An hour later the tribune was escorted into the throne room where Gallia and I awaited him. I had dressed in my Roman leather cuirass, leggings and boots, Gallia in her mail shirt with white tunic. Guards lined the walls of the entrance hall, the throne room, and stood either side of the dais upon which were our thrones. Najya, my falcon that had been a gift from Haytham, rested on my gloved left hand as I fed her slivers of uncooked duck. The steward who was her keeper stood near the entrance to the adjacent guardroom while Domitus stood next to the dais on my right side.
Marcus Roscius, helmet in the crook of his arm, strode purposefully towards us flanked by four guards.
‘Tribune Marcus Roscius,’ announced one.
Roscius bowed to me, then to Gallia and looked in confusion at Domitus dressed in his Roman attire and then at my cuirass that resembled his in design if not in cost.
‘Greetings, tribune,’ I said. ‘What business do you have in Dura?’
‘I am here on behalf of the proconsul of Syria, Aulus Gabinius.’
I fed Najya another piece of meat. Roscius glanced left and right at the guards armed and attired as Romans. He obviously wanted to enquire why they were equipped thus but his sense of protocol would not allow him to say anything.
‘What business is that?’ I asked.
‘It has come to the proconsul’s attention that there is in your city a Jew by the name of Aaron, son of Jacob, who is wanted for crimes committed against Rome.’
I had always admired the Romans for their organisation and efficiency but now those qualities worked against me. Aaron’s excursion to see Rachel and the subsequent excitement had obviously prompted a thorough investigation by the Romans and had led to them sending the tribune who now stood before me. It was unfortunate for me that it was well known that Aaron, son of Jacob, husband to Rachel, was a Jew who was also Dura’s treasurer. I saw nothing to gain by denying Aaron’s presence.
‘What crimes?’ I asked casually.
‘The murder of several Roman soldiers and a Jewish priest,’ replied Roscius stiffly.
I was going to say that it was in fact I, Domitus and Surena who had killed those individuals but decided against it. Roman officers were not noted for their sense of humour.
‘Roman law does not rule in Dura,’ hissed Gallia.
‘Surely, majesty,’ replied Roscius, ‘the law rules in all civilised lands and the punishment of wrongdoers is the concern of all just rulers.’
I gestured to the steward to take Najya back to her aviary.
Gallia’s lip curled slightly. ‘Whether Roman law is civilised is a topic that could be debated at length, but the affairs of Dura are of no concern to Syria.’
‘It is as my queen says,’ I agreed.
‘Failure to surrender this Jew may be construed in some quarters as an affront to Roman goodwill.’
Gallia laughed. ‘I have seen Roman goodwill, tribune, though I doubt the peoples who have been subjugated by it would term it so. Tell me, tribune, is it an offence for a man to defend his homeland against foreign invaders?’
Roscius’ cheeks coloured as he tried to stay calm. ‘It is an offence to murder Roman soldiers, majesty.’
‘Really?’ sneered Gallia. ‘Then you had better take me back to Syria instead of Aaron for I have slaughtered many more than he has.’
Domitus stifled a laugh and Roscius’ nostrils flared at the insult.
‘Tribune Marcus Roscius,’ I said, ‘it is not my intention to insult Rome or your proconsul. But I will not hand over Aaron, son of Jacob, to you, for to do so would betray the faith he has placed in me. Tell me, do you know of my background and that of my queen?’
‘I know it, majesty,’ he replied, a note of contempt in his voice.
‘Then you must have known that your journey here would be a wasted one. I will not surrender a friend and a faithful servant.’
A thin sneer creased his lips. ‘I had heard that the King of Dura was a friend of slaves.’
‘And a slayer of Romans,’ added Gallia.
Roscius bristled at this. ‘I had also heard that he was a man of honour.’
‘I like to think that he is,’ I replied.
‘That being the case, majesty, can a man of honour harbour a murderer?’
I thought for a moment. ‘All those who answer the call of arms are murderers, tribune. But a man’s honour will not allow him to abandon a friend. You know this.’
He shot a glance at Gallia and then looked at me. ‘And that is your final word on the matter, majesty?’
‘It is.’
He bowed his head begrudgingly to me, then ever so slightly to Gallia and then about-faced and marched from the hall, escorted by his four guards. The doors were closed behind him as he entered the reception hall.
‘The arrogance of the Romans knows no bounds,’ growled Gallia.
‘Neither does their memory when it comes to tracking down their enemies,’ said Domitus.
‘You think they will attack Dura?’ I asked.
‘Not over Aaron, no. But the peace that you brokered with Pompey is effectively over. When that tribune reports back to Syria that you have refused his request to hand over Aaron the proconsul will be looking for the slightest pretext to launch a war against Dura.’
‘We’ve beaten Romans before,’ remarked Gallia unconcerned.
But on the eve of the army preparing to march against Mithridates and Narses the last thing I needed was conflict with the Romans. But now it appeared that such a conflict was a certainty.
Chapter 16
I had little time to dwell on what the Romans would or would not do as the next day a message arrived from my father informing me that he had received word that Khosrou and Musa were rendezvousing with their armies near the city of Dara, approximately a hundred and fifty miles southwest of Khosrou’s capital of Merv. He had also received word from Orodes that Babylonian forces had mustered at Babylon and were now marching north, and that Dura’s army should commence its journey southeast to the rendezvous point at the Euphrates, fifty miles west of Seleucia.
Vast amounts of mutton and beef had been salted for the campaign, the salt ponds that had been established south of Dura along the Euphrates producing the means to cure the meat before it was dried. Marcus had had his hands full for weeks organising the supplies for the campaign. Each individual legionary carried around sixty pounds in weight on his furca — a wooden pole and crossbar — which included his pack, cloak, food bowl, water bottle, entrenching tool and several days’ rations, but most of the legions’ supplies were carried in wagons or on the backs of mules. The soldiers of each legion consumed around eight tonnes of food a day and the legionary animals a further eighteen tons daily.
The daily requirements of the cavalry were even greater and required intricate planning and preparation. Fortunately for Dura, in Strabo I had a man equal to the task notwithstanding his insolence and foul language. Marcus took care of the needs of the legions but it was Strabo who had nurtured the army’s mounted arm — organising the growing of crops for the supply of fodder for the horses, mules and camels, maintaining the corps of veterinaries and farriers and the breeding of horses, camels, mules and oxen. Despite his shabby appearance and irreverent manner he was extremely knowledgeable about the dietary requirements of our livestock. It had been Strabo who had organised the growing of so-called Greek hay on the royal estates and the ancient horse fodder of the Medians, medicago sativa, known to the Romans as alfalfa, one of the best horse foods available. Under his guidance the estates also grew oats, barley and wheat, though not all went to the animals, and clover which was used exclusively for horse fodder.