Chapter 7
The next day we broke camp and headed south along the Euphrates, though not actually along the eastern bank of the river itself. We were less than a hundred miles north of Babylon. Inland from the river for a distance of around two miles was a continuous belt of land dotted with villages and fields. This was Mesopotamia, which in Greek means ‘land between the rivers’, the fertile area that had for thousands of years produced food, building materials and clothing in abundance for its people. In the spring the Euphrates, which began its long journey in the great Taurus Mountains in the north, was swelled with melt waters that threatened to engulf the towns and villages along its length with flooding. But the ancients had learned long ago to tame the great river with dams, dykes and irrigation canals. When the level of the river rose the dams and dykes prevented the land from being flooded, while the canals channelled the water inland where it could be stored and used to irrigate crops and water livestock.
Each Babylonian village was home to between a hundred and two hundred people and was surrounded by fields and orchards that produced barley, dates, wheat, lentils, peas, olives, grapes, pomegranates and vegetables. There were also fields of flax, which once harvested, cleaned and combed was woven into linen to make clothing. It was also used to make fishermen’s nets. The villagers also kept goats, sheep and cows in pens next to their homes to produce milk, cheese, meat and leather.
This stretch of the river was densely populated and farmed, and the last thing the villagers needed was an army marching across their fields. Therefore we marched in three great columns inland from where the fields and farms ended and the desert began. Vardan and his Babylonians formed the right-hand column as we rode south, the villagers stopping their work and cheering him and his senior officers as they passed by their homes. No doubt many who rode in the ranks of his horse archers were recruited from these same villages, and would return to their farming once the campaign was over — those who still lived. My father rode with Vardan as it was the custom for the kings to travel in each other’s company when on campaign. In his place Vistaspa commanded Hatra’s army that made up the central column.
Dura’s army and Nergal’s horsemen formed the left-hand column of our combined forces and I rode at its head. I was still annoyed with my father and so preferred to avoid his company.
‘You are being childish,’ Gallia rebuked me as walked beside our horses across the parched ground. Like yesterday the sky was heaped with sullen grey clouds that threatened to burst but withheld their rain, creating a humid and uncomfortable atmosphere, rather like that which had existed in Vardan’s pavilion the day before.
‘I prefer the company of my friends to that of kings,’ I replied.
Orodes held the reins of his horse as he walked beside me, while on my other side the long, gangly legs of Nergal paced the ground. Behind us Gallia and Praxima led their mounts.
We had ridden hard during the morning, covering around fifteen miles, and then the whole army had dismounted so as not to tax the horses unduly. We would soon halt for an hour or so before resuming our ride south. The day after tomorrow we would be at Babylon, unless Mithridates chose to march north to meet us.
‘This continual bickering between you and your father is tiresome Pacorus,’ continued Gallia.
‘A father and son should not quarrel so,’ said Orodes sternly.
‘Orodes is right,’ added Nergal.
‘I have no wish to argue with my father,’ I said.
‘As long as he agrees with you,’ interrupted Gallia.
‘As long as he sees Mithridates for what he is,’ I corrected her. ‘I don’t want to see my father’s head split open by an assassin’s sword like mine nearly was.’
‘Surely he would not attempt to murder your father?’ said Praxima.
‘Why not?’ I replied. ‘He has already killed his own father and now Gotarzes.’
I glanced at Orodes who stared ahead with unblinking eyes.
‘I am sorry, my friend,’ I said.
He managed a weak smile. ‘You are right in what you say, Pacorus, but my stepbrother is clever as well as malicious. I have no doubt that he has sent many messages to your father professing his friendship and allegiance. For your father it is no small thing to take arms against the king of kings.’
‘And in truth it is no small matter for Mesene,’ said Nergal.
‘I know that, Nergal, and I appreciate your presence here. You are a loyal friend.’
‘And we are glad to be by your side, Pacorus,’ added Praxima.
Brave and fearless Praxima. She was as good as any man on the battlefield but beyond the bravado I knew that she and her husband were in great peril. Like Babylon Mesene occupied land between the Tigris and Euphrates, and directly opposite Nergal’s kingdom, across the Tigris, lay the Kingdom of Susiana, Mithridates’ domain. Its capital Susa was only a hundred and fifty miles from Uruk. At least while Gotarzes still lived the Kingdom of Elymais acted as a counterweight to Susiana, but now Mesene potentially faced the full might of Mithridates’ wrath. That is why he must be dealt with quickly. If Mithridates and Narses were allowed to turn their full strength against Mesene, Nergal’s kingdom would crumble.
‘How many troops can you raise, Nergal?’ I asked.
‘Five thousand horse archers I have brought with me,’ he replied. ‘These are my professional troops, men who are paid by me to be full-time soldiers. Uruk has a garrison of a further thousand men, trained and equipped after the Greek fashion, each man with bronze helmet, leather cuirass, bronze-faced shield, spear and sword. In times of emergency I can muster a further ten thousand horse archers at most.’
‘It is a credit to you that you can raise such a force,’ remarked Orodes.
And so it was, for Mesene was a poor kingdom and the campaign that Chosroes had waged against me had cost him his army, his city and ultimately his life. A fair number of the kingdom’s lords and their men had also died before the walls of Dura and later in the defence of Uruk.
‘How many Ma’adan have you recruited?’ I asked.
‘A third of my horse archers are men from the marshes,’ Nergal replied. ‘They are good warriors, used to living off their wits and unafraid of hardships. Much like Surena.’
‘Ah, yes,’ I said. ‘Surena. You heard that Gallia sent him and a thousand of my horse archers, men you used to command Nergal, into the heart of enemy territory. I had great hopes for Surena and now he lies dead in the desert.’
Nergal was shocked. ‘Surena is dead?’
‘Of course he isn’t,’ snapped Gallia. ‘Pacorus whines like an old mule. Surena is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He fought the soldiers of Chosroes for many years with only a long knife and a ragged band of feral youths for company.’
‘I did not know you took such an interest in him,’ I said.
‘I don’t,’ she replied irritably, ‘but Viper is forever talking about him and as I am very fond of her I listen to her words.’
I tried a clever riposte. ‘And soon you will have to tell her that she is a widow.’
‘Don’t be an idiot, Pacorus. Do you think I would willingly send him and a thousand of Dura’s soldiers to their deaths? Do you think I am so stupid, that I know nothing of war even though I have fought by your side these past ten years?’
‘Of course not, I merely meant…’
Her voice rose in anger. ‘I have saved your life on more than one occasion, when your short-sightedness nearly got you and the men you led killed. And now you mock me in front of our friends.’