Parthian Dawn (42 page)

The queen stood up. ‘How dare you insult my son.’

‘How dare he sit there lecturing me.’

Mithridates smirked once more. ‘Is this behaviour becoming of the lord high general of the empire?’

‘I quite agree,’ added his mother, ‘such vulgarity in the presence of the high king is unforgiveable.’

In the heat of the moment I then made my mistake. ‘If you no longer have confidence in my abilities, highness,’ I said, ‘I will gladly relinquish my command.’

Phraates looked most uncomfortable and began to babble an incoherent reply, which was cut short by his wife.

‘We accept your resignation.’

‘We do indeed,’ said Mithridates.

Phraates began to say something once more, stopped and then looked down at his feet. The queen and her son regarded me with haughty disregard. And so I lost my position as chief general of the empire. When I bowed and then marched from the hall many of the courtiers turned their backs on me, so disgusted were they with my behaviour. My escort was livid when I later informed them of what had happened, but what could be done? Phraates was completely under the control of his wife and son, and where those two ruled, truth, justice and honour withered. I had little time to brood, though, because a crisis was unfolding in the west that made the affairs of Media seem almost irrelevant. I had to get back to Dura and then see what assistance I could offer to my father. But before all of this, I still had to honour the promise I had made to Farhad. And so I stayed at Ctesiphon to be treated like an outcast once more.

The next day I had another audience with Phraates to see if he would change his mind about sending reinforcements to Media. But it was the same story — the queen and his son made sure my request fell on deaf ears. But then, amazingly, Mithridates revealed a surprising development.

‘We have received an offer of assistance from Chosroes of Mesene, who wishes to help his brother Farhad. To this end he is willing to send a large number of horsemen to Media. It seems appropriate that you should lead this force, King Pacorus.’ His face still displayed disdain and his words were uttered without emotion, but reinforcements were reinforcements, no matter where they came from.

‘We are not unmindful of the predicament Hatra and your own kingdom find themselves in, Pacorus,’ said Phraates, ‘but you must understand that if Ctesiphon falls the empire would receive a mortal blow.’

I doubted that. Ctesiphon was the capital of the empire, that was true, and it had a full treasury that was also true, but it did not pay for the other kingdoms in the empire. Indeed, it received tribute from them. It had no army that was the backbone of the empire and certainly no great king that could lead it. If it fell the empire would continue, but if Hatra fell then the empire truly would be weakened.

Even though the army of Mesene was not one I would wish to command, any reinforcements would be enough to stiffen the resolve of Media, and it certainly needed stiffening.

‘Perhaps Babylon might also be convinced to lend assistance to Media,’ I said.

‘I doubt that,’ replied Mithridates. ‘I would have thought Babylon will be looking to the northwest and Hatra, for if your father’s kingdom falls then Babylon will be next.’

I disliked Mithridates intensely but he was right in what he said. A Roman army that occupied the kingdom of Hatra would be able to strike at Babylon with ease, to say nothing of Dura, where another Roman army was heading.

Phraates gestured to one of his stewards, a tall, severe man dressed in yellow robes who had a neatly cropped brown beard. Phraates handed him a scroll that had a red wax seal. The steward took the scroll, bowed and then handed it to me.

‘That is a personal guarantee from me,’ said Phraates, ‘that if Chosroes provides you with all the soldiers you need to send to Media, then he will be handsomely recompensed for his loyalty.’

It was as much as I could hope for. The King of Kings ruled because the other kings elected him, but the recent civil war had revealed that his power could often be challenged. If he was a mighty warlord or commanded great respect then the other kings would obey him without question. Unfortunately Phraates was neither. Still, Chosroes had voted for Phraates and had brought his army to fight for him when asked to do so. I saw no reason why the King of Mesene would refuse his request, especially as he would receive gold in exchange for sending his soldiers north. It seemed that even loyalty now had a price.

I bowed to Phraates and his wife, the silent, sullen Aruna. ‘Thank you, highness.’

I would never bow to Mithridates, who bridled at my insolence. And he had one last mouthful of venom to spit.

