The Parthian (7 page)

I felt crestfallen. After a few seconds of awkward silence he handed me another canteen. I drank greedily and gradually feeling returned to my arms and legs. I was helmetless but still wore my scale armour. Vata helped me up, a wide grin on his big, round face.

‘How do you feel?’

‘Terrible,’ I replied. ‘How long was I unconscious?’

‘Not long, and you weren’t the only one, so don’t worry.’

I looked around and saw the company sat on the ground, eating rations that had been brought from the city. They looked dirty and exhausted, a stark comparison to the impeccably attired other soldiers of my father’s bodyguard who sat at tables beneath a large canvas awning that had been erected to shelter them from the sun. My father sat at the top table, with Vistaspa beside him, dressed in a fresh uniform. Servants prepared and served a light meal of roasted lamb and rice, washed down by water. We ate hard biscuits, but at least we had water. After thirty minutes Vistaspa ordered us into two columns once again. It was now an hour past midday and the sun was at its most brutal. The march back to the city was hard in the searing heat, though at least we had been watered and fed, of sorts. There were no mad charges, though, just a steady march back to the city. I slept like the dead that night.

The next few weeks were spent undergoing the perennial training routines that I had grown up with: rise before dawn, route marche on foot in full war gear for two hours, breakfast, archery practice for two hours, wrestling and other unarmed combat for one hour, a two-hour break for lunch and to let the daytime heat subside, then mounted manoeuvres in the late afternoon. The latter could last for up to three or four hours, depending on where they took place. Usually we rode out of the city into the northern desert where the terrain was mostly flat and free of wadis. The surface was hard-baked earth rather than sand, and was thus ideal for cavalry training. All Parthian nobles were taught to ride a horse in childhood. As the years passed we learned all the skills needed to fight war on horseback: how to jump obstacles, gallop over uneven terrain, and to execute circles, turns and stops. Once I had reached adulthood I became a cataphract and learned heavy cavalry skills. These included opening and closing ranks, charging, pursuing, turning and wheeling. Sometimes we went into more hilly terrain to learn how to charge uphill and downhill. It was an unending cycle of practice followed by yet more practice. Once finished for the day we would ride back to the stables where each of us would groom and feed our mounts, the stables themselves having been cleaned by the young stable hands. The royal stables bloc in the palace quarter was spacious and luxurious, as befitting the home of the most highly prized horses in the kingdom, but in truth all the army’s stables were well appointed. Parthians loved their horses, for it was their discipline and courage that won battles; and in disaster carried their masters to safety. Geldings or mares were preferred for cavalry mounts, as stallions, though more feisty and faster, were almost uncontrollable when mares were in season.

This, then, was my life. Six days of constant training and drills followed by a day of rest, though even on my day off I liked to hone my sword skills. Occasionally I spared with my father, who invariably humiliated me. ‘You must always move, Pacorus,’ he would tell me. ‘Stay light on your feet. A man who keeps still is already dead.’

It was two months after I had taken the eagle that an invitation for my father and I came from Sinatruces, the King of Kings, to attend him at the city of Ctesiphon, the capital of the Parthian Empire, located on the left bank of the Tigris and at the mouth of the Diyala River. This was something of a surprise, as Sinatruces was nearly eighty years old and something of a recluse. The last time my father had seen him was five years earlier, and then only briefly. Two days after the summons, my father convened a meeting of the city’s royal council.

The council met one a month to discuss matters relating to the city and the kingdom. This meeting was special in two ways. First, because it was extraordinary; second, because it was the first one that I attended. As the son of the king I would, one day, head the council, but until now I had been forbidden to attend. However, as I had proved myself in battle I was accorded the honour of formally being admitted to the council. In truth there was nothing grand about the location where the council met, being a small, comfortable room behind the palace’s throne room. There was a large wooden table, comfortable chairs and a large leather map of the Parthian Empire that covered the whole of one wall. Attending were my father, Vistaspa, Bozan, Assur, Addu, the royal treasurer, and the commander of the city’s garrison, Kogan. The garrison numbered two thousand men who were housed in four barracks in the city itself. They were the soldiers who policed the city and kept the peace, an onerous task with one hundred thousand inhabitants plus thousands of foreigners who came and went with the caravans that passed through the city every day. Peace meant trade and trade meant wealth. It was Kogan’s responsibility to maintain the peace, which was relatively easy as long as any trouble was quickly stamped on. My father left the policing of the city to him, knowing that this dour, studious individual who was the same age as my father would never let the king down. Like most efficient administrators, Kogan also had a cruel streak, though to be fair he kept this side of his nature under strict control, mostly.

