Parthian Vengeance (67 page)

She whooped with delight and kicked her mount forward. Moments later the two embraced as the kings of Dura, Hatra and Media brought their horses to a halt before Surena. He had removed his helmet to kiss his wife and now he smiled at us all.

‘Hail, majesties, and welcome to the city of Vanadzor. The garrison awaits your inspection.’

He may have been only still in his twenties but the months spent conducting his own campaign had matured Surena beyond his years. As he showed us round the walls and the palace stronghold that in truth was nothing more than an ugly squat building with thick walls and tall towers at each corner, I detected a change in him. The cocky, carefree boy seemed to have disappeared, to be replaced by a more serious, calculating individual.

That evening, as we sat in the dour banqueting hall, he told us how he had reconquered the kingdom. Viper, her eyes afire with excitement and pride, sat next to him. I could tell that Atrax was delighted to be back in Vanadzor, not least because he and his father had often visited the city in his youth to participate in great hunting expeditions organised by Balas, but also because a Parthian Gordyene made his own kingdom much more secure. My father was, I think, bemused by it all. He was above all a traditionalist, a man who believed in the natural order of things. That meant kings ruled, nobles and the sons of nobles served as cataphracts and rose to be the commanders of armies and governors of cities, those who were not nobles tilled the fields, served in temples, worked in towns and cities and fought in the king’s armies when required. It was a strict hierarchy blessed by the gods and was thus sacred. At the bottom were slaves who were not worthy of thought or consideration. But now, in the banqueting hall of his dead friend, King Balas, my father was forced to listen to a young man who was Ma’adan, a member of a people regarded as little better than slaves by many Parthians – marsh dwellers, individuals who lived among water buffaloes and filth. It must have riled him enormously. But then, for all the great nobles and wealth in Hatra, Media and Atropaiene, it had been Surena, a former urchin from the marshlands, who had freed Gordyene. And now he told his story. As he did so the fire in the great hearth crackled and spat for it was still cool in the northern uplands in the evenings.

‘When I first came here I did not know the strength of the enemy or the dispositions of his garrisons, so for the first month we made camp in the forest and gathered information. We rode into the villages, just small parties, and gave food to the inhabitants, saying we were their friends, nothing more. We made no demands or threats, merely promised that we would return with more food. And we kept our promises.’

He looked at me and a slight smile creased his lips. ‘Your tutors taught me well, lord. We did not seek battle with the Armenians but rather endeavoured to break their resistance without fighting. So we ambushed their patrols and supply columns, and when they were strong and sent many soldiers against us we avoided them and melted back into the forest. And when they followed we laid ambushes for them and raided them at night, but always avoiding battle.

‘We attacked their isolated outposts and massacred the garrisons. We ambushed their reinforcements coming from Armenia through the mountain passes that we controlled, and we never gave them any rest. We were like the wolves outside these walls – invisible but always present. The villagers became our friends and eyes and ears and told us of the enemy’s movements so we could attack the Armenians when they did not expect it, and avoid them when they were prepared.

‘Their losses mounted and they became demoralised when no reinforcements or supplies could get through. And then we heard of a great column of horses, men and wagons leaving Vanadzor and heading north back to Armenia, and then…’

He stretched out his arms and fell silent.

‘And then what?’ asked my father.

Surena regarded him for a moment with his brown eyes, this famous king whose haughty bodyguard wore more silver than he had seen in all his life.

‘And then, lord king, we were like a pack of hungry wolves. We surrounded them on all sides and harried them constantly, day and night, picking off the stragglers, the injured and the lost. Many thousands left Vanadzor but only a few hundred made it back to Armenia. You can follow their trail if you have a mind to; it is marked with the bones of their dead and the debris of their army.’

‘What of you own losses?’ I asked.

Surena smiled again. ‘Less than three hundred, lord.’

‘That few?’ Atrax was amazed.

Surena looked very serious. ‘Of course, for I was taught to regard my soldiers as my children, for then they will follow you into the deepest valleys. To look on them as my own beloved sons, and they will stand by me even unto death.’

