‘We accept your resignation.’
‘We do indeed,’ said Mithridates.
Phraates began to say something once more, stopped and then looked down at his feet. The queen and her son regarded me with haughty disregard. And so I lost my position as chief general of the empire. When I bowed and then marched from the hall many of the courtiers turned their backs on me, so disgusted were they with my behaviour. My escort was livid when I later informed them of what had happened, but what could be done? Phraates was completely under the control of his wife and son, and where those two ruled, truth, justice and honour withered. I had little time to brood, though, because a crisis was unfolding in the west that made the affairs of Media seem almost irrelevant. I had to get back to Dura and then see what assistance I could offer to my father. But before all of this, I still had to honour the promise I had made to Farhad. And so I stayed at Ctesiphon to be treated like an outcast once more.
The next day I had another audience with Phraates to see if he would change his mind about sending reinforcements to Media. But it was the same story — the queen and his son made sure my request fell on deaf ears. But then, amazingly, Mithridates revealed a surprising development.
‘We have received an offer of assistance from Chosroes of Mesene, who wishes to help his brother Farhad. To this end he is willing to send a large number of horsemen to Media. It seems appropriate that you should lead this force, King Pacorus.’ His face still displayed disdain and his words were uttered without emotion, but reinforcements were reinforcements, no matter where they came from.
‘We are not unmindful of the predicament Hatra and your own kingdom find themselves in, Pacorus,’ said Phraates, ‘but you must understand that if Ctesiphon falls the empire would receive a mortal blow.’
I doubted that. Ctesiphon was the capital of the empire, that was true, and it had a full treasury that was also true, but it did not pay for the other kingdoms in the empire. Indeed, it received tribute from them. It had no army that was the backbone of the empire and certainly no great king that could lead it. If it fell the empire would continue, but if Hatra fell then the empire truly would be weakened.
Even though the army of Mesene was not one I would wish to command, any reinforcements would be enough to stiffen the resolve of Media, and it certainly needed stiffening.
‘Perhaps Babylon might also be convinced to lend assistance to Media,’ I said.
‘I doubt that,’ replied Mithridates. ‘I would have thought Babylon will be looking to the northwest and Hatra, for if your father’s kingdom falls then Babylon will be next.’
I disliked Mithridates intensely but he was right in what he said. A Roman army that occupied the kingdom of Hatra would be able to strike at Babylon with ease, to say nothing of Dura, where another Roman army was heading.
Phraates gestured to one of his stewards, a tall, severe man dressed in yellow robes who had a neatly cropped brown beard. Phraates handed him a scroll that had a red wax seal. The steward took the scroll, bowed and then handed it to me.
‘That is a personal guarantee from me,’ said Phraates, ‘that if Chosroes provides you with all the soldiers you need to send to Media, then he will be handsomely recompensed for his loyalty.’
It was as much as I could hope for. The King of Kings ruled because the other kings elected him, but the recent civil war had revealed that his power could often be challenged. If he was a mighty warlord or commanded great respect then the other kings would obey him without question. Unfortunately Phraates was neither. Still, Chosroes had voted for Phraates and had brought his army to fight for him when asked to do so. I saw no reason why the King of Mesene would refuse his request, especially as he would receive gold in exchange for sending his soldiers north. It seemed that even loyalty now had a price.
I bowed to Phraates and his wife, the silent, sullen Aruna. ‘Thank you, highness.’
I would never bow to Mithridates, who bridled at my insolence. And he had one last mouthful of venom to spit.
‘King Pacorus. We have sent heralds to each of the kings of the empire announcing that you are no longer lord high general. It is better that there exists no uncertainty on the matter in these troubled times.’
‘But we will always seek your advice on military matters,’ added Phraates, who glanced at his wife. ‘We are grateful for your efforts in our service.’
He was truly a broken reed.
I was relieved to depart Ctesiphon, and especially glad to leave behind Mithridates and his mother. I was surprised to see that there were no heightened levels of activity among the garrison as I rode through the gates in the perimeter wall south towards Mesene. In fact there was hardly any activity at all. If the Romans did reach this place they would batter down its crumbling and aged walls with ease. I shuddered at the thought. But the defences of Ctesiphon were no longer my responsibility.
We made good progress south, following the course of the Tigris as it made its way to the Persian Gulf. Keeping to the eastern bank we made at least thirty miles each day, so on the third day we were on the northern border of Mesene. The land either side of the river was green and full of birds and animals. I saw warblers, white-tailed eagles and babblers. The area from here south was dotted with large and small lakes and marshlands — great swathes of wetlands that were inhabited by the Marsh People. I had heard that they lived on small slivers of dry land above the waterline and fashioned their homes from the reeds that they harvested from the waters. They also crafted boats from reeds, which they used to travel throughout the wetlands, or so I was told. From our position on the eastern bank of the Tigris the marshes on the other side of the river appeared vast and limitless, continuing on into the distance.
It was now nearly three weeks since I had left Dura and I knew that the Romans would be near my city, if not already before it. I also knew that Domitus and Nergal were on the other side of the Euphrates by now, ready to spring their trap when I returned. But I worried that my father might request their assistance further north and my mind was filled with thoughts of my two commanders marching north while the Romans assaulted Dura. I went cold at the thought of Gallia and Claudia trapped in the city. But surely Godarz would send them to safety; perhaps they were both already in Hatra? One thing I knew: I had to get back to Dura as quickly as possible.
‘Highness.’
I was torturing myself with different scenarios when the commander of my escort shook me out of my daydreaming. Riding beside me he was pointing at dark shapes ahead, which were shimmering in the heat.
‘Ready,’ I shouted, and we all reached behind to pull our bows from their hide cases fastened to our saddles. We instinctively pulled arrows from our quivers, strung them in the bowstrings and formed into line. The shapes grew larger and I recognised men on horses, a long column of them. I held up my hand and halted the others. I peered at the approaching horsemen, who had made no attempt to change their formation or pace. Indeed, I wondered if they had seen us at all. Then two from the front of the column detached themselves and began riding towards us. As one my men raised their bows and pointed them at the two figures approaching. As they got nearer I could see that neither had any weapons in their hands, and the leader held his right arm aloft. The two then slowed their horses, a brace of mangy looking brown mares, to a walk and they both raised their arms above their heads to show they meant us no harm. I signalled to my men to lower their bows and I returned my arrow to its quiver and slipped my bow back in its case. The two riders halted in front of me and bowed their heads.
They were both dressed like nomads, with baggy brown trousers and light brown shirts with the sleeves rolled up to above their elbows. Their bows were slung over their shoulders and on their heads they wore linen hats.