Carrhae (13 page)

‘Who is in charge of the royal treasury?’ asked Domitus.

A wry smile crept over Orodes’ face. ‘Alas it is not as full as it should be. Mithridates took a sizeable quantity of gold with him when he fled to Syria.’ He smiled at me. ‘There were also a number of kingdoms who refused to pay the annual tribute. What gold remains is under the protection of Mardonius who provides troops from Seleucia to garrison Ctesiphon.’

‘You will use it to rebuild Babylonia?’ asked Nergal.

Orodes nodded. ‘I promised Axsen that I would assist in the rebuilding of her kingdom, which suffered grievously at the hands of Narses and Mithridates. So you see, my friends, I am an impoverished high king.’

Poor Orodes. He had once been banished by his stepbrother Mithridates because of his support for me and had spent years at Dura as a landless prince. Now he ruled an empire that was exhausted by civil strife and beset by foreign invaders.

Horses’ hooves on the baked earth outside the tent interrupted our musings and seconds later a dust-covered Byrd and Malik stepped inside the tent.

‘So,’ beamed Malik to Orodes, ‘this is where you’re skulking.’

Orodes rose from his chair and the two of them embraced, dust coming from Malik’s robes as they did so.

‘It is good to see you, old friend,’ said Orodes, as he hugged Malik again. He then embraced Byrd.

‘And you too, Byrd.’

‘Help yourself to some water,’ I said to the pair as the others greeted them, ‘you look as though you have had a hard ride.’

‘Bring news of Romani,’ said Byrd, taking a cup of water from Malik and sinking into a chair.

‘My contacts in Antioch report Romani legion moving to Zeugma. Governor and Mithridates go with it.’

Zeugma was a former Parthian city that was ruled by the aged King Darius, a child molester who had defected to Rome nearly twenty years ago. Built on the banks of the northern Euphrates, a hostile Zeugma meant enemy troops could pour into northwest Hatra.

‘So the Romans intend to link up with the Armenians and march south to put my stepbrother back on Ctesiphon’s throne,’ remarked Orodes bitterly.

‘The other Roman legion is still licking its wounds at Emesa,’ added Malik. He looked at me. ‘Surely one legion can be dealt with easily enough?’

‘One legion, yes,’ I replied. ‘But one legion plus one hundred thousand Armenians is another matter. Our only hope is to link up with Gafarn at Hatra and meet the enemy north of the city with our combined forces.’

‘How many men do you think we can field against the Armenians, Pacorus?’ asked Orodes.

‘After combining our forces with those at Hatra, perhaps fifty thousand men,’ I answered.

Orodes looked concerned. ‘So few? I thought Hatra alone could muster over sixty thousand men.’

‘That was before Vata’s defeat and the loss of the north. The towns in the northwestern part of the kingdom are still holding out as far as I know and Lord Herneus remains in charge at Assur in the east, but the loss of Nisibus and the surrounding lands is a heavy blow.’

‘And remember Hatra’s army also suffered losses at Susa,’ added Domitus.

‘We all suffered losses in that battle,’ remarked Orodes grimly.

I tried to raise their morale. ‘Gafarn will wait until we arrive and then we can launch a counterattack against the Armenians. Thus far they have tasted only victory and will be over-confident, expecting an unopposed march to the walls of Hatra. In adversity the seeds of our triumph may have been planted.’

I was not sure whom I was trying to convince, myself or them, but I knew that we stood a chance of at least halting the Armenians if Gafarn waited for us to arrive at Hatra.

Except that he did not wait and the next day a courier arrived from Hatra telling of a battle with the Armenians fifty miles north of the city in which Gafarn had been soundly beaten and his forces scattered. He himself had escaped back to the city with the remnants of his army, but Tigranes had now inflicted two major defeats on Hatra’s army in a matter of weeks and the kingdom stood on the brink of calamity.

I showed the letter to Orodes who read it and passed it to Nergal. We stood on the palace terrace in stunned silence as Gallia and Praxima also digested the grim news.

‘Why?’ I heard myself saying. ‘Why would he give battle before we arrived?’

I sat down and stared at the floor. Tigranes would surely now lay siege to Hatra itself. He was probably only one or two days’ march from the city. It was now imperative to get to Hatra as quickly as possible. I looked at Orodes and knew he was thinking the same.

‘We leave at dawn tomorrow,’ he said.

