‘A most lavish feast, highness,’ I said to Phraates as he ate rice and raisins from his gold bowl.
‘The least you deserve, Pacorus.’ He leaned closer to me. ‘Tell me, that man over there, the Roman.’
‘Lucius Domitus, highness. The commander of my legion.’
‘Why does he fight for you?’
‘Loyalty, highness, and a shared bond of comradeship.’
‘From your time in the land of the barbarians?’
‘Yes, highness.’
Phraates rubbed his chin as he regarded Domitus. ‘And now he fights for Parthia.’
‘And now he fights for Parthia, highness.’
Phraates looked down at his bowl. ‘You are indeed fortunate that you command such loyalty Pacorus.’
I assumed that he was talking of his son, Mithridates, though I did not press the matter. At the bottom of it all he was a father who had been betrayed by his son. That must have wounded him most severely.
Phraates may have been indifferent as a king and he was certainly no warlord, but the years spent running his father’s errands throughout the empire were not wasted in the days following. His skill as a diplomat came to the fore and he quickly set about isolating Narses from the other kings who had sided with him. He dispatched messages to the rulers of Drangiana, Carmania, Aria, Anauon and Yueh-Chih asking that they now accept him as King of Kings. He did not demand their obedience, merely requested it. He further stated that the past would be forgotten and that the empire should present a united front against our external enemies. When Phraates told us these things in a meeting of the war council I must confess I was deeply sceptical, but I was proved wrong. The army was prepared for a fresh campaign in the eastern provinces of the empire, but after two weeks couriers arrived from Monaeses, Vologases, Cinnamus, Tiridates and Phriapatus begging Phraates for his forgiveness and assuring him of their loyalty. And as surety for their pledges they would be sending members of their families to Ctesiphon to be hostages. Phraates was beside himself with joy, for at a stroke he had secured the eastern half of the empire and effectively isolated Narses.
‘Then, highness,’ I said, ‘all that remains is to march on Persepolis and destroy the last vestiges of the rebellion.’
Orodes, who had returned from Elymais, having seen Gotarzes placed back on his throne, agreed with me. ‘Narses should at least be banished for his treachery, father.’
Phraates, though, thought otherwise. ‘No, no, no. I will not have more blood spilt unnecessarily. Once Narses’ wounded pride has healed, he will see the impossible situation he is in and renew his allegiance. After all, he cannot fight the whole of the Parthian Empire on his own.’
It was at that moment I realised what Phraates’ main failing was — his willingness to believe the best of everyone no matter what their transgression. He should have sent his army south without hesitation to rid the world of Narses for good. Instead he chose inaction.
‘Easier said than done,’ remarked my father afterwards. ‘Persepolis is four hundred miles from Ctesiphon, and I’d bet a great sum that Chosroes for one would find a way of wriggling out of such a venture.’
I shrugged. ‘No great loss.’
‘You cannot defeat Narses on your own, Pacorus.’
‘I would not be on my own, father, for I would have Orodes, Vardan and you with me. More than enough to destroy the remnants of Narses.’
We were riding to his camp along the banks of the Tigris. He suddenly pulled up his horse.
‘We are going home, Pacorus. Back to Hatra.’
‘Surely you wish to see Narses destroyed?’
‘No, Pacorus. I wish to see peace restored to the empire, and it has been. And you will find that Vardan is of the same opinion. Let Narses fester at Persepolis. Phraates has no stomach for more fighting.’
‘And you?’
He sighed. ‘I have done what I came here to do.’
My father was right, for Vardan came to see me personally and confirmed that he was indeed going home.
‘I’m too old to be tramping halfway across the empire to fight Narses. Besides, he’ll probably make his peace with Phraates now.’
‘You really think so?’
He shrugged. ‘He has no army to back up his demands since you have destroyed it. He will sulk for a while and then accept Phraates’ offer of friendship. He has little choice. None of the other kings will support him. His credibility has gone.’
‘Perhaps you are right.’
He placed an arm around my shoulder. ‘If I were you I would get myself back to that young wife of yours. Baby on the way, as well. Far better to be with her than living in a tent in some God-forsaken stretch of desert chasing after a beaten king, if you ask me.’
I smiled. ‘You are right. How is Axsen, by the way?’
‘Like all daughters, looking for a husband.’
He left the next day, the long column of purple-clad Babylonian soldiers and their horses and camels kicking up great clouds of dust as they marched west. Chosroes and his rabble departed the day after, a move welcomed by everyone as we all thought that we would catch the plague or some other pestilence from the army of Mesene.
‘You are being unkind,’ remarked my father as I dined with him as a guest of Phraates in his private chambers. It was an intimate affair, just the three of us being served food and drink as we reclined on couches in a small but beautifully appointed room with frescos painted on the walls depicting a lion hunt. And as a bonus, the queen had made herself scarce.
‘Chosroes and his army were useless,’ I replied.
‘But at least they fulfilled their duty.’
Phraates, dressed in a simple blue robe with a red leather belt and pointed red slippers on his feet, was in a relaxed mood. ‘How can I thank my two most loyal generals?’
‘Serving you is our reward, highness,’ said my father.
Phraates smiled at him. ‘Well said, King Varaz, but fealty must be rewarded, for it seems to be in scarce supply these days.’
He clapped his hands and four guards, escorted by a captain of the garrison, brought in a large wooden chest carried by means of two poles inserted through metal rings fastened to each corner. It was placed on the floor in front of Phraates, who ordered it to be opened. The captain opened the lock with a key and I gasped as the lid was lifted. The chest was filled with drachmas, thousands of them.
‘Enough to pay for your campaign, I think, King Varaz.’
My father rose from his couch and bowed to the king. ‘You are too generous, highness.’
Phraates waved away my father’s protest then looked at me.
‘And for you, King Pacorus, a reward for each of the three times you have come to my aid.’ Phraates ordered my father’s chest to be taken away, then clapped his hands again.
‘Three occasions, highness?’ I was confused.
‘First you defeated Porus, then you helped me awe the Romans, and finally you were instrumental in beating Narses. All quite simple.’
Three more chests were brought into the room, each as large as my father’s, and laid before Phraates who likewise ordered them to be opened. I was truly speechless when the lids were lifted to reveal neatly stacked rows of gold bars in each one.
Without thinking I left my couch and stood beside one of the chests, extending my arm to stroke some of the bars, just to make sure they weren’t a mirage. They were cold to the touch.
‘They are quite real, I can assure you,’ said Phraates, smiling.
I felt myself blushing. ‘Of course, highness, I did not mean to imply otherwise. Forgive me.’
Phraates clapped his hands and grinned. ‘This is most excellent. You are pleased with your gift?’
‘Words cannot convey my gratitude, highness.’
In truth his gift was beyond my wildest dreams. Three chests of gold would go far, and in my mind I was already making plans for the expansion of Dura’s army.
‘And what will you do with this wealth?’ asked Phraates.