After Assur offered prayers to Shamash, the meeting got under way. The mood was relaxed. Bozan sprawled in his chair, Vistaspa sat bolt upright, while Kogan watched everyone like a hawk. Assur fussed over his parchments.

‘I have called you all here for two reasons,’ began my father. ‘The first is to welcome my son to the council. He has proved himself in battle and I thought it proper that he acquaint himself with the administration of the city, which in time he will be responsible for.’

‘Not for many years, I hope,’ said a stern Assur.

‘With Shamash’s blessing,’ retorted my father. ‘The second reason is that I and my son have been commanded to attend the High King Sinatruces at Ctesiphon.’

‘I thought he was a recluse,’ said Bozan.

‘He is,’ replied my father.

‘Obviously our little spat with the Romans has aroused his interest,’ continued Bozan. ‘No doubt he wants his cut of the spoils.’

‘As King of Kings he has a right to such rewards,’ added Assur.

‘He’s only the King of Kings because of our spears,’ sneered Bozan.

‘Thank you, Bozan’, said my father. ‘Hatra will make a donation to his coffers should he request one, though I see no reason for it to be generous.’

‘Maybe the Romans have made a formal complaint to him,’ said Vistaspa. ‘Maybe he wants you both there to explain yourselves. You’re a fool to go.’

I was amazed at the way Vistaspa addressed my father, but then reminded myself that in such meetings all those who attended were free to express their views regardless of rank. My father told me that there was no point of having a gathering if those present were not allowed to give their views.

‘Were you commanded to attend?’ asked Assur.

‘We were requested,’ replied my father.

‘Then you are free to refuse, though I would judge such an action imprudent,’ said the priest.

Vistaspa shrugged and looked out of the window. Bozan placed his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.

‘They want their eagle back,’ he said.

‘What?’ I uttered, somewhat in surprise. It was the first time I had spoken and I felt myself blushing.

‘That’s right, Pacorus,’ said Bozan, looking directly at me. ‘You stole their eagle and they want it back. I reckon that they sent an embassy to Sinatruces, groveling at his feet and spinning a tale of how we entered
their
territory and massacred their men.’

‘That’s a lie,’ I said.

Bozan laughed. ‘Indeed it is. But the Romans are lying bastards as well as greedy ones.’

‘They can’t have the eagle,’ I said. ‘It’s mine.’

There was a ripple of laughter around the table; even Kogan smiled.

‘You took it, boy,’ said Vistaspa,’ but can you keep hold of it?’

‘Enough,’ said my father, clearly irritated by such trivia. ‘We will go to Ctesiphon and see what Sinatruces has to say for himself. Meanwhile, I intend to enlarge the army.’

‘Good idea,’ said Bozan.

‘That will be expensive.’ It was the first time that Addu, a gaunt man in his fifties with thinning brown hair, had spoken. His voice was slightly high-pitched, giving the impression that he was in distress.

‘But the treasury is full, is it not?’ queried my father.

‘Indeed, your majesty,’ replied Assur, ‘ but military spending drains it like water running out of a broken cup.’

‘Those chests of Roman gold should be used to pay for more heavy cavalry,’ remarked Vistaspa.

‘Or more troops for the garrison,’ offered Kogan.

‘Why does the garrison need more troops?’ asked my father.

‘There are Romans in the city, majesty,’ replied Kogan. ‘They may be fomenting rebellion.’

