Service in Dura’s army was open to anyone and advancement was dependent on merit alone. That said, there were certain qualifications that Domitus as its general had insisted on, which were the same as those applied in the Roman Army. These were: a healthy body with all limbs intact (it never ceased to amaze me the number of one-legged individuals who tried to enlist on the grounds that sitting in the saddle did not require the use of two legs!), unmarried, no dwarfs, good eyesight and a good character. All those initially accepted were inducted into the replacement cohort where a further weeding-out process began to determine their suitability for a life in the military.
‘It takes a year to turn a recruit into a fully trained legionary Domitus, and we do not have that length of time.’
‘Perhaps we could speed up the process,’ he mused, ‘seeing as a lot of those presenting themselves at the Citadel are runaways from Syria and have probably seen some sort of military service.’
I thought of the long line of scrawny individuals in threadbare clothing I had seen that very morning, some of them bearing brands on their foreheads signifying they had been Roman slaves — FUG, fugitivus — runaway; KAL, kalumniator ¬- liar; and FUR, fur — thief. Others had ears that had been bored — the mark of a Mesopotamian slave, no doubt having fled from other Parthian kingdoms, perhaps even from Hatra that lay just across the River Euphrates. Others had made the journey from Egypt, runaway slaves who had worked in the pharaoh’s gold and copper mines.
‘No,’ I replied. ‘We stick to the system that has made Dura strong.’
‘Well,’ he replied, ‘that means the legions will be two thousand men down when we march.’
I finished my wine. ‘Can’t help that.’
‘And the horsemen?’
I stood up and walked over to the entrance of the tent. As it was summer and it was hot the flaps were tied back to allow what was now only a whisper of wind to enter. Outside was the parade ground and beyond it the camp’s central avenue that led to the main entrance flanked by neat rows of tents.
‘The older squires can be promoted to make up the losses among the cataphracts and Vagises will send messages to the lords asking that they spread the word among their retainers that I am looking for new horse archers. We should be able to replace the losses we suffered at Susa in three months.’
‘You think we have that long?’
The sky was pink as a yellow sun descended in the western sky to signal the end of another day.
‘I hope so. I sincerely hope so.’
I turned and walked back to the table.
‘The one thing in our favour, the only thing thus far,’ I said, ‘is that we have time to defeat the Armenians before Crassus arrives.’
The next day I sat in the throne room and dictated letters to Orodes, Surena, Atrax and Gafarn. Rsan fussed over the scribes like a mother hen while Gallia, sitting next to me, observed the proceedings.
I informed Orodes that Dura’s army would prepare to march north but would wait until he arrived with what forces he could muster from Babylon and Susiana. The latter kingdom was his own and ordinarily would have supplied a great many soldiers, but most of them had been slaughtered at Susa when we had defeated Narses and Mithridates. Those still alive would be needed for garrison duties, for to leave the kingdom’s towns and cities undefended would be to invite the hill men who infested the nearby Zagros Mountains to pillage them at will.
I pledged aid to both Surena and Atrax, King of Media. Media lay to the east of Hatra and south of Gordyene. But I informed them both that at present I was unable to offer any assistance, but hoped that they could assist each other. They could also call upon King Aschek of Atropaiene. The latter was always reluctant to embroil his kingdom in conflict but as his realm was positioned directly east of Gordyene he knew that if Surena fell then his lands would be open to an Armenian invasion. I also knew that Orodes would request the assistance of Nergal and so I also sent a letter to Uruk stating that I looked forward to linking up with him and his men when we assembled our joint forces.
As a scribe sitting at a desk in front of me completed each letter, the parchment was folded and then Rsan sealed it with hot wax, into which was pressed my griffin symbol. Then it was given to a waiting courier whose horse stood ready in the courtyard.
‘What are you going to say to Gafarn?’ asked Gallia.
‘That I will wait until I receive word from Orodes,’ I replied, and then pointed to a scribe waiting for instructions.
‘He will expect you to reply that you are marching to Hatra straight away.’
‘It would be better to wait for Orodes and Nergal,’ I reiterated. ‘Our combined forces joined with Hatra’s will be more than a match for the Armenians, who have yet to make any moves aside from declaring war on the empire.’
I again indicated to the scribe that I was ready to begin dictating when Dobbai ambled into the room, and proceeding to ignore us walked over to the table Rsan was standing by, a rolled parchment in her hand. Ignoring him she picked up the crucible of wax that was being heated over an oil lamp and poured some on the parchment to seal it, then took the wax stamp and pressed it into the hot substance. By now everyone in the room was looking at her as she went about her business seemingly oblivious to our presence.
I cleared my throat. ‘In case you had not noticed I am in the middle of important business.’
Dobbai gestured to one of the waiting couriers, who looked at Rsan in confusion.
‘Come here, boy,’ she snapped. ‘Take no notice of the tallyman.’
Rsan glowered at her then turned to face me. ‘Majesty, I really must protest.’
I held up a palm to the courier. ‘These riders carry letters that concern the affairs of the empire, Dobbai.’
She looked at me with pursed lips and held up the parchment. ‘This is also important, son of Hatra, and must reach its destination speedily.’
Rsan was now beside himself with anger at being treated so disrespectfully in front of everyone and gestured to the two guards standing by the closed doors to the chamber to come forward. He pointed at Dobbai.
‘Escort her to the palace’s private wing.’
Dobbai spun on her heels to face the approaching legionaries.
‘Touch me,’ she said, ‘and your balls will wither to nothing and maggots will grow in your bellies.’
The two men, veterans of many battles, froze and looked at each other and then at me in alarm, while beside me Gallia suppressed a giggle. I frowned at her before waving the guards back to their posts.
‘May I enquire the nature of the important business that is contained in the despatch you are holding?’
Dobbai turned to face me, a self-satisfied smug look on her face. ‘You may enquire and I may choose to ignore you. But suffice to say that it will be to your advantage in the coming struggle with your enemies.’
She again waved forward one of the couriers and I shook my head at Rsan who was about to protest. Dobbai handed the man the parchment and leaned towards him to whisper something in his ear.
‘The post station in Neh will know where to send it once it has reached there.’
‘Neh!’ I said loudly. ‘That is at the other end of the empire. What possible business can you have in Neh?’
Dobbai ignored me and continued speaking to the courier. ‘Go now and may the gods protect you.’
He bowed his head to her and then walked from the hall, the guards closing the doors behind him as he left. Dobbai grimaced at Rsan and wandered back towards the private wing of the palace.
‘Are you going to say anything further on this matter?’ I asked.
‘I would,’ she replied, ‘only you have more pressing matters to attend to.’
I looked at Gallia and shook my head. Dobbai disappeared behind the door at the rear of the throne room leading to the wing that contained our sleeping quarters just as muffled voices came from behind the closed doors of the main entrance. They swung open to reveal the figure of Byrd.