missing, their mounts similarly spent. Orodes appeared at my side and surveyed the view ahead. Dead men and slain horses lay scattered all around. Behind us was a similar trail of carnage where we had cut through the enemy’s flank, the earth strewn with slain horse archers. The currency of war is blood and this day the army of Narses had paid a high price.

‘You have won a great victory, Pacorus.’

‘
We
have won a great victory, my friend.’

I told him to muster the cataphracts and then I rode over to where Domitus lined up with his men. They had halted now, the legionaries leaning on their grounded shields, grinning to each other — glad to be alive. They cheered as I approached and I raised my hand in recognition of their applause. I halted Remus in front of Domitus and he raised his arm stiffly in a salute. Always the Roman.

He now had his beloved cane in his hand, pointing it at me. ‘Nasty wound. You should get it seen to. You broke them, then?’

There was not a scratch on him as far as I could see. ‘Yes, we broke them. We hit them hard in their rear ranks and after that they never recovered. How many did you lose.’

He smiled. ‘Hardly any as far as I can tell. Once we got tight and cosy with them they couldn’t do much apart from be our pincushions. Easy, really.’

‘Train hard, fight easy,’ I said. ‘Narses escaped.’

He spat on the ground. ‘That is shame. You will have to fight him again, though I reckon there’s not much of his army left.’

A rider thundered up and saluted. He wore the colours of Phraates.

‘Hail, highness. King Phraates requests your presence in the company of the other kings.’

I raised my hand in acknowledgement and gladly took the water flask that Domitus offered.

Domitus saw legionaries drinking from their flasks. ‘Don’t gulp it down! Take sips. You don’t know when you will be having your next drink. Save some.’

I put my helmet back on. ‘I must pay my respects to the king. Get the wounded seen to and collect anything of use and put it in the carts. And collect our dead. We shall commit them to the fires tonight.’

Orodes and Gotarzes joined me as we walked our horses across the battlefield.

‘Where is Enius?’ I asked.

‘Dead,’ said Gotarzes, ‘spear straight through his eye.’

‘He was a good man,’ added Orodes.

‘He certainly was. How many more did we lose?’ I asked.

Gotarzes shrugged. ‘Forty or fifty.’

As far as I could tell Phraates had not moved from the spot he occupied at the start of the battle, and I noticed that Chosroes had now joined him. No doubt he had taken no part in the fighting either, and I assumed that neither had his men. I suddenly grew fearful for the safety of my father, as the army of Chosroes had been deployed on my father’s right flank. My fears disappeared when I saw him, white cloak billowing behind him as he too rode up to pay homage to Phraates. I saw no marks on him as he caught up with me a couple of hundred paces from the high king. He rode up beside me and saw my blood-smeared face.

‘Are you badly hurt?’

‘No, father, I will live, and unfortunately so will Narses and Mithridates.’

He looked ahead. ‘Phraates will forgive you that, I think. I am less inclined to do so.’

‘Oh?’

‘There was no need to fight this day. Narses was ready to yield, or at least discuss matters, but you were determined, weren’t you. Could not let it rest. Well, you have your victory.’

‘
Our
victory, surely?’

He said no more and in truth his words did not diminish the sensation of euphoria that I felt, which was increased further when we reached Phraates.

He clapped his hands when we reached him, provoking his bodyguard and the ranks of axe men to begin cheering. Phraates, previously inclined to negotiation, was now basking in the glow of triumph.

‘Hail to you, Pacorus, the bringer of victory. First you defeat Porus and now you are instrumental in dispersing Narses. A truly great day.’

I bowed my head. ‘The victory is yours, high king.’

This seemed to delight him even more, for he again clapped his hands frantically.

‘I hereby make you lord high general of Parthia. Let all those here bear witness to my words, for Pacorus of Dura has today become the sword of Parthia.’

More cheering and applause erupted and the pain in my face seemed to magically disappear. I raised my arms aloft as the axe men started chanting my name. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I noticed that my father was frowning, an expression noted by Phraates, who had the commotion stilled instantly.

‘King Varaz, you disapprove of your son’s new appointment?’

