He turned his face to me, his eyes moist at the memory of his loss but also burning with hate. ‘I should have been with them, but on that day I was helping my grandfather with the nets.’
We ate in silence and then he spoke some more, again staring into the fire’s flames.
‘The soldiers of Chosroes have waged a war of annihilation against my people, that is why there are so few men, mostly just the young and the old. But we learned to fight back and now we kill those who come to kill us.’
‘Perhaps, Surena, there will be a time when there will be a new king who will be a friend to your people.’
He smiled wryly at the thought. ‘I did not realise that you were a dreamer, Pacorus.’
It took us five days to traverse the marshes and reach the Euphrates. We crossed over to the western side of the river because I did not know if Narses or Chosroes would have patrols out searching for me or whether they would be preoccupied with taking Babylon. I prayed to Shamash that Babylon still resisted them. We rode north for two days, keeping watch for any Agraci tribesmen. I counted Haytham as a friend, but there was no guarantee that any of his people would recognise me as the King of Dura. My tunic and leggings were torn and dirty and Remus was covered in dried mud, and Surena in his poor shirt and half-leggings, barefoot and with no saddle, looked like a horse thief. Our luck held, though, and at length we waded back across the wide Euphrates and then rested on the eastern bank under a group of date palms, before heading north once more.
We rode hard to outrun any hostile patrols that may have been in the vicinity, and I often looked back to see if we were being chased, but all I saw was empty and barren land. On the second day I eased the pace and was again looking behind me when Surena shouted.
‘Riders up ahead.’
I turned to see half a dozen horsemen heading in our direction, black shapes that shimmered in the heat. Surena grabbed the bow that was slung over his shoulder.
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘We don’t know who they are.’
‘They’re getting closer,’ I detected the worry in his voice.
And so they were, cantering towards us. I could see that they wore helmets and had bows in their hands. I reached behind me and pulled my bow from its case, then strung an arrow in the bowstring. I peered ahead again and saw that the riders wore mail shirts and that the sleeves of their tunics were white. Relief coursed through me.
‘You can put your bow away, Surena. They are friends.’
The six riders were some of Nergal’s horse archers undertaking long-range reconnaissance duties. Fortunately they recognised me immediately and informed me of what had happened since I had been away. Their commander was a dark-skinned man with a long nose who I was surprised to learn was Agraci.
‘Lord Nergal and Legate Domitus took the army across the Euphrates and have set up camp a few days’ march from Dura.’
‘And Dura?’ I asked.
‘The Romans took three weeks to march down the Euphrates before they arrived before the city.’ He stopped and then glanced at me, as if reluctant to convey bad news. I prepared myself for the worst.
‘Go on,’ I ordered.
‘We have received news from the city each day by carrier pigeon. On the first day the Romans arrayed their forces before Dura and demanded its surrender. Queen Gallia stood on the walls and bombarded them with insults, or so we heard. The next day they assaulted the city with their full might and suffered heavy losses. They have not tried to storm the city again, but sit in front of it like old women.’
So Gallia had stayed in the city despite my pleading. I smiled to myself. The arrogant Romans had believed that they could take Dura with ease, but my city was like a scorpion and its deadly sting was its queen. Still, a city besieged cannot hold out forever and I had to get back to camp quickly.
‘You are Agraci, then?’
‘Half-Agraci, majesty, though my mother is ashamed that her son was fathered by a desert nomad many years ago. I live in Dura, so when Lord Nergal was recruiting soldiers I put myself forward. He was pleased to accept me, saying that men are judged on their merits as individuals and not according to which race they belong.’
‘Lord Nergal is correct,’ I replied.
He looked at Surena. ‘Is this man your prisoner, majesty?’
‘I am no prisoner,’ spat Surena, causing the others to turn and look at him.
‘This man is an ally,’ I said.
The Agraci captain shrugged. ‘War brings strange allies.’
I smiled at the irony of his words.
A tiring ride that must have taken us at least thirty miles left both horses and men exhausted. But with a fierce red sun descending in the west I at last saw that sight that never failed to fill me with awe and pride. On the arid ground, as if conjured up by a magic spell, stood the huge camp that housed Dura’s army. The giant rectangle was protected by an earth mound on all four sides, on top of which stood a wooden palisade. At each corner stood wooden guard towers, on the top platform of which stood sentries scanning the horizon. And within the camp itself stood neatly arranged rows and blocks of tents, each tent the home of eight legionaries. We rode through the main gate and down the central avenue of the camp, which led to the headquarters tent where Domitus resided. Many men spotted Remus and began shouting my name, others chanting ‘Dura, Dura’ as our little group made its way to the heart of the camp.
I dismounted in front of Domitus’ command tent, who had stepped outside to see what all the commotion was about. I smiled when I saw my old friend, who in turn locked me in an iron embrace. He turned his nose up.
‘You smell bad.’
‘I’ve had a somewhat eventful journey.’
He slapped me hard on the back. ‘We thought you were dead, but then I remembered that you are under the protection of that old witch of yours, so I stopped worrying. Come inside and have some water.’
‘Just a moment,’ I said, and then walked to where the standard’s pavilion was pitched adjacent to the command tent. The former was a simple square tent, guarded front, sides and rear by chosen legionaries, men who had distinguished themselves in battle. I went inside where four more guards were standing sentry over the legion’s golden griffin. They snapped to attention when they saw Domitus and me enter. I indicated for them to stand at ease once more. The griffin on its pole was held upright in a rack, the gleaming gold creature seemingly about to take flight from its silver plate on which it was anchored. I reached out and touched it its cool metal. Behind me Surena, who had also entered the tent, attempted to do the same. His hand was curtly brushed aside by one of the guards, standing in front of him to bar his way. Surena, aghast that he had been treated thus, stepped back and pulled his long knife from his belt. The legionary smiled at him, but before he could draw his gladius Domitus in a flash had drawn his own sword and now held its point at the neck of Surena.
I shook my head. ‘Surena, put away your knife and wait outside.’
Surena, feeling the steel at his throat, reluctantly did as he was told. ‘I was only trying to touch it.’
Domitus replaced his gladius in its scabbard. ‘It’s not some cheap trinket, boy.’
Surena jerked his head at me. ‘You let him touch it.’
Domitus and the guards began laughing. ‘Well, he’s a king, boy, and the victor of many battles. When your blade has tasted as much blood as his has, then you can come back and lay your hands on our griffin.’
‘What’s a griffin?’
‘Enough, Surena,’ I said. ‘Go and get some food in your belly and make sure your horse is attended to.’
We went back outside and I told the Agraci captain to keep his eye on the boy. Then I went with Domitus into his tent.
I flopped down in one of the chairs and drank greedily from the cup of water he offered me. My limbs suddenly ached with frenzy as I stretched out my legs. Domitus sat down next to me.