‘He is a good commander and has eight thousand men with him. He will be safe enough.’
‘She wants to know how long he will be away.’
I closed my eyes and stretched out my legs. ‘I have no idea but it could be a few more months yet.’
‘She has requested that she be allowed to go to his side.’
‘Well,’ I replied, ‘she is one of the Amazons so it is your decision.’
‘Since Praxima’s departure Viper has become one of my best warriors. I do not wish her to leave.’
‘Then tell her so,’ I replied.
‘What did you mean when you told Rsan that the treasury gold at Ctesiphon will be made available to him?’
‘He means, child, that next year the King of Dura will be marching against the king of king’s capital. Is that not correct, son of Hatra?’
Dobbai had awoken from her slumbers and was now ambling towards me.
I opened my eyes. ‘Mithridates must pay for the damage he has caused in the empire. I have seen what his troops did in Babylonia and attempted to do in Hatra. My father is in agreement that he should be removed, and with Hatra’s army beside mine no one will be able to stop us.’
‘We received word from Atrax,’ said Gallia, ‘that Media had also been devastated and large parts of Atropaiene.’
‘There is gold enough at Ctesiphon to compensate all.’
‘Not if the Romans get it first,’ said Dobbai, cupping Claudia’s face in her palm.
‘The Romans?’
‘You did not think that they had gone away did you, son of Hatra?’
‘I have heard no reports of Roman activity in Syria,’ I answered.
‘They watch and wait,’ said Dobbai, pointing at me. ‘They have seen the empire tear itself apart by civil strife and they wait. I told you once that you would face two mighty armies, one from the east and one from the west. You have helped to turn back the one from the east but have yet to vanquish it, but you must act quickly so that you will be able to face the one from the west when it comes. And it will, mark my words. The eagles are gathering.’
But Byrd and Malik assured me that there was no indication that the Romans in Syria were preparing an offensive against Parthia. So, as the year faded and then died, a strange calm descended over the empire. From the Taurus Mountains to the Persian Gulf there was an uneasy peace and gossip picked up from the trade caravans informed us that the eastern kings had limped back to their homelands where they remained. Nothing was heard from Musa or Khosrou and many thought that they had both been killed in the northern wastes, while other stories spread that they and their armies had been swallowed up by the endless steppes across which they marched and were doomed to forever wander the empty vastness. Word reached us from Nergal at Uruk that Phriapatius had returned to Carmania and that Narses brooded in Persis, but no one heard anything from Ctesiphon. And when the new year began the king of kings received no annual tribute from the kingdoms of Hatra, Media, Atropaiene, Babylon, Mesene and of course Dura. The list of kings in open defiance of Mithridates grew.
Everyone knew that war would be renewed in the spring but before then the activity that preoccupied us all was far more pleasant, for there was an unexpected spate of weddings. The first to take place was that between Domitus and Miriam. Gallia was most pleased by this news and in the weeks before the actual event took every opportunity to gloat at my expense. To say that you could have knocked me down with a feather when my grizzled Roman friend informed me was an understatement.
‘I’ve been thinking of it for a while,’ he told me as we strolled through the camp one early evening, the sun turning orange in the western sky. He stopped and looked at me.
‘I hope you do not mind.’
‘Of course not. It is a surprise, that is all.’
‘A surprise to me also,’ he said. ‘But I find Miriam’s company agreeable and I am not getting any younger. A man should have someone to talk to in his old age, after he has sheathed his sword for the last time.’
I laughed. ‘You are not that old, Domitus. You have many years left in you.’
We arrived at the tent that contained the legion’s golden griffin and went inside. It rested on its metal plate in the centre of the tent as usual, the air still and warm. The guards looked like statues around the rack that held the sacred object. Beside the griffin stood the Staff of Victory, now with an additional silver disc depicting a battle by a river to celebrate our victory at Makhmur. Domitus walked up to the griffin and gently laid a hand on it, bowing his head in reverence as he did so. I did the same, then stepped back to admire it.
‘When Godarz was killed I began to think of my own mortality,’ he said. ‘And every year there are more names on the memorial in the Citadel, a daily reminder that death stalks us all.’
I had no idea that he was such a deep-thinking man. To me he had always been Lucius Domitus, iron hard and the army’s talisman, but Gallia told me that even the fiercest warrior is alone with his thoughts in the quiet of the night hours, when he has time to reflect on his life. It appeared that Domitus had done much reflecting.
‘Miriam will make a fine wife,’ I said, trying to lighten the mood.
He smiled. ‘Yes she will. The ceremony will be according to her own religion, of course, but I do not mind that.’
He turned and looked at me. ‘I would like you to come to another ceremony before the wedding, Gallia too.’
‘I would be delighted to,’ I answered, intrigued.
Like all soldiers Domitus was superstitious. And like me he had a routine when it came to dressing on the day of battle that he followed religiously. Though he was going to be married according to the Jewish faith, the day before the ceremony he sought the blessing of his own god. He invited a small number of the Companions and Kronos to a tent that had been erected in the desert five miles to the west of the legionary camp. We arrived in the late afternoon to find Malik, Noora and Byrd also in attendance and a score of Agraci warriors. In pens beside the tent were an ox, boar and ram.
‘This is all very mysterious,’ remarked Gallia as we slid off our horses’ backs and tethered them next to the Agraci animals.
Domitus stood at the entrance to the tent, welcomed us and asked us to enter. He was dressed in a simple white tunic and wore sandals on his feet.
The goatskin tent was spacious and open at the far end. A white-robed individual with a veil stood at this opening beside a young boy also in a white robe holding a flute. Beside him were grouped what looked like three butchers in leather jerkins. There were no chairs in the tent and no refreshments, just a group of similarly confused individuals. I nodded to Drenis and Kronos who were standing talking to Alcaeus and Thumelicus. Gallia and I sauntered over to where Byrd, Noora and Malik stood.
‘Any idea what this is about?’ I asked them.
‘Domitus wishes to pay homage to his god,’ answered Byrd, ‘to bring luck to his marriage.’
‘Byrd has opened an office in Antioch,’ said Malik, nodding at the white-robed figure. ‘That man is a Roman priest at the Temple of Mars in the city. Byrd hired him as a favour to Domitus.’
‘It was our wedding gift to him,’ added Noora.
Antioch was now the capital of Roman Syria, though until fairly recently had been part of Tigranes the Great’s empire. But more to the point I was intrigued by Byrd’s business venture.
‘What sort of office?’ I asked.
‘Of no significance,’ replied Byrd, ‘very modest. It is run by my brother-in-law, Andromachus.’
Malik laughed. ‘Byrd is being too humble. Noora has a keen business mind and while our friend here is away enjoying himself as a scout she has helped to build up his business interests, and now his growing army of camels moves grain, pottery, fruits, wool and linen between Palmyra and Antioch.’
Byrd looked disinterested. ‘I like to keep Noora happy.’
‘Quite right, too,’ said Gallia, smiling at Byrd’s wife.