The Tortoise in Asia (14 page)

Orodes is shattered. He sits there staring at the head of Crassus unable to say a word. It's just as well that the disappointment on his face is interpreted by all as shock at the macabre sight. He pulls himself together finally and looks at Sillaces. Artavasdes is stunned, mindful of the fate that could have been his if he had opposed these fierce people.

Standing up unsteadily, Orodes takes a slurp of wine and raises two fat and flaccid arms out wide. The goblet he's still holding shakes half of its contents onto the table. One of the Parthians titters, stops immediately as prudence takes hold.

“You bring great news Sillaces. This victory is a fitting tribute to the fighting spirit of our nation. We always knew that with the aid of Ahura Mazda”. The Parthians in the hall mumble “Bless his name”. “We would defeat the Forces of Darkness. And at last it has happened. Parthia is safe and now a nation as powerful as Rome. The Romans can have the West; we have the East. We shall rule Asia in peace and prosperity, with our Armenian allies enjoying our beneficence.” Artavasdes nods in approval and gives a wan smile.

As he speaks, a sharp pain rises from the pit of his stomach and spreads up his chest into his arms, weighing them down and making his gestures leaden and awkward. It's the toxic fear of Surena infecting his blood stream again. This time it's worse. He staggers a bit and recovers, the pain subsiding, but not the anxiety. The glory of the victory will elevate his rival to a status impossible to cope with. And it's obvious his army was not weakened by the battle as his friend Versaces predicted.

The Versaces plan has to be abandoned. It'll never work now; Surena is invincible. Besides, something other than a military solution would always be more appealing to his epicene nature. He must think of a new strategy, subterranean and devious. Something comes to mind, something he had been thinking about before he adopted the Versaces plan. While it's put into place, smiles are the best reaction to Surena's achievement. No one must know his hidden thoughts about the great victory.

“Sillaces, go immediately to your Commander in Chief and give him our personal congratulations. Tell him to come to Carrhae as soon as possible with the prisoners. We'll meet him there in ten days. We wish to see them in person.”

With that, he dismisses Sillaces with a flick of his hand and returns to socializing, but with little enthusiasm. All the rest are in such a jolly mood they don't notice the change. The pudgy face is darker now and seems disoriented. His eyes are hooded and heavy with thought. Somehow the effects of the wine have suddenly disappeared; he's alert and steady now.

The festivities carry on with Orodes in a distracted mood, uncommonly lacking in urge for pleasures of the flesh – showing no interest in the offers of delights from his hosts. He leaves the hall before the rest, telling his courtiers he's tired and wants to be by himself. They're a little bemused but are used to the King's aberrant behaviour. He barely says goodbye to Artavasdes, making him wonder about the manners of his new ally.

Rising the next day earlier than his courtiers had ever seen, Orodes is on the road to Carrhae. The night before he had ordered an early start. He takes with him the five thousand troops he had brought to intimidate the Armenian king.

❧

Outside Seleucia a couple of days later, Surena gives orders for the Romans to move, to march north. As the guards prod them forward, a huge relief arises in the men, as if a warm blanket is spread over them while lying naked in bed on a frosty night. They will not be killed, at least not yet.

The fast courier system of the Parthians, based on relays of fresh horses and made famous by their Achaemid predecessors, brought the King's message quickly. Determined to meet the royal deadline, Surena pushes the speed of the march – too fast for some of the Romans to keep up. Uninhibited by pity, he permits no laxness to subvert the objective. When the lash fails, the swords get rid of the impediments. No time is wasted. He makes it on the day the King ordered.

At the main gate of the town that will forever be remembered for the worst defeat of Rome since Hannibal crossed the Alps, the two leading men of the Parthian Empire meet. Orodes' troops are outside the walls, Surena's army and their sorry captives inside. What an opportunity. The wheel of fortune that carried him to victory at Carrhae is still active, still turning in his favour. It may eventually turn past the happy zone, but not today, not when the blush of success is still on his cheek. Orodes has made a mistake coming here, exposing himself to the full might of the invincible Commander.