‘King Pacorus. We have sent heralds to each of the kings of the empire announcing that you are no longer lord high general. It is better that there exists no uncertainty on the matter in these troubled times.’

‘But we will always seek your advice on military matters,’ added Phraates, who glanced at his wife. ‘We are grateful for your efforts in our service.’

He was truly a broken reed.

I was relieved to depart Ctesiphon, and especially glad to leave behind Mithridates and his mother. I was surprised to see that there were no heightened levels of activity among the garrison as I rode through the gates in the perimeter wall south towards Mesene. In fact there was hardly any activity at all. If the Romans did reach this place they would batter down its crumbling and aged walls with ease. I shuddered at the thought. But the defences of Ctesiphon were no longer my responsibility.

We made good progress south, following the course of the Tigris as it made its way to the Persian Gulf. Keeping to the eastern bank we made at least thirty miles each day, so on the third day we were on the northern border of Mesene. The land either side of the river was green and full of birds and animals. I saw warblers, white-tailed eagles and babblers. The area from here south was dotted with large and small lakes and marshlands — great swathes of wetlands that were inhabited by the Marsh People. I had heard that they lived on small slivers of dry land above the waterline and fashioned their homes from the reeds that they harvested from the waters. They also crafted boats from reeds, which they used to travel throughout the wetlands, or so I was told. From our position on the eastern bank of the Tigris the marshes on the other side of the river appeared vast and limitless, continuing on into the distance.

It was now nearly three weeks since I had left Dura and I knew that the Romans would be near my city, if not already before it. I also knew that Domitus and Nergal were on the other side of the Euphrates by now, ready to spring their trap when I returned. But I worried that my father might request their assistance further north and my mind was filled with thoughts of my two commanders marching north while the Romans assaulted Dura. I went cold at the thought of Gallia and Claudia trapped in the city. But surely Godarz would send them to safety; perhaps they were both already in Hatra? One thing I knew: I had to get back to Dura as quickly as possible.

‘Highness.’

I was torturing myself with different scenarios when the commander of my escort shook me out of my daydreaming. Riding beside me he was pointing at dark shapes ahead, which were shimmering in the heat.

‘Ready,’ I shouted, and we all reached behind to pull our bows from their hide cases fastened to our saddles. We instinctively pulled arrows from our quivers, strung them in the bowstrings and formed into line. The shapes grew larger and I recognised men on horses, a long column of them. I held up my hand and halted the others. I peered at the approaching horsemen, who had made no attempt to change their formation or pace. Indeed, I wondered if they had seen us at all. Then two from the front of the column detached themselves and began riding towards us. As one my men raised their bows and pointed them at the two figures approaching. As they got nearer I could see that neither had any weapons in their hands, and the leader held his right arm aloft. The two then slowed their horses, a brace of mangy looking brown mares, to a walk and they both raised their arms above their heads to show they meant us no harm. I signalled to my men to lower their bows and I returned my arrow to its quiver and slipped my bow back in its case. The two riders halted in front of me and bowed their heads.

They were both dressed like nomads, with baggy brown trousers and light brown shirts with the sleeves rolled up to above their elbows. Their bows were slung over their shoulders and on their heads they wore linen hats.

‘Greetings, majesty,’ said one, a swarthy man with a long moustache and untidy beard, ‘my name is Kaspar. I was sent by my king, Chosroes, to escort you south.’

He led a company of ragged riders, one hundred men dressed in similar attire to their commander. One carried a long staff from which hung a banner sporting the viper symbol of Chosroes.

‘How long until we reach the rendezvous?’ I asked Kaspar who rode beside me.

He smiled at me, his teeth as brown as his shirt. ‘Not long, majesty. Two hours at most.’

‘How many horsemen has your king sent to the rendezvous?’

Once again he smiled like an imbecile. ‘Many companies, majesty, enough to do you honour.’

Eventually we reached a collection of mud-brick huts located a mile from the Tigris, a desolate place that was deserted as far as I could see.

‘We are here, majesty,’ said Kaspar, who halted his horse and nodded to himself.

‘I see no horsemen,’ I said.

