‘Marriage suits you,’ I told her.
‘I am happy here, Pacorus. And you look ever the warrior.’
I shrugged. ‘I do not look for war, but it always seems to find me.’
‘And are you here to fight a war?’ My serious sister suddenly returned.
‘Hopefully not, at least I will try to avoid it if I can.’
‘I don’t want to be a widow before I have yet to get used to being a bride.’
I laid my hand on her arm. ‘I won’t let anything happen to Atrax, fear not.’
‘Good, because he wants to be just like you.’
I burst out laughing. ‘To be like me?’
She raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Of course, for do you not know that you are famous? You return from the dead with a foreign princess, you are made a king with the help of a sorceress, you make an alliance with the heathen Agraci and become rich by creating a trade route with Egypt, and you win a great victory against impossible odds in a matter of minutes.’
I have to confess that I was pleased with such acclaim, though I pretended otherwise. ‘Surely people have better things to gossip about?’
She shook her head. ‘You are wrong, for the news of Pacorus of Dura travels like wildfire to the far corners of the empire. The people here were worried about the Romans massing to the north, but when we heard that you were coming their fears vanished like spring snow.’
‘I come to advise Phraates, nothing more.’
She curled her lip. ‘Phraates? A man whose own son rebels against him. He is a broken reed.’
I pointed a finger at her. ‘He is the King of Kings. I voted for him and will stay loyal to him, whatever happens.’
She smiled a beautiful smile and embraced me. ‘Pacorus the strong, Pacorus the unyielding. I think Phraates thanks Shamash every night that he has such warriors as you by his side.’
‘Shut up,’ I chided her, ‘you are being ridiculous.’
Atrax himself then appeared dressed in his leather tunic reinforced with small steel scales. He had the angular face and lithe body of his father. His light-brown hair was shoulder length and his beard and moustache were neatly trimmed. He embraced me warmly.
‘We ride out tomorrow to face the Romans?’
I saw Aliyeh looking at me. ‘We go to discuss matters with the Romans,’ I corrected him.
‘You have beaten them many times, I have heard.’
‘A few times, yes.’
‘Then I’m sure they will run back to Rome when they know that you are with us,’ he beamed.
‘Perhaps, Atrax, perhaps.’
Farhad had made great efforts to assemble his army at short notice, calling in his lords from far and wide. And so, on the morrow, as we descended from his fortress at Irbil, ten thousand soldiers cheered his dragon banner. He had five hundred cataphracts of his own, to which were added a thousand horse archers of his royal guard. The lords of his kingdom brought their own retinues — horse archers, mounted spearmen with great round shields that protected the whole of their sides from their neck to their thighs, spearmen on foot with long shafts that were tipped with wicked points and had ferocious butt spikes, and foot archers who carried only their bows and quivers. Trumpets and horns blasted as Farhad and his son took their place at the head of their army, while behind them horsemen banged on kettledrums to encourage the troops. These instruments were a pair of hemispherical wooden drums with animal hide stretched over them, positioned either side of the front of the saddle, the rider striking the membranes with wooded sticks to produce a thumping sound that reverberated across the plain. And in front of the host marching north to meet the Roman invaders of our empire flew the banners of Dura, Susiana and Media.
It was fifty miles north to our meeting point at the border between Media and Gordyene, at the Shahar Chay River in the Urmia Plain. The Shahar Chay was one of the rivers that flowed into Lake Urmia, the vast saltwater lake that marked the northern boundary between the Parthian kingdoms of Gordyene and Atropaiene.
The Umbria Valley is wide and fertile, and even though the spring had yet to erupt the area was still covered in green. This was rich country, and despite the fact that Media did not benefit from the Silk Road the kingdom was blessed with rich agricultural lands that produced grapes, honey and apples in abundance. In addition, the lush pastures meant good breeding grounds for horses that were sold throughout the empire; indeed, my father often purchased mounts for his own army to supplement the stud farms of Hatra.
We arrived at the river to find the Romans already formed up on the northern side, row upon row of legionaries dressed in mailed shirts, helmets and carrying pila and shields. I counted two eagles, which equated to two legions, though there was also an abundance of auxiliary troops — slingers, archers and lightly armed spearmen carrying large round shields — deployed on the wings of the legions. Horsemen were stationed on the extreme flanks of each wing, though they were sparse in number, perhaps six hundred in total. I estimated the length of the Roman line to be two miles. In front of the legionaries, on beautifully groomed and equipped horses, were the senior Roman officers, half a dozen in number.
The river meandered lazily towards the great lake, for as yet the spring melt waters from the mountains had yet to flow and swell its torrent. The day was crisp, windless and calm, and were it not for the thousands of soldiers present it would also be peaceful. I smiled to myself when I saw the raft anchored in the water. The Romans, efficient as ever, had secured it in the mid-point of the river. The water itself was shallow at this spot, though the high banks on either side showed how it rose when the melt waters were raging.
The Romans sent over a mounted courier asking if we needed a boat to transport Phraates and his representatives to the raft, but Phraates declined. He did not trust the Romans, I think, though in truth he was in no danger of being assassinated. The Romans liked to defeat their enemies on the battlefield with the world watching, not murder them like thieves in the night. We would ride our horses into the water — I joined Phraates, Farhad and Enius, together with two other men who would take our mounts back to the southern riverbank until our discussions were completed. We relayed this to the courier, who took the message back to his masters. The Romans sent the same number of representatives as us, though they did use a small boat that was rowed across to the raft. Phraates, Enius and Farhad looked magnificent that day in their scale armour of burnished silver plates, shining steel helmets sporting plumes and richly adorned shirts. I too had made an effort to impress, in my black cuirass, Roman helmet with its white crest and white tunic. We all wore our cloaks, for the air was cool on the water.
The Romans, by comparison, presented a more weatherworn appearance, especially their commander, a man in his early forties who was almost bald aside from some hair above his ears. He had a narrow, lean face that looked like a strip of parched rawhide with a slim nose running down the centre. He stood at least six inches shorter than us and had a compact frame. No doubt Phraates took his smaller stature as a sign of inferiority, but I could see that this Roman had a professional bearing whose narrow eyes missed nothing. The officers with him were dressed as he was- helmets with red crests, muscled cuirasses and red cloaks and tunics. Each carried a gladius at his hip. One of them stepped forward and saluted.
‘Greetings, my name is Titus Amenius, tribune of Rome. I would like to present to you my general, the consul Lucius Licinius Lucullus, Governor of Asia and Cilicia.’