Carrhae (56 page)

‘Another campaign may kill you first,’ he replied disrespectfully. ‘Wearing armour and charging around a battlefield places a great strain on a horse’s heart. The mounts of the horse archers do not have to carry such a burden, though they risk being cut and pierced by arrows. Then there is the stress of battle. It’s not only men who piss themselves with fear in combat.’

‘Most eloquently put, Strabo.’

He tickled Remus under the chin. ‘I know you will make the right decision.’ He nodded slightly then turned and ambled away.

I sat back down on the bench, placed my elbows on my legs and rested my chin in my hands. I had never given the health of Remus a second thought. He had always been a strong and sturdy horse who had ridden in many battles to emerge unscathed. When other horses had died due to heart failure at the dreadful Battle of Susa he had survived, obviously making me think that he could go on forever. But nothing lasts forever, it seems, as Dobbai’s death should have taught me.
Tegha
was a good horse and I resolved to ride him after the coming campaign, but retiring Remus would be akin to losing my right arm. But then he deserved to rest on his laurels in his autumn years. I wondered if I would be allowed the same privilege: would I even see my autumn years? No matter how many enemies I vanquished there always seemed to be an unending supply of new ones to fight.

The next day I left for Assur.

It took us five days to reach the city. At Dura patrols were increased along the borders in case Crassus decided to launch any surprise raids into the kingdom, though Byrd assured me that his network of spies and informants in Syria and Judea would give him prior warning of any such attack. The northeast of the empire may have been burning but that was nearly a thousand miles away and in the west of Parthia there existed a surreal peace. The roads were filled with traffic and farmers worked in their fields. West of Dura the road to Palmyra was never busier and the city was ringed not by Romans but by trade caravans, whose crews and guards flooded into the city each day to spend their money on food, hospitality and whores. I had to admit that it had been a masterstroke by Aaron to place a tax on the brothels whose dues went directly to the upkeep of the army. The city’s markets were blossoming and peace guaranteed that the farmers who worked on the lords’ estates prospered and paid their rents. And when the lords prospered so did the city treasury when they paid their annual tributes.

Aaron was always pestering me to raise taxes and the tribute but I resisted his pleas. The treasury was almost always full and so there was enough money to maintain the army and thus ensure a peaceful kingdom. And where there was peace there was trade and where there was trade there was a constant flow of money into the treasury.

Occasionally a slave trader would present himself at the palace and petition me to allow him to establish a slave market in the city, promising to share equally the profits with the crown if he was allowed to do so. I always refused. I could not besmirch the memory of Spartacus by permitting such a thing. There were no slaves in the palace and there would be no slave markets in the city, at least not while I was king. Aaron was most distraught when he heard that I had turned my back on a lucrative venture but I informed him that I was king and not a businessman, but that he was welcome to take up the matter of slave trading with the queen if he so wished. He bowed politely and I heard no more about it.

I took Spartacus, Scarab and a hundred horse archers with me to Assur, the city looking none the worse for the Armenian assault it had suffered recently. The gates had been repaired, the moat had been cleared of debris and bodies and Hatra’s banner of the white horse’s head flew from every gatehouse. A captain of the garrison and half a dozen of his white-uniformed riders met me a mile from the city and asked that I camp my horse archers on the Plain of Makhmur located opposite the city, on the eastern side of the Tigris. The return of Silaces’ horse archers and the rest of the garrison had resulted in there being no spare quarters for the escorts of the other kings who had arrived. I asked the officer who was present.

‘High King Orodes, majesty, in addition to King Gafarn, King Atrax and King Nergal. All their men are camped on the plain.’

‘King Surena has not arrived?’ I asked him.

‘No, majesty.’

My escort rode with the captain and his men to the Plain of Makhmur while I entered the city with Spartacus and Scarab, leaving our horses outside the governor’s palace where Lord Herneus received us. He looked meaner and more unforgiving than ever, his head devoid of any hair and his features looking as if they had been carved from rock. He walked beside me as we made our way through the palace to my quarters.

‘I hear that Surena is not here.’

