‘If Dura’s allies are occupied dealing with threats to their own lands,’ mused Orodes, ‘then they cannot aid you, Pacorus.’
Dobbai’s eyes narrowed. ‘Leaving Mithridates and Narses free to concentrate their hatred on you, son of Hatra.’ She really did revel in other people’s misfortune and general misery.
‘Then let them come,’ I said grandly, ‘and then I can destroy them.’
‘They will not come to Dura,’ said Dobbai. ‘They are not idiots. They have seen what happens to armies that try to storm this city. As I told you before, as long as the griffin sits above the Palmyrene Gate no army shall take this city.’
‘Then we shall go to them,’ I announced.
Dobbai rose and held out her hand for Gallia to take. ‘And that is precisely what they want. You must take care, son of Hatra; indeed all of you must take care not to underestimate Mithridates above all. Come child, let us leave them to their games of strategy.’
The proceeding days saw a flurry of letters between Dura and Hatra, Babylon and Mesene. I thanked Shamash that the empire had a reliable courier system that ensured that the kingdoms were in constant touch with each other. The postal system comprised hundreds of mounted couriers who rode from city to city via rest stations located every thirty miles. At these stations the couriers swapped their horses for fresh mounts that took them to the next station and so on. But even so it took several days for news to reach us of what was happening in other parts of the empire. Dura was around twelve hundred miles from the eastern edge of the empire. I sometimes forgot how large Parthia was.
I wrote to King Vardan of Babylon, friend to my father and me, asking if he could take his army east to aid Gotarzes while I marched Dura’s army against Ctesiphon. In addition, I asked Nergal if he could reinforce Vardan and also strike at Susa, the capital city of Susiana. Uruk was only a hundred and fifty miles from Susa. Nergal could be there in around a week. I decided not to inform my father that I was striking at Ctesiphon and therefore marching across the south of his kingdom. He would learn of this after I had killed Mithridates. His anger would be a small price to pay for victory and peace in the empire. I also did not inform Vardan that I would be marching into the north of his kingdom. I would offer my apologies to him at the same time that I announced that Mithridates had been removed from power.
My father informed me that the raids Hatra was experiencing were inconvenient but not serious. However, they did require substantial numbers of troops to be sent north to patrol the border and deter any further incursions. Media and Atropaiene reported much the same.
‘They are achieving their aim,’ remarked Domitus as he sifted through parchments on his table.
The camp was heaving with men, mules and activity. Surrounded by a mud-brick wall, it was capacious enough to accommodate the Duran Legion and the Exiles plus all their wagons, animals and equipment, but it was a squeeze. Domitus had endured many sleepless nights overseeing the mustering of his men, but now the two legions were fully assembled and ready to march.
‘We do not need Hatra’s help,’ I said.
‘Mm, well,’ he rose from his desk and grabbed his vine cane lying on the table, placing a weight on the parchments so they would not be disturbed. ‘Let us hope you are right. Walk with me.’
Spring would soon be here and the temperature was already rising. It was pleasant enough inside the large tent but outside the atmosphere was becoming oppressive. The smell of sweat, leather and animal dung greeted me as I stepped into the open air.
‘The horsemen are assembled?’ asked Domitus.
I nodded. ‘Twelve hundred cataphracts crammed inside the city and three thousand horse archers camped five miles south of it.’
‘Ten thousand foot, four thousand horse,’ he mused. ‘You think that’s enough to defeat Mithridates and Narses?’
I slapped him on the arm. ‘As a Roman you above all should know that it is quality not quantity that makes the difference on the battlefield. What is troubling you?’
‘Time to pay our respects.’ He turned and walked to one of the two smaller tents that were located either side of the command tent. I followed. Guards stood at attention around the tent and more guards stood watch inside, for these shelters held sacred items — the legionary standards. The standard of the Duran Legion was a griffin cast from pure gold that was fixed to a silver plate atop a pole. When the legion marched the griffin would go with it. It was held upright in a rack next to the Staff of Victory, an old kontus shaft onto which had been attached silver discs depicting each of the army’s victories. Domitus walked over to the griffin and stroked it gently. I did the same.
He turned to me. ‘We could take the lords and some of their riders. There would still be enough men left in the kingdom to guard the northern border.’
‘I can’t risk it, Domitus. This army can beat anything Narses and Mithridates can throw at it. You know that. But I cannot fight them worrying about the possibility of the Romans launching an invasion from Syria.’
He bowed his head to the griffin and then ambled from the tent. I followed as he walked briskly to the other tent that held the standard of the Exiles, a silver lion also sitting on a silver plate. Again we touched the standard that was likewise ringed by guards.
‘The Romans have tried to conquer Dura once,’ I said. ‘Forty thousand horse archers will hopefully make them think twice before they try to do so again.’
‘Pity we don’t still have the Margianans,’ he sniffed.
He was alluding to the horsemen sent to Gallia as a gift by King Khosrou before we had faced the Roman Pompey. Originally numbering a thousand men led by an uncouth but brave warrior named Kuban, battle casualties had reduced their number to eight hundred. Essentially horse archers, they wore leather armour and also carried long spears in addition to bows and swords. But following the capture of Uruk I had sent them back to their homeland.
The legions were already on the march before the new dawn came. Ten thousand pairs of hobnailed sandals tramping east across the two pontoon bridges that spanned the Euphrates, their crunching sound resonating through the stillness of the early morning hours. I did not disturb our sleeping children as I dressed and made my way to the stables where cataphracts and squires were busy loading equipment on the backs of spitting and grunting camels. Remus had finished his breakfast by the time I entered his stall and placed the white saddlecloth on his back. Like all the saddlecloths of the army it had a red griffin stitched in each corner.
I threw my saddle onto his back and then fitted him with his bridle. His coat and hooves had already been cleaned and checked but I examined each one of his iron horseshoes anyway. Fresh on. He flicked his tail with impatience. He had been on too many campaigns not to know what was going on and was eager to be on our journey.
I stroked his neck. ‘Easy, boy. You must save your energy. You should know all this by now.’
He turned his head and snorted. His blue eyes looked into my brown ones. The chief stable hand appeared, a tall, thin man with deep-set eyes.
‘He is most impatient, majesty. Began kicking his door last night.’
I grabbed his reins and led him from the stall. ‘Did he indeed. He picked up some bad habits during his time in Italy, I fear. Living in the open all that time made him think he was a wild horse.’
The man smiled. ‘I fear it is so, majesty. He is wilful, but a fine horse nonetheless.’
We walked outside into the cold morning air and I vaulted into the saddle.
‘He is indeed, and for that we must forgive him his idiosyncratic nature.’
The stable hand bowed his head. ‘Shamash protect you, majesty.’
I nudged Remus ahead. ‘You too.’
I walked him from the stables into the courtyard and halted in front of the palace where Gallia was standing at the top of the palace steps. I dismounted as one of the Amazons stepped forward to hold Remus while I said goodbye to my wife. Even though she was not coming with me she was dressed in her war gear of leather boots, leggings and mail shirt. The rest of the Amazons mustered behind her were similarly attired.