My father reached over and laid his hand on my arm. ‘This is your greatest victory, Pacorus.’
‘But no blood has been spilt,’ I said.
He smiled. ‘Exactly, my son, exactly. Well done.’
Gallia came from behind me and stopped by my side.
‘So how did you do that?’
In front of us the Romans were disappearing into a great cloud of dust kicked up by thousands of hobnailed sandals and horses’ hooves.
‘I like to think that my charm had something to do with it.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
Domitus came running over, sweat pouring down his face and neck.
‘We’re not going to fight them, then?’
‘Not today, Domitus,’ I replied.
He looked at Pompey’s army gradually diminishing in size to the west. ‘It’s not too late to attack them, given that all these fine lords have made the effort to get here.’
I looked at him, then at my father, who wore an alarmed expression.
‘No, Domitus, I shook hands with Pompey and we agreed each other’s border.’
Domitus took off his helmet and wiped his brow with a cloth. ‘Spartacus was right, that honour of yours will get you killed one day.’
I smiled. ‘But not today, Domitus, not today.’
He put his helmet back on and pointed at the Romans. ‘They will be back, Pacorus, you can be sure of that.’
He saluted us and returned to his men, then gave the order that they were to return to camp. Around us the kings likewise instructed that their horsemen were to withdraw to the river and make camp for the night, all except my father. He pointed at the seething black mass of Agraci warriors gathered to the south.
‘What are you going to do about them?’
‘Invite them to eat with us, of course.’
The next few hours were an exercise in logistics as around eighty thousand men, the same numbers of horses, thousands of camels and hundreds of mules made camp for the night along the Euphrates. Vardan insisted that all the kings, princes and Gallia dine with him in his royal pavilion that took dozens of slaves a few hours to erect. Babylon may not have been the mighty power it was in the time of the Persians, but its king still knew how to impress. The pavilion was at least two hundred paces in length and fifty wide, its enormous canvas roof supported by rows of poles and secured by dozens of ropes secured to long iron stakes that were driven into the earth. It made my own tent look paltry to say the least.
‘Big tents don’t make a good army,’ growled Domitus when I told him of Babylon’s encampment.
‘Do you feel robbed, Domitus?’
He shrugged. ‘There’s always someone else to fight, so we’ll keep our blades sharp.’
I poured myself a cup of water and sat down opposite him. Outside the legionaries were going about their business of checking their equipment, sentry duty and sharpening their swords.
‘Do you think we could have beaten Pompey, Domitus?’
‘Do you mean before or after your father and his friends turned up?’
‘Before, of course.’
He tilted his head to one side. ‘We’ll never know now, but I like to think that we would have given a good account of ourselves.’
I rode from my camp with Malik and Byrd to the black tents of Haytham that extended far into the desert. The Agraci warriors were a mixture of camel riders armed with spears and bows and horsemen who carried spears, swords and small round shields. They all wore flowing robes and turbans that they used to cover their faces and shield their eyes. As far as I could tell none wore armour either on their heads or around their bodies. Malik escorted me to his father’s tent located in the centre of the camp, where we found Haytham with his tribal chiefs. They were like him, big men with unyielding expressions and skin like tanned leather. All carried great swords at their hips and daggers tucked into their belts. The chiefs looked at me suspiciously when I entered, but then relaxed when they saw that I was with Malik, a few even greeted Byrd.
I halted in front of Haytham and bowed my head. ‘Great king, I came to thank you for bringing your mighty army to this place.’
He walked over and embraced me. ‘Don’t be so formal, Pacorus, we are all friends here.’
He looked round at his chiefs, daring one of them to contradict him. None did.
‘So,’ continued Haytham, ‘we were all wondering why you didn’t launch an attack when they turned tail and ran?’
‘I had made an agreement with their commander, lord, which made bloodshed unnecessary.’
He released me and smiled. ‘No bloodshed is unnecessary, Pacorus. Still, it is what it is. How’s that wife of yours?’ He looked at his chiefs. ‘You should see Queen Gallia, long blond hair, blue eyes and the body of a goddess. But even I would not want to get on the wrong side of her.’
‘You will all see here tonight,’ I announced, ‘for I would like the king of the Agraci and all his chiefs to come to the feast being held in honour of our uniting against the Romans.’
The chiefs looked at each other and then at me.
‘Will Parthians sit down to eat with Agraci?’ said one condescendingly, a great brute with a thick beard and black eyes.
‘You forget yourself, Yasser,’ growled Haytham.
‘My apologies, lord,’ Yasser placed his right palm on his chest and bowed to his king, ‘but I have had experience of Parthian hospitality.’
There were mumbles of agreement. I held up my hand.
‘I am Parthian, you all know this, but I esteem Prince Malik, son of your king, as one of my closest friends. I also count your king as a friend, and I say to you that you will all be welcome to the feast tonight, when Parthian and Agraci will sit side by side in peace and friendship.’
I thought it a fine speech that would not be out of place among the great speakers of ancient Athens, though a line of blank faces told me that I would have to sharpen my skills greatly if I wanted to be an orator.
‘Well said, Pacorus,’ barked Haytham. ‘We shall be glad to attend.’
‘We shall?’ said an incredulous Yasser.
‘We shall,’ replied Haytham with such force that there was no further discussion on the matter.
As the sun began its descent in the west, Malik, his father and a dozen of the Agraci chiefs arrived at our camp, all attired in black and riding black horses. I entertained them in my tent while we waited for Gallia. She had brought no fine clothes with her on this journey, but when she finally appeared she made a great impression as usual. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders and tumbled over her white satin shirt edged with blue. She wore gold at her neck, long gold earrings and around her waist she wore her sword. Her slim legs were encased in tight black leggings and on her feet she wore red leather boots. I smiled when I noticed that she had her dagger tucked in the top of her right boot. Haytham smiled, took both of her hands and kissed them, while Gallia kissed Malik on the cheek. I introduced Orodes to Haytham and then we set off for Vardan’s great tent. I told Gallia of Yasser’s hostility to the Parthians, so she insisted that she rode beside him on our short journey to the Babylonian camp. She explained to him of the journey that had led her to Dura, and within no time his wall of hostility had crumbled as they talked and laughed together. I think that he was delighted that she had seemingly picked him at random to be her escort.
Babylon’s pavilion was ringed with guards when we arrived and our horses were taken from us. A captain and a detachment of purple-clad spearmen escorted us inside, where a wall of noise greeted us. The floor was covered in red and yellow carpets and oil lamps hung from every pole. Guards stood around the sides and a small army of slaves served food and drink from silver platters. The kings and their senior officers were gathered in a great circle in the centre, where they were lounging on couches piled high with red and gold cushions. I saw my father, Vistaspa, Vardan, Atrax, Aschek and Gotarzes, who by the look of his rosy cheeks had already had too much to drink. Musicians played in one corner, half-naked girls danced in another and fire-eaters and jugglers went about their craft largely ignored.