Parthian Dawn (66 page)

‘I find that difficult to believe.’

‘You are wrong,’ he reproached me. ‘They say that she was the real reason Spartacus managed to survive for so long, that she led his horsemen and that she even told him what to do. They like the idea of a determined woman, and one of royalty too. I believe she was a princess of Gaul?’

I laughed. ‘I thought I was the commander of his horsemen. But yes, she was a princess of Gaul, now a queen of Parthia.’

‘Myths spread quicker than the truth, Pacorus, and I have to admit I have encouraged and indulged these stories.’

I was confused. ‘Why?’

‘To annoy Crassus, of course. His triumph against Spartacus diminishes somewhat if people believe the slaves were led by a woman.’

It comforted me to learn that Rome was riven with rivalries just as Parthia was.

‘This all very interesting,’ in truth it was not, ‘but what about Rome’s intentions here, today?’

‘I decide Rome’s intention, and today I have settled the eastern border of Roman Syria.’ He held out his hand. ‘Do you trust the word of a Roman?’

I had just cause not to trust any Roman, and yet I felt that this Pompey was a person in whom one could place confidence. The fact that he was no friend of Crassus was a recommendation in itself. I took his hand.

‘I trust the Roman who stands in front of me.’

‘Good, that is settled.’ He looked at Remus. ‘A fine horse.’

‘Remus? Yes, we have travelled far together.’

Pompey eyed me quizzically. ‘Remus? You are a strange one, Parthian.’

He turned smartly and ordered the centurion to follow him back to his army. The Roman soldier handed me Remus’ reins and marched behind his commander. I vaulted into the saddle and rode back to the kings.

‘What now?’ asked my father.

‘Now we see if I have made a miscalculation,’ I replied.

For what seemed like an eternity nothing happened, and then a cacophony of trumpet calls rang out from the Roman ranks. As one the cataphracts to my right and left lowered their lances in preparation for a charge, but then the Roman cavalry opposite us wheeled about and began riding away, showing their backs to us, while in the centre the legionaries about-turned and also began to retreat. It was the same on the opposite flank where Nergal commanded the lords. The Romans smartly wheeled about and rode away. I sensed a tide of relief sweep through me and my body began to relax. Around me men began shaking hands with their neighbours as the realisation that there would be no fighting this day rippled through the ranks.

‘Hail, Pacorus,’ said Vardan.

Gotarzes put his own unique slant on the day’s events. ‘Whatever you said must have scared him shitless.’

My father reached over and laid his hand on my arm. ‘This is your greatest victory, Pacorus.’

‘But no blood has been spilt,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Exactly, my son, exactly. Well done.’

Gallia came from behind me and stopped by my side.

‘So how did you do that?’

In front of us the Romans were disappearing into a great cloud of dust kicked up by thousands of hobnailed sandals and horses’ hooves.

‘I like to think that my charm had something to do with it.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

Domitus came running over, sweat pouring down his face and neck.

‘We’re not going to fight them, then?’

‘Not today, Domitus,’ I replied.

He looked at Pompey’s army gradually diminishing in size to the west. ‘It’s not too late to attack them, given that all these fine lords have made the effort to get here.’

I looked at him, then at my father, who wore an alarmed expression.

‘No, Domitus, I shook hands with Pompey and we agreed each other’s border.’

Domitus took off his helmet and wiped his brow with a cloth. ‘Spartacus was right, that honour of yours will get you killed one day.’

I smiled. ‘But not today, Domitus, not today.’

He put his helmet back on and pointed at the Romans. ‘They will be back, Pacorus, you can be sure of that.’

He saluted us and returned to his men, then gave the order that they were to return to camp. Around us the kings likewise instructed that their horsemen were to withdraw to the river and make camp for the night, all except my father. He pointed at the seething black mass of Agraci warriors gathered to the south.

‘What are you going to do about them?’

‘Invite them to eat with us, of course.’

