Parthian Dawn (41 page)

I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming next. Aliyeh continued, her words as sharp as arrowheads.

‘The Romans killed our emissary, and so thousands of our horsemen charged across the river to be felled by their slingers and turn the water red with their blood. And Atrax, my brave and foolish husband, led them. And the flower of Median manhood perished at that wretched river. Atrax kept rallying them and our allies, and again and again he led them against their shields and spears and accursed engines and slingers, and each time they killed more of our men. Our allies from Atropaiene died beside our own until the ground was soaked with Parthian blood. Atrax was knocked from his horse and speared in his leg.’

She said no more but turned away from me, her body shaking with grief.

I laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Sister.’

Quick as a cobra she turned and slapped my face.

‘Do not touch me. I do not want your pity. I wish you had never come to Media.’

I held her stare. ‘Take me to see Atrax.’

She snorted in disgust and strode away. I followed her and we reached her private apartments in the palace. Before she entered what I assumed was a bedroom she pointed at me.

‘Take off your armour and sword and leave them outside.’

I did as she instructed and we entered. It was a small-sized room with a single bed against one wall with a small table next to it. A silver jug, cup and bowl were lying on the table; while on the bed lay the sleeping Atrax. Because the shutters were closed the only illumination came from an oil lamp that hung from the wall. A tall, lean man with a neatly cropped beard and hair, a silver band around his head, was gently dabbing Atrax’s forehead with a cloth. He stopped when he saw Aliyeh.

‘How is he?’ she whispered.

The man smiled. ‘Much better, highness. Almost no fever. I have changed the dressing on his leg and the infection is slowly receding. I have reduced the dose of jimson weed and he should start to regain full consciousness very soon.’

Jimson weed was the substance used by physicians to deaden pain in patients, so that even the deepest wound could be cleaned out and sewn up without the patient screaming in agony, though it required great skill to administer the juice of the weed. Too much could induce coma and death. Clearly this man was a skilled practitioner in the healing arts. Aliyeh laid a hand on his arm.

‘Thank you, doctor, I am in your debt.’

He bowed his head then looked at me. ‘Prince Atrax is too weak to receive visitors, highness.’

My sister allowed herself a wry smile. ‘Do not worry, he isn’t staying.’ She then ushered me from the room and led me away.

‘I suppose we had better find some food for you. We cannot have the hero of all Parthia going hungry.’

‘I am sorry for Atrax. Alas, sister, being wounded is one of the hazards of being a soldier.’

Once again she spun round to face me. ‘You may like playing heroes but I would rather have Atrax as a husband, not some dead warrior in a bard’s poem. Thanks to you he will have a limp for the rest of his life. A daily reminder not to follow fools.’

There was no reasoning with her, and once we had reached the kitchens she left me to share a meal with my men. I got talking with one of the cooks, a short, chubby man with stubby fingers and a cheerful disposition, notwithstanding the dire predicament his city was in. He told me that after the battle Aschek and his men had fled for their homeland, leaving Media to the mercy of the Romans. The homes that lay outside Irbil’s high walls had been abandoned and the people had taken refuge inside the citadel, though how much longer they could remain was uncertain given the paucity of supplies. Farhad had sent word to his kingdom’s lords to attend him at Irbil with what men they could muster, but the injury to Prince Atrax had demoralised them and was seen as an evil omen. The prince was popular among his countrymen, the more so since he had married the tall and stern Princess Aliyeh of Hatra, the sister of King Pacorus the Slayer.

‘Slayer?’ I said, dipping a piece of bread in a thick vegetable broth that tasted exquisite.

‘Yes, sir, that is what they call you in these parts. The king who slays all those who dare to cross him. So we’ve no need to worry now your here.’

I thought of Narses and Mithridates still striding the earth and smiled.

He was skinning a rabbit, his stubby hands wielding a razor-sharp knife with ease to separate the meat from the skin. ‘Anyhow, until Prince Atrax is back on his feet Media’s soldiers won’t be sticking their arrows in anyone. Some say that the prince is dead.’

‘He isn’t,’ I corrected him.

‘I know that, sir, and you know that. But not many others do.’

I realised how much of a talisman Atrax had become the next day at Farhad’s war council. His six generals, all of them middle aged and experienced leaders, I had met when we had marched together to parley with Lucullus months ago. Then Media could raise at least twenty thousand horsemen.

