Afterwards Domitus selected ten of his best men to be its permanent guard, and it was housed in its own tent in the middle of the legion’s camp. Wherever the legion went the standard would go with it. Each night it would be kept under guard in the same tent in the same location in camp. During the days that followed I heard that every man under Domitus’ command lined up to see the griffin at close quarters, believing it to possess magic, for they had heard that its creation had been under the supervision of Dobbai. I smiled at this, but perhaps they were right and perhaps it did possess supernatural qualities.
Two days later its stone companion was finished, being moved from Demetrius’ canvas workshop on its large wooden pallet by placing logs underneath and hauling it down to the Palmyrene Gate. Tingling with excitement, myself, Gallia, Dobbai, Nergal, Rsan and Godarz followed behind on foot. Demetrius fussed around the load as fifty legionaries sweated and cursed as they pulled the statue through the city, others placing logs under the pallet as it inched its way towards its destination. Domitus bellowed orders and sent for another cohort of men, for word soon spread through the city that the magical statue was finished and people wanted to see it up close. Soon there were hundreds of individuals crowding round the griffin, trying to touch it and generally getting in the way. When the new cohort arrived Domitus used it to line the street and keep people away from the statue. He also had to detail some men to keep others from trying to touch Gallia’s hair, for many believed that it was a gift from the gods and thus sacred and charmed.
By the time the griffin had reached the Palmyrene Gate thousands had gathered to see it hoisted into position. The next hour and a half was very fraught as an agitated Demetrius shouted and pleaded with the operators of the giant winch erected above the gates to take care of his work. Godarz had supervised the construction of the winch and the reinforcing of the arch above the gates, and he was bemused by the Greek’s behaviour.
‘He’ll give himself a heart attack if he’s not careful.’
‘He’s very protective of his creations,’ I said, as Demetrius fell to his knees and placed his head in his hands as the statue swayed slightly in its rope cradle.
Eventually, and thankfully before Demetrius’ heart gave out, the statue was placed on its plinth between the two towers of the Palmyrene Gate. We walked up the steps inside one of the towers and stepped onto the top of the arch. It was wide and strong, allowing the plinth to be safely positioned a few paces behind the battlements. On top staring west with unblinking eyes, was placed the griffin. I had to admit he looked magnificent and would be guarding the city long after I had left this world, Shamash willing. Demetrius fussed around the plinth, using a small trowel to apply a symbolic layer of cement around the statue’s base. He gave the trowel to Gallia to apply the last dash of cement.
‘Surely I should seal the plinth?’ I jested.
Demetrius and Dobbai both rebuked me.
‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said, ‘it requires a woman’s touch, otherwise he will get annoyed.’
‘He?’ I said.
‘Don’t interfere with things you cannot comprehend,’ added Dobbai. ‘Take the trowel, child.’
With all eyes on her, Gallia took the trowel from Demetrius and applied the last piece of cement to seal the griffin to its plinth. Everyone then clapped politely and Gallia smiled radiantly.
Demetrius stroked the griffin. ‘He’s happy enough.’
‘And he can’t fly away, either,’ said Dobbai, nodding approvingly.
I looked at Nergal, who shrugged, then at Godarz who just grinned. Demetrius was paid his fee and left the city a few days afterwards a rich man, and strange to say that on the first morning after the griffin had been put in position, I rose at dawn and made my way to the Citadel’s walls, then looked west to the Palmyrene Gate. And between the towers, sitting on its plinth, was the griffin.
‘You decided to stay, then?’
A guard overhead me. ‘Majesty?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’ I left the wall and went back to the palace. It is just a piece of stone I told myself. And yet…
The next few days witnessed a feverish passage of letters to and from Hatra as my father coordinated the response of those loyal to Phraates. The latter, ensconced at Ctesiphon, gathered what forces he could from his own kingdom of Susiana and fortified his royal residence. The plan was for all the kings to march with their forces to Ctesiphon, and then to strike at the rebels quickly before the infection of their treachery spread. Thus far Khosrou and Musa stood on the defensive as the rebel kingdoms lay directly south of their borders.