The next few hours were an exercise in logistics as around eighty thousand men, the same numbers of horses, thousands of camels and hundreds of mules made camp for the night along the Euphrates. Vardan insisted that all the kings, princes and Gallia dine with him in his royal pavilion that took dozens of slaves a few hours to erect. Babylon may not have been the mighty power it was in the time of the Persians, but its king still knew how to impress. The pavilion was at least two hundred paces in length and fifty wide, its enormous canvas roof supported by rows of poles and secured by dozens of ropes secured to long iron stakes that were driven into the earth. It made my own tent look paltry to say the least.

‘Big tents don’t make a good army,’ growled Domitus when I told him of Babylon’s encampment.

‘Do you feel robbed, Domitus?’

He shrugged. ‘There’s always someone else to fight, so we’ll keep our blades sharp.’

I poured myself a cup of water and sat down opposite him. Outside the legionaries were going about their business of checking their equipment, sentry duty and sharpening their swords.

‘Do you think we could have beaten Pompey, Domitus?’

‘Do you mean before or after your father and his friends turned up?’

‘Before, of course.’

He tilted his head to one side. ‘We’ll never know now, but I like to think that we would have given a good account of ourselves.’

I rode from my camp with Malik and Byrd to the black tents of Haytham that extended far into the desert. The Agraci warriors were a mixture of camel riders armed with spears and bows and horsemen who carried spears, swords and small round shields. They all wore flowing robes and turbans that they used to cover their faces and shield their eyes. As far as I could tell none wore armour either on their heads or around their bodies. Malik escorted me to his father’s tent located in the centre of the camp, where we found Haytham with his tribal chiefs. They were like him, big men with unyielding expressions and skin like tanned leather. All carried great swords at their hips and daggers tucked into their belts. The chiefs looked at me suspiciously when I entered, but then relaxed when they saw that I was with Malik, a few even greeted Byrd.

I halted in front of Haytham and bowed my head. ‘Great king, I came to thank you for bringing your mighty army to this place.’

He walked over and embraced me. ‘Don’t be so formal, Pacorus, we are all friends here.’

He looked round at his chiefs, daring one of them to contradict him. None did.

‘So,’ continued Haytham, ‘we were all wondering why you didn’t launch an attack when they turned tail and ran?’

‘I had made an agreement with their commander, lord, which made bloodshed unnecessary.’

He released me and smiled. ‘No bloodshed is unnecessary, Pacorus. Still, it is what it is. How’s that wife of yours?’ He looked at his chiefs. ‘You should see Queen Gallia, long blond hair, blue eyes and the body of a goddess. But even I would not want to get on the wrong side of her.’

‘You will all see here tonight,’ I announced, ‘for I would like the king of the Agraci and all his chiefs to come to the feast being held in honour of our uniting against the Romans.’

The chiefs looked at each other and then at me.

‘Will Parthians sit down to eat with Agraci?’ said one condescendingly, a great brute with a thick beard and black eyes.

‘You forget yourself, Yasser,’ growled Haytham.

‘My apologies, lord,’ Yasser placed his right palm on his chest and bowed to his king, ‘but I have had experience of Parthian hospitality.’

There were mumbles of agreement. I held up my hand.

‘I am Parthian, you all know this, but I esteem Prince Malik, son of your king, as one of my closest friends. I also count your king as a friend, and I say to you that you will all be welcome to the feast tonight, when Parthian and Agraci will sit side by side in peace and friendship.’

I thought it a fine speech that would not be out of place among the great speakers of ancient Athens, though a line of blank faces told me that I would have to sharpen my skills greatly if I wanted to be an orator.

‘Well said, Pacorus,’ barked Haytham. ‘We shall be glad to attend.’

‘We shall?’ said an incredulous Yasser.

‘We shall,’ replied Haytham with such force that there was no further discussion on the matter.

As the sun began its descent in the west, Malik, his father and a dozen of the Agraci chiefs arrived at our camp, all attired in black and riding black horses. I entertained them in my tent while we waited for Gallia. She had brought no fine clothes with her on this journey, but when she finally appeared she made a great impression as usual. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and tumbled over her white satin shirt edged with blue. She wore gold at her neck, long gold earrings and around her waist she wore her sword. Her slim legs were encased in tight black leggings and on her feet she wore red leather boots. I smiled when I noticed that she had her dagger tucked in the top of her right boot. Haytham smiled, took both of her hands and kissed them, while Gallia kissed Malik on the cheek. I introduced Orodes to Haytham and then we set off for Vardan’s great tent. I told Gallia of Yasser’s hostility to the Parthians, so she insisted that she rode beside him on our short journey to the Babylonian camp. She explained to him of the journey that had led her to Dura, and within no time his wall of hostility had crumbled as they talked and laughed together. I think that he was delighted that she had seemingly picked him at random to be her escort.