‘I doubt if we could put five thousand in the field now,’ said Farhad without emotion.

‘You lost fifteen thousand men at the battle?’ I was staggered.

‘No, sire,’ said one of Farhad’s commanders, ‘but many men have returned to their homes and may not answer the call to arms if summoned again.’

The situation was worse than I had thought. Panic and fear were obviously sweeping through Media like a plague.

‘If only Prince Atrax could ride through the kingdom, majesty, it would give heart to the people and their leaders,’ said another commander, to the murmurs of agreement from the others.

‘Prince Atrax will not be riding anywhere until his wounds are healed.’ My sister’s words left her mouth like arrows.

‘Aliyeh, daughter,’ said Farhad, ‘your husband is greatly loved in Media. He is needed to rally our people.’

Aliyeh moved slowly and purposely to take her seat.

‘He was close to death. He is far too weak to go on a goodwill tour.’ Her eyes narrowed and she looked at each of the commanders, daring them to challenge her. None did.

‘That being the case,’ I said, ‘it is best to prepare this city for a siege, for Lucullus will be here soon enough.’

Farhad looked up. ‘You are wrong, Pacorus. Lucullus has departed the Roman army, so my scouts tell me, leaving his subordinate, whose name escapes me, in charge.’

‘Aelius Gabinus, majesty,’ said one of the commanders.

‘Gone where?’ I asked.

Farhad shrugged. ‘Back to Rome, hopefully.’

I doubted that. Any Roman worth his salt would not let the opportunity pass to follow up his victory. Something more important must have caused Lucullus to leave his army, though I knew not what.

‘Shamash has been kind,’ I said, ‘for now we have an opportunity to retrieve the situation.’

‘We do?’ Farhad was surprised and Aliyeh suspicious.

‘Yes, lord. You must evacuate your stronghold of all those who cannot fight. Send them to your outlying towns and villages. If the courage of your lords has faltered then at least they can care for Media’s most vulnerable. The fact that the Romans have not moved south on Irbil means that their attention has been diverted elsewhere. We must use this opportunity. Keep only foot soldiers in Irbil and send your horsemen to your southern border. I will ride to Ctesiphon and gather what forces I can to come to your aid.’

Farhad was nodding and his commanders were looking at each other and doing likewise. At least now they had something to focus on rather than waiting for the Romans to storm Irbil and put them all to the sword.

Those who were too old, too young or too infirm to shoot a bow were evacuated south, a long line of bedraggled humanity whose abodes and livelihoods they were leaving behind. Their homes still stood, but they lay outside the walls of the citadel and any invading army would use them to house their own troops, either that or burn them. I had suggested to Farhad that he pull them down to deprive their use to the enemy, but he was horrified by the idea and so hundreds of buildings stood intact and empty, hopefully only temporarily. I told Farhad that I would ride south to Phraates with the intention of convincing him to send an army to Media. Before I left I went to see Atrax.

The shutters of his room were still closed though he was sitting up in his bed, propped up by large pillows. Even in the half-light he looked pale but at least he was conscious. I sat on a stool beside the bed as Aliyeh finished feeding her husband a bowlful of soup. She made sure that he finished his meal before she allowed me to speak to him. A servant took away the empty bowl and she sat holding his hand, her eyes like those of a hawk watching me all the time.

‘You must stay here until you have regained your strength.’

‘I will, lord. Your sister is an excellent nurse.’ He smiled at Aliyeh.

‘I will send an army to assist your father, of that I promise.’

He seemed cheered by this. ‘And then we will crush the Romans and throw them out of Gordyene. Avenge the death of Balas.’

Aliyeh’s eyes narrowed to slits. The last thing she wanted was to see Atrax ride off to war once more.

‘The Romans have won a battle, Atrax, but they will lose the war. But in war we must be patient to await the right opportunity.’

‘And now Pacorus has to leave us,’ said Aliyeh forcefully. ‘He has a long ride ahead of him.’

I leaned forward and laid a hand on Atrax’s arm. His flesh was clammy to the touch.

‘Regain your strength, valiant prince. Until we meet again.’

He smiled and raised his hand in salute. Aliyeh kissed his forehead and ushered me out of the room.

