‘Yes, lord, so I can take Viper to meet my people.’
I thought of the reed huts of his people, the marshes, the dried dung they used for firewood and the water buffaloes sharing the dry land with the villagers. ‘I’m sure she will enjoy what will be a unique experience. You have my permission. Now kindly rejoin the ranks.’
He whooped with joy, bowed his head and then galloped back to the cataphracts.
‘Idiot boy,’ remarked Gallia.
‘He’s not so bad, and he is a good soldier.’
‘I don’t know why you indulge him. He has a rebellious streak as wide as the Euphrates, and I don’t like the way he pesters Viper.’
‘You mean he reminds you of yourself.’
She was outraged. ‘He is nothing like me.’
‘Not in looks, obviously, but as for a rebellious streak, what can I say? Anyway, young Viper seems happy enough with him.’
She wore a look of mischief. ‘I could forbid her to see him.’
‘That would be cruel, and cruelty is not one of your vices.’
‘Do I have any vices, Pacorus?’
‘Aside from stubbornness, rebelliousness, volatility and a refusal to obey orders, absolutely none.’
‘Well, perhaps Surena will be killed when we fight the Romans,’ she said happily.
I laughed. ‘We may all suffer that fate, my love.’
On the seventh night Byrd and Malik returned to camp and brought with them a tall, wiry man riding a camel. The man’s name was Martu. He was one of the people who lived on the Jabal Bishri, the descendents of an ancient race called the Amorites who had possessed a great empire many hundreds of years ago. Now these people lived a semi-nomadic existence on the desert steppe of the great mountain. Byrd and Malik had made contact with them two days before, and Martu had agreed to accompany them to our camp. He brought with him desert truffles the size of a man’s fist, which he roasted in the dying embers of our fire and then served them to us with a sauce called Samneh, which was fomented butter made from goat’s milk.
‘This is delicious, Martu,’ I said, ‘you honour us with your presence.’
Martu sat cross-legged near the fire, his weather-beaten face resembling a piece of old leather, his eyes dark brown and his teeth brilliant white.
‘Martu has knowledge of the Romani,’ said Byrd.
‘It is true, lord,’ Martu’s accent was strong and I had to concentrate to understand his words.
‘Where are they?’ I asked.
‘We heard that they left Aleppo and marched east, but were then hit by the great storm.’ His eyes were on Gallia as he spoke, his stare fixed on her long blond locks. ‘Last I heard, lord, they were at Tabaqah.’
‘That is a small town on the Euphrates,’ said Byrd, ‘three days’ march from here.’
‘It is a great army that marches against you,’ remarked Martu casually, still staring at Gallia. ‘Are all your women like her?’
I smiled at him. ‘No, she is unique. She is my queen.’
He laid his right palm on his chest and bowed his head at Gallia. ‘You are indeed fortunate, lord.’
‘He is indeed,’ answered Gallia.
The next day Nergal and a hundred horse archers accompanied Martu, Byrd and Malik into the desert. I did not want any Roman patrols getting close to our position and reporting back to their commander. I wanted to retain the element of surprise at least. The next day Byrd and Malik returned.
‘We had a fight with about fifty Roman horsemen,’ said Nergal, ‘killed about half of them but the rest got away.’
‘Romani army is close, only five miles away,’ said Byrd.
‘And they will know that we are here by now,’ remarked Malik.
That night was subdued as the next day’s battle grew ever closer. The morale of the army was still high, which made my mood darken even more. Most of them would be dead by this time tomorrow. I glanced at Gallia; perhaps she too would also be lying dead beside me. I had brought them all to this place and the burden of responsibility weighed heavily upon me. But what was the alternative? There was none. At least here, in the open, we could try to maul the enemy. To sit in Dura was to invite certain death. But then, as my old adversary Lucius Furius had said, all death is certain. As usual, Gallia stayed with her Amazons on the eve of battle, each woman checking her quiver, sword, bow and dagger. I went to the stable section and ensured Remus was comfortable for the night. He rested his head on my chest as I stroked his neck.
‘Well, old friend,’ I said to him softly. ‘We have ridden far together and shared many great victories.’ His ears twitched as I spoke the words.
‘And now we have to fight again. I thought that we would live in peace once we got back to Parthia and that you would grow old and grey beneath its blue skies. It appears that I was wrong.’
His head rose and he looked at me. I stroked the top of his head.
‘The Parthians are horse lords, Remus, but I think that of all the horses that have carried the kings of the empire you are the finest. I pray to Shamash that if I should fall tomorrow, He will keep you safe and direct you to a new master, one worthy of you. But as He is merciful then perhaps I will ride you again in the next world for all eternity. I would very much like that.’
He nodded his head and I stroked his neck. ‘Until tomorrow then, old friend.’
I walked back to my tent, clasping the arms of Companions who were gathered round fires, talking of the old times, and acknowledging others who had joined me after my time in Italy. Back at my tent Domitus sat sharpening his sword.
‘The night passes too slowly,’ I grumbled.
He looked up. ‘Eager to die?’
‘Eager to get to grips with the enemy, more like.’
‘There is no point in fretting. The morning will come soon enough.’
‘Do you think that god of yours?’
‘Mars?’
‘Yes, that’s him. Do you think he will favour us tomorrow?’
He put down his stone and regarded me for a few seconds. ‘I think all gods admire courage in mortals, and you have it in abundance. But as to whether he will show us any favours.’ He held out his hands. ‘Who knows?’
I sat down in a chair. ‘Well, it’s all in God’s hands now.’
Malik appeared at the entrance to the tent, Byrd following him.
‘Good,’ said Domitus, ‘perhaps you two can cheer him up. He thinks he’s going to die tomorrow.’
‘Never say that, Pacorus,’ said Malik, looking alarmed, ‘to say such a thing can sometimes make it come true.’
They both sat down beside me, stretching out their legs.
‘This isn’t your fight, Malik, you can return to your people if you wish. You too, Byrd. Go and make Noora a happy woman.’
They both looked at each other and then at me. ‘I thought we were friends,’ said Malik.
‘So we are,’ I replied.
He smiled. ‘Well then, I will be staying. I will not abandon a friend in his hour of need.’
‘Me too,’ was all Byrd said.
In all the years that I had known Byrd I had never seen him fight. Indeed, the only weapon he carried was a long knife, and I doubted that he had used that in anger. Still, it was reassuring that he would be with us tomorrow to face the Romans.
Domitus was right, the morning came soon enough, and with it the sounds of trumpets and horns as men were mustered into their companies and centuries. Today I decided not to wear my scale armour. Instead, I wore my Roman leather cuirass over my white top. My helmet had a new crest of white goose feathers. I pulled on my boots, secured my belt that carried my spatha on my left hip and my dagger on the other hip, and then went to the stables.
Nergal sent out riders before the first rays of the sun announced the dawn, and they reported back that the Romans were leaving their camp and deploying on the plain. As Dura’s foot soldiers were marching out of camp I called the commanders of the army together in my tent. We had already visited our horses to saddle them and ensure they had been fed and watered. The only thing left was to ensure that everyone knew what to do.