Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

‘As you wish.’

We had all gathered in one of the rooms in the palace’s private chambers, a small feasting hall near the kitchens with the walls decorated with scenes of hunting. Domitus had posted guards on the city’s walls and at the gates where we had forced an entry. He had also organised patrols to enforce the curfew that had been put in place. The Ma’adan had been brought into the palace compound where they could be watched and prevented from committing any more mischief, while the horsemen of Nergal and Orodes were also camped in the palace grounds, their mounts finding fresh bedding and food in the royal stables. As the palace servants had either been killed or had run away, we were served a meal of roasted lamb that had been prepared by some of Domitus’ legionaries. Gallia sat at one end of the long table flanked by Praxima and Nergal, while I sat at the other end. Domitus and Orodes sat next to each other on one side of the table, facing Surena and Marcus on the other side. I had asked Marcus to join us because it had been his machines that had made our victory possible.

The wine that had been found in the cellars beneath the palace was excellent, and soon Domitus was in high spirits. He rose and held his silver cup aloft.

‘Here’s to you, Pacorus. A great victory.’

The others rapped their knuckles on the table.

I stood and acknowledged their acclaim. I held up my cup to Marcus. ‘Without Marcus and his men we would not be sitting here, so I thank him and them for their splendid work this day.’

The others toasted our Roman ally, who blushed and avoided our eyes.

Domitus drained his cup and refilled it with more wine. He stood once more. ‘Hail to Pacorus, King of Uruk.’

More rapping on the table. I held up my hands. ‘Thank you, Domitus, but I shall not be king of this city.’

Domitus looked confused. ‘You won’t?’

‘No.’

He sat down, shrugged and drank more wine.

Gallia leaned forward and focused her eyes on me. ‘Then who will rule Uruk?’

‘Who, my love? The two people sitting either side of you, that’s who.’

Gallia leaned back in her chair and eyed me suspiciously, while Nergal and Praxima said nothing. Indeed, Nergal appeared not to have grasped the meaning of what I had said, but Praxima certainly did. She looked at Gallia, then at Nergal and then at me. I smiled at her.

‘That is correct, Praxima, you two shall rule Uruk.’

‘So,’ said Gallia, ‘this is the little scheme that you have been plotting all this time.’

‘Hardly a little scheme, my love. More like a great scheme’

Nergal had finally grasped the significance of my words.

‘And do Nergal and Praxima have a say in this?’ asked Gallia.

‘Of course,’ I replied.

‘You hear that, Praxima,’ said Gallia, ‘Pacorus would make you a queen and your husband a king.’

‘It is a great honour,’ said Nergal.

Gallia’s eyes were still on me. ‘Is it, Nergal? You will be alone without an army when Pacorus returns to Dura. What will happen then when Narses and Mithridates march against you to avenge their ally’s death? Do you think so little of our friends, Pacorus, that you would sacrifice them so easily?’

I jumped up. ‘Of course not. Uruk will have an army. Surena will stay and train his people to be the garrison, and Kuban and his men will also stay to serve Nergal. Babylon lies to the north of Mesene, and so I will ask Vardan to send soldiers to reinforce the garrison. I think he will be glad to have a friend to the south of his borders rather than an enemy.’

‘I accept the charge, lord,’ said a partly drunk Surena.

‘Be silent,’ hissed Gallia.

‘Surena will raise more men from the Ma’adan,’ I said, ‘and the citizens of Uruk will accept their new rulers.’

‘They will?’ said Gallia, incredulously.

‘Of course. Chosroes and his sons are dead. His line is ended. Dura needs an ally on Uruk’s throne. So what say the both of you, will you accept? I promise that you will never stand alone.’

I could see that Gallia still had reservations, but Praxima was grinning with delight and Nergal was bursting with pride. They looked at each other and Praxima nodded at her husband.

Nergal looked at me. ‘We accept, Pacorus, you are a most generous friend.’

He and Praxima went to bed in high spirits that night. I told them to meet us the next morning in the throne room. Gallia was far from happy.

