Peter Darman - The Parthian

I was stunned. ‘Majesty?’

‘This is Dobbai, a Scythian from the mountains of the Indus. She is a sage, some say a sorceress, and has been a member of my court for many years now. She has a gift. She can see the future. That is why we tolerate her.’

‘That is why you fear me, Sinatruces,’ she pointed a bony finger at the king. ‘Let me speak to the lamb, otherwise I will turn you into a warthog.’

To utter such words to the High King was to invite immediate execution, but Sinatruces merely smiled and gestured to me to hold out my hand.

I have to confess that I was hesitant to extend my arm. She not only looked revolting, but her sunken cheeks and emaciated frame suggested that she had not eaten for a while. Perhaps she wanted to eat my hand! Suddenly confronting an army of Romans seemed less daunting. However, aware that all of those who sat at the top table were observing me, along with others on nearby tables, I held out my right arm.

The old hag grabbed it with her right hand with a grip that was surprising strong. Her clutch was bony and cold. I shivered. She looked at my upturned palm and then spat into it. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. Filthy old crone, how dare she treat me like this.

She then drew her left forefinger across my palm, mumbled some nonsense to herself and then looked me directly in the eyes. This made me feel even more uncomfortable. I felt my cheeks colour. For what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only a few seconds, she stood motionless.

‘Portents,’ she spat the word at me, ‘portents of doom. You will slither like a serpent into the belly of your enemies, and there eat away at their innards.’

She was clearly mad, but she still held my hand fast. She looked at the palm a second time after drawing circular motions with her forefinger in her spittle.

‘The eagle will scream in pain but will thirst for revenge. Many eagles will pursue you, but under the desert sun you will pick at their bones. A pale goddess with fire in her eyes will be your companion, son of Hatra.’

Then she let go of my hand, reached over and grabbed some pork ribs from my plate, and shuffled away. As she passed Sinatruces she turned to him.

‘Merv burns while you stuff your face, old man.’

Sinatruces looked alarmed as the old hag walked away, chewing on a rib as she did so. He beckoned to his chancellor who scurried over. Sinatruces spoke to him in a somewhat agitated manner, and then the chancellor hurried off.

‘Merv is a city on our eastern frontier,’ whispered my father.

‘Do we listen to the ramblings of an insane, stinking witch?’ I replied, wiping my hand with a napkin.

‘I don’t know, Pacorus,’ he said, staring at me. ‘Do we?’

I could barely hide my annoyance. ‘No, we do not.’

I called for a servant to refill my goblet with wine. The hag had disappeared now, along with my appetite. I dismissed what she had said from my mind. Eagles, serpents? I shook my head. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Vistaspa looking at me, but not with his usual mocking stare. Instead, he nodded and toasted me with his goblet. This discomfited me even more.

The next day we departed Ctesiphon for Hatra, taking the cartloads of gold with us. Our audience with Sinatruces and Phraates that morning had been brief, and the old king had seemed very distracted. Phraates offered us extra guards for the journey but my father declined his offer. Vistaspa’s men were more than adequate, though for additional security he sent riders ahead to order that more of Hatra’s cavalry meet us on the road.

‘This gold should pay for the additional troops you want to enlist,’ said Vistaspa as we rode at the head of the column.

My father nodded thoughtfully. ‘An unexpected bonus, that’s for sure. I was worried Sinatruces was after a portion of the Roman gold we took. Still, what with that and his gift, we should have enough spears to keep the border secure.’

‘You think the Romans will attack us, father?’

‘For certain,’ he replied.

‘Raids, most probably,’ said Vistaspa. ‘A few villages burned, maybe a town, if we don’t keep our guard up.’

‘We’ll have to watch the north especially,’ said my father, ‘since I doubt our old friend Darius will give us any support.’

Vistaspa nodded. ‘He might pay a few more tribesmen to cause us problems.’

‘Two can play at that game,’ said my father.

But thoughts of Roman raids soon passed as we travelled along dusty roads baked hard under blue skies. The pace was leisurely, and for long periods we walked beside our horses, resting under canvas shades two hours either side of midday, when the heat was most fierce. Four days from Hatra, a detachment of the city’s cavalry led by Vata met us during the late afternoon. Vata pulled up his horse in front of my father, bowed his head then reached inside a saddlebag to hand him a scroll. My father read it, frowned and passed it to Vistaspa.

Vistaspa, as was his wont, read it without expression. ‘It’s begun, then.’

‘Sooner than I thought.’

‘What is it, father?’ I asked.

‘A message from Bozan. A week ago Roman cavalry attacked and plundered Sirhi. They must have crossed the Arabian Desert from Syria. They have taken many captives, no doubt to be sold as slaves.’ Sirhi was a town on the banks of the Euphrates, in the north of the kingdom.

‘I have to get back to Hatra. Vata, you will escort the gold to the city. I, Vistaspa and Pacorus will ride to the city tonight.’

After a light meal we left in the early evening, riding hard. We covered the fifty miles in a day, arriving at the palace late at night. Bozan was waiting for us in the council chamber. After going to see my mother, I and my father went to the chamber where Bozan was deep in conversation with Vistaspa.

‘Well?’ enquired my father, ‘how bad is it?’

‘Not as bad as we first feared, my lord,’ replied Bozan. ‘The town remains intact, though the outlying villages have being mostly reduced to ashes and their inhabitants carried off into slavery. The garrison commander panicked and exaggerated the size of the Roman force and the damage they did.’

‘Doesn’t mean there aren’t more Roman troops in the area,’ added Vistaspa.

‘There is a legion at Damascus, but to march it across the desert just for a raid seems too big a risk,’ mused my father.

Bozan was in a bullish mood. ‘Strike back at them, my lord. They cannot be allowed to get away with this outrage.’

‘A wise course of action, I agree,’ added Vistaspa, ‘but the question is, where to strike?’

While my father deliberated, servants brought us wine, fruit and bread. We were tired and covered in dust, while our eyes were ringed with black through lack of sleep.

‘I can’t decide tonight,’ said my father at last. ‘We will reconvene in the morning.’

After a night’s rest I had breakfast with my mother in the small palace garden that she tended as a hobby. The plants and flowerbeds were immaculate, and the gentle sound of the fountain in the middle of the shallow pond filled with goldfish gave a sense of calm. My mother was dressed in a simple white dress, with a gold chain at her waist. Her shoulder-length black hair was loose, showing its natural waves. She wore little make-up or jewelry and wore simple leather sandals on her feet

Servants served us fruit and bread. Queen Mihri was in a happy mood.

‘How did you find King Sinatruces, Pacorus?’

‘He’s old,’ I replied.

She laughed. ‘He certainly is, but also wise and astute. You don’t rule a collection of kingdoms for nearly fifty years without ability.’

‘I suppose not,’ I said, watching a shapely servant girl walk from the table carrying an empty food tray.