Mithridates, King of Pontus, had been fighting the Romans for twenty years now, and although he was a great general, his kingdom was on its knees. If only his namesake, the son of Phraates, had a tenth of his courage and nobility.
‘And once they have finished with Pontus and Armenia, we will be next,’ continued my father.
I was shocked. ‘You mean Hatra?’
‘Hatra, Media, Atropaiene, it’s all the same to Rome.’
‘They have an insatiable appetite for land,’ I said.
‘Your Roman.’
‘Domitus?’
My father nodded. ‘He was right. Phraates appears weak in Roman eyes and that is bad news for all of us.’
His words must have unnerved me, for when it was my turn to shoot I missed two of the targets altogether and finished last behind Nergal and Vistaspa. Gallia and Gafarn agreed to share first place, with my father close behind them in second.
Back at the city I walked with my father and Vistaspa as they made an inspection of the royal armouries. The level of activity was feverish, with men at every forge and anvil. Quivers of freshly made arrows were being ferried to the stores and sword blades were being hammered on anvils and quenched in water. Vistaspa saw the look of surprise on my face.
‘We are preparing for the worst. The Romans will find that Hatra is not Gordyene.’
I picked up a mace from a row of racks that lay along one wall, each one filled with newly made weapons. It was a thing of beauty — a wooden shaft with leather strips around the base for grip, and steel flanges at the other end arranged around the shaft in a circular pattern. Primarily a bludgeoning instrument, the flanges could batter their way through mail, scale armour and helmets, especially if wielded from a horse by a cataphract.
‘We could always strike first,’ I suggested. ‘Pre-empt Roman aggression.’
My father took the mace from me and replaced it on the rack. ‘You would like that, wouldn’t you? Another war to add glory to your name. But I think not. Hatra lies close to the Romans whereas Dura is far away.’
‘They will come anyway, father.’
‘If they do, then I know that Media will come to Hatra’s assistance, and then the Romans will be facing three armies — ours plus Atropaiene’s and Media’s.’
‘And Dura’s,’ I added.
‘You may have to look to your own devices if the Romans attack you from Syria,’ Vistaspa’s eyes lit up as he considered my discomfort. He had always been a callous individual, a man who took delight in people’s misfortunes.
‘Have no fear, Vistaspa,’ I replied, ‘Dura’s defences are strong. In any case, Haytham’s men would harry the Romans’ supply lines while they sat in front of Dura.’
‘The Agraci?’ Vistaspa’s face showed disgust.
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘the Agraci. Haytham’s son, Prince Malik, has fought by my side and the king’s daughter is in Hatra’s palace as we speak.’
‘There’s a difference between enemies who have agreed to stop fighting and allies, Pacorus,’ growled my father.
‘Is there, father? I count Haytham as a friend and have no reason to believe that he does not think of me in the same way.’
‘You should have more care in the choice of your friends,’ sneered Vistaspa.
I smiled at him. ‘Have a care, Vistaspa, one day all this,’ I gestured at the armoury with my arm, ‘will be mine and those who question my authority will have no place here.’
‘Enough!’ barked my father. ‘Prince Vistaspa is my friend and trusted lieutenant, and I will not have him spoken to thus.’
‘My apologies, father, I did not mean to cause offence.’
The rest of the tour was uncomfortable to say the least. In truth Vistaspa had done nothing wrong. Most Parthians were prejudiced against the Agraci, many hated them outright. But still, old ways and attitudes were only useful if they served a purpose, and antagonising the Agraci served none at all. The company of my mother was much more agreeable, especially as she had collected Gallia, Rasha, Diana and Gafarn as well. We all arranged ourselves in her quaint pagoda as Rasha and young Spartacus played with a set of carved wooden farm animals. Servants brought us fruit juice and pastries.
‘Been annoying your father again, Pacorus?’ asked Gallia.
I shrugged and toyed with my cup.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
‘Really, Pacorus,’ said my mother. ‘We see you little enough, you should not argue when you do come to Hatra.’
‘Father refuses to see the bigger picture,’ I replied.
‘Have you been painting?’ Gafarn was in an impious mood.
‘I was talking of strategy.’
‘Which involves you ordering everyone about, does it, in your new role as lord high general? By the way, is there a lord low general?’
I frowned at him. ‘It means trying to keep Parthia’s enemies at bay.’
‘You mean the Romans.’
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘what others are there?’
‘Don’t you think that you are becoming obsessed by the Romans, Pacorus?’ said my mother.
‘You should let it go, Pacorus,’ said Gafarn. He gestured at Gallia and Diana. ‘We all have.’
‘Let what go?’
‘Your hatred for the Romans, what else? We all escaped, we were the lucky ones. Thousands died in Italy, including our friends, but we escaped.’
‘And I should be grateful for that?’
Gafarn looked at me. ‘Why not? We all live a life beyond even the dreams of most men. What have we to be angry about?’
‘He’s right, Pacorus,’ said Gallia.
I knew he was, which made it worse, but I could never forgive the Romans for enslaving me.
‘My back carries a permanent reminder of the hospitality that the Romans extended to me. As long as they are on Parthia’s borders I shall neither forgive nor forget.’
Diana smiled at me, that sweet, disarming smile that could melt the iciest heart. Gallia was more beautiful than Diana, but Diana had a warmth and grace that endeared her to all, from the lowliest slave to the highest king whose aloofness was soon conquered by her charm. Everyone grew to love Diana, myself included, and we all reckoned Gafarn to be among the luckiest men in all the empire. I was the luckiest, of course, but he came a close second.
‘Oh, Pacorus,’ she said. ‘You are still the same proud, defiant young man whom we first clapped eyes upon on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius all those years ago. Unbending, strong and brave. Everything is black and white to you, right or wrong, no middle course. But the world is not like that, my brother, and we must weave a path through life, taking our happiness where we find it. Do not dwell on the past. Spartacus and Claudia knew this, and so do Gallia and Gafarn.’
She walked over and kissed me gently on the cheek. ‘Be content with the love of your friends and family, my brave warrior, for they are your source of strength.’
And that was that. There was no more talk of Romans or war and so we sat and laughed and watched Rasha play with young Spartacus, and for a while I forgot about those things that troubled me.
The rest of our stay in Hatra was pleasant enough. I went to Vistaspa’s quarters and apologised to him for my rudeness, a gesture that took him somewhat by surprise. He was pleased, I think, for he invited me to stay awhile and we talked of Dura, the Romans and his friend Godarz. I think he missed his old companion, and so I promised that when I got back to Dura I would send Godarz to Hatra for an extended stay.
‘So, majesty, we are all agreed that war with the Romans is inevitable?’
‘I think we have known each long enough for you not to call me majesty, Vistaspa. And yes, I think war is inevitable.’
Vistaspa never really smiled as such, but a satisfied leer now crossed his face. ‘I think you are right and so does your father. Hatra will be ready for it when it comes, though. But what of the rest of the empire?’
‘Rome thinks that it can pluck each kingdom in the empire like ripe fruit’ I said. ‘Phraates made a mistake when he did not retaliate against Lucullus for occupying Gordyene. The Romans will have noted his pusillanimity and will act accordingly. But I think that their underestimation of us may be their undoing.’