‘It is a ridiculous plan, hare-brained. You think the people of this city will accept Nergal and Praxima?’

‘Why not? They accepted Chosroes and all he brought them was war and misery.’

She was brushing her blonde locks near the gold inlaid wicker doors that led on to the balcony. Her beauty still took my breath away. We had taken one of the bedrooms near the quarters of the new king and queen.

She stopped her grooming and turned to look at me. ‘And what of Mithridates and Narses, do you think they will accept your little arrangement?’

I walked over to her and kissed her on the head. ‘No, but who will they send against me? Mithridates will not leave Ctesiphon and his doting mother and Narses will have to raise a large army before he dares to march against me. And to raise an army will take time.’

‘You have it all worked out, don’t you?’

I cupped her face in my hands. ‘Of course. But enough of politics. Let us talk of giving Claudia a brother or sister, if my queen is agreeable to the notion.’

She placed her hands on my hips and looked at me with her big blue eyes and her mood softened. ‘She is agreeable.’

It was truly a most wonderful end to a great day.

The morning came soon enough, and with it the sound of hobnailed sandals on the flagstones of the palace square. The voices of centurions barking orders and trumpet and horn blasts signalled that it was just another routine day in the life of Dura’s army. After a breakfast of fruit, honey, yoghurt, bread and water, Gallia and I went to the throne room where we found a nervous Nergal and Praxima. Gallia embraced her friend and I laid a hand on Nergal’s shoulder.

‘You are not going into battle, my friend.’

‘I wish I were,’ he said, his face slightly pale. ‘Are you sure about this, Pacorus?’

‘Quite sure. How many years have we fought together? Remember, you have Dura’s army behind you.’

And I made sure that the army’s strength was on show that day. The city walls were lined with legionaries and Nergal’s horse archers made a sweep through the Royal Orchard looking for any remnants of the garrison. They found a large group of them who promptly surrendered themselves in exchange for their lives. I asked Orodes to take the cataphracts attired in their scale armour to the White Temple to act as an escort for Rahim. I kept Surena and his Ma’adan out of the palace and thus out of the way of Gallia, but he approved of my plan to make Nergal king.

‘An excellent choice, majesty. Lord Nergal is a great warrior. Will he expel the population from the city?’

I was horrified. ‘Certainly not.’

‘They have oppressed my people for many years.’

‘That may be, but today is the beginning of a new era for Uruk,’ I said, ‘one in which Ma’adan and Mesenians will live in peace.’

‘Old wounds take time to heal, lord.’

‘But they do heal, Surena, eventually. So I will have no more talk of enmity between your people and the Mesenians.’

He remained sceptical but was nevertheless delighted that Chosroes, the murderer of his parents, was dead. And as the late king’s army had also been put to the sword I foresaw few difficulties in uniting the kingdom under Nergal. The only potential obstacle to the whole project was Rahim, who arrived mid-morning, escorted into the palace by Orodes and accompanied by a dozen other priests dressed in white robes. Also bald like him, they trailed a few steps behind him with their heads bowed. We waited for Rahim in the throne room, Nergal and Praxima sitting on the dais. Nergal sat on Chosroes’ old throne but we had to find another seat for Praxima, as the old king had not shared his power with any of his many wives. We fetched the most richly decorated chair we could find and draped it in a red cloth to give it a mask of authority. Praxima wore her white top under her mail tunic, leggings and boots, her trusty dagger at her hip. Her sword in its scabbard rested against her chair. Nergal wore Chosroes’ crown and kept touching it, more from nerves than anything else. I stood beside him on the dais on his right-hand side, while Gallia stood next to Praxima. Both women let their hair hang free, Gallia’s pure blonde, Praxima’s a fiery red. To me Praxima would always be the wild, fierce warrior who killed with relish on the battlefield with the Amazons when we had been in Italy, but looking at her today I could see that she was also a very striking woman. Not a beauty, perhaps, but proud, strong and uncompromising. She would make a fine queen for her king.