‘I know how you feel. I have two of my own; both boys and both are bundles of energy. They live in the city with their mother. Future soldiers for your army.’
‘Hopefully, Thumelicus, they won’t see as much fighting as we have.’
He looked appalled at the notion. ‘I hope they do. I’m raising them to be soldiers. No point in having the skills to use a sword and having no opportunity to show them off.’
‘Well, let us hope that they won’t have to do any fighting for the next few years at least.’
He smiled wryly. ‘Have it you own way.’
He saluted and paced away to attend to his duties as I continued my journey to the stables. Once there I saddled my horse, a white stallion with muscular shoulders, thick neck and blue eyes called Remus. He was usually quartered in the stables in the Citadel, the city’s stronghold perched atop a rocky escarpment overlooking the River Euphrates. The Citadel also housed the palace, the royal armouries, the treasury, Domitus’ headquarters building which he rarely slept in, barracks, stables, granary and various other workshops. Like all the horses of Dura’s army he lived a regal existence on the most nutritious fodder available and received the best care and attention from a host of farriers and veterinaries. When I visited the legionary camp he was fussed over by the grooms who worked in its stables, but just as when I had first owned him I always liked to saddle him myself.
Like all our mounts his saddle had been made especially for him. The hardwood frame was contoured to the shape of his back. It had four horns — two at the front and two at the back — to hold the rider in place. The front two horns were made so that they swept back to wrap themselves around the thighs of the rider and thereby anchor him in place. The rear horns were vertical but the joining arch between them was sloped to offer a curved feel to the rear of the saddle that also created a dip to form the seat. The entire frame was covered with felt for padding. Over the top of this were stitched pieces of rawhide leather. The leather was stained and finished with a polish containing a beeswax base to seal the material. Under his saddle Remus wore a white saddlecloth edged with red. Such equipment did not come cheaply, and neither did Remus’ bridle, head collar, reins and the rest of his saddlery.
I had just finished tightening his straps when a mounted courier halted his horse in front of me and raised his hand in salute.
‘Hail, majesty. Your presence is needed at the palace urgently.’
I was suddenly alarmed. ‘Who has made this request?’
‘Your sorceress, majesty.’
I had feared that one of my children had been taken ill, but if it had been so the queen would have summoned me. As I heaved myself into the saddle I felt more curious than apprehensive. I galloped from the camp and made my way to the city. The courier followed me as we galloped east along the road that led to Dura’s main entrance — the Palmyrene Gate. Over the gate was a great stone arch, on top of which was a large stone statue of a griffin, Dura’s symbol and protector. The city had twenty-four other towers along its circuit wall and from each one flew my banner of a red griffin on a white background. I slowed Remus as we entered the city. The guards at the gates and on the walls snapped to attention as I passed them. As usual the city streets were thronged with tradesmen, citizens and beasts of burden and it took us a while to thread our way through the multitude to reach the Citadel.
Dura’s Citadel could never be described as a beautiful or ornate place, with its thick walls, solid, squat buildings and its barracks, stables and armouries; but it was strong, built to withstand and defeat assaults and sieges. Perched high on the rocky escarpment on which the whole city was built, it radiated strength.
I dismounted and handed Remus’ reins to a stable hand, then walked up the stone steps that fronted the palace. The courier bowed and left me as I walked through the entrance hall and into the throne room. At the far end, sitting on my throne — which in truth was nothing more than a simple high-backed wooden chair — was Dobbai. She had been the one who had foretold all those years ago at the court of King of Kings Sinatruces of my going to Italy and my return with Gallia my wife. Dobbai had made my city her home, and her gift of foresight and closeness to the gods had made her feared and respected throughout the kingdom. Now she was sitting on my throne as she regarded me with her black eyes. Queen Gallia was sitting next to her.
‘May I know the reason you sent a courier to fetch me like an errant schoolboy?’ I enquired.
‘Do not be churlish, son of Hatra,’ replied Dobbai, ‘it does not suit you.’
‘Then I will ask again. Why did you send for me?’
‘Your life is in danger, Pacorus,’ said Gallia.
My eyes went from Dobbai to my wife, from ugliness and old age to beauty and youth. How contrasting they were: Dobbai old and foul, her black hair lank, while Gallia’s long blonde hair and beautiful face with its high cheekbones and slim nose were perfection.
‘It is true, son of Hatra,’ continued Dobbai. ‘I was taking my afternoon sleep when a vision appeared to me, of a griffin limping and afraid, a blade in its belly and blood gushing from the wound.’
‘Every time I fight on the battlefield I am in danger.’
Dobbai scowled. ‘I did not mean that. I sense an assassin’s dagger in your belly.’
I must confess a chill ran down my spine. The prophecies of Dobbai were not to be dismissed out of hand.
‘You must have a personal bodyguard,’ said Gallia, looking alarmed, ‘soldiers who will be with you at all times.’
‘At all times?’ The idea filled me with horror. ‘I have guards enough. They fill the Citadel and the city. There are also thousands of soldiers camped half a mile away. I do not intend to spend my life looking over my shoulder.’ I smiled. ‘Besides, the servants in the Citadel have been with us for years. I trust them.’
‘With your life?’ asked Dobbai.
‘They have not poisoned my food or stuck a knife in my guts yet; why should they do so now?’
My words were met with stern countenances. Gallia started shaking her head.
‘The risk is too great. We will have more guards in the palace.’ She pointed at me. ‘And you will not be riding alone in the foreseeable future. I shall organise an escort for you.’
Dobbai nodded approvingly at her. ‘It is well that you take my words seriously, child.’
‘I did not say that I did not believe you,’ I reproached her, ‘merely that I will not live my life in fear.’
‘Perhaps the Amazons should protect you,’ mused Gallia. ‘At least I know I can trust them.’ In Italy she had recruited a group of females that had served in my cavalry and named them Amazons. Now a queen of the Parthian Empire, Gallia retained her Amazons as a bodyguard. There were always one hundred of them but the idea that I would be protected by a group of females was ridiculous. It would lead to derision.
‘I will not require the services of the Amazons,’ I said curtly, then looked at Dobbai. ‘Was it revealed to you when an attempt would be made on my life? What he or she will look like?’
Dobbai glowered at me. ‘If I knew that then I could send someone to kill the assassin myself.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘let us keep this matter among ourselves. There is no need to burden others with something that may not occur.’
‘It will occur unless we are vigilant,’ insisted Gallia.
‘Your queen speaks the truth, son of Hatra.’
‘Nevertheless,’ I replied, ‘we will keep this our little secret. The matter is closed.’
I may have seemed untroubled by Dobbai’s revelation, but for the rest of that day and the day after I was uneasy. I began to see danger everywhere and became a bag of nerves because of it. Gallia increased the number of guards both inside and outside the palace and had them stationed behind and beside the dais in the throne room when I received foreign embassies or heard the petitions of Dura’s citizens. Dobbai took to attending all these gatherings and after a while I looked to her first to see her reaction when a visitor was presented to me. With each one I expected her to nod alarmingly to indicate that the assassin stood before me, but after examining each individual carefully she just shrugged and shook her head. After a month of this I grew tired and stood down the extra guards. Things returned to normal. Perhaps not all Dobbai’s dreams came true after all!