Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

I awoke in my bed in the Citadel with Gallia sitting beside me holding Claudia. I felt the wonderful caress of my wife’s fingers on my cheek as I slowly came out of my deep slumber. Claudia smiled when I opened my eyes and I managed a faint smile back. She then crawled onto the bed and snuggled up to me and in that moment I experienced true happiness.

‘How long was I asleep?’

Gallia leaned over, kissed my lips and smiled, her long locks falling about my face.

‘A day and a half. Atrax and Surena carried you here and we have been watching over you ever since.’

I felt very weak but deliriously happy, surrounded as I was by my loved ones. There were no noises of battle, no stench of death, just a gentle breeze that ruffled the cotton nets hanging at the entrance to our balcony.

Alcaeus appeared by the side of the bed.

‘How do you feel?’

‘Weak,’ then I was aware of an aching sensation in my left leg. I noticed my bandaged left arm and then instinctively felt for my lower limb.

Alcaeus smiled when he saw my concerned look. ‘Don’t worry, you still have your leg. You were lucky, the arrow did not smash the bone, and once we had stopped the bleeding it was just a matter of sealing the wound and binding it tightly.’

‘I was worried that you might sleep forever,’ he continued, ‘but now we can all rest easy.’

I looked at Gallia. ‘The battle?’

She gripped my hand. ‘Was won, Pacorus, you have saved our city.’

‘Nearly got yourself killed in the process, though,’ Dobbai suddenly appeared at my bedside, a cup containing white liquid in her hand.

‘What is it?’ I asked, seeing Alcaeus’ disapproving look.

‘Poison, of course,’ replied Dobbai, ‘I thought I would achieve what Mithridates and Narses could not. Now drink it and stop whining.’

‘Remus,’ I said, ‘he bolted during the battle.’

‘He’s safe and being treated like a lord in the stables. Unlike you,’ replied Dobbai, ‘he hasn’t a scratch on him, so drink the liquid.’

Claudia had fallen asleep beside me as Dobbai handed the cup to Gallia, who held it to my lips. It tasted of nuts but had the texture of thick milk. Most strange.

‘The kings are still here,’ said Gallia. ‘They will be most relieved that you are recovering, as I am, my love.’

Dobbai took the cup and shuffled away. ‘I’ll fetch some more. It will soon get you back on your feet.’

‘I will decide when he gets back on his feet,’ insisted Alcaeus, to which Dobbai merely waved her hand dismissively at him and left the room.

‘You will have another scar,’ said Alcaeus, ‘and you may have a slight limp.’

‘Limp?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s too early to tell, but better that than having no leg at all.’

The rest of the day I spent slipping in and out of sleep with Gallia and Claudia beside me, interrupted only by Alcaeus applying a fresh dressing to my arm and leg and Dobbai giving me more of her concoction to drink. She would not tell me what was in it, only that it was frequently used by the people of the northern steppes as an aid to recovery. That night I slept like the dead and in the morning awoke to discover that my strength was indeed slowly returning, just as she had promised. Alcaeus scoffed at such nonsense but did accept that I looked healthier than the day before. I agreed that my father could visit me in my bedchamber, but no one else. I did not want anyone to see the King of Dura incapacitated. The height of vanity, perhaps, but the Romans had taught me that you should always project an image of strength to the world, never weakness.

‘So,’ my father stood at the entrance to our bedroom balcony, ‘how is the hero of the hour?’

‘Weak and helpless, if truth be told.’ A dozen well-stuffed pillows propped me up.

‘Your doctor told me that you should be up and about in no time. Curious fellow, treats royalty like something he’s scraped off his sandal.’

‘He’s Greek,’ I said. ‘They are a people who believe that everyone is more or less equal.’

‘Ah. I can see why he likes it here.’

‘You do not approve of my kingdom, father?’ It was the first time he had visited Dura.

He walked over and sat down in a bedside chair. ‘It has a certain rustic charm, I’ll grant you that. And that Roman of yours.’

‘Domitus?’

‘Yes, he has forged a fearsome weapon in his foot soldiers. He reminds me of Vistaspa. Uncompromising, like a rod of iron, but as for Gallia’s women…’

I was more interested in the battle that had taken place than discussing Dura’s army. ‘Was the fight on the other side of the river a hard one?’

My father stretched out his legs. He was dressed in a white baggy shirt and loose blue leggings and looked very relaxed. ‘Not at all. The Persien heavy cavalry put up a fight but Chosroes and his bodyguard scarpered after our first charge. The rest lost heart after that.’

‘Was Narses present?’

My father laughed. ‘No. He has better things to do than lay siege to Dura, I think, no offence meant.’

‘None taken.’

‘Anyway, the kings await your pleasure.’

‘I will see them all tomorrow,’ I replied.

My father stood and offered his hand. I took it. ‘Thank you, father, for your support.’

‘What sort of father would I be if I stood by and did nothing when my son was in danger?’

‘Is Haytham here?’

He nodded. ‘He’s here. One of his lords and Gotarzes have renewed their friendship.’

‘Who would have thought it,’ I said mischievously, ‘Parthian and Agraci making friends with each other?’

‘Who indeed, Pacorus, who indeed.’

The next day I felt well enough to get dressed and hobble to the throne room, where I received a succession of visitors. Gallia sat beside me and Dobbai hovered around, making unwelcome comments and taking delight in annoying people, mostly Alcaeus who insisted that I should not tire myself out. Already the armies of the kings were heading for home, my father’s horse archers having left the day before for Hatra, his cataphracts remaining with Vistaspa to escort their king home. I insisted that while they were in Dura all the standards of the kings should fly side-by-side from the ramparts of the Citadel, so that all may see our great alliance. So the griffin flew beside the white horse’s head, the bull of Babylon, the dragon of Media, the shahbaz of Atropaiene, the eagle of Susiana, and the four-pointed star of Elymais. I also insisted that the black standard of Haytham should be accorded a place among the banners, Gotarzes declaring that it should stand next to his own just as he had stood next to Haytham in battle.

‘Next to each other by the wine jug, more like,’ whispered my father.

Before the great feast to celebrate our victory, I had a private gathering of those whom I trusted the most to thank them for their conduct during the preceding weeks, especially Godarz, the man who had been in charge of the city during two sieges and whose calm demeanour had inspired confidence in everyone around him. That the city had not fallen was due in no small measure to him.

‘I had hoped that your time in Parthia would be one a peaceful one, Godarz,’ I said to him after we had all come together on the palace balcony.

‘Fate has a way of interfering with the best-laid plans of men, Pacorus, but hopefully now we will have no more bother.’

‘No more armies will come to Dura,’ announced Dobbai, who insisted that I drink another cup of her milky elixir. In truth I had come to like it and I had to admit that the pain had largely disappeared from my left leg.

‘But Dura’s wrath will soon be known to all. What do the minds of men know about anything?’