‘He’s safe and being treated like a lord in the stables. Unlike you,’ replied Dobbai, ‘he hasn’t a scratch on him, so drink the liquid.’
Claudia had fallen asleep beside me as Dobbai handed the cup to Gallia, who held it to my lips. It tasted of nuts but had the texture of thick milk. Most strange.
‘The kings are still here,’ said Gallia. ‘They will be most relieved that you are recovering, as I am, my love.’
Dobbai took the cup and shuffled away. ‘I’ll fetch some more. It will soon get you back on your feet.’
‘I will decide when he gets back on his feet,’ insisted Alcaeus, to which Dobbai merely waved her hand dismissively at him and left the room.
‘You will have another scar,’ said Alcaeus, ‘and you may have a slight limp.’
‘Limp?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s too early to tell, but better that than having no leg at all.’
The rest of the day I spent slipping in and out of sleep with Gallia and Claudia beside me, interrupted only by Alcaeus applying a fresh dressing to my arm and leg and Dobbai giving me more of her concoction to drink. She would not tell me what was in it, only that it was frequently used by the people of the northern steppes as an aid to recovery. That night I slept like the dead and in the morning awoke to discover that my strength was indeed slowly returning, just as she had promised. Alcaeus scoffed at such nonsense but did accept that I looked healthier than the day before. I agreed that my father could visit me in my bedchamber, but no one else. I did not want anyone to see the King of Dura incapacitated. The height of vanity, perhaps, but the Romans had taught me that you should always project an image of strength to the world, never weakness.
‘So,’ my father stood at the entrance to our bedroom balcony, ‘how is the hero of the hour?’
‘Weak and helpless, if truth be told.’ A dozen well-stuffed pillows propped me up.
‘Your doctor told me that you should be up and about in no time. Curious fellow, treats royalty like something he’s scraped off his sandal.’
‘He’s Greek,’ I said. ‘They are a people who believe that everyone is more or less equal.’
‘Ah. I can see why he likes it here.’
‘You do not approve of my kingdom, father?’ It was the first time he had visited Dura.
He walked over and sat down in a bedside chair. ‘It has a certain rustic charm, I’ll grant you that. And that Roman of yours.’
‘Domitus?’
‘Yes, he has forged a fearsome weapon in his foot soldiers. He reminds me of Vistaspa. Uncompromising, like a rod of iron, but as for Gallia’s women…’
I was more interested in the battle that had taken place than discussing Dura’s army. ‘Was the fight on the other side of the river a hard one?’
My father stretched out his legs. He was dressed in a white baggy shirt and loose blue leggings and looked very relaxed. ‘Not at all. The Persien heavy cavalry put up a fight but Chosroes and his bodyguard scarpered after our first charge. The rest lost heart after that.’
‘Was Narses present?’
My father laughed. ‘No. He has better things to do than lay siege to Dura, I think, no offence meant.’
‘None taken.’
‘Anyway, the kings await your pleasure.’
‘I will see them all tomorrow,’ I replied.
My father stood and offered his hand. I took it. ‘Thank you, father, for your support.’
‘What sort of father would I be if I stood by and did nothing when my son was in danger?’
‘Is Haytham here?’
He nodded. ‘He’s here. One of his lords and Gotarzes have renewed their friendship.’
‘Who would have thought it,’ I said mischievously, ‘Parthian and Agraci making friends with each other?’
‘Who indeed, Pacorus, who indeed.’
The next day I felt well enough to get dressed and hobble to the throne room, where I received a succession of visitors. Gallia sat beside me and Dobbai hovered around, making unwelcome comments and taking delight in annoying people, mostly Alcaeus who insisted that I should not tire myself out. Already the armies of the kings were heading for home, my father’s horse archers having left the day before for Hatra, his cataphracts remaining with Vistaspa to escort their king home. I insisted that while they were in Dura all the standards of the kings should fly side-by-side from the ramparts of the Citadel, so that all may see our great alliance. So the griffin flew beside the white horse’s head, the bull of Babylon, the dragon of Media, the shahbaz of Atropaiene, the eagle of Susiana, and the four-pointed star of Elymais. I also insisted that the black standard of Haytham should be accorded a place among the banners, Gotarzes declaring that it should stand next to his own just as he had stood next to Haytham in battle.
‘Next to each other by the wine jug, more like,’ whispered my father.
Before the great feast to celebrate our victory, I had a private gathering of those whom I trusted the most to thank them for their conduct during the preceding weeks, especially Godarz, the man who had been in charge of the city during two sieges and whose calm demeanour had inspired confidence in everyone around him. That the city had not fallen was due in no small measure to him.
‘I had hoped that your time in Parthia would be one a peaceful one, Godarz,’ I said to him after we had all come together on the palace balcony.
‘Fate has a way of interfering with the best-laid plans of men, Pacorus, but hopefully now we will have no more bother.’
‘No more armies will come to Dura,’ announced Dobbai, who insisted that I drink another cup of her milky elixir. In truth I had come to like it and I had to admit that the pain had largely disappeared from my left leg.
‘But Dura’s wrath will soon be known to all. What do the minds of men know about anything?’
No one understood what she was talking about so they ignored her as she held Claudia’s hand and the two of them ambled around the balcony.
‘Well,’ said Orodes, ‘perhaps we can all look forward to a period of peace.’
‘Not while Narses and Mithridates still live,’ growled Domitus, who today was dressed in a plain grey tunic, sandals and black leather belt.
‘The Roman’s right about that,’ added Dobbai, who was smiling at Claudia as my daughter clutched her hand and squealed with delight. ‘They will be most aggrieved that you are not dead, son of Hatra.’
‘Let us not talk about those two,’ I said. ‘Let us instead talk about rewarding those who have shown themselves to be courageous.’
I gestured to one of the guards standing by the entrance to the balcony, who disappeared and then came back with Surena by his side. My former squire looked very different from the rebellious youth I had first encountered in Mesene’s marshlands. He had grown in stature and maturity. Today he was dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt, beige leggings and brown leather boots. He wore a black leather belt from which hung his spatha. He bowed to Gallia and me and stood to attention before us. He still had that self-assured air that bordered on cockiness, but over the past months he had proved himself to be a brave and resourceful soldier.
‘Well, Surena,’ I said, ‘you are to be rewarded for your valour in the recent battle, not least for saving my life. So, to repay my debt, what would you ask of me?’
‘To be an officer in your cataphracts, lord.’
It was a reasonable request. He was well liked among the men and I believed that he would be able to win the respect of the hundred men in the company under him. He was young, it was true, but age should never be a barrier to talent.
‘What is your opinion, Nergal,’ I said, ‘do you think Surena would make a good officer?’
Nergal was sitting next to Praxima on a couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
‘He’s a little headstrong, sometimes has difficulties obeying orders, but I think some responsibility will do him good.’
‘So do I,’ I added. ‘Your request is granted. Well done.’
Surena beamed with delight. ‘Thank you, lord. I will not let you down.’