Kogan was right, but then there were many nationalities in Hatra. Indeed, there were the offices of many foreign trading companies in the city, all organising the commerce between the east and their home countries, including Rome. As long as they paid their taxes and caused no trouble they were left alone, as were the many temples that had been established throughout the city. A host of different gods were worshipped in Hatra, including Al Lat, Mithras, Maran, Shiu and Saqaya. Again, as long as they paid their taxes and incited no trouble, the temples were tolerated. Assur and his priests were vociferous in their opposition to the city allowing alien religions within its walls, but were partially soothed by the generous donations made to their temple courtesy of the foreigners’ places of worship. An offshoot of this religious tolerance was that Hatra was known as
Bet Alaha
, the ‘House of God’. This in turn resulted in a healthy traffic in pilgrims, who in turn brought more wealth to the treasury.

‘You are our eyes and ears in the city, Kogan,’ said my father, ‘and I have every faith in you to maintain security. However, only an army of horsemen can defend the kingdom from outside enemies. Pacorus and I will go to Ctesiphon. Bozan, you will organise the raising of an additional five hundred heavy cavalry and a thousand horse archers. We will leave in three days.’

In the interim, Vata and I took the opportunity to pay a visit to the city. Though we lived in Hatra, our duties rarely allowed us to wander through its bustling streets. Seeing a myriad of nationalities and different races was always a curiosity, though, along with the temples that were clustered around the east and west gates, through which human traffic and trade flowed all year round. Inside the city were parks where animals could be fed and housed for the night, which were supplied with watercourses for man and beast, and which were guarded by troops of the garrison, though many caravans also had their own guards. The air around the markets was filled with the strange aromas of exotic spices brought from the Orient, while other traders hawked silk and other expensive materials. By chance, Vata and I came across a Roman merchant house whose agents traded in the Parthian Empire, mainly in silk of which Rome had an insatiable appetite for. We entered the whitewashed two-storey building through its large porch. Inside the large reception area men sat at desks conducting business with travellers and natives of the city. The interior was functional if a little spartan.

‘I wonder if they make it look like the insides of the buildings in Rome?’ said Vata.

Before I could answer a short man, about thirtyish and dressed in a simple beige linen tunic, approached us, his hair cropped short as was the Roman fashion.

‘Can I help you?’

‘We are just looking,’ I said.

‘At what?’ he snapped. ‘Are you businessmen?’

Our appearance — gold-edged white tunics and leggings, leather boots, ornate leather belts from which hung silver-decorated scabbards — suggested we weren’t. I saw no reason to hide our identities.

‘I am Prince Pacorus and this is my friend, Vata.’

The Roman looked directly at me. ‘So, you are the one who took the eagle.’

I detected a mocking tone in his voice.

‘It was easy enough,’ I replied, ‘I found it lying in the dirt.

He bristled at this. ‘Rome never forgets its enemies.’

‘Parthia always looks for new victories.’ I was enjoying our verbal duel.

He moved closer to me, our faces inches apart. His audacity, considering he was in my city, was astounding, but I was to become all too familiar with Roman arrogance. ‘We have many more legions, Parthian,’ he spat, his bad breath reeking in my nostrils.

I clutched the hilt of my sword with my right hand. ‘Then go and get them.’

‘Enough, Pacorus,’ said Vata, laying a hand on my arm. ‘Pick on someone your own size. It’s unfair to start a quarrel with the a dwarf.’

We both laughed, causing the Roman’s cheeks to turn red with rage, his fists clenched. We left the building and went back into the street.

‘Cocky little bastard, wasn’t he,’ remarked Vata.

‘I think we’ll be fighting Romans again very soon.’

‘How many legions do you think they have?’

‘No idea,’ I replied. ‘Who cares?’

Vata shrugged. ‘Still, at least they’re shorter than we are. It’s always easier to kill someone who’s smaller. I wouldn’t like to fight a race of giants.’

My father and I left for Ctesiphon three days later. Vistaspa came with us, of course, along with a hundred of my father’s bodyguard, a hundred horse archers and our tents, food and spare weapons loaded onto forty camels. Ctesiphon was two hundred miles from Hatra, a journey that we made at a leisurely pace.

The journey through the kingdom allowed my father to inspect part of his domain. He always told me that it was important for the people to see their rulers, which also offered an opportunity for them to speak to him. Many kings viewed their subjects with distaste and suspicion, believing themselves to be appointed by gods to rule on earth.