The King proclaims that it would be best to hold their discussion in private, away from the crowded town, at a little distance along the Road. Surena sees no reason to quibble.

In a shady copse just off the Road where the land rises in a gentle wooded slope before it levels off in the distance, the two men dismount and smile at each other. They're somewhat stiff but cordial enough. Their retainers stand a little way off, dismounted too. The men mingle and speak of the victory, congratulate each other; all are in a good mood. The Empire is united and at peace, more powerful than it's ever been. No one could possibly divine the disruptive thoughts the Empire's two most important men are holding within.

Orodes feels he must begin.

“Nowhere in history has Parthia won such a victory. It'll rumble down the memory of time like the rolling rhythm of the kettle drum, never to be silenced. Thanks to your achievement, the balance of power has shifted East. You've remade the map of the world. We wish to congratulate you in person and command you to name your reward. You may have anything you wish.”

Surena's dislike of the man fades into pleasure at the compliment. Not even someone as cynical as he can remain unmoved by the praise of a monarch.

“Your Majesty, I thank you for your gracious words, but I must remind myself that the glory is to be shared by the men who fought that day. They excelled in their duty, a feat that was rewarded by the favour of Ahura Mazda.

“Your Majesty's generosity has taken me by surprise. I beg for a little time to think of what I'd like for the reward Your Majesty so kindly speaks of.

“Now, we must decide what to do with the Roman prisoners. There're about ten thousand. Is it your Majesty's wish that they be killed or spared?”

“It would be a pity to waste them. They're skilful soldiers, despite their defeat. Send them to Margiana as slaves. There they can help guard our eastern frontier. Best if they're far away.

“You can go back to Carrhae now. We've had enough conversation. We'll stay here for a while. We've brought our falconer. He claims there're some trophy specimens in these hills.”

“Thank you Sire. I wish Your Majesty good hunting. I will prepare a banquet for tonight.”

“Yes. Do that.”

The Road takes the famous warrior and his small retinue towards the town at a comfortable pace. Like him, it feels pleased, proud to host a conference between such noble men. The effects of the flattery worn off, Surena concludes that the King realizes he's in a weak position. That's why he offered that reward. It could be huge. He'd be embarrassed to refuse any request, whatever it is. He's trying to buy him off.

It doesn't really matter; the only worthwhile reward is the kingdom. That can only be had by force. Now is the time, when the King and his retainers are exposed. They'll be no match for the victors of Carrhae, flush with loyalty to their Commander. Only a pretext is needed. Something can be worked out. The senior officers must be persuaded to cooperate – an easy task. Then key nobles and priests will have to be brought onside – they'll follow the army. Much needs to be done, and quickly, before Orodes leaves Carrhae. Allies must be recruited without delay.

As he's musing in the gently rolling woodlands, the hot air completely still, a cluster of horsemen bursts out of the trees ahead, brandishing swords. They're Parthians. But not from his army. Not looking friendly. It's an ambush. Must be that damned king. No time to prepare. He's heavily outnumbered. How can that be? The sneaky bastard has outmanoeuvred him, him the great warrior.

Fortunately they have their swords. And they're mounted. He took the bold step of appearing before the King armed, confident he would get away with it, given the glory of his victory and the monarch“s weakness.

The attackers ride hard at his troops and slash down two men who're a few paces in front. He shouts to the others to defend themselves. “Head for the trees. They're assassins”, and charges off, closely followed by his comrades. His reaction was so quick it caught the attackers by surprise. But soon they recover and gallop off in pursuit. They catch up when their quarry is slowed down by fallen trees. A fierce combat begins in which no quarter is given, no time for prisoners.