Babylon’s pavilion was ringed with guards when we arrived and our horses were taken from us. A captain and a detachment of purple-clad spearmen escorted us inside, where a wall of noise greeted us. The floor was covered in red and yellow carpets and oil lamps hung from every pole. Guards stood around the sides and a small army of slaves served food and drink from silver platters. The kings and their senior officers were gathered in a great circle in the centre, where they were lounging on couches piled high with red and gold cushions. I saw my father, Vistaspa, Vardan, Atrax, Aschek and Gotarzes, who by the look of his rosy cheeks had already had too much to drink. Musicians played in one corner, half-naked girls danced in another and fire-eaters and jugglers went about their craft largely ignored.

We stood at the entrance and the noise suddenly began to fade as Parthians cast their eyes on a party of Agraci in their midst, and not just any Agraci. This was Haytham, the scourge of Parthia’s western frontier, the devil of children’s nightmares, the man whose name inspired both loathing and terror throughout the western half of the empire. All eyes were suddenly upon our group. Some of the officers put down their food and wine and stood up, while I saw the guards posted around the tent look at each other nervously. Vardan slowly rose from his couch. The King of Babylon was dressed in a rich purple robe edged with gold, a jewel-encrusted crown on his head and gold rings on his fingers. He spread his arms wide.

‘Welcome Haytham, King of the Agraci, and his brave lieutenants, new allies of Parthia. Take freely of my hospitality. Be seated, please. Let us forget our animosities and begin a new era in the relations between our two peoples.’

Haytham bowed his head ever so slightly at Vardan and then walked over to Babylon’s king, ignoring the hateful stares that were being directed at him. The silence was deafening. Haytham halted before Babylon’s king. The Agraci king was big and stocky, Vardan also solid. Haytham held out his hand, Vardan smiled and they clasped each other’s arms, then Vardan gestured for Haytham to sit beside him on the royal couch. He did so and the noise slowly returned to the royal tent. We were shown to our couches and suddenly the pavilion was once again alive with sound and activity.

I embraced my father, who then hugged Gallia. He also shook Malik’s hand.

‘Good to see you, again, Malik.’

‘You too, lord,’ smiled Haytham’s son.

‘Another victory, Pacorus,’ said my father, ‘bringing Agraci and Parthian together. I think that you will make a worthy king of Hatra.’

‘Not for many years I hope, father, not for many years.’

It was a most excellent evening and for once I allowed myself to drink a fair quantity of wine, though nothing compared to Gotarzes, who was striking up an unlikely friendship with Yasser, also revealing himself to be a hearty drinker. At the end of the evening they were both singing at the tops of their voices with their arms around each other, before collapsing into a deep stupor. They were both carried from the pavilion to sleep off their indulgence.

Vardan excused himself in the early hours and returned to his private quarters in the royal compound behind the pavilion, and then the other kings, save Gotarzes, did the same. I bid my father and Vistaspa farewell and rode with Haytham and his chiefs back to my camp, the sleeping Yasser strapped to the back of his horse. At the entrance we said goodbye to the Agraci king and his entourage.

‘An interesting evening, Pacorus,’ said Haytham.

‘Hopefully it will be the start of a new chapter in the story of our two peoples, lord.’

He reached over and slapped me on the arm. ‘Perhaps. Take care of yourself.’ He bowed his head to Gallia. ‘Lady.’

Then they were gone and I was alone with my wife. Guards snapped to attention as we rode up the camp’s central avenue to my tent. I felt immensely smug. I had secured Dura’s frontiers without having to fight, several kings of the empire had made a show of force in my favour and the king of the Agraci had even brought his army to fight by my side. As I collapsed onto the floor of the tent after Gallia had assisted me inside, my last thoughts before sinking into a deep sleep was how it had been a most satisfactory day.