Horse archers could harry and wear down an enemy with their incessant volleys of arrows, always remaining beyond the spears and swords of opposition cavalry and infantry. But the most highly prized cavalry in the Parthian Empire were cataphracts — fully armoured men riding on armoured horses. Cataphracts were organised into formations called dragons, which numbered a thousand men divided into hundred-man companies, but very few of the empire’s kingdoms could muster a dragon of cataphracts.
Each cataphract wore a rawhide, thigh-length coat on which was fastened dozens of overlapping iron and bronze scales, the different coloured metals glinting and shimmering in the sunlight. On his head he wore a steel helmet with steel cheekguards, and nose and neck guards. His arms and legs were protected by rings of overlapping steel plates, while his horse also wore a rawhide coat covered in armour. In this way the beast’s whole body and neck were protected from enemy spears, swords and arrows. Even the horse’s head was covered in armour, including its eyes that were protected by metal grills.
The primary weapon of the cataphract was a long lance called a kontus with a shaft as thick as a man’s wrist and tipped with a heavy steel point. When levelled, the lance required both hands to hold it secure either on the right or left side of the saddle. Upon impact the momentum of horse and rider could propel the lance through two enemy soldiers. The rider released the lance and then went to work on the ranks of the enemy with his sword, axe or mace, the latter a brutal weapon that could cave in a man’s skull even if he was wearing a helmet. The cataphract was truly a fearsome warrior and my father had fifteen hundred of them. But weapons, horses and armour for both man and beast were expensive and required constant maintenance. Thus the royal stables and armouries at Hatra were staffed by hundreds of squires, craftsmen, blacksmiths and armourers, all working constantly to ensure horses were groomed, fed, watered and shod with iron shoes, that armour was repaired and new suits made, plus the fixing and production of swords, axes, maces, spears, lances, arrows and bows. Any kingdom would find such an endeavour financially crippling, but Hatra was fortunate that it was beloved of Shamash, who had gifted it the Silk Road.
The Silk Road was the name of the trade route that connected China in the east with the kingdoms on Parthia’s western frontiers, including Rome. It was so named because the most precious commodity that was transported along the route, and which Rome had an insatiable desire for, was silk. And so great quantities of the precious material were transported by caravan from China through the Parthian Empire, and the Silk Road ran straight through Hatra, to the city itself and then north and west to the city of Antioch. From there it was transported by sea across the Mediterranean to Italy and Rome. The kings of the empire guarded the Silk Road jealously, establishing military strongpoints along its whole length across Parthia, and in return for their safety the merchants who used the Silk Road paid customs duties levied on their goods. In this way they profited handsomely when their wares arrived at their destinations unmolested, and Hatra grew rich from the unending number of caravans that traversed the kingdom each year.
‘But Dura is not Hatra,’ said my father.
He had asked me and Gallia to attend the weekly council meeting that was held in a small antechamber at the rear of the palace’s throne room. It was a plain room with a large table and chairs with a hide map of the Parthian Empire on one wall. Those present were my father, Kogan, Addu, Assur, Vistaspa and Vata in his capacity as the governor of Nisibus. Gallia’s presence was most unusual as women were forbidden to attend the royal council, at least until today. The expressions on the faces of Kogan, Addu and Assur conveyed their disapproval of this blonde-haired foreigner being seated among them, but Gallia ignored their frowns. Vistaspa wore his usual cold, aloof expression.
‘I know that, father.’
He lent back in his chair and regarded me for a moment. ‘Do you? Then what do you know about Dura?’
I shrugged. ‘It is a city on the west bank of the Euphrates. The opposite bank belongs to Hatra, so we shall be neighbours, father.’
A thin smile creased his lips. ‘While you have been here I took the trouble to find out a little more about Dura, and as Gallia is now your queen I thought it fitting that she hears what I have discovered.’
Gallia smiled at him, Assur frowned again and my father nodded at her. ‘Dura occupies a thin strip of land along the western bank of the Euphrates, as you say. The city was originally established by the Greeks over two hundred years ago, by the followers of Alexander the Great. It has been part of the Parthian Empire for less than fifty years, and in that time it has been more like a fortress outpost than a city. It was captured by Sinatruces when he was much younger than he is now, and ever since that time it was the domain of the King of Kings, to do with as he saw fit.
‘No one wanted to live in Dura or along the western bank of the Euphrates, so Sinatruces sent adventurers, exiles and those he wanted to be rid of to settle this new land. The result is that those who are now landowners view themselves as a separate people from the rest of the empire. They are sullen and resentful, and you, my son, are their new king. And if that was not bad enough, the desert that borders Dura’s lands are the territory of the Agraci.’
There was a sharp intake of breath from those around the table, and I had to admit that my heart sank at hearing that name.
Gallia looked confused. ‘Who are the Agraci?’
Assur stroked his beard and looked at her. ‘They are pestilence, my child, sent by God to remind us that the world is a dangerous place.’
‘Thieves and beggars mostly,’ added Vata, winking at her. ‘Nomads who roam the desert and prey on any unfortunate enough to stray into their territory.’
He was right. The Agraci were fierce nomads who inhabited the northern part of the Arabian Peninsula. The southern part was inhabited by the Bedouins, Gafarn’s people, but they kept themselves mostly to themselves, though they were not averse to raiding other people’s territory should the opportunity present itself. But the Agraci were a constant thorn in our sides. They were disliked, feared and hated, and everyone in Hatra was glad that the Euphrates separated us from them.
‘Well,’ continued my father, ‘the power of Haytham grows, which is most unfortunate for both of you.’
‘Who is Haytham? I asked.
‘The king of the Agraci. He has united the tribes of his people and now controls most of Arabia. He sends raiders north to Antioch and Damascus and west to the border of Egypt. It cannot be long before his gaze turns towards Dura. At the moment Prince Mithridates sits on the throne of Dura.’
‘Prince Mithridates, who is he?’ I asked.
My father smiled. ‘The grandson of Sinatruces. The wily old fox sent him to Dura either because he wanted to be rid of him or because he is a capable commander who can keep the Agraci at bay.’
Vistaspa refilled his cup from a water jug on the table. ‘Still, when your legion is fully trained you can send it into the desert to undertake pest control duties against the Agraci.’
‘That’s being unkind to pests,’ mused Kogan, which drew chuckles from those present, all except Gallia.
‘No wonder they give you so much trouble if you treat them so badly.’ Her words produced a stunned silence. Vata was no longer smiling. ‘If all they can expect from you is death and persecution, then you will have nothing but war with these people.’
Assur put his hands together. ‘My child, I fear you speak of things that you do not understand.’
‘I am not your child, I am a queen, so kindly address me as such.’
My father raised his eyebrows at her words, while Kogan and Addu looked down at the table. She continued, undaunted. ‘I know everything about persecution and severity and treating people as animals for sport. Even an imbecile knows that if you continually beat a dog it will eventually bite you. If you slaughter the men and women of this tribe, the Agraci, do you think that their sons and daughters will not thirst for vengeance? For supposedly wise men, you appear to be unable to see the simple logic in this.’