Peter Darman - Parthian Vengeance

It was another glorious spring day with just a slight northerly breeze and a small number of puffy white clouds dotting the blue sky. Once again there was no sign of the enemy anywhere and I began to think that we would take the city of Seleucia, which lay on the west bank of the Tigris, unopposed. Directly opposite Seleucia, across the river, was the palace of Ctesiphon. It was a large palace complex filled with treasure but it was of no use to us. All I was interested in was confronting Mithridates. We covered fifteen miles the first day and another fifteen the next and once again we marched across empty desert. The army camped for the night behind its earthen rampart and wooden palisade, the men wrapping themselves in their cloaks as the temperature plummeted after the sun disappeared from the western sky.

Two hours after night had fallen Byrd and Malik rode into camp at the head of their scouts. They thundered up the main avenue that led directly to my command tent. As usual I was in attendance with Orodes and Domitus when the pair burst in, their faces unshaven and their clothes dirty.

‘Mithridates’ army approaches,’ said Byrd.

‘At last,’ grunted Domitus, ‘I was beginning to think that we would have to tramp for hundreds of miles to get our hands around his neck.’

‘How far away is he?’ I asked.

Malik walked over to a water jug on the table, filled a cup and handed it to Byrd. ‘Twenty miles, perhaps less.’

Byrd gulped down some water. ‘Many horse, no foot. There are more of them than we have.’

I smiled. ‘There’s always more of them than us, Byrd.’

Malik filled another cup and drained it. ‘We saw the banner of Mithridates but there was no sign of Narses.’

‘He must still be besieging Elymais,’ said Orodes.

This was better than I expected. My enemies had made the fatal mistake of dividing their forces, allowing me to defeat each in turn. I began to feel very confident.

I walked past Malik and Byrd, clasping their arms in turn. ‘I am in your debt, my friends. You bring good tidings. We should be able to see our opponents. Come.’

We all filed outside and stared into the east. Sure enough, the horizon was illuminated by a red glow — the campfires of Mithridates’ army. At last we would finally settle the differences between us. I slapped Orodes on the arm.

‘Well, my friend, by this time tomorrow your stepbrother will be dead and the empire will need another king of kings.’

‘Narses will take his crown,’ replied Orodes mournfully.

‘After we have dealt with Mithridates we will march east, link up with Gotarzes and go after Narses. He will never wear the high crown.’

‘And then?’ asked Domitus.

‘And then, what?’ I replied.

‘It is no small thing we do, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

I scratched my head. Orodes was a loyal and brave friend, one whom I held dear, but on occasion he could be insufferably correct. Even after all the treachery of Mithridates and Narses he still clung to his strict interpretation of protocol. I knew that he was appalled by the notion that we had as our objective the deaths of Mithridates and Narses. Perhaps a part of him still believed that bloodshed could be averted and we could all settle matters to everyone’s mutual benefit. I knew this to be fantasy and deep down so did he, but he liked to think the best of everybody, including his vile stepbrother.

I laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I did not cross the Euphrates lightly, my friend, but the dagger thrust that killed Godarz began a course of events that can only have one end — my death or that of Mithridates.’

Orodes’ black mood did not lessen my sense of satisfaction that we were about to fight Mithridates. I had disliked him ever since our first meeting at the city of Esfahan years ago, a loathing that had been instantly reciprocated. And now I had him. He may be king of kings but Mithridates was also a liar and a coward, and tomorrow all would be settled.

I rarely slept much before a battle and this night was no different. Domitus, Byrd and Malik wiled away the rest of the evening talking of past battles, Domitus as ever sharpening his gladius with a stone. Orodes retired to get some sleep and wrestle with his morality. He was probably the most upright individual in the empire. I excused myself and walked among neatly arranged rows of tents that each accommodated eight sleeping legionaries or a similar number of horsemen. Sentries stood guard and centurions stalked around with their trusty vine canes. The air was filled with the comforting aroma of leather, cooking fires, horses, mules, camels and animal dung. I stood for a moment and closed my eyes and was transported back more than ten years to when I was in Italy with Spartacus. After all this time I still missed him. I reached inside my shirt to touch the lock of Gallia’s hair hanging on a chain round my neck. Together for all eternity.

I continued my tour of the camp, exchanging pleasantries with Companions and talking to other soldiers who were veterans of more recent campaigns. The horsemen were quartered with their animals in the northwest corner of the camp. Many of the Parthians in their ranks thought it most odd that they and their horses should be confined so. The camps of Parthian armies comprised an assortment of different-sized tents arranged in a random fashion. As it was the Parthian custom not to fight at night the notion of surrounding a camp with defences appeared a waste of time and effort. That may be, but no adversary of Dura would ever catch its army unawares by launching a night assault.

When I arrived at the quarters of the armoured horsemen their squires were still busy checking scale armour and helmets. If they were lucky they would get four or five hours sleep before they had to rise to get their masters ready for battle. I also found Surena with a group of his subordinates clustered round a brazier. They stopped their conversation when they saw me and bowed their heads.

‘As you were,’ I said. ‘Surena, walk with me.’

We ambled among other groups of men gathered round fires, indulging in the idle chatter and boasting that most men partake of on the eve of battle. Tomorrow each one would fight secure in the knowledge that they trusted one another and that the man on either side of him in the battle line could be relied on not to desert him. It was no accident of speech that men were organised into companies, for at the end of the day men did not fight for causes, politics or gods; they fought for each other, their companions. And they preferred to fight and die among their friends.

‘I want you to take care tomorrow, Surena. No recklessness on the battlefield, remember your training.’

He beamed at me. ‘Of course, lord.’

His strong frame filled his white shirt and his well-groomed shoulder-length black hair gave him the appearance of a noble Parthian officer, but his eyes flashed with mischief. Despite all the training and education there was still a part of him that was that wild boy of the marshes I had first met years ago.

‘I don’t want you getting yourself killed and wasting all that expensive education I have lavished on you.’

He nodded solemnly. ‘No, lord.’

We walked on in silence for a few moments, men rising to their feet as we passed them and bowing their heads, a few clasping Surena’s forearm. He was a popular figure in the army, not least for saving my life in battle. He had also married an Amazon, one of the few men who had. That earned him much respect, though I never did tell him how close he had come to being hanged on the orders of Gallia for his pursuit of Viper.

‘I was sorry about Godarz, lord, we all were. He was a good man.’

I nodded. ‘Yes, he was.’

He cast me a sideways glance. ‘The queen must miss him terribly.’