Aliyeh looked upon him with eyes full of comfort, her expression changing back to ice as I walked with her from the hall. She said nothing until we were marching down a corridor towards the kitchens.
I attempted to converse with her, though was afraid to ask about her husband.
‘Where is Atrax?’
‘Recovering from his wounds.’
‘I hope they are not severe.’
‘He will live, no thanks to you.’
‘How are his wounds my fault?’
She stopped and swung round to face me, jabbing a long finger into my cuirass. ‘Because you filled his head with nonsense about honour and glory, and for weeks after you had left he pestered his father about retaking Gordyene, about how the Romans were weak and that it was an insult to Media’s honour that the death of Balas had not been avenged. And so Farhad enlisted the support of our neighbour, Aschek, and a meeting was arranged with the Romans at the same spot where you and Phraates met Lucullus. Only this time Farhad and Aschek demanded that the Romans leave Gordyene and pay reparations to Parthia for their gross insolence.’
I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming next. Aliyeh continued, her words as sharp as arrowheads.
‘The Romans killed our emissary, and so thousands of our horsemen charged across the river to be felled by their slingers and turn the water red with their blood. And Atrax, my brave and foolish husband, led them. And the flower of Median manhood perished at that wretched river. Atrax kept rallying them and our allies, and again and again he led them against their shields and spears and accursed engines and slingers, and each time they killed more of our men. Our allies from Atropaiene died beside our own until the ground was soaked with Parthian blood. Atrax was knocked from his horse and speared in his leg.’
She said no more but turned away from me, her body shaking with grief.
I laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Sister.’
Quick as a cobra she turned and slapped my face.
‘Do not touch me. I do not want your pity. I wish you had never come to Media.’
I held her stare. ‘Take me to see Atrax.’
She snorted in disgust and strode away. I followed her and we reached her private apartments in the palace. Before she entered what I assumed was a bedroom she pointed at me.
‘Take off your armour and sword and leave them outside.’
I did as she instructed and we entered. It was a small-sized room with a single bed against one wall with a small table next to it. A silver jug, cup and bowl were lying on the table; while on the bed lay the sleeping Atrax. Because the shutters were closed the only illumination came from an oil lamp that hung from the wall. A tall, lean man with a neatly cropped beard and hair, a silver band around his head, was gently dabbing Atrax’s forehead with a cloth. He stopped when he saw Aliyeh.
‘How is he?’ she whispered.
The man smiled. ‘Much better, highness. Almost no fever. I have changed the dressing on his leg and the infection is slowly receding. I have reduced the dose of jimson weed and he should start to regain full consciousness very soon.’
Jimson weed was the substance used by physicians to deaden pain in patients, so that even the deepest wound could be cleaned out and sewn up without the patient screaming in agony, though it required great skill to administer the juice of the weed. Too much could induce coma and death. Clearly this man was a skilled practitioner in the healing arts. Aliyeh laid a hand on his arm.
‘Thank you, doctor, I am in your debt.’
He bowed his head then looked at me. ‘Prince Atrax is too weak to receive visitors, highness.’
My sister allowed herself a wry smile. ‘Do not worry, he isn’t staying.’ She then ushered me from the room and led me away.
‘I suppose we had better find some food for you. We cannot have the hero of all Parthia going hungry.’
‘I am sorry for Atrax. Alas, sister, being wounded is one of the hazards of being a soldier.’
Once again she spun round to face me. ‘You may like playing heroes but I would rather have Atrax as a husband, not some dead warrior in a bard’s poem. Thanks to you he will have a limp for the rest of his life. A daily reminder not to follow fools.’
There was no reasoning with her, and once we had reached the kitchens she left me to share a meal with my men. I got talking with one of the cooks, a short, chubby man with stubby fingers and a cheerful disposition, notwithstanding the dire predicament his city was in. He told me that after the battle Aschek and his men had fled for their homeland, leaving Media to the mercy of the Romans. The homes that lay outside Irbil’s high walls had been abandoned and the people had taken refuge inside the citadel, though how much longer they could remain was uncertain given the paucity of supplies. Farhad had sent word to his kingdom’s lords to attend him at Irbil with what men they could muster, but the injury to Prince Atrax had demoralised them and was seen as an evil omen. The prince was popular among his countrymen, the more so since he had married the tall and stern Princess Aliyeh of Hatra, the sister of King Pacorus the Slayer.
‘Slayer?’ I said, dipping a piece of bread in a thick vegetable broth that tasted exquisite.
‘Yes, sir, that is what they call you in these parts. The king who slays all those who dare to cross him. So we’ve no need to worry now your here.’
I thought of Narses and Mithridates still striding the earth and smiled.
He was skinning a rabbit, his stubby hands wielding a razor-sharp knife with ease to separate the meat from the skin. ‘Anyhow, until Prince Atrax is back on his feet Media’s soldiers won’t be sticking their arrows in anyone. Some say that the prince is dead.’
‘He isn’t,’ I corrected him.
‘I know that, sir, and you know that. But not many others do.’
I realised how much of a talisman Atrax had become the next day at Farhad’s war council. His six generals, all of them middle aged and experienced leaders, I had met when we had marched together to parley with Lucullus months ago. Then Media could raise at least twenty thousand horsemen.
‘I doubt if we could put five thousand in the field now,’ said Farhad without emotion.
‘You lost fifteen thousand men at the battle?’ I was staggered.
‘No, sire,’ said one of Farhad’s commanders, ‘but many men have returned to their homes and may not answer the call to arms if summoned again.’
The situation was worse than I had thought. Panic and fear were obviously sweeping through Media like a plague.
‘If only Prince Atrax could ride through the kingdom, majesty, it would give heart to the people and their leaders,’ said another commander, to the murmurs of agreement from the others.
‘Prince Atrax will not be riding anywhere until his wounds are healed.’ My sister’s words left her mouth like arrows.
‘Aliyeh, daughter,’ said Farhad, ‘your husband is greatly loved in Media. He is needed to rally our people.’
Aliyeh moved slowly and purposely to take her seat.
‘He was close to death. He is far too weak to go on a goodwill tour.’ Her eyes narrowed and she looked at each of the commanders, daring them to challenge her. None did.
‘That being the case,’ I said, ‘it is best to prepare this city for a siege, for Lucullus will be here soon enough.’
Farhad looked up. ‘You are wrong, Pacorus. Lucullus has departed the Roman army, so my scouts tell me, leaving his subordinate, whose name escapes me, in charge.’
‘Aelius Gabinus, majesty,’ said one of the commanders.
‘Gone where?’ I asked.
Farhad shrugged. ‘Back to Rome, hopefully.’
I doubted that. Any Roman worth his salt would not let the opportunity pass to follow up his victory. Something more important must have caused Lucullus to leave his army, though I knew not what.
‘Shamash has been kind,’ I said, ‘for now we have an opportunity to retrieve the situation.’
‘We do?’ Farhad was surprised and Aliyeh suspicious.