‘The water is deep at this point.’
He shook his head. ‘No matter, divinity. I build pontoon bridge, lay planks across a row of boats. Easy to maintain and safe, and when the wood rots you can replace it quickly.’
We obtained material for the bridge from the many riverine woods, called huweijat, that hugged the banks of the Euphrates. Domitus sent his centuries far up and down river armed with axes to cut down the trees. The wood was loaded onto barges and floated downstream or rowed upstream to Dura, where carpenters under the Egyptian’s watchful eye constructed the road of planks and the vessels that would support them. The caravans would be able to cross the river immediately north of Dura and then take the road to Palmyra. If they so desired they could camp for the night near the city before continuing their journey.
Domitus’ legionaries unloaded the wood and carried it to the workshops. The barges for the pontoon bridge were assembled along the riverbank, a host of carpenters sawing, planing and hammering the beams and planks into place. As the spring gave way to early summer I liked to lend them a hand, unloading tree trunks from barges and hauling them by rope to the benches that the Egyptian had set up under canvas roofs a hundred paces or so from the water. Nergal also liked to pitch in and the two of us, stripped to the waist and covered in sweat, would struggle to lift a thick log from a barge and pull it to where it could be stacked with others to dry out before it was worked on.
‘Come on, your majesty,’ bellowed Domitus, dressed in helmet and mail shirt, his cane in his hand, ‘put your back into it. You too, Lord Nergal. Otherwise the both of you will be pulling extra guard duties for the rest of the week.’
The other legionaries around us grinned to each other as their commander took great delight in pouring scorn on our efforts.
‘You see boys, years in the saddle makes you soft.’
We pulled another thick log from the barge and let it fall onto the bank. Unfortunately it fell into the mud and splattered us. We got into a worse mess when we had to manhandle the log out of the grime, which caked our leggings and torsos in mud. We secured a rope around one end and then the two of us hauled it to where the others were stacked. We stood panting, bent over, our hands on our knees.
‘Only another few dozen to go, majesty.’ Domitus was having great fun.
I looked at the river, where at least a dozen barges were waiting to be unloaded, each one piled high with wood.
The appearance of Gallia and Praxima interrupted our work, the two of them riding to the water’s edge. Domitus raised his cane in salute.
‘You look disgusting,’ said Gallia.
‘Have you had a mud fight?’ added Praxima.
I walked over to a table holding water jugs and filled a cup, handed it to Nergal and then filled another for myself.
‘Honest toil, ladies, good for the soul.’
‘You had better come to the Citadel,’ said Gallia, ‘there is something you should see.’
‘Oh, what is it?’
‘You should see for yourself,’ she replied. ‘And clean yourself up first.’
‘You too, Nergal,’ said Praxima.
We washed ourselves in the river and then we all rode back to the Citadel. The courtyard was filled with horsemen, all on well-groomed mounts fully armed with bows, quivers and swords. Their tunics were a multitude of bright colours and their saddles were trimmed with silver and gold strips. Their harnesses were made of fine red and black leather, and the tails on their horses were all plaited. They numbered a score and they looked magnificent. As I halted Remus I suddenly recognised them. Of course, they had been the captives, the sons of Dura’s nobles. I also saw the look of disbelief on their faces as they stared at my appearance. Then they dismounted and knelt before me.
Gallia had halted Epona beside me. ‘They have come back to serve you.’
‘Get up, get up all of you,’ I shouted. ‘You are all most welcome.’
Nergal organised their stabling and accommodation in the barracks and that evening we all ate in the banqueting hall. Each one presented himself to Gallia and me. They certainly looked much changed since I had last seen them. They were aged between the late teens and early twenties. I told them that I intended to create a force of cataphracts and they would thus become armoured horsemen. They seemed very pleased with this as they already had their horses. All that was required was the armour.
‘That will be difficult, Pacorus.’ Godarz was scratching his head, which I noticed was going bald. ‘The armouries are already at full capacity making mails shirts, shields and helmets for the legion, and now you want more armour.’
‘The sons of the nobles brought money with them, did they not?’
‘Oh yes, enough to keep them and their horses for a year, but not enough to purchase suits of armour for themselves and their horses. And another thing, we will have to obtain leather vests for the legionaries to wear between their mail armour and tunics.’
‘Why?’
He looked at me with a knowing look in his eye. ‘When you decided that you wanted your own legion, you forgot that we are no longer in Italy.’
‘Of course I didn’t,’ I said irritably.
‘Oh yes you did. This is Parthia, and in Parthia and the East in general horse archers are more prevalent than mail-clad foot soldiers.’
‘So?’
‘So, my young king, if the legion goes into battle it will be subjected to heavy arrow fire from horse archers. Mail armour is very good as protection against slashing or blunt weapon attacks, but not as effective as a defence against arrows. Give your legionaries leather vests under their mail and they will have maximum protection.’
I sighed loudly. ‘I see.’
He rubbed his head again. ‘Indeed. So five thousand leather vests are needed as well. So you see, armour for your cataphract project is quite out of the question, even with Vardan’s generous gift. And each cataphract will also need two squires to serve him.’
In fact, Godarz had been too pessimistic when it came to leather. It proved easy to obtain, as the royal estate, my estate that was located south of the city, had vast herds of pigs, goats and sheep. The mail proved more difficult and expensive to produce. Not only did we have to purchase the bronze and steel from which the armour was made, but also hire the armourers and metal workers to create the mail shirts. Watching the latter being made was truly a wondrous experience. Each suit comprised around twelve thousand riveted links alternated with a similar number of punched rings. On average it took forty hours of labour to produce one mail shirt that reached down to mid-thigh. Godarz had two hundred metal workers and a hundred armourers working in shifts night and day.
The one thing that would decide whether I could raise and finance my army would be the willingness of the trade caravans to risk the trip through Agraci territory to Syria and then south to Egypt. The economics made perfect sense, for to undertake such a trip would save at least a month in time. Most caravans came from Ctesiphon and Seleucia and then headed north to Hatra, thence to Antioch and then Syria, before making the long journey south via Damascus and Tyre to Egypt. I sent messages to the trade envoys based in Hatra that if they wanted to do business with Egypt, then Dura should be their destination. This would not be taking revenues from my father’s coffers, for the caravans would have to pay duties to Hatra anyway before they reached Dura.
The pontoon bridge was finished now. The Egyptian was most pleased with his project, as was I.
‘Bridge very strong, divinity, will last a thousand years.’
‘Just thirty of forty will suffice,’ I said.
A month passed and I was growing increasingly concerned that my efforts had been in vain, but then one morning, as the sun shone on the blue waters of the Euphrates, a row of camels appeared on the horizon. Though word was sent to me at the palace I had already spotted it from the terrace, and both Gallia and I raced to the stables to fetch our horses. Like excited children we rode to the bridge, followed by Godarz and Rsan, who were also in an agitated state.