He bowed his head. ‘No, majesty, but there is still much work to be done.’

Phraates waved his hand at my father. ‘Nonsense, you are far too serious, just like your father before you. Let us rejoice that God has granted us victory and that He has sent your son to be our deliverer.’

And so it was that I became lord high general of the Parthian Empire. Afterwards, when Alcaeus was stitching my wound as I sat on a stool in camp outside my tent, Domitus brought me the casualty figures.

‘Fifteen dead, sixty wounded, none seriously.’

‘It is a credit to you, Domitus. You have turned the legion into a fearsome machine.’

He seemed unmoved by my flattery. ‘They were trained to do a job and they did it. Straightforward, really.’

‘Have you noticed that Domitus doesn’t have a scratch on him,’ remarked Alcaeus. ‘You should take some lessons from him.’

He finished stitching and tied off his handiwork. ‘It will heal, but you’ll have a scar. Nothing I can do about that.’

‘Ha!’ said Domitus, ‘Gallia won’t like that.’

‘Indeed,’ said Alcaeus. ‘Perhaps you should be the kind of king who sits in his palace and sends others to fight his wars.’

I stood up. ‘The day that happens, I’ll order Domitus to run me through with a sword, for such a king is dead already.’

Alcaeus shook his head. ‘A poet as well as a warrior.’

Nergal rode up and dismounted, taking off his helmet as he handed a squire his horse. He looked dirty and tired, his sweat-drenched hair matted to his head. I pointed to a stool and he sat on it. Domitus poured him a cup of water that he drank greedily.

‘Lord Enius’ body has been conveyed back to Ctesiphon for cremation on the orders of Phraates. Orodes is escorting the body.’

‘What are our losses?’ I asked.

‘Five of your own cataphracts are dead, forty more belonging to Enius and twenty-five of those who fought under Gotarzes’ banner were also slain. Of my horse archers, a hundred are dead and a similar number wounded.’

Alcaeus put his instruments back in his leather bag and slung it over his shoulder. ‘That’s me working through the night, then.’

‘There are other physicians,’ I said. ‘You are, after all, in charge of the medical corps. I would like you to attend the victory feast that is being held at Ctesiphon tomorrow evening.’

He screwed up his face. ‘I can’t think of anything worse.’ Then he was gone.

As the army made its way back to Ctesiphon my father sent out parties of horsemen after Narses. He was convinced that the King of Persis would try to build another army, though I was sceptical. Narses had fled south down the east bank of the Tigris back towards Persepolis, while the majority of my father’s horse archers went east with Gotarzes and his followers to reclaim his capital, the city of Elymais.

I rode with my father and Vistaspa on our way back to Phraates’ palace. Hatra’s army had suffered hardly any casualties during the battle.

‘When you took it upon yourself to commence hostilities,’ said my father, ‘we waited to see what our opponents opposite us would do.’

‘And what did they do?’ I asked.

‘They waited too,’ said Vistaspa, ‘until they realised that their army’s centre and other wing had collapsed, whereupon they decided to run for their lives.’

‘You see, father, you should have given me your cataphracts after all.’

‘They are mine to command, not yours to throw away.’

‘I command all Parthia’s armies now, father.’

He remained impassive to my boast, merely remarking. ‘Do not get too above yourself, Pacorus.’

In truth it was difficult not to, for at the feast I was treated like a conquering hero. Slave girls, beautiful, young and half-naked, dazzled me with their smiles and enticed me with their oiled bodies. Phraates had bards compose poems about me and harpists sang songs of my victory. Phraates was happier than anyone, I think, and acted as if a great burden had been banished from his life, which in truth it had. He was also delighted that his son still lived, despite my best efforts to send him to the underworld. Even Chosroes allowed a smile to spread across his miserable, narrow face. Nergal and Domitus sat at one of the tables in the banqueting hall with my father, Vistaspa and Hatra’s captains, while Dura’s lords sat on their own table and were soon very drunk and very loud. The queen and her ladies frowned at them, but they had earned the right to be here for they had followed Nergal unquestioningly. I sat on the king’s left-hand side, with the queen on his right and Orodes on her other side.

