We shuffled into the throne room where Domitus was pacing up and down. I looked at Gallia, her eyes puffy and red.
‘Do you want to sleep?’
She shook her head. ‘I cannot sleep tonight.’
She walked over to her high-backed chair on the dais and slumped into it. I sat down beside her. Domitus stopped pacing and stood before us. His face betrayed no emotion though I knew he must be grieving for his dead friend.
‘Parties are sweeping the city now. All gates are sealed and no one can get in or out. The men are searching every home, business, temple and storeroom, and I’ve ordered more men from the camp.’
He glanced at Gallia. ‘Most likely they will have rented a room or rooms and will be lying low until they make a run for it.’
‘See to it that they don’t escape,’ hissed Gallia. She had Godarz’s blood on her dress. Domitus noticed it but said nothing. He stood to attention, saluted and then marched from the room, leaving us alone with our grief.
Dura was a well-defended city surrounded by a circuit wall with a total of twenty-four towers, plus the Palmyrene Gate, spaced at regular intervals along the wall. Each tower had its own detachment of men who would be lining the wall to ensure no one scaled it from the city side. Five hundred men manned the walls and towers and a further five hundred garrisoned the Citadel. Added to these were the detachments of Dura’s horsemen stabled in the city — more than enough to catch a pair of assassins, or so I hoped.
The new day began to dawn and still we remained on our thrones and waited for news. I had messages sent via carrier pigeon to Palmyra to alert Malik and Haytham of what had happened, and to ask them for their assistance to track down the pair should they escape from Dura. Domitus organised searches of the trade caravans camped to the north of the city. All traffic using the pontoon bridges was stopped. Domitus even sent small boats north and south on the Euphrates to search for the pair.
Orodes came soon after dawn. He lived in his own house in the north of the city, a great walled residence that also housed his bodyguard — two hundred and fifty men from the Kingdom of Susiana. As soon as he heard the news of Godarz’s murder he and his men had helped Dura’s garrison search the city. Unshaven and looking tired, the first thing he did was embrace Gallia and kiss her on the cheek.
‘You look tired, Gallia.’ He noted her bloodstained dress. ‘You should try to get some rest.’
She smiled faintly. ‘Alas, lord prince, if I close my eyes all I will see is the murder of Godarz. I therefore prefer to keep them open.’
Orodes nodded grimly. ‘Well, at least let us refresh ourselves. You too, Pacorus. You both look terrible.’
He organised fruit juices, bread, cheese and sweet meats to be brought to the palace terrace as Gallia and I changed our clothes and washed our faces. When we returned Dobbai was sitting in her chair. Orodes was speaking to her as a wan Gallia slumped into a chair beside her. In the east the sun was an angry red ball as it began its ascent into the sky. Dobbai said nothing to Gallia as I walked over to the table and helped myself to a cup of juice. I poured another and handed it to Gallia. I took my seat next to her and then all four of us sat in silence for a while. Dobbai spoke at last.
‘So Mithridates shows his hand at last.’ She turned to Orodes. ‘Your brother has learnt patience, it would seem.’
‘My stepbrother,’ Orodes corrected her. He was always quick to inform all and sundry that he and Mithridates did not have the same mother, his being a concubine in the palace at Ctesiphon whom his father Phraates had fallen in love with. The mother of Mithridates, Queen Aruna, had had her poisoned, or so rumour had it.
‘But why now?’ asked Orodes despairingly.
‘Is it not obvious?’ replied Dobbai. ‘Now he and his brother-in-evil Narses are ready to implement their plan.’
‘What plan?’ I asked.
Dobbai held out her hands. ‘I do not know. But I do know that the death of Godarz will begin tumultuous events within the empire. He also knows this, though of course he would have preferred your death rather than your governor’s.’
‘I will march on Ctesiphon,’ I announced, ‘and bring back the head of Mithridates to adorn the entrance of Godarz’s mansion. The head of Narses too, a fitting tribute to Godarz. This is my vow.’
‘And that is exactly what they want you to do, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai, ‘to march at the head of your army into their trap.’
‘What trap?’ asked Orodes.
Dobbai raised her face to the heavens. ‘I have tried, I really have, to counsel you, son of Hatra, so you can carry out the wishes of the gods and keep the empire strong. But you have seen fit to ignore my advice.’
‘That is unfair,’ I replied. ‘I have always respected your views.’
She fixed me with her black eyes. ‘Have you? I told you years ago to kill Mithridates, yet you chose to ignore me. He will only be satisfied when you are dead and he is the unchallenged king of kings.’
‘He is king of kings,’ I said in exasperation.
‘In name perhaps,’ said Dobbai, ‘but it is well known that you openly challenged him to march on Dura and take the city by storm. The longer you remain king here the more he is seen as impotent.’
‘If he and his assassins had killed Pacorus,’ said Orodes, ‘he must have known that King Varaz, his father, would have marched against him. And Hatra has allies in Babylon and Media, to say nothing of Nergal at Uruk.’
Dobbai regarded Orodes with a bemused look. ‘He knows all of that, but he and Narses have taken measures in anticipation of those events happening.’
‘What measures?’ I asked.
Dobbai pursed her lips. ‘How should I know? I cannot see into the poisoned well that is the mind of Mithridates.’
‘Mithridates must be punished,’ said Gallia, staring into the distance.
‘I agree,’ I added.
‘And so do I,’ said Orodes.
Dobbai rose from her chair. ‘Very well, I see that your minds are made up. So be it. Though take care, son of Hatra, not to underestimate your adversaries.’
She went over to Gallia and kissed her on the top of her head and then shuffled from the terrace. None of us said any more as we contemplated the future.
Six days later we burned the body of Godarz on a huge funeral pyre erected in the city’s main square. I had paid a great deal of gold to an Egyptian embalmer to preserve it so that his friends from afar could witness his funeral. Gallia had shed all her tears by then and her face was an emotionless mask as the pyre was lit and the flames took hold and consumed our friend’s body with a relentless ferocity. The square was packed with citizens for Godarz had been a respected governor who had administered the affairs of Dura with fairness, legality and commonsense. We stood in a line at the front of the multitude — I, Gallia, Orodes, Domitus, Diana, Gafarn, Nergal, Praxima, Byrd, Malik and a weeping Rsan. Poor Rsan. When we had first come to Dura he was the only one from the previous administration still alive. Rsan had been left to face us alone. He had subsequently proven himself to be a capable and above all honest royal treasurer. For those qualities he had become a valued and trusted member of the council. Rsan and Godarz had become close friends and now my treasurer was grief stricken. We could not criticise him; Godarz was a good man who deserved the shedding of an ocean of tears.
Behind us the Amazons were lined up in their mail shirts, swords at their hips. Diana and Gafarn had ridden hard from Hatra to be here and Nergal and Praxima had left their palace at Uruk to pay their respects to the man who had been like a father to them also.