My father looked more bemused. ‘Who taught you that? Are they the words of the slave general my son fought under?’

‘No, lord,’ replied Surena. ‘They are the words of a Chinese warlord named Sun Tzu who lived some four hundred years ago.’

Viper placed her hand on Surena’s arm.

‘You are to be governor of Gordyene, Surena,’ I told him. He and his wife grinned at each other.

‘Until such time as the affairs of the kingdom are settled,’ my father reminded us.

‘Since we control the mountain passes into the kingdom,’ continued Surena, ‘we can also use them to attack our enemies.’

He smiled savagely at my father. ‘Even as we sit here groups of horsemen are travelling to Armenia to repay the atrocities that have been visited upon Gordyene.’

My father shook his head in exasperation. ‘You have no authority to make war against a foreign kingdom.’

Surena leaned back in his chair. ‘Lord king, the Armenians will not forget the defeat they have suffered here. We are already at war with them. This being so, it is more preferable to fight it on their territory as opposed to my own.’

‘Your territory?’ glared my father.

Surena smiled. ‘A slip of the tongue, lord king.’

He looked at me. ‘There is another matter, lord.’ He beckoned over Silaces who handed Surena a rolled parchment. Surena handed it to me.

‘Word also reached Mithridates that Gordyene was Parthian once more. He has demanded that I surrender it to him.’

I read the demand and then passed it to my father, who shook his head.

‘This requires careful consideration. King of Kings Mithridates has a right to assume control over Gordyene, especially as Balas left no heirs to inherit the kingdom.’

‘You have no need to worry, lord king,’ said Surena. ‘I have already replied to Ctesiphon stating that Gordyene belongs to the King of Dura and that he has no authority over it. I finished by saying that if he wants this land then he had better come and take it.’

There was a stunned silence. My father’s mouth opened in shock. He could not believe what he had just heard. For his part Atrax looked most uncomfortable while Viper nodded approvingly. The only sounds in the hall came from the logs burning on the fire.

‘How many men do you have, Surena?’ I said.

‘Seven and half thousand of those I brought with me under Silaces and another eight thousand men that I have raised in Gordyene. I will have more by the end of the year.’

‘If you last that long,’ remarked my father.

‘We should have fought the Armenians when we had the opportunity,’ I said, thinking aloud.

‘Do you wish to add Armenia to your kingdom as well as Gordyene?’ asked my father.

I did not answer him. I knew that what Surena had done with regard to the Armenians was correct. Better that their own lands are laid waste than Parthian towns and villages. Still, he had exceeded his authority with regard to Mithridates though I could not find it in my heart to reprimand him for doing so. In any case I cared nothing for the Armenians or for Mithridates. The world would be a better place with both of them no longer in it.

My father and his men left the next morning, which was overcast and drizzly and entirely appropriate for the mood the King of Hatra was in. I stood in the palace courtyard with Surena and Atrax and watched him go, his bodyguard wrapped in their white cloaks as the drizzle turned to light rain and then got heavier before turning into a downpour. He raised his hand to us and then rode through the palace gates and into the city.

‘Your father is angry with me, lord,’ said Surena, the water coursing off his nose as we stood getting soaked.

‘He will be less so when he realises that Hatra is safer with a friendly Gordyene on its border.’

‘The King of Media already thinks that,’ said Atrax, slapping Surena on the arm. ‘Now let us get out of this rain before we all catch our deaths.’

Atrax returned to Media the following morning in high spirits. Not only had it stopped raining and the sun was shining, his kingdom, severely ravaged during last year’s war, had a secure border with Gordyene. Atrax also cared little for legal niceties when it came to Mithridates, who had been responsible for a full-blown invasion of his kingdom. Before he left for Irbil he told Surena that he had made the right decision with regard to the demands of Mithridates and told him that he would always have an ally in Media. I also informed Surena that he had done well as we watched Silaces and some of his officers put some new recruits through their paces on the target ranges outside the city.