I may have been a king but I was a poor one compared to the rulers who sat at Ctesiphon. Here, guests ate food from intricately carved gold bowls and drank from silver cups that carried gold figures inlaid on their outsides, each one wearing a crown and Parthian dress and carrying a bow and quiver. Everyone in the hall was drinking from such vessels, an indication of the wealth at Ctesiphon. But then every kingdom in the empire paid an annual tribute to the King of Kings based on how many horse archers it could field. And Sinatruces had hoarded his annual tributes like the old miser he was. I wondered how long it would take for Queen Aruna to spend it.

An army of servants carried food on silver platters from the kitchens, where a similar number of cooks and kitchen slaves prepared the dishes. They brought pistachios, spinach, saffron, sweet and sour sauces, skewers of cooked pork, mutton, camel, goat, chicken and pigeon. For those who liked fish there was cooked sturgeon, dogfish, salmon, trout, carp and pike. Then there were almond pastries, pomegranate, cucumber, broad bean and pea, basil, coriander and sesame. The kitchens had also prepared a myriad of rice dishes, some containing almonds, pistachios, glazed carrots, orange peels and raisins; others laced with vegetables and fearsome spices. Even more dishes included stews, dumplings, sweet meats and stuffed vegetables doused in different sauces.

The queen, beautiful and icy as ever, was at least polite to me, even grudgingly grateful for saving her husband’s throne. There was no talk of Mithridates but she would have heard that he had escaped and was, as far as anyone knew, unharmed, much to my regret.

‘A most lavish feast, highness,’ I said to Phraates as he ate rice and raisins from his gold bowl.

‘The least you deserve, Pacorus.’ He leaned closer to me. ‘Tell me, that man over there, the Roman.’

‘Lucius Domitus, highness. The commander of my legion.’

‘Why does he fight for you?’

‘Loyalty, highness, and a shared bond of comradeship.’

‘From your time in the land of the barbarians?’

‘Yes, highness.’

Phraates rubbed his chin as he regarded Domitus. ‘And now he fights for Parthia.’

‘And now he fights for Parthia, highness.’

Phraates looked down at his bowl. ‘You are indeed fortunate that you command such loyalty Pacorus.’

I assumed that he was talking of his son, Mithridates, though I did not press the matter. At the bottom of it all he was a father who had been betrayed by his son. That must have wounded him most severely.

Phraates may have been indifferent as a king and he was certainly no warlord, but the years spent running his father’s errands throughout the empire were not wasted in the days following. His skill as a diplomat came to the fore and he quickly set about isolating Narses from the other kings who had sided with him. He dispatched messages to the rulers of Drangiana, Carmania, Aria, Anauon and Yueh-Chih asking that they now accept him as King of Kings. He did not demand their obedience, merely requested it. He further stated that the past would be forgotten and that the empire should present a united front against our external enemies. When Phraates told us these things in a meeting of the war council I must confess I was deeply sceptical, but I was proved wrong. The army was prepared for a fresh campaign in the eastern provinces of the empire, but after two weeks couriers arrived from Monaeses, Vologases, Cinnamus, Tiridates and Phriapatus begging Phraates for his forgiveness and assuring him of their loyalty. And as surety for their pledges they would be sending members of their families to Ctesiphon to be hostages. Phraates was beside himself with joy, for at a stroke he had secured the eastern half of the empire and effectively isolated Narses.

‘Then, highness,’ I said, ‘all that remains is to march on Persepolis and destroy the last vestiges of the rebellion.’

Orodes, who had returned from Elymais, having seen Gotarzes placed back on his throne, agreed with me. ‘Narses should at least be banished for his treachery, father.’

Phraates, though, thought otherwise. ‘No, no, no. I will not have more blood spilt unnecessarily. Once Narses’ wounded pride has healed, he will see the impossible situation he is in and renew his allegiance. After all, he cannot fight the whole of the Parthian Empire on his own.’

It was at that moment I realised what Phraates’ main failing was — his willingness to believe the best of everyone no matter what their transgression. He should have sent his army south without hesitation to rid the world of Narses for good. Instead he chose inaction.