‘You are our eyes and ears in the city, Kogan,’ said my father, ‘and I have every faith in you to maintain security. However, only an army of horsemen can defend the kingdom from outside enemies. Pacorus and I will go to Ctesiphon. Bozan, you will organise the raising of an additional five hundred heavy cavalry and a thousand horse archers. We will leave in three days.’
In the interim, Vata and I took the opportunity to pay a visit to the city. Though we lived in Hatra, our duties rarely allowed us to wander through its bustling streets. Seeing a myriad of nationalities and different races was always a curiosity, though, along with the temples that were clustered around the east and west gates, through which human traffic and trade flowed all year round. Inside the city were parks where animals could be fed and housed for the night, which were supplied with watercourses for man and beast, and which were guarded by troops of the garrison, though many caravans also had their own guards. The air around the markets was filled with the strange aromas of exotic spices brought from the Orient, while other traders hawked silk and other expensive materials. By chance, Vata and I came across a Roman merchant house whose agents traded in the Parthian Empire, mainly in silk of which Rome had an insatiable appetite for. We entered the whitewashed two-storey building through its large porch. Inside the large reception area men sat at desks conducting business with travellers and natives of the city. The interior was functional if a little spartan.
‘I wonder if they make it look like the insides of the buildings in Rome?’ said Vata.
Before I could answer a short man, about thirtyish and dressed in a simple beige linen tunic, approached us, his hair cropped short as was the Roman fashion.
‘Can I help you?’
‘We are just looking,’ I said.
‘At what?’ he snapped. ‘Are you businessmen?’
Our appearance — gold-edged white tunics and leggings, leather boots, ornate leather belts from which hung silver-decorated scabbards — suggested we weren’t. I saw no reason to hide our identities.
‘I am Prince Pacorus and this is my friend, Vata.’
The Roman looked directly at me. ‘So, you are the one who took the eagle.’
I detected a mocking tone in his voice.
‘It was easy enough,’ I replied, ‘I found it lying in the dirt.
He bristled at this. ‘Rome never forgets its enemies.’
‘Parthia always looks for new victories.’ I was enjoying our verbal duel.
He moved closer to me, our faces inches apart. His audacity, considering he was in my city, was astounding, but I was to become all too familiar with Roman arrogance. ‘We have many more legions, Parthian,’ he spat, his bad breath reeking in my nostrils.
I clutched the hilt of my sword with my right hand. ‘Then go and get them.’
‘Enough, Pacorus,’ said Vata, laying a hand on my arm. ‘Pick on someone your own size. It’s unfair to start a quarrel with the a dwarf.’
We both laughed, causing the Roman’s cheeks to turn red with rage, his fists clenched. We left the building and went back into the street.
‘Cocky little bastard, wasn’t he,’ remarked Vata.
‘I think we’ll be fighting Romans again very soon.’
‘How many legions do you think they have?’
‘No idea,’ I replied. ‘Who cares?’
Vata shrugged. ‘Still, at least they’re shorter than we are. It’s always easier to kill someone who’s smaller. I wouldn’t like to fight a race of giants.’
My father and I left for Ctesiphon three days later. Vistaspa came with us, of course, along with a hundred of my father’s bodyguard, a hundred horse archers and our tents, food and spare weapons loaded onto forty camels. Ctesiphon was two hundred miles from Hatra, a journey that we made at a leisurely pace.
The journey through the kingdom allowed my father to inspect part of his domain. He always told me that it was important for the people to see their rulers, which also offered an opportunity for them to speak to him. Many kings viewed their subjects with distaste and suspicion, believing themselves to be appointed by gods to rule on earth.
‘That is a very dangerous way of thinking, to my mind,’ he said as we rode past a group of workers repairing an irrigation ditch in a field. ‘Some of them, and I have met them, believe that they are semi-divine themselves. That’s all very well until some common soldier in an opponent’s army shoots them with an arrow or runs them through with a sword. They don’t look so god-like when their guts are spewing all over the place.
‘It is true, for example, that you were born into a royal household and thus were a prince from birth, but the kingdom you will eventually inherit will grow rich only if you ensure the welfare of your subjects.’
‘All of them?’ I asked.
‘We can do nothing about plagues and famine. These things are sent by Shamash. But we can ensure that the kingdom is safe. And a safe kingdom is a prosperous kingdom. If this land,’ he waved his hand to indicate all around, ‘was infested with bandits there would be no trade passing through, no well-tended fields to harvest and no functioning irrigation ditches to water the fields. The people would flee and we would live as paupers. Our swords and lances keep the peace and allow the people to prosper. Always remember that, for when you forget it the kingdom is doomed.’
‘Yes, father.’
And he was right. The land, our land, was rich and prosperous. The distance between the Euphrates and Tigris is two hundred miles at its widest point, and in the area along their banks extending inland grains, vegetables and dates were cultivated, a complex system of irrigation dykes and ditches draining water from the rivers and keeping the land fertile. Oxen were used to pull ploughs, and cows, sheep and goats provided dairy products and meat. There was also a thriving textile industry producing wool for cloth and flax for linen.
The land itself was owned by nobles but worked by farmers, each of whom paid rent to their vassal lord. The aristocrats who lived in Hatra owned vast estates, but those who lived in their villas in the countryside owned much smaller tracts of land. It was the duty of each farmer to own a horse and a bow and practice his horsemanship and archery skills on a regular basis. In this way Hatra had a ready reserve of soldiers that could be called on. Inevitably there were some who neglected their military duties for farm work, but in general the system worked well enough. And when a general muster was issued, the lords were the first to ride to war. Parthian kings and nobles always led from the front.
The heat of the summer was receding now and the days were sunny but not stifling. The harvests were being gathered, which meant every road was filled with carts pulled by donkeys. When our column neared them, the carts and any human traffic on the road would move aside to let us pass. They bowed to my father and then carried on with their tasks.
‘You see, Pacorus,’ remarked my father, ‘they do not feel threatened by the appearance of soldiers.’
‘That’s because they are lazy and stupid,’ remarked Vistaspa, who had drawn level with us after leading a scouting party.
‘That’s because they feel safe,’ said my father.
‘They’ve become too accustomed to peace,’ growled Vistaspa.
‘But our army is the finest in the Parthian Empire, is it not?’ I added.