Peter Darman - Parthian Vengeance

Domitus organised the muster of the two legions while Orodes organised the assembly of the horsemen. I for my part sent messages to the lords to present themselves at the palace. In every Parthian kingdom there were vassal lords who owed allegiance to their king. Often men of great wealth and power themselves, they were granted lands in return for tribute and the pledge of soldiers in times of war. In Dura the situation was slightly different. Prior to my arrival there had been no king in Dura. It had been a frontier kingdom belonging to the aged King of Kings Sinatruces. He had used Dura as a dumping ground for malcontents, rogues, troublemakers and the like, granting them great swathes of land that they ruled as demi-kings themselves, providing they could stay alive. Most did not last six months, being either killed by their own mutinous supporters or by Agraci war bands. Those that did survive fought off the Agraci and stamped their iron will on the land, building great strongholds to protect their hard-won gains. They tamed the land and fought off the Agraci. When I arrived at Dura I did not demand their loyalty but treated them fairly and as equals. In this way I gained their trust and now their sons served me as cataphracts. They now answered my call and came to Dura to hear about the coming campaign.

They were full of fire and enthusiasm as they gathered before me in the throne room, each of the grizzled old rogues insisting that they kissed Gallia’s hand before proceedings started. They loved her and she loved them back. They gave me obedience but she owned their utmost devotion. I suspect that many lusted after her, but all admired her courage and I sometimes wondered whether it was in fact she who ruled the kingdom and not me.

I rose from my chair and stepped down from the dais to address them as equals.

‘My friends, I thank you for coming to Dura. You will know by now that I intend to make war upon Mithridates.’

‘About time too,’ shouted one. This was greeted with cheers and the stamping of feet. I raised my hands to still the commotion.

‘We have fought many battles together,’ I continued.

‘And will fight many more,’ shouted another, followed by more cheers and whistles.

‘But I will not be asking you to accompany me on this campaign.’

There was stunned silence. Even Gallia looked at me with a perplexed expression.

‘I know this may surprise and disappoint you, but I cannot leave the kingdom defenceless.’

‘Defenceless against whom?’ asked Spandarat, a one-eyed lord who had accompanied Gallia back to Dura when she had been pregnant with our first child while we were on campaign.

‘The Romans in Syria,’ I replied. ‘I remember a time when the Romans took advantage of civil strife within the empire before, and then we lost a kingdom to them. I do not intend the same happening again.’

I was alluding to Gordyene, the land to the north that had been conquered by the Romans. I did not intend Dura to suffer the same fate.

‘I have heard of no stirrings in Syria,’ spoke one of the northern lords, a thickset man with a great bushy beard.

‘When they learn that the forts that guard the northern frontier have been stripped of their garrisons they may be tempted to invade Dura. There are two legions in Syria and I do not trust the Romans not to take advantage of our army’s absence. That is why your presence here is so important.’

They grumbled among themselves and looked unhappy but knew that what I had said made sense. Between them they could raise around forty thousand horse archers in addition to their personal bodyguards numbering another thousand men. It was enough to deter a Roman invasion, or so I hoped. Aside from their personal retinues their troops were drawn from the men who worked their lands: farmers and fishermen. They were not as disciplined as those who served in Dura’s army, but they were frontiersmen who were hardy and knew how to shoot a bow from the saddle. As such they would delay any invading army long enough for me to bring mine back across the Euphrates after I had dealt with Mithridates.

After Gallia had flattered and flirted with them the lords went back to their estates. They may have been unhappy that they were missing out on a battle, but they were delighted to be entrusted with the safety of the queen and her children. I had told them that they would guard Gallia and the kingdom while I was away, and that they were to obey her in my absence. After they had gone I went out onto the palace terrace to lean on the stone balustrade and watch the activity below. This was one of my favourite places where I could observe the traffic on the road flowing east and west and gaze at the blue waters of the Euphrates. The minutiae of life was fascinating: Rsan’s officials collecting tolls from those crossing the pontoon bridges; legionaries ensuring that traffic flowed smoothly over the wooden bridges; and people from all corners of the empire on the road going about their business; fishermen in their small boats on the river. It was endless and fascinating.

‘Daydreaming again, son of Hatra?’

Dobbai shuffled past me to sit in one of the chairs opposite.

‘For a man about to embark upon great slaughter you seem remarkably calm.’

‘Just one battle, Dobbai, and then it will all be over.’

She looked east across the river. ‘Just one battle, to begin with.’

‘To begin with?’

She turned to look at me. ‘I will say it again. Do not underestimate Mithridates, or Narses for that matter.’

‘I don’t and won’t.’

She pointed at me with a bony finger. ‘You think that because you beat them before you will do so again with ease.’

She was referring to the Battle of Surkh, when I had been instrumental in defeating the combined armies of Mithridates and Narses. Afterwards I had been made lord high general of the empire by a grateful King of Kings Phraates. How long ago that seemed now.

I smiled at Dobbai. ‘Have the gods revealed to you that they will defeat me?’

‘You may mock me, but your smugness will disappear when you come running back to Dura with your tail between your legs.’

‘Is that your prophecy or the gods?’

She waved a hand at me. ‘I say again, do not underestimate your foes.’

She changed the subject. ‘When are the executions?’

‘Tomorrow.’

That was when Nadira and Polemo would die for the murder of Godarz. Vistaspa had stayed in Dura in the aftermath of Godarz’s death and said he would return to Hatra once justice had been meted out. Haytham had also travelled to the city to witness the executions. There was a time when the visit of the Agraci king would have elicited horror among the city’s residents but now no one batted an eyelid. Indeed, Malik visited us so often that many came to see him more as Duran than Agraci. He and Domitus were good friends, though Malik’s agreeable nature meant that he got on well with most people. He was not like Haytham, who was hard, merciless and unyielding, much like the desert that had spawned him. Above all Malik, though brave, lacked the ruthlessness, the utter indifference to suffering which Haytham possessed in abundance.

‘Gallia has hired a headsman for the executions,’ remarked Dobbai casually.

‘A headsman, why? Dura has its own executioner.’

Dobbai rose and ambled away.

‘Remember what I said, son of Hatra, do not underestimate your foes.’

Gallia refused to discuss the executions, saying that she was too upset to talk about the condemned as it reminded her of Godarz. When I asked her about the headsman she merely remarked that he had been recommended to her and that she wanted the task carried out properly. Further questioning of her was met by a stony silence so I gave up.