Parthian Vengeance (10 page)

‘No,’ I said, ‘we will stick to the original plan. We will strike for Ctesiphon first and then march into Susiana. Hopefully Gotarzes can hold out until we can organise his relief.’

‘That is the best course of action,’ said Domitus.

‘It is sound strategy,’ remarked Orodes.

Gallia was going to object but was stilled by Dobbai. ‘What they say is correct, child. Gotarzes is the bait that Mithridates dangles in front of your husband’s eyes. To take it would spell the end of the King of Dura and his army.’

Orodes folded his arms and looked very grave while Domitus went back to studying the map. Dobbai watched him like a hawk. At length he spoke.

‘How does Mithridates benefit from inciting outsiders to attack his empire?’

Dobbai cackled. ‘A good question, Roman, and one that has a simple answer.’

‘Which is?’ I asked irritably. Sometimes she sorely tested my patience.

She sighed. ‘All of you,’ she pointed at me, Orodes and Domitus with a bony finger, ‘labour under the delusion that everyone thinks and acts the same as you. They do not. Mithridates and Narses desire above all to rid the world of the King of Dura.’

‘Then why don’t they march against me?’ I asked.

Dobbai looked at me in exasperation. ‘I sometimes think that Coalemus himself has rented your body.’

‘Who is Coalemus’ queries Domitus.

‘The god of idiots,’ replied Orodes, none too pleased at Dobbai’s insolence. Gallia laughed aloud.

‘You have, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai very slowly so I would understand what she was saying, ‘beaten both Mithridates and Narses in battle, so they obviously see little merit in tangling with you again, at least not until they are certain of victory.’

‘If Dura’s allies are occupied dealing with threats to their own lands,’ mused Orodes, ‘then they cannot aid you, Pacorus.’

Dobbai’s eyes narrowed. ‘Leaving Mithridates and Narses free to concentrate their hatred on you, son of Hatra.’ She really did revel in other people’s misfortune and general misery.

‘Then let them come,’ I said grandly, ‘and then I can destroy them.’

‘They will not come to Dura,’ said Dobbai. ‘They are not idiots. They have seen what happens to armies that try to storm this city. As I told you before, as long as the griffin sits above the Palmyrene Gate no army shall take this city.’

‘Then we shall go to them,’ I announced.

Dobbai rose and held out her hand for Gallia to take. ‘And that is precisely what they want. You must take care, son of Hatra; indeed all of you must take care not to underestimate Mithridates above all. Come child, let us leave them to their games of strategy.’

The proceeding days saw a flurry of letters between Dura and Hatra, Babylon and Mesene. I thanked Shamash that the empire had a reliable courier system that ensured that the kingdoms were in constant touch with each other. The postal system comprised hundreds of mounted couriers who rode from city to city via rest stations located every thirty miles. At these stations the couriers swapped their horses for fresh mounts that took them to the next station and so on. But even so it took several days for news to reach us of what was happening in other parts of the empire. Dura was around twelve hundred miles from the eastern edge of the empire. I sometimes forgot how large Parthia was.

I wrote to King Vardan of Babylon, friend to my father and me, asking if he could take his army east to aid Gotarzes while I marched Dura’s army against Ctesiphon. In addition, I asked Nergal if he could reinforce Vardan and also strike at Susa, the capital city of Susiana. Uruk was only a hundred and fifty miles from Susa. Nergal could be there in around a week. I decided not to inform my father that I was striking at Ctesiphon and therefore marching across the south of his kingdom. He would learn of this after I had killed Mithridates. His anger would be a small price to pay for victory and peace in the empire. I also did not inform Vardan that I would be marching into the north of his kingdom. I would offer my apologies to him at the same time that I announced that Mithridates had been removed from power.

My father informed me that the raids Hatra was experiencing were inconvenient but not serious. However, they did require substantial numbers of troops to be sent north to patrol the border and deter any further incursions. Media and Atropaiene reported much the same.

‘They are achieving their aim,’ remarked Domitus as he sifted through parchments on his table.

The camp was heaving with men, mules and activity. Surrounded by a mud-brick wall, it was capacious enough to accommodate the Duran Legion and the Exiles plus all their wagons, animals and equipment, but it was a squeeze. Domitus had endured many sleepless nights overseeing the mustering of his men, but now the two legions were fully assembled and ready to march.