I saw Dobbai wander onto the terrace and walk over to her chair. She smiled at Orodes and ignored the rest of us before easing herself into her nest of cushions. She looked at our glum faces.

‘Did you all eat something disagreeable at breakfast?’

‘We have received ill tidings from Hatra,’ I snapped. ‘Gafarn gave battle to Tigranes and lost.’

‘Naturally,’ she said casually. ‘They do not call the Armenian king “great” for nothing, and who is Gafarn but a low-born slave who has gained a throne by chance?’

I was fuming at her casual attitude to this fresh calamity that had beset the empire and stomped over to face her.

‘I hope that ritual we all took part in was not in vain,’ I seethed.

Her eyes blazed with fury. ‘Do not blame the gods for the vanity of Vata or the idiocy of your brother.’

Orodes and the others looked at us in confusion as Dobbai rose from her chair and pointed at Orodes.

‘You must beware of your brother, high king, for your failure to kill him at Susa will return to haunt you err long.’

‘Mithridates is with the Romans in northern Hatra,’ he replied.

‘He has left them,’ she replied with conviction.

‘Where is he?’ I asked.

She looked indifferent. ‘How should I know? But I would advise you to find him quickly.’

She sat back down in her chair and closed her eyes. I was still fuming and Orodes was shaking his head in confusion.

We left Dura at dawn the next morning; horse archers, cataphracts, squires and camels carrying spare arrows in a great column heading east to Hatra. Domitus and the two legions were left behind with the lords and their men in case the Romans at Emesa and their fat ally decided to try another assault against Palmyra. To this end I sent a message to Haytham with Malik who went back to Palmyra with Byrd, that he was to summon Domitus immediately if the enemy left Emesa, but asked him not to initiate hostilities until my men had reinforced him.

Gallia and Praxima rode together at the head of the Amazons whose numbers had once more been restored to one hundred women following their losses at Susa. The number of my cataphracts had also been made up to a thousand by promoting the eldest among the squires and inducting youngsters to take their places. The horse archers were once more up to three thousand by undertaking a recruiting drive within the kingdom.

We covered at least thirty-five miles each day so that it took us just over four days to reach Hatra. Mercifully, though it was still hot, the fierce heat of high summer was behind us. That said it was still very warm and so riders and horses sweated as we travelled across the sun-blasted sandy ground. The thousands of animals kicked up a huge dust cloud that was our faithful companion each day, covering us in a fine layer of grime that stuck to our clothes and sweaty flesh. It also made us cough as the particles entered our mouths and nostrils until we were forced to cover our faces like the Agraci do.

At the end of the fourth day we camped ten miles southwest of the city and Orodes sent a company of horse archers ahead to make contact with the garrison. I prayed that the city of my ancestors had not already fallen to Tigranes as I watched them disappear with the sun on their backs as it dropped into the western sky. Around me exhausted men and boys unsaddled their horses and let them drink from waterskins before they were corralled in temporary stables made from poles and canvas sheets, while the camels spat and growled as they were relieved of their heavy cargoes.

There were no campfires that night as the sky was devoid of clouds and the glow of any flames would be seen from afar, especially by any Armenian patrols that might be near. As a precaution we posted a heavy guard in all directions and enforced strict noise discipline.

The Durans arranged their eight-man oilskin tents in neat rows as they had done many times before on exercise and on campaign. The horse archers of Mesene did likewise. Only the horsemen from Babylon and Susiana pitched their tents in ever-widening circles around the canopy of the king of kings.

I sat on the ground in front of the tent I would share with Gallia as Scarab cleaned my helmet and cuirass a few paces away. After he had pitched our tent he smeared cedar oil around its base to repel any snakes that might be lurking nearby, while we all scoured the ground to kill any insects in an effort to deter camel spiders approaching us. Though they were not poisonous these giant eight-legged monsters could inflict a nasty bite that could easily become infected in the heat of the day.

Gallia watched Scarab go about his duties.

‘I hope you are not treating him like a slave.’

I was most hurt. ‘Of course not! He knows he is a free man and is with me of his own volition.’

‘He must be the oldest squire in the army.’

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘but he joined us under exceptional circumstances and will just have to catch up.’

Scarab came over and bowed deeply. ‘Would you like me to clean your sword, divinity?’

Gallia burst out laughing. ‘Divinity? You should put a stop to that nonsense straight away!’

I ignored her chiding. ‘Thank you, Scarab, but I like to clean it myself.’

