Peter Darman - The Parthian

‘Gladly, Pacorus. Take Gallia with you, he could do with some brightness in his life. When news reached us that Bozan’s column had been destroyed he became very morose. He had, after all, lost his father and best friend at the same time.’

‘I can’t imagine Vata being morose.’

My father and I were at the royal stables to take our horses out for a morning ride. It was the first time I had done so, for the celebrations and thanksgivings had filled our days since our arrival. Gallia was given rooms in the palace near mine, though my parents’ strict protocol meant that Gallia’s door was firmly locked at night. In any case, my future wife informed me that even if we were not in a royal palace we would not be sharing a bed until we were man and wife.

‘What about a rock ledge next to a waterfall?’ I asked mischievously, which earned me a slap on the arm.

‘We are not in Italy now.’

‘No,’ I replied, ‘more’s the pity.’

Afterwards the whole of Hatra’s nobility had visited the palace to pay their respects to me, though I suspected that the real reason was to meet Gallia. The story of the return of Prince Pacorus with his warrior princess by his side began to travel far and wide, made more intriguing when it became know that her coming had been foretold by the sorceress of King Sinatruces himself.

The stables were a hive of activity as a small army of squires, farriers and veterinaries went about their business. The stable area was huge, with each horse having a well-appointed stall in an airy and clean stable.

‘So,’ said my father as he stroked Remus’ neck, ‘this is the horse that carried you in Italy and brought you back to us. He is a magnificent specimen.’

I threw the saddlecloth onto his back and then the saddle.

‘His name is Remus,’ I said. ‘Named after one of the founders of Rome. I was told that Remus had a twin called Romulus, and they were both reared by a she-wolf.’

‘A strange tale, Pacorus, though no stranger than your own story.’ He laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘I cannot begin to tell you how joyous your return is to your mother and I. Truly a gift from god.’

‘Thank, you father. It is good to be back.’

I looked into the next stall where Epona was housed, to see that it was empty and being cleaned out by a young stable hand.

‘Where is Epona?’

‘The Princess Gallia took her out earlier, highness.’

‘Alone?’ I was slightly concerned.

‘No, highness. The princess and her, er, her women warriors rode out to the training fields.’

‘Who else was with them?’

‘Prince Gafarn accompanied them, highness.’

‘Well,’ said my father, ‘looks like they have stole a march on us.’

I secured my quiver to the saddle and then mounted Remus. My father’s horse, a seven-year-old mare named Azat, was brought to him and he likewise saddled her and then we rode from the stables. The morning was getting warm and the sky cloudless as we travelled west out of the city. As usual, the was heavy traffic on the road coming from the east, long caravans of camels loaded with spices, silk and other materials, donkeys piled high with fruit for the markets, and individuals on foot weighed down with heavy sacks on their backs. The training fields were located five miles west of the city, a wide expanse of ground divided into archery ranges and drill areas. It was mid-morning by the time we left the city, the traffic on the road making way for the royal party of myself, the king and a dozen members of his bodyguard. After a short while the officer in charge rode up to us and saluted.

‘Trouble ahead, majesty.’

‘What trouble?’ asked my father.

The man cast me a nervous glance. ‘The Princess Gallia, majesty…’

Before he had finished his sentence I dug my knees into Remus and galloped ahead. After a couple of minutes I came across a large crowd gathered round a richly attired plump man stood next to a donkey which was sat on the road. The beast had a large load of hides on its back and had clearly collapsed through exhaustion. The man had a stick in his hand and beside him, resplendent in her mail shirt, tight leggings and steel helmet, stood Gallia, a dagger at the man’s throat. The man, a merchant I assumed, was obviously an individual of some wealth as he had a personal escort of a dozen guards, all wearing mail armour, helmets and carrying heavy spears. The guards would normally have protected their master, but twenty women pointing loaded bows at them made them think twice. Gafarn was beside Gallia, no doubt translating for Gallia. The crowd around them was both amused and nervous, for anyone could see that this fierce women and her riders meant business.

I pushed my way through the crowd and dismounted.

‘What is this, my sweet?’ I asked, taking my place by Gallia’s side.

‘Trouble, Pacorus,’ said Gafarn.

‘I can see that. My love, why don’t you put the dagger down.’ Gallia held the point firmly at the man’s neck.

I looked behind me to see Praxima with her bow pointed at the merchant, while the other Amazons covered his guards.

‘Will someone tell me what is going on?’

‘Ask this fat bully,’ growled Gallia.

‘Allow me to illuminate further,’ offered Gafarn. ‘We were riding back from archery practice when we came across this individual beating this poor beast with his stick, whereupon the Lady Gallia took exception and tried to persuade said gentlemen to desist.’

‘I threatened to slit his throat unless he stopped,’ said Gallia.

The merchant, sweating and alarmed, obviously believed me to be his salvation, for he had heard Gafarn speak my name and he must have known that I was the heir to Hatra’s throne.

‘Highness, this is an outrage. This woman, this demon from the underworld, has dared to threaten me for nothing more than attending to my own business. This beast is my property and I will treat it as I see fit.’

The miserable, half-starved donkey was still sat on the ground, no doubt glad of the opportunity to snatch some rest.

I could tell by the look on her face that Gallia would not yield, and neither would the merchant. I had visions of dead bodies and the road soaked in blood when I heard shouts of ‘make way for the king’ behind me.

All noise died away as my father dismounted and walked to where Gallia stood.

‘What is going on here?’

Gafarn spoke to him in whispers and then my father spoke to Gallia.

‘If I purchased the donkey for you, would you grant me a favour and lower your weapon, daughter?’

Gallia looked at my father and lowered her dagger. ‘As your majesty commands.’

‘Thank the gods,’ said the merchant. ‘Your majesty, I really must protest…’

‘Silence!’ bellowed my father, making me for one jump. ‘I did not ride out of the city today to bandy words with a lowly merchant. I could have you executed for daring to raise your voice to my son’s future wife, but as I don’t want to pollute the ground with your blood, I will purchases this sad creature that you have abused so foully. Pay the man, Pacorus.’

With that my father turned and went back to his horse. I reach into the purse hanging from my belt and threw some gold coins on the ground, which the merchant gladly accepted. With such a sum I could have purchased a dozen donkeys. He bowed his head and then gestured to his guards that they should be on their way. Gallia signalled for her Amazons to lower their bows and the crowd dispersed. She walked over to the donkey and cut the straps to free it of its load. The merchant gestured to one of his guides to collect the hides that were now lying on the ground.

‘The gold includes the baggage it was carrying,’ I shouted, daring anyone to question me.