‘We do not need Hatra’s help,’ I said.

‘Mm, well,’ he rose from his desk and grabbed his vine cane lying on the table, placing a weight on the parchments so they would not be disturbed. ‘Let us hope you are right. Walk with me.’

Spring would soon be here and the temperature was already rising. It was pleasant enough inside the large tent but outside the atmosphere was becoming oppressive. The smell of sweat, leather and animal dung greeted me as I stepped into the open air.

‘The horsemen are assembled?’ asked Domitus.

I nodded. ‘Twelve hundred cataphracts crammed inside the city and three thousand horse archers camped five miles south of it.’

‘Ten thousand foot, four thousand horse,’ he mused. ‘You think that’s enough to defeat Mithridates and Narses?’

I slapped him on the arm. ‘As a Roman you above all should know that it is quality not quantity that makes the difference on the battlefield. What is troubling you?’

‘Time to pay our respects.’ He turned and walked to one of the two smaller tents that were located either side of the command tent. I followed. Guards stood at attention around the tent and more guards stood watch inside, for these shelters held sacred items – the legionary standards. The standard of the Duran Legion was a griffin cast from pure gold that was fixed to a silver plate atop a pole. When the legion marched the griffin would go with it. It was held upright in a rack next to the Staff of Victory, an old
kontus
shaft onto which had been attached silver discs depicting each of the army’s victories. Domitus walked over to the griffin and stroked it gently. I did the same.

He turned to me. ‘We could take the lords and some of their riders. There would still be enough men left in the kingdom to guard the northern border.’

‘I can’t risk it, Domitus. This army can beat anything Narses and Mithridates can throw at it. You know that. But I cannot fight them worrying about the possibility of the Romans launching an invasion from Syria.’

He bowed his head to the griffin and then ambled from the tent. I followed as he walked briskly to the other tent that held the standard of the Exiles, a silver lion also sitting on a silver plate. Again we touched the standard that was likewise ringed by guards.

‘The Romans have tried to conquer Dura once,’ I said. ‘Forty thousand horse archers will hopefully make them think twice before they try to do so again.’

‘Pity we don’t still have the Margianans,’ he sniffed.

He was alluding to the horsemen sent to Gallia as a gift by King Khosrou before we had faced the Roman Pompey. Originally numbering a thousand men led by an uncouth but brave warrior named Kuban, battle casualties had reduced their number to eight hundred. Essentially horse archers, they wore leather armour and also carried long spears in addition to bows and swords. But following the capture of Uruk I had sent them back to their homeland.

The legions were already on the march before the new dawn came. Ten thousand pairs of hobnailed sandals tramping east across the two pontoon bridges that spanned the Euphrates, their crunching sound resonating through the stillness of the early morning hours. I did not disturb our sleeping children as I dressed and made my way to the stables where cataphracts and squires were busy loading equipment on the backs of spitting and grunting camels. Remus had finished his breakfast by the time I entered his stall and placed the white saddlecloth on his back. Like all the saddlecloths of the army it had a red griffin stitched in each corner. 

I threw my saddle onto his back and then fitted him with his bridle. His coat and hooves had already been cleaned and checked but I examined each one of his iron horseshoes anyway. Fresh on. He flicked his tail with impatience. He had been on too many campaigns not to know what was going on and was eager to be on our journey.

I stroked his neck. ‘Easy, boy. You must save your energy. You should know all this by now.’

He turned his head and snorted. His blue eyes looked into my brown ones. The chief stable hand appeared, a tall, thin man with deep-set eyes.

‘He is most impatient, majesty. Began kicking his door last night.’

I grabbed his reins and led him from the stall. ‘Did he indeed. He picked up some bad habits during his time in Italy, I fear. Living in the open all that time made him think he was a wild horse.’

The man smiled. ‘I fear it is so, majesty. He is wilful, but a fine horse nonetheless.’

We walked outside into the cold morning air and I vaulted into the saddle.

‘He is indeed, and for that we must forgive him his idiosyncratic nature.’

The stable hand bowed his head. ‘Shamash protect you, majesty.’

I nudged Remus ahead. ‘You too.’

