Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

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.

I was awoken sharply by a boot being kicked into my side.

‘Get up,’ I had difficulty in focusing but was aware of Gallia’s voice.

There was another sharp pain in my side. I opened my eyes to see my wife standing over me. I smiled at her.

‘Get up, Pacorus.’

I still felt groggy. ‘What?’

I jumped up with a start when a bucket of cold water was thrown over me. I saw Domitus holding the bucket.

‘Is this some sort of joke?’ I snapped.

Gallia pulled me to my feet. ‘Dura is under siege.’

Gallia’s Amazons were already armed and mounted when I stumbled out into the early morning sun, shielding my eyes as the light stung them and intensified my headache. Domitus offered me a cup of water, which I drank in one gulp. Gallia vaulted into her saddle and beckoned Praxima forward.

‘Where is that heathen from the north, what was his name, Kuban?’

‘He and his men are camped a mile away.’

‘Go and fetch them, and tell him that we are riding south immediately.’

Praxima saluted and galloped off.

‘Wait,’ I shouted, ‘you cannot just ride off without any plan.’

‘He’s right, lady,’ said Domitus.

Gallia snapped her fingers and held out her right arm. Viper rode forward and handed Gallia her helmet.

‘You stay here and sleep off your hangover, Pacorus. I will ride south to save our daughter and your city.’

She put on her helmet and then tugged on Epona’s reins to turn the mare around, digging her knees into the beast and galloping away down the camp’s central avenue, followed by her Amazons.

I threw the cup on the ground. ‘In the name of all that’s holy Gallia, wait,’ I shouted at the top of my voice. It was useless; my wife was disappearing in a cloud of dust. My head felt as though a herd of horses was stampeding through it.

Nergal and Orodes ran up, followed by Surena. ‘Get my horse,’ I said to Surena.

‘What’s happening?’ he asked.

I could have run him through at that moment. ‘Just get my horse, idiot!’

He momentarily froze, saluted and then ran off to the stables.

‘Easy, Pacorus,’ muttered Domitus, ‘remember you are on display. It’s not a good idea for the king to show he has lost control of things.’