Surrounded now, he parries the long blade of the man in front of him and cuts him down. His sword dispatches three more in quick succession, causing the assassins to pull back in fear. He feels confident he'll prevail. His history of success, his unshakable faith in himself give him energy, afford him superhuman strength. He'll beat off this scurrilous attempt by that podgy cretin.

He and his men kill a few more, their long swords flailing like a farmer threshing grain, and push back the assassins. Their leader shouts at them to regroup yelling insults at their timidity. As they retreat, Surena and his remaining men take off into the forest. Chastened by their lack of success, the assassins charge after them through the trees. The forest becomes thicker and allows them to catch up. Surena has to turn and face them. For a while the fight is even; his efforts inspire his men, combine with their terror to produce more commitment than the hired killers can muster. Just one great surge may be enough. But they can't do it; the enemy's superior numbers are overwhelming. His men start falling one after the other, until he's left fighting alone.

He's still on his horse, so fierce a warrior that his enemies show reluctance to attack. Nevertheless, at the furious urging of their leader, they eventually unhorse him. Several jump off their horses and try to knock him down with their shields.

They can't subdue the leonine man who's lost his sword and is now fighting with his dagger, stabbing two men and lunging at a third. The assassins hang back in indecision. He knows they won't kill him with their swords. Because he's from an exalted family they would be under orders not to spill his blood.

Then, suddenly four men charge from different directions, and before he can beat them off, grab him around the waist and wrestle him to the ground in a mighty struggle, kicking the dagger out of his hand. Another pulls a bow string around his neck. A monstrous roar leaps out of his throat as he's choked, cursing the King to hell, and then a dry gurgle, which diminishes slowly into death, but not before the strangler has to tighten the string three times. Twice he thought he had killed his man only to see him recover.

❧

As the falcon lands on his gloved hand with a small bird in its mouth, Orodes sees the leader of the assassins riding up, dishevelled and panting.

“Your Majesty, Surena is dead. I've never seen a man fight so hard. But we were able to subdue him with the bow string. I lost a lot of my men though.”

“Excellent news. Well done. You'll be handsomely rewarded, particularly if you and your men promise never to speak of today's events. Your life will depend on silence. So will theirs. Even a whisper will be fatal. Remember that. Only I will report the tragedy that befell the esteemed Surena.”

All the same he plans to put them all to death as soon as possible, just to make sure. He pulls the bird out of the falcon's mouth, tosses it on the ground and hands the splendid hunter over to a servant to put the hood on.

“We must go back to Carrhae right away.”

The heartily relieved King and his entourage ride back along the Road at a steady pace. It has another story of treachery to add to its archives. No need to rush. What a relief that now his blood can run through his veins no longer inflamed by the fear and anxiety that never left him in peace.

When they reach Carrhae he calls a conference of the nobles and priests in the Great Hall of the fortress. All stand; he sits.

“We have grave news to report. While we were conversing with Commander Surena outside Carrhae, a contingent of his troops charged out of the woods and attacked us and our retinue. As soon as the assault began, Surena joined in. We could see immediately that the ambush was part of a plot to usurp the throne.

“Fortunately our men were able to subdue the conspirators and kill them all, including, we're sorry to say, our illustrious Commander in Chief. We've brought his body back for a proper funeral.

“We must now inform the two armies here and explain Surena's treason to them. What makes it even more despicable and what saddens us the most is the fact that we offered him a reward of whatever he wanted for his victory over the Romans.

“It's tragic that this great hero who saved our Kingdom should have such a fate”.

He pulls out his handkerchief and dabs his eyes and sits down forlornly.

The High priest nods his head and folds his hands in front of his gown.

“Your Majesty has been most fortuitously preserved by the grace of Ahura Mazda, bless his name.” All mumble a repetition.

“And the nation has been spared the baleful presence of Evil through another civil war. Lord Surena was a gifted man, a great warrior who won the most important victory in Parthia's history. But, as the report of Your Majesty indicates, he failed to control the ambition his undoubted talents evoked in him.