I walked him from the stables into the courtyard and halted in front of the palace where Gallia was standing at the top of the palace steps. I dismounted as one of the Amazons stepped forward to hold Remus while I said goodbye to my wife. Even though she was not coming with me she was dressed in her war gear of leather boots, leggings and mail shirt. The rest of the Amazons mustered behind her were similarly attired.

I walked up the steps and embraced her. There were no tears in her eyes, no emotion, just determination.

‘Make sure you kill that toad Mithridates,’ she hissed. ‘Remember Godarz.’

I kissed her on the lips. ‘I will endeavour to do what I should have done a long time ago.’

Unusually Dobbai was present. Now in her dotage she seldom rose until well after dawn but today was different. She grabbed my arm as I turned and made to descend the steps.

‘Have a care, son of Hatra. Do not underestimate Mithridates or Narses.’

This was getting tiresome.

‘I am always careful,’ I replied.

She released my arm, turned and waved her hand in the air. ‘I have warned you. I can do no more. Be gone and play the game of kings.’

I raised my eyes and walked down the steps and then vaulted into my saddle once more. I raised my hand at Gallia who nodded and then I wheeled Remus away and trotted from the Citadel. Behind me a company of cataphracts, a hundred riders, followed and after them came two hundred squires leading two hundred fully loaded camels. The commander of the company was a man named Surena, a native of the Ma’adan people who fell in beside me as we rode down the city’s main street and headed for the Palmyrene Gate. The dour figure of Vagharsh, a Parthian and Companion, rode immediately behind us carrying my flag – a red griffin on a white background, the whole banner edged with gold. This morning it was safely wrapped in its wax-coated sleeve for the air was damp.

In the early hours I liked to keep my own counsel. Unfortunately Surena did not and this morning he was unusually talkative. No doubt the prospect of slaughter filled him with great anticipation.

‘How long will it take before we encounter the enemy, lord?’

‘We will know when we see them,’ I replied.

‘Hopefully less than a week, then I can be back in Dura in a fortnight. I have promised to take Viper to Palmyra.’

Viper was one of Gallia’s Amazons, a woman who was lethal with a bow but who looked like a teenage girl. Surena was the exact opposite with his long black hair, square face, thin nose, broad shoulders and muscular arms. They had been married for over three years now.

‘You expect the forthcoming campaign to be a straightforward affair, Surena?’

He looked at me. ‘Of course, lord. All your campaigns end in victory.’

I laughed. Like most young men he only dreamed of glory and thought of victory. It never occurred to him that he might end up as a mangled corpse on the battlefield. But then we all comforted ourselves with the thought that we would be on the winning side and see our families again, Shamash willing.

‘If we take much plunder I was thinking of purchasing a house for Viper and me,’ continued Surena.

‘We do not go to plunder,’ I said sternly.

‘No, lord, of course not. But if any happens to fall into our laps, all the better.’

In battle Surena was calm, brave and resourceful, though apt to take risks. In barracks he was a good officer to his men. Like many officers in Dura’s army he was enrolled in the Sons of the Citadel scheme, an idea I had after I had first assumed power in the kingdom. The best tutors from Egypt, Parthia, China and even Rome had been hired to instruct the future leaders of the army. After spending the morning on the training field the best and the brightest in the army attended classes to learn about logistics, engineering, leadership, weapon making, the philosophy of war and languages. In this way they would know the ins and outs of what were called the military arts.

‘There are some nice properties near the Citadel,’ mused Surena, ‘a bit of loot would go towards securing one.’

The reports from his tutors had stated that Surena was an excellent student – intelligent, inquisitive and eager to learn. He could also be extremely irritating.

I turned in the saddle. ‘What do you think of Surena’s grand plan, Vagharsh?’

Vagharsh shot a glance at Surena. ‘I think he talks too much.’

We passed under the Palmyrene Gate and I drew my sword and raised it to salute the stone griffin sitting above the arch over the large twin gates. Surena did the same and so did all the men of his company. An insolent Greek sculptor named Demetrius who had also cast the Duran Legion’s golden griffin had carved it. Dobbai had told me that the city would never fall as long as the griffin guarded the city. I believed her words and so did every man in the army and every citizen who lived in the city. As we exited the city and wheeled right to link up with the road across the river I looked behind me and bowed my head to the griffin.