Peter Darman - Carrhae

‘I heard from him three months ago, majesty,’ said Aaron. ‘He is holding out in the hills of eastern Judea.’

‘Good,’ I said, ‘please write to him again today, asking that he attack the Romans in Judea with all the strength he has. Anything to divert Roman eyes from Palmyra.’

After resting and taking refreshments Byrd rode back to Palmyra on a fresh horse and I sat down with Gallia, Domitus and Kronos to work out a plan. Despite their protests I decided to take Vagises and his horse archers, who could ride at a moment’s notice. Gallia wanted to accompany me but I told her to muster the lords and their men and to follow me to Haytham’s capital after she had done so. The legions and cataphracts would remain at Dura. Taking the horse archers would enable us to cover thirty miles a day at least, meaning we would reach Palmyra in five days.

I set off the next day with two and a half thousand horse archers and a thousand camels carrying spare arrows. Gallia sent a summons to all the lords to attend her at the Citadel with every horse archer they could raise. In this way I hoped to muster an additional twenty thousand riders to support Haytham. In addition to spare quivers the camels carried waterskins, food and fodder for the horses, the humped beasts themselves being quite able to subsist on their bodies’ reserves until we reached Palmyra.

We rode over thirty miles the first day and nearly forty on the second, camping at night under the stars with only our cloaks to sleep in. It felt strange not resting for the night behind a ditch and rampart surmounted by stakes as was the custom in Dura’s army, but we posted guards every ten paces and at any one time half the men were standing to arms, being relieved every two hours. The days were hot and dry, particularly on the third morning when we broke camp before dawn and rode for five hours before resting the horses for three hours, then commencing our journey once again for another three hours. As we neared Palmyra I noticed the reduced amount of traffic on the road, a sure sign that conflict was imminent. The trade caravans of the Silk Road had a sixth sense when it came to discerning trouble and acted accordingly. Thus the number of caravans travelling through Dura on their way to Palmyra and then on to Syria and Egypt would diminish to nothing until after hostilities had ceased. They would travel north to Hatra instead, though as that kingdom was soon to be embroiled in war traffic might cease altogether.

On the fifth morning we spotted the Jabal Abu Rujmayn, the imposing mountain range located due north of Palmyra, and two hours later ran into an Agraci patrol five miles east of the great oasis settlement. It comprised half a dozen elderly men wrapped in black robes, their black face tattoos faded on their leather-like tanned skin. Their commander, a tall, gangly individual with piercing hazel eyes, bowed his head to me.

‘Greetings, lord. We were expecting you.’

Byrd had obviously arrived before us. ‘Where is your king?’

‘He has taken a great host of warriors west, lord, to fight the invaders.’

I closed my eyes. We had arrived too late. I prayed to Shamash that Haytham would not engage the Romans until we reached him. Perhaps there was still time.

‘Prince Malik accompanies his father?’

He smiled to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. ‘Yes, lord. He hopes to slaughter his father’s enemies.’

Hopefully Malik would temper his father’s eagerness to immediately attack the Romans.

‘We are to escort you to the governor’s tent, lord.’

‘The governor?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, lord, the king left Byrd as chief of Palmyra in his absence.’

Vagises took the companies to one of Palmyra’s great watering holes that were filled by springs bringing the precious liquid from deep in the earth, making the surrounding desert bloom. I accompanied the grizzled old Agraci warrior to the middle of the settlement where Byrd’s tent was pitched, riding through a multitude of canopies and a site that was seething with activity. At least Haytham had not ordered the evacuation of Palmyra. Not yet.

My escort left me at the entrance to Byrd’s tent where a servant took Remus, my stallion, from me and another escorted me inside the expansive goat hair structure. I waited for my presence to be announced and then Noora, Byrd’s wife, appeared, embracing me and welcoming me to her ‘modest’ home, which in truth was grander than Haytham’s own tent.

‘Byrd is most unhappy, lord,’ she said to me in hushed tones as we entered the main compartment where my friend was seated on a heap of cushions on the carpeted floor. ‘He wanted to go with Haytham and Malik but the king insisted that he stay here to rule Palmyra in his absence.’

He rose and we embraced.

‘It is a great honour that Haytham has bestowed on you,’ I said.

‘I no governor,’ he sniffed, ‘I should be with him and Malik.’

While the small army of servants that he and Noora had amassed served us refreshments Byrd told me that Haytham had departed with his warriors two days ago, intent on stopping the Romans at the border.

‘I told him that you were coming but he would not wait. Yasser and Vehrka said it was dishonourable to remain idle in face of enemy invasion.’

Yasser and Vehrka were two of Haytham’s lords and the latter was Malik’s father-in-law.

‘I can understand that,’ I replied, ‘especially as it is Vehrka’s lands that the Romans are marching across.’

‘Not only Romani,’ said Byrd.

‘Who else?’ I asked in alarm.

‘King Sampsiceramus of Emesa.’

He may have had a ridiculously long name but Sampsiceramus ruled a prosperous kingdom, made rich by the profits of the Silk Road. When Pompey had conquered Syria and Judea the ruler of Emesa had thrown in his lot with the Romans, becoming their client king. Located on the eastern bank of the River Orontes and close to the Mediterranean coast, the city of Emesa was around a hundred miles west of where I was sitting and the destination of the trade caravans once they had passed through Palmyra. From there they travelled either north to Roman Syria or south to Egypt.

‘He provides slingers, archers and spearmen for Romani,’ continued Byrd. ‘Haytham should have waited for your archers,’ he finished glumly.

If Haytham engaged the Romans and their allies before I reached him then he would be at a great disadvantage when it came to missile power for the Agraci horsemen had few archers and no slingers.

‘Who else is with the Romans?’ I asked, hoping the answer would be Mithridates.

Byrd knew what I was alluding to and smiled. ‘He and his mother still at Antioch, so my spies tell me.’

I heard horses’ hooves outside and moments later Rasha burst into our company. She was now on the verge of womanhood and her body had become more curvy and her face more attractive. Gone was the young girl I had first encountered when I arrived at Dura. In her place was a raven-haired beauty. I stood and was nearly toppled over as she threw her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.

‘Greetings little princess,’ I said, though she was nearly as tall as me now and in a couple of years would no doubt surpass my height.

‘Where’s Gallia?’ she asked, looking around before kissing Noora and then Byrd.

‘She will be here soon.’

‘And then we will go and fight the enemy,’ she beamed.

‘And then you will stay here,’ commanded Byrd. ‘Your father has enough to worry about without his daughter getting into trouble.’

Rasha stuck her tongue out at him and Noora laughed. How great was Byrd’s influence among the Agraci that Haytham himself would trust him with the life of his daughter and the safekeeping of his city.