‘Arrogant little bastard,’ spat Herneus, who had been appointed by my father for his iron-hard determination and loyalty and not for his etiquette. ‘He was willing enough to receive support from me and Atrax when he was fighting the Armenians in Gordyene, but now he does not need us any more he treats us like lepers.’

‘His war with the Armenians must be absorbing much of his time.’

He was seething. ‘Rumour is that he has unleashed his Sarmatian mercenaries on Armenia where they can amuse themselves butchering women and children while Surena broods in his palace, plotting his next move, and his army camps outside its walls.’

‘We will need that army in the coming months, Herneus.’

I was shown into the reception hall where Orodes, Gafarn, Atrax and Nergal were waiting. It was good to see them all again and all thoughts of eastern nomads, Armenians and Romans were temporarily forgotten as we greeted each other and reminisced about old times. Orodes told me that the rebuilding of Seleucia’s walls was proceeding apace and that Axsen had finally agreed to move permanently to Ctesiphon, which was also being renovated. Nergal informed me that Praxima was well and was looking forward to slaughtering Romans when they invaded and hoped to kill Crassus himself, while Atrax reported that his boys were growing up fast and would soon be riding into battle beside him. I asked after my sister’s health and he said that Aliyeh was fine but said no more about her. Gafarn embraced Spartacus warmly and announced to everyone that he was now a cataphract and would soon be taking his place among Hatra’s Royal Bodyguard. My nephew blushed as everyone congratulated him and patted him on the back.

As I was tired after my journey I retired to my quarters and bathed to wash the desert from my body and then enjoyed the company of a nubile young slave girl who massaged my back, arms and legs with oil. In a semi-daze I felt her slim fingers trace the lines of the numerous scars that decorated my back.

‘You have many scars, high-born,’ she purred.

‘A memento of my time in a foreign land.’

‘It must have been terrible for you to suffer such injuries.’

‘It was not something that I would have chosen,’ I agreed.

‘The foreigners must have been savages to treat a great king in such a way.’

‘I was not a king at the time,’ I corrected her, ‘I was a slave like you.’

Shocked, she momentarily stopped weaving her magic with her fingers. ‘A slave? I do not understand.’

‘A long time ago I was captured by a people called the Romans who put me in chains and took me back to their homeland to live as a slave until I died. One Roman whipped me and gave me the scars you see with your own eyes.’

She resumed her massaging. ‘What happened to these Romans, great one?’

‘They now stand on the borders of the empire and wish to conquer Parthia.’

‘But you will fight them?’

‘Oh yes,’ I replied, ‘that is my destiny – to fight Romans forever.’

The next day I sat around a table with the other kings plus Herneus in the governor’s private quarters to determine our course of action. Orodes, as ever a stickler for procedure, had requested that clerks record the conversation for posterity. I often wondered why we bothered with all these records. Who would ever read the stacks of parchments that gathered dust in the archives of every city and town in the empire?

‘So, my friends,’ began the king of kings after slaves had served us all wine, ‘we are here to decide the course of action in this, a year of grave danger for the empire. In the east the steppe nomads have united under one leader and threaten to sweep into the empire like a great flood, while to the north and west the Armenians and Romans muster their forces to invade Parthia.’

‘Do we have any recent news from Musa and Khosrou?’ I asked.

Orodes looked at Atrax who now spoke. ‘Aschek has mustered his forces on his eastern border to meet the nomads should they sweep west, but at the moment they are content to plunder Hyrcania and Margiana.’

‘Where are the armies of Khosrou and Musa?’ asked Nergal.

‘Khosrou licks his wounds in his capital, Merv,’ replied Atrax, ‘while Musa rallies his men at his capital, Hecatompylos.’

‘And there is more bad news from the Kingdom of Yueh-Chih,’ interrupted Orodes, ‘where King Monaeses contains the Yuezhis with difficulty. They have all appealed for my help and I must send it.’

I looked at him with alarm. ‘Send who?’

I glanced nervously at Atrax. ‘If you despatch Atrax and Aschek then it will seriously weaken the size of the army that will face the Romans and Armenians in the west.’

Orodes took a gulp of wine. ‘I know that, Pacorus, but as high king I cannot stand by and do nothing while the empire is being overrun. Aschek has stated that he will go to Musa’s aid as his kingdom borders Hyrcania.’