Gallia whipped the dagger from her boot and stabbed it down to impale a large scorpion that was scuttling past her. She held up the wriggling creature on the end of her blade.

‘Mithridates would be an idiot to return to Parthia. Death awaits him if he does.’

Scarab looked at her in alarm; this foreign woman who was both beautiful and fearsome. He did not know what to make of her. Then again, neither did most of the empire.

She looked at him. ‘Where is your family, Scarab?’

‘I lived with my parents, who were also slaves, in the house of their master in Egypt before I was sold to a merchant from Emesa. That was many years ago, highborn.’

She observed the still wriggling scorpion on the end of her dagger. ‘Perhaps one day you will return to Egypt, to free them from bondage.’

She rammed the dagger into the ground, cutting the scorpion in two.

‘I prefer to stay in Parthia, holiness.’

The next morning the company that Orodes had sent to Hatra returned with news that the Armenians were not laying siege to the city and that King Atrax and a force of Medians had arrived to strengthen the garrison. A wave of relief swept through me and I hugged Gallia because it also meant that Surena in Gordyene, to the north of Atrax’s kingdom, must have halted the Armenian invasion of his land. And Atrax would never have left his kingdom if neighbouring Atropaiene was still under threat, which meant that Aschek must have at least halted the enemy forces threatening his realm.

It took us just over two hours to reach Hatra, a detachment of cataphracts sent by Gafarn linking up with us a mile from the city walls. I was surprised that it was not Vistaspa who commanded these men but was informed by the officer in charge that the leg wound he had suffered at the Battle of Susa had still not fully healed.

If I had been heartened by the news of Atrax’s arrival in the city I was shocked when we reached Hatra and rode from its southern gates to the royal quarter in the north. The city had always been a bustling, thriving place but now it was filled with refugees with fear in their eyes. With listless expressions they huddled in doorways or gathered in cowering groups on the streets as they observed us ride past. I hardly recognised this place that had once been the western shield of the empire.

‘How long have these people been here?’ I asked the commander of our escort.

‘They arrived following the loss of Nisibus, majesty,’ he answered. ‘For a week the road to the north was filled with refugees fleeing the Armenians.’

‘How many?’

‘Thousands, majesty. The king has established makeshift camps in the city’s squares but as you can see, others are living on the streets.’

Hatra was watered by springs supplying sweet water from the earth so its citizens would never die of thirst, but its one hundred thousand inhabitants required large amounts of food each day to subsist, and thousands more mouths to feed would quickly exhaust the city’s food supplies. By the time we reached the palace in the north of the city my spirits had been deflated.

Our horses were taken from us at the palace steps and we were immediately taken to the throne room where Gafarn awaited us. If the city had appeared downcast the atmosphere in the throne room was close to despair.

The cavernous chamber had been cleared of courtiers and slaves and only a few guards remained along the walls and at the doors. The latter were closed as we paced across the marble tiles, our footsteps echoing around the room as we approached the dais. Ahead a downcast Gafarn and a pale Diana were seated on their thrones, while standing to their right were Atrax, Aliyeh and Adeleh, who looked forlorn and lost. On the other side stood the gaunt and frail Assur, chief priest at the Great Temple; Kogan, commander of the city garrison, now in his late sixties; and Addu, the city treasurer. Next to him stood a grim-faced Herneus, governor of the eastern city of Assur who nodded to me, and another, slimmer man with a thick black beard and long black hair. He was dressed in a rich scale armour cuirass, long-sleeved white shirt, brown leggings and boots. I had never seen him before.

When we reached the dais Gafarn and Diana stood and with the others bowed to Orodes, their high king. Gafarn then nodded to Kogan who ordered chairs and refreshments to be brought for us, Diana giving up her throne so that Orodes could sit on it as befitting his status. She sat in a simple wicker chair that was placed beside Gafarn while the rest of us settled into our chairs in front of the dais, though not before we had embraced both Gafarn and Diana. Nergal and I also embraced our friend and companion-in-arms Atrax. I also hugged Adeleh and tried to be warm towards Aliyeh but she waved me away. Always aloof and serious, my sister had turned into a calculating and icy queen who forgot little and forgave nothing. She had never forgiven me for the fact that her husband, the King of Media, had a permanent limp, a disability she blamed on me for supposedly encouraging Atrax to fight the Romans. The result had been his defeat and impediment.