Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

‘I have agreed,’ replied Gafarn.

Assur’s stare was then transferred to Godarz.

‘Have you, with righteous mind and truthful thoughts, words and actions, and for the increase of righteousness, agreed to give this maiden to King Pacorus to be his bride?’

Godarz nodded. ‘I have agreed.’

Assur then gave his staff to one of the two priests who stood next to him and walked forward, indicating to Gallia and me to kneel. He then placed a hand on my shoulder and the other on Gallia’s, fixing us both with his stare.

‘Have you preferred to enter into this contract of marriage up to the end of your life with a righteous mind?’

We both replied. ‘I have preferred.’

Assur stepped back and once again raised his hands.

‘Know all that Shamash has now blessed this union and has decreed that King Pacorus and Princess Gallia, who is now queen, are married, and that no mortal man may question this union. May Shamash bless them. Hail to Shamash.’

The assembly replied ‘Hail to Shamash’, and then Assur gestured for us to rise. The two priests stepped forward and gathered the twine that had been wrapped around us, which was given to Godarz. The white cloth curtain they gave to Gafarn, then Gallia and I turned and walked down the aisle towards the temple’s main entrance. This faced east to greet Shamash every morning when the sun rose to begin its journey across the sky. The temple echoed with the sound of applause as I walked beside my wife, now also my queen. I glanced at her. The thin gold strips in her hair glinted in the light. On her head she wore a gold diadem inlaid with diamonds and large and small emeralds. Around her neck she wore a gold and diamond necklace. She was so beautiful and in truth I could not keep my eyes off her. She glanced at me with her eyes of the purest blue, eyes that could entrap a man as a spider’s web catches its prey.

‘Well,’ I whispered, ‘how do you like being a queen?’

She dazzled me with her smile. ‘I hope I can be a good one.’

We left the temple and walked across the Great Square to the palace quarter. Our route was lined by troops of the city’s garrison, soldiers armed and equipped in the Greek fashion, with full-face bronze helmets surmounted by white crests, leather cuirasses fitted with iron scales and leather greaves around their shins. Their large round shields were made of wood with an outer bronze facing, and their weapons comprised swords and six-foot thrusting spears. Many kings and princes surrounded themselves with guards who looked pretty in their brightly coloured baggy leggings and tunics, armed only with spears and wicker shields, but the troops of Hatra’s garrison were trained to fight on the battlefield as well as patrol the city’s streets. Their commander, Lord Kogan, a dour, serious man of the same age as my father, drove his men hard, as Vistaspa did with my father’s horsemen. Parthia’s strength was her cavalry, but the garrison’s two thousand men were a useful reserve for my father to call on. It was Kogan who met us outside the temple and escorted us into the palace, walking a few steps behind.

‘Your troops look splendid, Lord Kogan,’ I remarked as behind us my mother, father and the wedding guests filed out of the temple.

‘Thank you, majesty.’ His voice was crisp and emotionless.

It was past noon now and the day was hot, the sun beating down from a blue sky. There was no wind and even though I was wearing only white flowing robes, I could feel sweat running down the back of my neck. I looked at the soldiers sanding like stone either side of us. They must have been roasting under their helmets and in their leather cuirasses.

The banqueting hall of the palace was a spacious, airy room with a high ceiling supported by stone pillars. White marble tiles covered the floor and the walls were also white, against which stood more of Kogan’s soldiers. At the far end of the hall was the high table for the bride, groom and their immediate families. In front of the high table, which sat on a stone dais, were arranged the feasting tables for the hundreds of guests that were now being shown to their seats as servants served us sweet wine. My father, a gold crown atop his close-cropped head, bent down and kissed Gallia on her cheek, as did my mother, who also wore a crown. As the level of chatter increased, people took their seats and were also served wine. My Companions sat either side of a long table that had been arranged directly in front of me, at right angles to the high table. My father and Assur had disapproved strongly to their being placed in such a prominent position in the seating order, but I had insisted. These were the individuals I had fought beside, shared dangers with and counted as my dearest friends. I smiled as I looked at them: long-haired Thracians and Germans, wild-looking Dacians, leather-skinned Greeks, Parthians from Hatra and the feared Amazons, all of whom had earlier walked onto the dais, ignored my father and embraced Gallia warmly, each one warning me that I had better protect her otherwise I would have them to answer to. My mother sat open-mouthed at their contempt for protocol, the more so when they also embraced Diana, for she too was one of this strange sisterhood. And then they sat with the rest of the Companions, former slaves who now took precedence over Parthian kings and aristocrats.

The banquet lasted hours as a horde of sweating servants brought the guests silver platters heaped with cooked lamb, chicken, camel, goat, stews flavoured with cinnamon, mint and pomegranates; elaborately stuffed fruits and vegetables; skewers of barbecued peacock; apricots, artichokes, eggplants, lemons, oranges, pistachios and spinach. Others filled silver cups with wine or water, and as the former flowed freely the volume of chatter increased markedly. My father and mother fussed over Gallia, while a steady procession of guests made their way to the top table to pay their respects to her and myself. Courteous to me, they focused all their attention on my bride who looked radiant and was clearly enjoying herself. I had seen Gallia wear a stern and cold visage on the battlefield, but today she was carefree and inviting, quick to laugh and eager to return the affection of those who were introduced to her. I could only watch and admire her, and swell with pride as I saw her conquer those kings, my father’s closest allies, who had made the journey to be at our wedding.

Parthia was a great empire made up of a number of separate kingdoms, but each of the kings who ruled those kingdoms realised that there was strength in unity, and so they elected a King of Kings to rule over them and the whole empire. In this way the empire remained strong in the face of its external enemies, such as the Armenians to the north, the Romans in the west and the Indians in the east. The aged King of Kings Sinatruces rarely left his capital at Ctesiphon. His son, King Phraates, had made the journey to Hatra in his father’s place. He now stood before us and bowed his head. We stood and bowed to him.

‘Thank you for honouring our wedding, majesty,’ I said.

He smiled, white teeth showing in the middle of his neatly trimmed short beard and moustache flecked with grey, like his shoulder-length black hair.

‘The honour is mine, Pacorus. Much has happened since we first met, and now you have brought a beautiful bride from a foreign land to grace the empire.’ He suddenly looked sheepish. ‘My father sends his regards and hopes you both have long and prosperous lives.’

His eyes averted mine. He was obviously embarrassed that Sinatruces, after Gallia and I had arrived at Hatra from Italy, had lured us both to Ctesiphon with the sole intention of stealing Gallia from me and making her one of his concubines. He had sought to assuage my wrath by making me king of Dura Europos, but his plan had unravelled, not least due to the threats of eternal damnation heaped upon him by his foul old sorceress, Dobbai. The upshot had been that I still had my beloved but had also come away from Ctesiphon with a kingdom.