‘They will be here, majesty, that I promise. Would you like to rest out of the sun?’

It was certainly hot and my tunic was drenched with sweat, but I was more annoyed that there were no troops waiting for me. But then, this was the army of Chosroes and it was probably futile to get annoyed with Kaspar, so I gave the order to dismount and led Remus over to one of the water troughs while others gathered round the well in the centre of the village and hoisted up the bucket to quench their thirst. My men took off their helmets and I did the same. It was midday now and the sun was burning the earth, made worse by the lack of any wind. Once Remus had finished drinking I led him over to the shade of some stables located behind one of the buildings. Kaspar followed me and tethered his mare next to Remus.

‘Where are the villagers?’ I asked.

Kaspar lowered his head. ‘I do not know, majesty.’

I turned away from him and stared at his men and mine intermingling in the centre of the village. ‘Well, I hope we will not be here long. We have a long journey north ahead of us.’

I suddenly felt a sharp pain on the side of my head and then all was black.

Chapter 14

I
slowly came out of unconsciousness to discover that I had been propped up against a wall of one of the village huts with my wrists tied behind my back. At length I regained the focus in my eyes, the side of my head throbbing with pain from where I had been struck. I leaned back against the wall, my wrists burning from the cords that had been wrapped tightly around them. I had been stripped of my cuirass, belt, sword and boots. My mouth and throat were parched, though mercifully I was out of the sunlight. I squinted in its intensity, and then saw with horror the bodies of dead men arranged in a neat row a few feet in front of me. I recognised them as the corpses of my escort, each of which had been stripped of their weapons and armour but not their white tunics. Like me they had also lost their boots. I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash that they had had quick deaths and that He would be merciful to their souls. Then someone spat on me, causing me to open my eyes.

‘Wake up, majesty.’

I looked up to see Kaspar standing before me. He had shed his own ragged attire and replaced it with the items he had stolen from me. I recognised my boots, cuirass, helmet, belt, my
spatha
in its scabbard and my dagger fastened to the right-hand side of his belt.

‘How do I look?’ He raised his arms to invite me to admire him.

‘Like a thief,’ I answered, which earned me a vicious kick in my stomach.

‘You should be more polite to me, as you are no longer a king.’

He drew my sword and admired the handle and blade. ‘Maybe I should kill you now and save my king the trouble.’

‘Why not?’ I said. ‘Then you can be a murderer as well as a thief.

He replaced my sword in its scabbard and kicked me again, causing me to bend forward in pain. For good measure he also slapped my face hard with the back of his hand. He then stepped back and stood before me with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked ridiculous with his ill-fitting helmet and cuirass that was too large for his scrawny torso. Nevertheless, he wore the look of a man who had suddenly won a great fortune in a game of chance. Behind him his men were squabbling over the weapons and clothes of my dead escort, whose corpses were now swarming with flies attracted by the freshly spilt blood. One or two were coming to blows and Kaspar turned and watched the fracas with amusement. Eventually, after a few split lips and black eyes, his men settled down to drinking from their waterskins. Soon most of them were sitting on the ground or leaning against walls, laughing loudly and boasting, and I assumed that the liquid they were drinking was wine not water. Kaspar went among his men and helped himself to their drink, then returned to face me once more.

‘Wine?’ He spat the contents of his mouth onto me then grinned as his men fell about laughing.

I must have been tied there for at least two hours, during which time several of Kaspar’s men stumbled over and directed kicks and punches against my body and face. They split my left cheek and my lip, and soon my face throbbed with pain and blood was running down my neck. As most of them were by now very drunk many of the blows missed their target or were administered half-heartedly, but enough connected to send spasms of pain shooting through my body. Kaspar thought the whole exercise hilarious and he roared his approval and encouragement to his men. My right eyebrow was now cut and blood began tricking into my eye. My breathing was heavy and I was thirsty, so very thirsty. One of Kaspar’s men stood before me and emptied the contents of his bladder over my bowed head, then spat on me before he walked away. Then another sauntered up and grabbed my urine-soaked hair, yanking it back so force me to look up at him. With his other hand he pulled a dagger from his belt.