Byrd returned to Dura with Malik, and I greeted the Agraci prince warmly for he had become a good friend. That night he dined with us and told us the news from his lands.
‘My father and sister send their greetings,’ he said.
‘How is Rasha?’ asked Gallia, her beauty now fully restored after our journey from Irbil.
‘Well, lady, thank you,’ replied Malik, looking sideways at Dobbai, who had now seemingly become a permanent resident of the palace.
‘And you, Byrd,’ she continued, ‘is life being good to you?’
Byrd shoved another piece of meat into his mouth and nodded his head. ‘Good, lady. I like the desert.’
Malik grinned. ‘He likes one piece of it, that occupied by a young widow whom he visits often.’
Gallia looked at me with a triumphant smirk on her face.
‘That is excellent news, Byrd,’ she said. ‘We are pleased for you, aren’t we Pacorus?’
‘Of course,’ I said.
Malik stared again at the old woman in black rags sitting at the table, apparently invisible to us. She saw his stare.
‘You have something to say, desert lord?’
‘Forgive me, Malik,’ I said. ‘This is Dobbai, who was once the sorceress of King Sinatruces and now…’
‘And now I have returned from whence I came to make sure Pacorus does not deviate from his path.’
Malik was intrigued. ‘And what path is that?’
She wiped her hands on her robe, stood up and walked from the room.
‘It is not for you to know,’ she said. Then she stopped, turned and pointed a bony finger at Byrd.
‘What of the Romans?’
‘Romani troops marching north from Syria,’ was his reply.
‘Marching to where?’ I asked.
Byrd shrugged. ‘North, not know where.’
‘As long as they are not marching towards us I do not care,’ I remarked.
‘Keep one eye on Rome, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai ambling from the room.
‘I would come with you, Pacorus,’ said Malik suddenly.
‘This is not your fight, Malik,’ I replied.
‘Yet I offer you my sword.’
I nodded. ‘Then I accept it.’
Some say war is all glory, battles and slaughter, but I learnt long ago that organisation is the key to victory. Dull attention to detail is what gives an army success. Godarz had once been the quartermaster general in the army of Spartacus and now he made sure that my horsemen were fully prepared for the trials to come. Camels were hired and loaded with spare saddles, horseshoes, bridles, harnesses, saddle clothes, brushes and veterinary implements. Others were loaded with spare arrows, thousands of them, plus replacement bows, quivers and food — hard-baked Parthian bread that Domitus swore was worse than the equivalent in the Roman army. The legion marched with its tools, tents, spare weapons and clothing packed onto carts pulled by mules, ill-tempered beasts that Domitus nicknamed ‘Dobbais’. He thought this hilarious, until an old and grizzled one snatched his vine cane and chewed it through. He would have slit its throat had not Godarz, who was with him at the time, threatened to make sure that Rsan charged Domitus for a replacement. My two hundred cataphracts had their own camel train, but during the march they rode as spearmen armed with lances and round wooden shields. Their bows and quivers were carried in large hide cases stored on the camels, for no Parthian warrior went to war without his bow. But these men were the steel fist of the army, trained to smash through an enemy in combat. Before battle they would don their scale armour and then encase their horses in similar attire, but to march for a whole day under a Mesopotamian sun was more than even the hardiest warrior could endure. I sent the sons of the nobles who served as cataphracts back to their fathers in the days before we marched, for I still needed horse archers to complement my heavy cavalry. I did not order that the lords present themselves, for the memory of the insults dealt to them by Mithridates would still have been fresh in their minds. So I requested that they release a small number of their men to serve with me for the campaign. In this way I left it to them to decide how many they would furnish, if any. I have to confess I was nervous about their reply. They owed me allegiance, but these men were frontier warriors who had carved out their domains from the unyielding desert, and had then defended them in the face of Agraci aggression. The Agraci threat had now gone, but after their ill usage at the hands of Mithridates would they be willing to send men to serve under another upstart king?