‘Two wars?’
He smiled. ‘How long have we known each other, Pacorus? I know you will march again against Mithridates, it is only a matter of time. And when you do Hatra will be forced to fight beside you.’
‘I ask no one to fight beside me,’ I said casually.
‘You are wrong. You have already asked Hatra, Babylon and Mesene to fight for you, either that or meekly submit as Mithridates subdues them. I can read maps too.’
‘There are debts that must be repaid,’ I said slowly.
He laughed and slapped my arm. ‘Same old Pacorus. Well, I must get back to the city. Your father sent me to request your presence at the palace tomorrow at midday.’
‘I can’t wait,’ I said dryly.
He stood and drained his cup. ‘It is good to see you, my friend.’
I stood and we embraced. ‘You too, Vata.’
‘I like your camp. Do you always construct it thus?’
‘Always. It allows all those inside to sleep sounder at night.’
I stood at the tent’s entrance and watched him ride down the camp’s central avenue with his escort of spearmen around him. The wind coming from the north was cool and carried with it a light drizzle. I shivered and gathered my cloak around me as Vata and his men disappeared in the distance.
The next day I ordered hunting parties to be sent out to collect some fresh food that could be cooked in the evening. I had hunted in these parts as a boy with my father, Bozan and Vata and knew they were rich in lions, hyenas, jackals, wolves, wild boar and antelopes. Surena organised a competition between fifty hunting parties, each one made up of twenty horse archers, whereby the winning party would be the one that killed the most edible game and would be rewarded with a bonus of a week’s pay. Marcus added a proviso that they must collect any arrows they shot that missed the target and extract any others from the animals they killed. The thought of thirty thousand arrows being wasted on a hunting trip did not improve his humour. Before they left camp Surena promised instant promotion to anyone who brought back a dead Armenian. I also reminded them not to damage any farms or property, or indeed frighten the locals who might mistake them for raiders.
I took Orodes with me to the meeting of the kings, the two hundred and fifty men of his bodyguard in their scale armour riding behind us. Nisibus stands beside the Mygdonius that flows south through a huge plain located below Mount Masius, one of the mountains in the Taurus chain. The lower slopes of the mountain are covered in deciduous and conifer forests, while the arrival of spring had covered the plain of Nisibus in white roses. I took this to be a good omen signalling that the white horse of Hatra and the white tunics of Dura would overcome their foes.
It had been over five years since I had last seen the kings of Media and Atropaiene and in that time they had aged considerably.
They were waiting in the main hall of Nisibus’ palace; a squat stone building that was entirely functional and largely devoid of rich furnishings. The palace was in the centre of a walled compound that also contained storerooms, stables, armouries and barracks. At this time it was crowded with horses, soldiers and the retinues of lords that waited as their masters gathered in the main hall.
Orodes and I left our horses at the entrance to the palace and walked through the reception hall. Guards stood at every pillar and a host of petitioners waited outside the closed oak doors at the entrance to the hall. We pushed our way through the throng and the guards at the entrance opened the doors to allow us to enter. They were closed behind us. The hall had plain white-washed walls and grey stone slabs covering the floor. We made our way to where my father was sitting at the head of a massive rectangular oak table positioned in the middle of the chamber. Beyond it stood a stone dais over which hung Hatran banners depicting a white horse on a red background, and around the dais, behind my father, stood the lords of northern Hatra dressed in their war gear.
My father nodded to me and then Orodes as we took our seats at the table. Beside my father, as always, was Vistaspa, his elbows resting on the table and his hands clasped together under his chin. I could tell from his demeanour that the meeting would be serious. On my father’s other side was the world-weary Vata who managed a thin smile. Across the table from me sat King Farhad of Media, a lean, severe individual with dark eyes. Next to him was his son, Prince Atrax, a man I liked enormously for his courage, amiable nature and sense of honour. Unfortunately for me he was married to my sister Aliyeh, who had taken against me when Atrax had received a severe leg wound as a consequence of fighting the Romans. Aliyeh had blamed me for intoxicating Atrax with notions of glory and encouraging him to seek battle, which was untrue. Anyhow Atrax had nearly died and now walked with a permanent limp as a consequence of his wound and Aliyeh never forgave me. She also disliked me for having, as she put it, lured Atrax away from her side to fight beside me during my ill-fated campaign in Gordyene, during which we had all nearly died. That was years ago but her anger towards me had not diminished. Since then Aliyeh had born two sons, the future rulers of Media. I had heard that Atrax had wanted to name his firstborn Pacorus but Aliyeh had forbidden it. The rumour was that my sister ruled both her husband and father-in-law and thus the whole of Media.
Atrax’s angular face broke into a grin and I smiled back. Behind the king and his son stood Media’s senior commanders, all dressed in blue tunics, grey leggings, armour and helmets. At the other end of the table sat the King of Atropaiene, Aschek. He had thick, wavy black hair and a hooked nose. Either side of him were his two sons who had inherited their father’s nose and behind them were grouped Atropaiene’s generals.
‘These are dangerous times,’ began my father, ‘when all of our kingdoms face external threats. For too long now our borders have been assaulted by raiders from Armenia.’
‘It is as you say, Varaz,’ said Farhad. ‘Ever since Balas was killed and Gordyene lost to the Romans we have had nothing but trouble.’
‘Only last week,’ added Aschek, ‘a large party of the enemy attacked my lands from Gordyene and did a great deal of damage. It is intolerable.’
My father nodded while Vistaspa continued to look down at the table. ‘Intolerable, I agree, which is why I have demanded this meeting with Tigranes.’
‘It was better for us,’ said Farhad, ‘when Tigranes was fighting the Romans. Now he is their ally he turns his spears against us.’
‘He is their client,’ I corrected him.
Farhad held out his hands. ‘Client, ally, what does it matter?’
‘It matters a great deal, lord,’ I answered. ‘Armenia is a client state of Rome and Tigranes is what is called amicus populi Romani, “a friend of the Roman people”, which means he is under Rome’s thumb. He does nothing without the agreement of his Roman overlords.’
‘And you think that Rome believes there is advantage to be gained in provoking us?’ asked Aschek.
‘Yes lord,’ I answered.
‘And what is that, Pacorus?’ queried my father.
‘What Rome has always desired, father. Control of the Silk Road.’ I looked at Vata. ‘These raiders that attack Hatra’s villages and the trade caravans, do they include Romans?’
He shook his head. ‘There are no Romans in these parts any more, Pacorus.’
I was surprised. ‘Are you sure? I remember when I was last in Gordyene,’ I nodded at Atrax, ‘there were plenty of Romans there at that time.’
‘There might be some in Armenia itself,’ replied Vata, ‘but there are none in Gordyene and no Romans raid our frontier.’
‘They get others to do their dirty work,’ complained Atrax.
‘Gordyene is a refuge for thieves, murderers and bandits,’ said Aschek, ‘and a base from which our three kingdoms can be attacked.’