‘Do not worry, my friend, we faced more daunting odds in Italy.’
He still looked to the desert. ‘True, but then we were one army under one general, an army that was well drilled and armed, and using the same tactics as the enemy. But here…’
He stopped, as though fearful to say more.
‘If two friends cannot be truthful to each other, then who can? Speak freely.’
He turned to face me. ‘The Romans know that Parthia is a collection of kingdoms rather than a unified domain. And they know that the recent civil war has aggravated divisions within its borders, so they seek to take advantage of that.’
‘I know this, Domitus.’
‘But do you know that they wish to conquer all the lands between the Tigris and Euphrates?’
I did not believe him. ‘You exaggerate the threat, my friend.’
‘I do not. The Romans are not interested in Media or Atropaiene, though they will seize those lands readily enough. What they really desire is control over the Silk Road, and if they conquer Hatra then they will have it. So I hope that Dura can hold out, for its army may be needed in your father’s kingdom.’
His words stayed with me for the rest of the day, and that night I shared a quiet meal with Gallia. A sombre mood hung over me like a dark cloud, though I tried to conceal it from her, to no avail.
‘What is the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ I replied, but she knew me too well.
‘I will ask again, then. What troubles you?’
‘I am worried that I have made a mistake. Perhaps I should have taken the army and engaged the Romans further north.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s too late for changing your mind. The die is cast.’
And so it was. In the early hours of the next morning, before dawn had broken, I kissed my daughter’s forehead and whispered my farewells to Gallia, then I left them both. I ate a meal of biscuits and cheese washed down with water and went to the stables to saddle Remus. There was much activity as stable hands began the daily chore of mucking out the stalls and the men of my escort went about saddling their own mounts. The air smelt of leather, horse dung and hay. The horses chomped on their bits and scraped the flagstones with their hooves impatiently. Remus moved his head away from me as I grabbed his reins and led him into the courtyard. He was in a bad mood, no doubt resentful at having to be readied at this unholy hour. I pulled him forward and he snorted in disgust. The others followed me into the courtyard and on my signal we vaulted into our saddles to trot through the gates and into the still slumbering city.
The Palmyrene Gate was opened and so we left Dura, swinging right to join the road that would take us across the pontoon bridge. We moved quickly, riding east towards Ctesiphon and the palace of Phraates, taking the same route as I had the year before when we had marched to defeat Narses and his rebels. Once across the Tigris we headed north towards Media.
Media, Gordyene and Atropaiene are forested regions carpeted by beech, yew, juniper, oak, poplar and cypress trees. In the far distance, on our right as we rode, lay the massive, brooding Zagros Mountains, but we rode across lush forest steppe teeming with life. In these lands were bred great herds of horses that carried Parthia’s warriors, and which were sold throughout the empire. And there was good hunting in these parts, the rich vegetation being home to leopards, lynx, brown bears, wild boar, wolves, badgers and otters. To the east roamed the mighty Caspian tiger, though I had never seen this magnificent beast, only their pelts lying on the floor of Farhad’s palace. Domitus was wrong about this land. Any foreign conqueror would want a land rich in such wildlife.
A week after leaving Dura we arrived at Irbil, which thankfully was not ringed by a Roman army. As we trotted down the main road leading to the city, everything appeared normal in the immediate vicinity. There were no rising columns of smoke on the horizon or dead animals or bodies lying in the fields, though as we got closer I noticed a distinct lack of activity on the road. In fact, we were the only people on it. There was no sign of life either side of it. Nothing. When we reached the huge ramp that led to the fortified city we were met by at least a dozen spearmen at its base who barred our way with their weapons, while on the walls high above archers pointed their bows at us.
One of the spearmen, a tall man with a large belly and long, straggly hair, pushed though his comrades and raised his spear at us.
‘That’s as far as you go. State your business.’
‘My business is not your concern. Tell your king that his brother, Pacorus of Dura, is here to see him, and be quick about it.’
It took a few seconds for his miniscule brain to understand my words, then he grinned broadly.
‘Yes, majesty, apologies, majesty.’ He turned around and shouted up at the walls. ‘King Pacorus is here, King Pacorus has arrived! Salvation is at hand!’
The group of soldiers, their misshapen faces wearing smiles, parted and I nudged Remus forward, walking him up the ramp, through the gates and into Farhad’s capital. The streets were crowded with frightened women and children huddled in groups on every corner and in every doorway. As we made our way to the palace I could smell fear, the city was rank with it. It was as if the world’s most wretched and hopeless had been gathered up and dumped in this place. All I could see were listless expressions, filthy bodies, unshaven faces, children dressed in rags and men with dread in their eyes. The Romans would not have to lay siege to this city. It was like a rotting apple; all they would have to do was wait for it to decay from within. I was glad to leave the press of refugees that clogged the city and reach the palace gates, which were swung open to allow us to enter. As we did so guards carrying spears and shields raced past us to bar the way of anyone who might try to force an entry into the king’s compound. None did, but the tired looks on the faces of the guards who had screened our entry told me that panic stalked these men.
Our horses were taken from us and I told my men to get some food inside them. I had a feeling that we would not be staying long in the city. A steward escorted me into the palace and thence to the great hall where Farhad was sitting on his throne. His wife had died in childbirth giving life to his only child and most precious possession, his son Atrax. Ominously I did not see his son anywhere, though I did see my sister, Aliyeh, standing as straight as a spear on Farhad’s right side, her stare cold and unwelcoming.
I bowed before the king, who looked nothing like the proud, confident and strong figure he had been at my wedding. Now he looked a haunted man.
‘Pacorus, the gods be thanked that you have come.’
‘I came as soon as I could, lord king.’ I glanced at Aliyeh. ‘Sister.’
She said nothing, merely giving me the faintest of nods.
‘How far away is your army, how many men did you bring?’
‘Twenty riders, lord,’ I answered.
‘Yes, I was told. But when will your army arrive?’
I shook my head. ‘It defends Dura, lord, for a Roman army is marching on my city.’
Farhad let out a groan and buried his head in his hands. Aliyeh laid a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me with black-ringed eyes.
‘Then Media is lost.’
I was shocked by his reply. ‘Surely you have some troops left? What of those from Atropaiene?’
Farhad leaned back in his throne and chuckled. ‘Aschek is in a far worse situation than me. Most of his men lie dead on the battlefield; at least I managed to save some to have the luxury of dying at a later date.’ The reprieve from his despair lasted only seconds before his dark mood returned and he cast down his eyes once more.
‘We will speak later. Go and get some food. Aliyeh will escort you.’ He grasped her hand with both of his. ‘Your sister is of great comfort to me. It was a mating of eagles when she married Atrax.’