Seven days later I stood before Phraates in one of his throne rooms at Ctesiphon. The atmosphere in the palace was drenched in mistrust and sullen resentment. No wonder, because the King of Kings was sitting on his throne flanked by his wife on one side and his son, the reptile-like Mithridates, on the other. I had ignored the latter when I had entered the hall, bowing to Phraates and then his wife but not to his son. The insult was intentional and was noticed by the court officials and courtiers who stood in clusters around the walls like vultures gathered round a rotting carcass. Guards armed with spears and wicker shields stood at regular intervals along the walls and either side of the dais on which Phraates and his family were seated. I was dressed in my full war gear when I presented myself, my Roman cuirass having been cleaned meticulously the night before and my helmet burnished until it shone. I had my boots cleaned and wore my white tunic under my cuirass, my brown leggings and
spatha
in its scabbard completing my appearance. I stood before Phraates, my helmet under my right arm; its crown filled with new white goose feathers.

‘Welcome, King Pacorus, we are glad to see you.’

‘And I you, highness,’ I replied. I kept my gaze upon Phraates but was aware of the disdainful stares directed at me by Queen Aruna and Mithridates.

‘I wish I was here under more agreeable circumstances, highness.’

Phraates nodded thoughtfully. ‘Alas, we have heard of the discomfort that has fallen upon Farhad and Aschek. Grim tidings indeed.’

‘Yes, highness,’ I said, ‘that is why I must request that the army of Susiana be sent north to reinforce Media before the Romans lay siege to Farhad’s capital.’

‘Impossible!’ said Mithridates.

‘You have something to say, my son?’ asked Phraates.

‘Great king, it is not for me to offer you advice on matters of state.’

‘Indeed,’ I remarked.

Mithridates’ nostrils flared as he glared at me. ‘But if we pander to hysterical demands and send our army north, then who will defend Ctesiphon?’

‘Highness,’ I said firmly, ‘you can call upon the armies of Babylon and Mesene, whose kingdoms lie nearby, their rulers at least are loyal and trustworthy. Though perhaps not Persis.’

There were gasps around the hall as I reminded Mithridates of his recent treachery. Mithridates momentarily appeared as if he was going to take the bait, his face a mask of hatred. But with great difficulty he managed to restrain himself.

‘And,’ I continued, ‘there are also the kingdoms in the east of the empire who will lend assistance to Ctesiphon. Gotarzes of Elymais is a man whom any general would want fighting by his side.’

Now it was the turn of the queen to intercede. ‘The armies of those kingdoms have been recently weakened and will be in no condition to lend us aid. Indeed, Sakastan has no king who can lead that kingdom’s army.’

This was a sly reference to my having killed Porus during the recent civil war.

‘Traitors often suffer a bad end, majesty,’ I remarked casually.

‘Enough,’ said Phraates, ‘we will not argue among ourselves, for the laughter of our enemies shall be our only reward. I fear that I cannot send my army north, King Pacorus. To do so would leave the heart of the empire vulnerable.’

I was confused, but then saw the leer on the face of Mithridates.

‘Of course, you will not have heard. The Romans have invaded Hatra.’

I felt sick in the pit of my stomach and it was some time before I could utter a response.

‘Hatra?’

Mithridates leaned forward, an evil grin on his face. ‘That is correct. After he had finished with those imbeciles Farhad and Aschek, Lucullus invaded your father’s kingdom with a new army. Even now his soldiers lay siege to Nisibus. So you see, if Hatra falls then a Roman army will be marching from the northwest towards Ctesiphon.’

‘It is as my son says,’ added Phraates.

I was speechless. The Romans had seized the opportunity offered by Media’s aggression to defeat Farhad and use his actions as a pretext for attacking my father’s kingdom. Domitus had been right. The Romans aimed for nothing less than the conquest of all the land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.

‘Susiana has no troops to offer Farhad or Aschek,’ said Mithridates.

I became angry at that moment. I pointed at Mithridates. ‘Does this man, who formerly fought in the army of the rebels, speak on your behalf, highness?’

Phraates looked alarmed. ‘Mithridates has my confidence, King Pacorus,’ he said meekly.

‘Last year he was prepared to slit his father’s throat.’