Выбрать главу

‘You must take care,’ she said. ‘There is death beyond the Tigris, I have seen it. It would be more advisable to let Mithridates and Narses come to you.’

I dismissed the idea. ‘No. For too long we have reacted to events and it has achieved nothing. Now we have a chance to take the war to the enemy and finish what should have been finished years ago.’

‘Then let us hope that you return.’

‘I always return,’ I boasted.

The period following our return to Dura was largely uneventful save for numerous proclamations from Ctesiphon denouncing all those who had gathered at Hatra to acclaim Orodes. Mithridates banished us all and sentenced each king, his queen and children and any who supported them to death. This made me even happier as it meant there was no stepping back from the brink: Mithridates had declared war on eight kings of the empire, including the newly created ruler of Gordyene.

Dura’s army was ready to march at a moment’s notice but the forces of the other kings, save Hatra, required more time to prepare for the coming campaign. I was not unduly worried about this because I knew that the enemy would be in a similar position.

Therefore, as the army was going to have to wait before it set off, Domitus ordered that the legionaries put on extra weight. This was an old Roman tactic to prepare for a campaign, the reasoning being that a long offensive could be wearing on even the most physically fit body and so every man should take the opportunity to bulk up before it commenced. In addition, the most secure way to transport supplies on campaign is as fat around the waist and so the legionaries were ordered to feast like hungry wolves. Marcus organised extra food to be distributed while Domitus reduced the amount of training and drill each legionary undertook. As the garrisons of the forts in the kingdom were reduced to allow the legions to muster, vast amounts of bread, beer, wine, meat and fruit were shipped into the main camp at Dura so the men could pack on extra pounds. The horsemen complained bitterly that the legionaries were receiving special privileges but it was pointed out to them that they were carried on their horses’ backs most of the time and did not require additional weight, which in any case would tax their mounts. Horse archers were required to be lithe and thin to be able to shoot their bows from the saddle in all directions, whereas cataphracts were big men on powerful horses who crushed the enemy with a charge or in the mêlée.

As usual I mustered the lords and again informed them that they would not be accompanying the army, though this time I required them to provide garrisons for the kingdom’s forts that otherwise would be empty. Rsan would be in charge of the kingdom in my and Gallia’s temporary absence, though Spandarat was appointed military commander and ordered to muster five thousand men to garrison the forts; Dura would be guarded by the replacement cohort. It was eight hundred miles from the city to Persepolis, and if we had to march all the way to Narses’ capital to fight him then the army would be away for at least six months. Such a length of time might tempt the Romans to try their luck and seize Dura for themselves. If, however, they knew that the forts at the borders and those further inland, plus the city itself, were garrisoned they would be deterred. And every lord had his own stronghold that was also garrisoned. I called Spandarat to the palace to impress upon him the importance of his role.

‘The forts must be garrisoned at all times, and you should move into the palace while I am away.’

‘Can I wear your crown?’ he grinned.

‘I don’t have one.’

He rubbed his scruffy beard. ‘You know that we held this land before you arrived. Held it against the Agraci and then helped you turn back the Romans. You worry too much.’

I smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know that, my friend. That is why I have every faith in you. But faith does not fill bellies so I have instructed Aaron that you and your men will be paid the equivalent wages of my horse archers for the time that I am away.’

He rubbed his hands together and smiled. ‘Lovely!’

‘Just keep an eye on Syria. I don’t trust the Romans, but that does not give you licence to launch any cross-border raids against them.’

He looked hurt. ‘Me? It never crossed my mind.’

Before I came to Dura its lords and the Agraci had raided each other’s lands with abandon. Peace had brought stability but old habits die hard and I feared that Spandarat and the other lords might use my prolonged absence as an excuse to pillage Roman Syria.

‘Just don’t stir up a hornets’ nest,’ I ordered him.

But it was not my wild lords who provoked the Romans on the eve of the war with Mithridates and Narses. One morning a pigeon arrived from the northern frontier carrying a message that a Roman official wished to travel to Dura for an audience with me, which I thought highly unusual. Ever since my stand-off with Pompey the Romans had conspicuously ignored both my kingdom and me. I therefore had a message sent back requesting the name and rank of this Roman who was so eager to meet me, at the same time sending another pigeon to Palmyra to ask Byrd and Malik to bring themselves and their scouts to Dura.

I visited Domitus in the now heaving camp after I received a reply back that the Roman in question was a tribune named Marcus Roscius.

‘What does a tribune want with you?’ he asked after he had dismissed two of his own officers of an equivalent rank from his tent.

I sat down in one of the chairs. ‘I have no idea but I think it would be a good idea for you to be present when he arrives.’

Half a dozen of Aaron’s clerks were sitting at his table sifting through parchments.

‘I need your signature, general,’ said one, holding up what appeared to be a long list of items. Domitus sighed heavily as he walked to the table and signed the document.

‘I have been reduced to a clerk,’ he complained.

‘Organisation is a necessary evil,’ I told him.

He shook his head. ‘Or just evil, perhaps.’

‘So, you will be at the palace when the Roman arrives?’

He scratched his head. ‘If I must. When does he arrive?’

‘I have ordered him to wait at the frontier until I have more information about him. I will inform you when he is due at the Citadel.’

I kept the tribune waiting at the border for five more days until Byrd and Malik had arrived at Dura. I then allowed Marcus Roscius and his dozen horsemen to ride south to the city. They were escorted by a score of horse archers who had yet to be replaced by the lords’ men, it being more convenient to billet the cavalry far and wide before mustering them in one spot just prior to the army marching. It also meant that there were less men and horses concentrated in and around Dura and therefore less dust hanging over the city.

Unfortunately Byrd knew nothing of our Roman visitor save that he had most likely been sent by the Roman governor of Syria, a man named Aulus Gabinius. Byrd said that the governor was a friend of Pompey who liked expensive living and saw Syria as a way of making himself rich. This alarmed me somewhat as Crassus had once coveted Dura because of the Silk Road that ran through it. Perhaps this Aulus Gabinius desired it as well to enrich himself further.

Before our guests arrived I gave strict instructions that they were to be guarded at all times and kept away from the legionary camp. Any hint that Dura’s army was going to be away from the kingdom would only embolden the Romans. In addition, I told Domitus to increase the guards at the Citadel and at the Palmyrene Gate to convey to our visitors the city’s strength. However, they were to be confined to one of the barracks in the Citadel after they had arrived. I did not want them wandering around picking up any idle gossip about a forthcoming campaign in the east.

The Romans and their escort arrived at noon on a sunny autumn day and were shown to their quarters in the Citadel. From the shadows of the palace’s colonnaded porch I watched them trot into the courtyard. I smiled when I saw their commander, a tall, imposing individual who wore a polished metal helmet with an enormous red crest. He took the helmet off and handed it to one of his men who were all dressed in mail shirts, helmets and carried flat, oval shields and spathas. Their weathered appearance contrasted sharply to the peacock that was their commander. He had short-cropped fair hair and, unsurprisingly, a haughty expression. His bronze muscled cuirass inlaid with silver was magnificent, though, as were his ornate boots decorated with flaps in the form of lions’ heads. His large red cloak pinned to the right shoulder and his white tunic with a narrow purple stripe completed his opulent appearance. I went into the palace as our guests were shown to their accommodation.