That came as no surprise to me though I doubted whether Aschek was the man to lead a relief expedition, but I held my tongue on that subject. But if Orodes suggested that Atrax supported Aschek then that was another matter. The King of Media was a fine commander and had an excellent army whose loss in the west would be keenly felt.

‘What about the other eastern kings?’ I suggested. ‘Cannot they send men to the north?’

‘They are like rabbits hypnotised by a cobra,’ replied Orodes. ‘Aria is already being raided by the Yuezhis and so Anauon and Drangiana to the south of that kingdom look to their own defences. There is only one man who can shore up our eastern frontier and that is Phriapatius.’

‘He leads our reserve army should we need it against Crassus and the Armenians,’ I said.

Orodes was not to be moved. ‘I cannot help that, Pacorus. Phriapatius has thousands of men at Persepolis and they are needed in the north. He can link up with Aschek’s army and together they can aid Musa and Khosrou.’

Orodes smiled at Atrax. ‘Such a course of action will also safeguard Media’s eastern frontier to allow Atrax to support us in the west.’

Atrax nodded in agreement and I had to admit that the plan made sense. The nomads had to be cleared from the northeast and the Yuezhis also had to be taught a lesson they would not forget and Phriapatius did command a large army, which could be mobilised to achieve these things. But it also meant stripping troops from the west.

‘Surena’s absence is keenly felt,’ fumed Gafarn.

Orodes tactfully ignored the mention of the man who had snubbed him by not being here and instead nodded to one of the guards standing by the door, who opened it and went outside into the corridor. Orodes stood.

‘Amid all the gloom that has engulfed us I have decided to fill the vacant throne of Elymais.’

King Gotarzes, a friend and ally of my father who had been killed by Narses and Mithridates during the civil war, had formerly ruled Elymais. Mithridates had subsequently taken over the kingdom but since his overthrow Orodes had ruled it. I heard footsteps and saw Silaces enter the room.

‘Welcome Silaces,’ said Orodes, ‘please take a seat.’

He pointed at an empty chair beside me that Silaces walked to after bowing his head to Orodes.

‘The office of king of kings is an onerous one,’ said Orodes, who remained standing, ‘though one of the more agreeable privileges that comes with it is the ability to reward loyalty and courage. Silaces, you have never faltered in your loyalty to your dead king or your homeland. During the terrible years of civil strife when you and your men were exiles from Elymais you continued to serve the allies of your kingdom, first with Pacorus and then assisting Surena in liberating Gordyene.’

Everyone began rapping their knuckles in the table in agreement, much to the embarrassment of Silaces. Orodes raised his hands to request silence.

He continued. ‘And so as a reward for your unfaltering loyalty I have decided to appoint you King of Elymais. May your reign be long and prosperous.’

Silaces’ mouth opened and closed but no words came out so shocked was he. I slapped him on the shoulder and once again the other kings rapped their knuckles on the table.

Orodes sat down. ‘But I am afraid you and your men are still needed here for the time being so you will not yet be able to sit on your throne. And well done.’

I rose and offered my hand to Silaces who also stood. The others likewise offered him their congratulations and such was the commotion that no one noticed the figure of Surena framed in the doorway.

Dressed in an iron scale armour cuirass, black shirt, black leggings and black boots, he looked like an avenging demon. Gone was the carefree, impious youth I had brought back with me from the great marshlands many years ago. His long black hair was unkempt and his eyes were cold and menacing. In truth I scarcely recognised him.

‘The wanderer returns,’ said Orodes with a trace of mockery. He pointed at an empty chair. ‘We have left a place for you but thought you would not be attending, such is the paucity of communications with Gordyene of late.’

Surena sauntered over to the chair and flopped down in it. ‘I have had important matters to attend to.’

He nodded at Silaces and managed a half-smile in my direction.

‘Is not the summons of the high king important?’ asked an exasperated Gafarn.

Surena snapped his fingers at a slave to indicate he wished to be served wine.

‘Not more important that defending my kingdom, no,’ Surena replied insolently. The company of Sarmatians had clearly not improved his manners.