‘They are mostly boys or youths who have just become men,’ remarked Surena as a group of six horsemen rode by and released their arrows at targets of packed straw fixed to poles and mounted six feet off the ground.

‘Most of the men folk were either dead or had been taken as slaves,’ he continued. ‘Though a few took to the hills and lived as brigands. It was hard to persuade them to join us.’

‘But they did.’

‘Eventually, I sent them to the northern border to fight the Armenians. They are used to living in the mountains and after so long in the wild they are like half-savages themselves.’

He pointed at another six riders shooting at the targets. ‘These boys are the future of Gordyene.’

I had to admit that I was immensely proud of Surena and what he had done in Gordyene. He was more than capable of holding the kingdom.

‘Do not over-extend yourself when dealing with the Armenians,’ I told him. ‘Just keep them occupied so they cannot raid Hatran territory. That at least will improve my father’s humour.’

‘They will try to take Gordyene back, lord.’

‘I know, but you have given us time to deal with Mithridates before we settle things with the Armenians.’ I tapped him on the chest.

‘I will need you in the south when we march against Ctesiphon, Surena, and this time we will not be marching alone.’

‘And who will replace Mithridates, lord?’

The same question arose time and time again when the toppling of Mithridates was broached: who would replace him? With my father pledged to march against Mithridates the ruler of Hatra might be persuaded to take the high crown, but I doubted it.

‘I do not know, Surena, but I know that as long as Mithridates is on the throne the empire will have no peace.’

Peace. What is peace but the interval between wars? If, when, we defeated Mithridates and his lord high general then we would have to fight the Armenians to secure peace in the north, and perhaps the Romans to secure peace in the west. And after that? Perhaps there would be no after that, perhaps we would all be dead and our kingdoms ground into dust. But perhaps it would take only one battle to rid the world of Mithridates and Narses and everything else might fall into place. Just one battle and the empire would be united against its external enemies. And perhaps then the Armenians and Romans would be deterred from launching any further invasions. Just one more battle.

I looked into the sky heaped with grey clouds and heard the low rumble of thunder coming from the mountains and smiled. How many other kings through the ages had believed that just one more victory would be the answer to all their problems? The rain began to fall and the thunder got louder as the gods laughed.

Chapter 15

‘So the marsh boy has repaid the faith you placed in him?’

Dobbai was as usual sitting in her chair near the balustrade as I settled into another one a few paces from her. It was late now and so servants placed bronze oil lamps on the tables and balustrade so we could see each other’s faces, though I was mischievously tempted to order them to be taken away so that I would not have to look at Dobbai’s haggard old visage. They also placed stands around the balustrade that held incense sticks made from the dried flower heads of chrysanthemums and lit them. This was to keep away the swarms of mosquitoes from the river below that otherwise would have been attracted to the lamps and would have bitten us and given us the fevers that can lead to death. We also burnt oil made from the balanite tree to keep away these insects.

‘He has exceeded my expectations,’ I replied proudly.

Gallia flopped down in her chair beside me. ‘No doubt he is more arrogant than ever.’

Servants brought us wine and freshly made pastries from the kitchens while others placed silver boxes with holes in their sides around the edges of the terrace. We used these boxes all over the palace. They contained dead insects – cockroaches, flies and ants – that had been ground up. Though they had no smell these boxes acted as repellents to living insects and thus kept our home largely insect free.

‘Actually he has matured since he has been in Gordyene,’ I replied.

‘Good,’ said Dobbai, ‘he will need all his wits to fulfil the task the gods have set him.’

‘I would have thought he has done that already,’ I suggested.

Dobbai stopped sipping her wine and regarded me with contempt. ‘What has he done? Killed a few Armenians and taken possession of a hovel in the mountains.’

‘He has freed Gordyene and returned it to the empire,’ I said sternly.

She cackled. ‘If you are comparing your own feeble efforts in Gordyene with his, then I agree he has achieved some success. But he will achieve more. His star rises.’