‘Welcome, lord,’ I said. ‘I am in your debt.’
My father folded his arms and glanced at the long line of Agraci warriors who now waited on their horses and camels on the right flank of Hatra’s army — a stark contrast to the white-uniformed Parthian riders.
‘I had no say in the matter,’ replied Haytham, his black eyes studying my father. ‘Your queen sent for me and told me to bring my warriors.’
This was nonsense, of course, but Haytham was obviously at ease and enjoying himself. No wonder, for no Agraci king had ever crossed the Euphrates to venture into the empire. I could see that my father was most uncomfortable by the presence of both him and his warriors. But I gave thanks to Shamash that they had come for it signalled that Haytham valued our alliance and my friendship.
The awkwardness was shattered by the appearance of Spandarat, who walked over to us. He bowed to my father and Haytham, muttering ‘majesty’ as he did so, then slapped me on the arm.
‘Nearly got your arse kicked, then? I reckon that sorceress of yours must have been working flat-out weaving spells to protect you.’
My father was appalled at his behaviour but I had never insisted on a strict adherence to protocol at Dura, preferring loyalty and honesty to sycophancy and faithlessness.
‘Perhaps we should make camp,’ said my father brusquely, ‘then we can discuss matters more fully and Pacorus can change his clothes to look more like a Parthian king.’
He nodded stiffly to Haytham and then went back to his bodyguard.
Gafarn smiled and bowed his head to Haytham. ‘Until later, lord king. Diana sends her love, Pacorus.’
He walked back to his officers assembled on their horses before Dura’s horse archers. It was appropriate that Gafarn, one of the finest bowmen in the Parthian Empire, commanded some of the empire’s finest horse archers.
Malik came forward to speak to his father while Gallia told Spandarat to distribute the extra full waterskins that had been brought by each of his riders. At least the legionaries would be thirsty no more.
Domitus stood the men down as a multitude of tents sprang up around the hastily erected royal tent of my father. Domitus ordered that the legions dig a ditch and rampart to surround their camp, in which the lords would also shelter. The men grumbled but to no avail. We may have lost our wooden stakes and most of our tents but Domitus was determined to maintain proper procedures.
‘The enemy might come back,’ he growled as hundreds of men sweated and cursed as they wielded entrenching tools to dig the ditch and erect the rampart.
When they had finished both legions were allowed to rest for the night, security provided by a screen of horse archers five miles away in all directions from the camps of the allied armies. Malik threw parties of Agraci scouts out even further. In the late afternoon he himself rode east with a large group towards the Tigris. My father camped his army to the north of our own tents and east of Haytham’s warriors. As dusk was enveloping the land he sent a rider to my tent inviting me to dine with him. But I sent a message back that I was too exhausted to be good company and if I did attend him would probably fall asleep at his table. No doubt my absence fuelled his ill ease further. Domitus and Kronos were also listless as they sat down with me at the table in my tent. Orodes and Gallia tried in vain to engage us in conversation. After we had eaten a meal of salted Hatran mutton and dried biscuit washed down with tepid water, Orodes, Domitus and Kronos made their excuses and left to get some sleep. Fortunately we had managed to save the blankets in our flight from Mithridates, and in the darkness row upon row of legionaries lay on the ground wrapped in them as they slept like the dead, the Amazons and the lords’ horse archers standing guard over them.
In my sleeping quarters I lay next to Gallia, her head on my chest, her hand caressing my scalp. It was sheer heaven. Her voice was soft and soothing.
‘Soon after you left Dura Dobbai had a dream in which she saw a griffin with one of its wings pinned to the ground. It was all alone and squealing in agony and she knew that you were in danger. So I mustered the lords and sent a message to Haytham, asking for his help.’
‘So Orodes never made it back to Dura.’
‘No, we met him and his horsemen on the east bank of the Euphrates.’
‘And my father?’ I asked, finding it difficult to stay awake.
‘I sent a message to Hatra at the same time as the request to Haytham, saying that you faced defeat if your father did not bring his army south.’
‘Perhaps you should command the army and I will stay at Dura to raise our daughters.’ I never heard her answer as I drifted off into a deep sleep, my beloved wife beside me.
The morning came soon enough. When I awoke I found Gallia gone. I dressed and donned my cuirass and left my bedchamber, buckling my sword belt as I walked into the tent’s main area to find Byrd pacing up and down while Domitus and Orodes were seated at the table.
‘Ah, the sleeping hero comes at last,’ remarked Domitus sarcastically.
I ignored him. ‘Byrd, you are a sight for sore eyes.’
He stopped pacing and nodded at me. ‘I ride in earlier. Vardan comes with his horsemen.’
I picked up the jug of water on the table and poured myself a cup.
‘That is excellent news. We may yet bring this campaign to a happy end.’
‘Vardan also sent a message to Nergal at Uruk to let him know situation,’ continued Byrd.
‘It will take him a few days to get to us,’ said Orodes.
He was right about that. Uruk was over a hundred miles south of Babylon and Babylon lay eighty miles at least south of where we were camped. Still, I knew that if Nergal learned that we were in peril he would also bring his army to support me. Except that we were no longer in peril.
When Vardan and his horsemen arrived two hours later a council of kings was held in my father’s camp. Gallia returned from her early morning ride with her Amazons as did Malik and his men, and she and Orodes joined me as I journeyed to the tent of my father in the middle of the Hatran army’s camp. Gallia had brought Remus back with her and it was good to be in the saddle again, albeit only for a short time as I rode with them through my father’s camp to his pavilion. As is the Parthian custom the king’s marquee was located in the centre of the camp, with the king’s horse and those of his bodyguard stabled immediately behind it. The tents of the royal bodyguard’s officers were pitched around the royal pavilion, the smaller tents of the rest of the royal bodyguard positioned beyond them in an outer circle. Further out still were the tents of the horse archers, with stable areas for their horses dotted among the tents. The camel park was usually located anywhere as long as it was downwind and far away from the royal pavilion. The banners of Dura and Susiana fluttered in the light breeze behind us as we rode. At my father’s tent our horses were taken from us and we were escorted inside.
Already the legions were marching west to the Euphrates. I had told Domitus that he was to take them to the river and then north back to Dura. They would be of no further use here and it was imperative that the wounded were taken back to the city where they could be properly cared for. In the fighting with the enemy we had lost only one hundred and fifty killed but over four hundred more had been wounded, mostly by arrows. Of those fifty were expected to die before they reached Dura. We had also lost four Companions killed.
Before the meeting with my father Haytham and Malik had ridden over to my tent to tell me that the King of the Agraci was going back to his lands.