Then the royal party appeared surrounded by two thousand fully armoured cataphracts. The horsemen in their glittering armour halted immediately opposite where we were positioned and a lone rider came from their ranks towards us. My father nodded to Vistaspa who likewise rode from our ranks to meet the Armenian representative halfway between the armies. An ominous stillness descended over the plain as around one hundred and twenty thousand men stared at each other.
After a few minutes Vistaspa returned to report to my father.
‘Tigranes and his son will meet with the you and the other kings, majesty.’
‘His son?’ I said.
‘Prince Artavasdes,’ said Vata without enthusiasm. ‘A treacherous snake.’
‘Thank you, Vata,’ my father rebuked him, ‘kindly keep your thoughts to yourself.’
I rode with my father, Farhad and Aschek across the wet turf to meet the Armenian king, the first time that I encountered the man who had earned the title ‘great’. At one time he had ruled this plain and Syria, but that was many years ago and since then Armenia’s power had waned. As we approached and slowed our horses I saw that there were no Romans in Tigranes’ party. My spirits rose in expectation of an agreeable meeting. I was wrong.
Tigranes himself was mounted on a large brown stallion with a red saddle and a great purple saddlecloth. He wore no armour but was dressed in a rich tunic striped in white and purple and a great purple cloak around his shoulders. He sat tall in the saddle, his height accentuated by a high hat adorned with diamonds and pearls. I knew he was nearly eighty years of age now and though his eyes were still sharp his face betrayed his great age, his skin wrinkled and his cheeks sunken.
Next to him, similarly adorned in rich purple robes, rode the man I assumed to be Prince Artavasdes. He had inherited his father’s height though not his stature, appearing slightly diminished next to him. Artavasdes had a narrow face and a long nose that he held in the air to give him a haughty aspect. He had obviously been spending too much time among Romans!
Behind Tigranes rode two hulking cataphracts in short-sleeved scale armour and leg armour. They wore helmets and chainmail veils obscured their faces. They carried great maces in their hands but they were not here to intimidate, merely to even the numbers as four Armenians faced four Parthians. My father raised his hand to Tigranes.
‘Hail Tigranes, great king of Armenia.’
Tigranes raised his hand in return as the drizzle started to turn to light rain.
‘I came to this place, Varaz, because I know that you were a friend of Balas, late ruler of Gordyene, a man who I also held dear.’ His voice was deep and commanding. ‘Out of respect for his memory I decided to leave my warm palace to meet with you on this cold plain.’
‘I am in your debt,’ said my father, ‘and hope that we may settle our differences today to the mutual benefit of all.’
Tigranes smiled at my father. ‘Do Armenia and Hatra have differences? And I see the banners of Media and Atropaiene beside your own and recognise Farhad and Aschek before me. Do I take it that there are differences between Armenia and Media and Atropaiene also?’
‘Media has suffered wrongs at the hands of Armenia’s soldiers,’ replied Farhad.
‘As has Atropaiene,’ added Aschek.
‘My villages are attacked, the trade caravans are threatened,’ said my father with force, ‘and my people are murdered.’
‘And Armenia is responsible for these depravations?’ asked Tigranes.
‘Raiders come though the mountain passes and from Gordyene,’ continued my father. ‘These regions are controlled by Armenia.’
‘These are grave charges you levy against me,’ said Tigranes, his eyes flashing menace. ‘A king might take offence at such words.’
I saw Farhad and Aschek shift uneasily in their saddles. I knew that Aschek in particular did not want war with the Armenians, and ever since Media’s defeat at the hands of the Romans and Prince Atrax’s near fatal wounding, Farhad had also been reluctant to embroil his kingdom in further conflict.
‘It is we who are offended,’ I said, causing Tigranes and his son to look at me.
‘And you are?’ queried Tigranes.
‘Pacorus, King of Dura Europos,’ I answered.
Tigranes nodded and smiled ever so slightly. ‘So you are the famed King Pacorus, the slayer of kings and the confidant of witches.’
‘And the friend of slaves,’ added Artavasdes, his voice mocking and slightly high pitched.
‘Better than being the friend of Romans,’ I answered, ‘or their lackeys.’
Artavasdes bared his teeth at me and was about to rise to the bait but was stopped by a hand raised by his father.
‘Tell me, King Pacorus,’ said Tigranes, ‘your domain lies far to the south of here. Why then would you concern yourself with matters in these parts?’
‘Dura is an ally of Hatra,’ I answered. ‘Its problems are my problems and its wars are my wars.’
‘But there is no war,’ said Tigranes.
I fixed him with my eyes. ‘Not yet.’
‘Enough, Pacorus,’ snapped my father. ‘Hatra does not desire war, Tigranes, but conflict will break out if raids against my kingdom continue. This is my warning to you.’
Tigranes appeared unruffled by the threat, looking at Farhad and Aschek in turn. ‘And Media and Atropaiene stand with Hatra in this?’
Farhad nodded and Aschek did likewise, though without conviction. Artavasdes saw their lack of belief and gloated.
‘Dura also stands with Hatra,’ I announced.
‘Oh, I can see that,’ said Tigranes, ‘perhaps you wish for things to be settled here, today, King of Dura Europos?’
‘Why not?’ I replied indifferently.
‘We did not come here to shed blood,’ said my father, ‘Pacorus forgets himself. But you can see with your eyes, Tigranes, that my words can be backed up with force if need be.’
Tigranes peered past us to where our combined forces were drawn up and smiled. ‘You also have eyes, Varaz. Do they not see the multitude that I have brought with me?’
‘They are but a fraction of the host that Armenia can put into the field,’ boasted Artavasdes.
Perhaps Farhad and Aschek were intimidated by such threats but I had learned long ago that it was not numbers that counted in battle but training and discipline. I yawned.
‘You are impertinent,’ Tigranes said to me.
‘And you are an old man, once called great but now a Roman puppet. Let us settle things now, on this ground, for I grow tired of hearing your words and the empty boasts of your preening son.’
Aschek sat on his horse with his mouth open and Farhad was looking in alarm at my father, who now spoke.
‘You will leave us, Pacorus, so that wiser heads can resolve this problem.’
Artavasdes pointed at me. ‘Do not start a war with us.’
‘Or a conversation, it seems,’ I retorted.
‘Pacorus!’ shouted my father, ‘you will retire.’
I grabbed Remus’ reins and turned him. ‘You are wasting your time, father.’ I dug my knees into Remus’ sides and trotted back to where Orodes, Atrax, Aschek’s sons and Vata waited.
‘What is happening?’ asked a concerned Orodes.
‘Nothing,’ I answered. ‘Tigranes mocks us and we do nothing.’
I looked at Vata. ‘You were right about his son. When he gains the throne things will get a lot worse for you.’
The rain got heavier as I pulled my cloak about me and waited for my father and the other two kings to return. When they did my father had a face like thunder.
‘Well?’ I asked.
‘You made things worse, Pacorus,’ he said wearily.
‘Tigranes refuses to even acknowledge that his men are raiding our kingdoms,’ added Farhad.