‘Her majesty’s horse?’
We were sitting on our bedroom balcony enjoying the late afternoon sun. ‘If you can have your toys, Pacorus, then I can have mine.’
Her hair, framed by the light, had the appearance of molten gold.
‘I have decided to increase the number of Amazons, as several women have come forward who want to serve me.’
I was sceptical. ‘What women?’
She shot me a disapproving glance. ‘You attend to your business and I shall attend to mine. Besides,’ her tone changed to one of the seductress, ‘you want me to be safe, don’t you, to have a bodyguard.’
‘You are protected, there’s five thousand legionaries out there to keep you safe, and threats from whom?’
She waved her hand in the air. ‘It’s been decided now. I ordered Rsan to furnish me with three score of bows and quivers, an equal number of mail shirts and helmets. In addition, I require white cloaks for us all.’
‘Is that all?’
When the cataphracts and Gallia’s increased number of Amazons had been fully armed and armoured, I decided that it would be a good time to visit my parents at Hatra. I asked Godarz to accompany us since I knew he was keen to see his old friend Vistaspa again. I also asked Malik to come.
‘Me, majesty?’
We were eating our evening meal on the terrace overlooking the river. I found the banqueting hall too large for when Gallia and I took our meals together, as did she. The palace terrace was much more comfortable and intimate.
‘Yes, Malik, you. And I wish you would call me Pacorus. We are, after all, friends, are we not?’
‘I fear that the Agraci are not welcome in your father’s kingdom.’
I wrapped some roasted lamb in a pancake and dipped it into a yoghurt sauce. ‘My father welcomes all my friends Malik, have no fear of that.’
‘Who will you leave in charge of the city?’ asked Gallia.
‘Domitus, I think. Command sits easy on his broad shoulders.’
Malik raised his eyebrows. ‘How strange that you would leave a Roman in charge of your city.’
I bit off a chunk of the pancake. ‘Of course, why not?’
‘Malik, Domitus was a slave, like Pacorus and me,’ said Gallia. ‘He fought beside us in Italy and we both trust him with our lives.’
‘Some say,’ I continued, ‘that the Parthians and Agraci are mortal enemies. And yet here we are, sitting together and enjoying each other’s company.’
He looked thoughtful. ‘You are not like other Parthians, majesty, er Pacorus. In fact, you two are unlike any others I have met.’
Gallia looked at him. ‘In what way?’
He shrugged. ‘I know not, only that you have brought peace when there was war, and trust where there was distrust before. Perhaps what they say about you is right.’
‘And what do they say?’ I asked him.
‘That you are beloved of the gods.’
The Citadel was almost bursting on the morning when we left for Hatra. Two hundred mounted cataphracts were in the courtyard, their faces hidden behind steel masks so that only their eyes could be seen, but only up close. From a distance only two black holes stared out. Gallia’s Amazons, now numbering fifty, were formed up in a block on their left, dressed in brown boots, baggy tan leggings, mail shirts and helmets with closed cheekguards. Praxima sat at their head. Behind the cataphracts were four hundred squires, each holding the reins of a camel loaded with food, tools, spare quivers, a tent and the weapons of his master.
We rode down into the city and through the Palmyrene Gate, then swung north to take us over the pontoon bridge and into my father’s kingdom. I rode in my Roman helmet, cuirass and spatha at my hip. I left my cataphract armour behind as I was not riding to war. Gallia rode on my right side and Godarz on my left, with Nergal and Praxima behind us and a long column of horses and camels behind them. A short while after we had crossed the bridge we were met by a detachment of my father’s army — a dozen horse archers dressed in white tunics and red leggings. Their commander paid his respects and then left us, riding back to his fort.
We halted several miles from Dura to allow the cataphracts to take off their heavy scale armour and that of their horses, as it would have been torture for the riders to travel the whole day under a merciless sun in full armour. We then road north across country avoiding the roads, which were full of traffic — caravans, merchants and people on foot — all kicking up a choking dust that found its way into the eyes and lungs. The heavy traffic was a good sign as it indicated trade was thriving in Hatra.
It took us seven days to reach Hatra, my father and Vistaspa linking up with us five miles from the city with an escort of cataphracts. Vistaspa said little aside from a curt greeting to me and Gallia, though I detected a look of approval as he observed my own men behind us, who were now again dressed in their full war gear. My father, wearing his crown on his helmet, rode at the head of his men, Hatra’s banner of the white horse’s head fluttering in the breeze behind him. He greeted us warmly.
‘It is good to see you both, your mother has missed you.’ He looked at Malik, who laid a hand on his heart and bowed his head. My father shot a glance at me but said nothing, but he must have known that the black-robed warrior was an Agraci.
Hatra was as big, bustling and loud as I remembered it, the streets packed with people going about their business. We moved slowly through the throng, some of Kogan’s guards clearing a passage but not with violence. Many cheered my father and his men, and then myself and Gallia even more as they recognised us. Some reached over to touch my leg or stroke Remus. I also noticed that more than one frowned and shied away when they caught sight of Malik, his cheeks adorned with black tattoos and his black robes indicating his Agraci heritage. To his credit he kept looking ahead, though riding through a sea of potential enemies must have been uncomfortable for him. When we got to the palace my mother and sisters were waiting at the foot of the steps, as were Kogan, Assur, Gafarn and Diana. Our reunion was long and tearful; Gallia hugged Diana for an age and they linked arms when my father insisted that everyone must go inside to their rooms. Nergal led my horsemen and the Amazons to the royal stables as we filed into the vastness that was Hatra’s palace.
As we strolled though the great stone columns Gafarn put an arm around my shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you, brother. I see that you have widened the circle of your friends.’
Malik was trailing behind me. ‘Prince Malik, this is my brother, Gafarn.’
Malik bowed his head to Gafarn. ‘An honour, lord.’
Gafarn burst into laughter, which startled my parents and sisters and caused Assur to frown deeply. ‘I’m not lord, though some call me that. I am a Bedouin, taken captive as an infant and raised a slave in this palace.’
My mother was most upset. ‘Gafarn, you should not say such things.’
Gafarn shrugged. ‘Why not? It is true. I am not ashamed of who I am.’
‘You are a Bedouin?’ Malik was most surprised.
‘Yes, and my wife, Diana, once a Roman kitchen slave, is now a princess of Hatra. So you see, Prince Malik of the Agraci, nothing is ever as it appears to be.’
Assur made his excuses and left, as did Kogan and Addu, clearly made uncomfortable by Malik’s presence, but my father had him shown to a luxurious room in the royal apartments and that evening at the banquet held to celebrate the return of myself and Gallia to Hatra, he was placed on the top table. I sat next to my father with Gallia beside my mother as the hall echoed with the chattering of three hundred of the city’s lords and their wives invited to attend. A small army of servants ferried food and wine from the kitchens to the tables.
‘I like your heavy cavalry, Pacorus.’
‘Thank you, father.’
‘Horsemen armed and armoured thus are expensive.’
‘Very.’
‘Dura’s finances can stand such an indulgence?’
‘Now we have opened up the trade route to Egypt, they can.’