‘The army is, yes,’ said Vistaspa, ‘but if we have to issue a general call-up we’ll be in trouble.’
‘Not every man can be a warrior,’ remarked my father.
‘More’s the pity,’ said his bodyguard’s commander. Vistaspa then muttered something under his breath and rode towards the rear of the column, no doubt to take out whatever was irritating him on some poor trooper.
My father smiled. ‘He’s a good man, Vistaspa,’ I remained silent, ‘but he is too intolerant, I fear. But there is no man I would rather have beside me in battle.’
Ctesiphon was something of a disappointment. It was undoubtedly large and sprawling, but its squat brick buildings were dirty and its walls were also brick and coloured a dark yellow. It was also poor, or at least its inhabitants were. The people eked out an existent from agriculture, but the Silk Road did not pass through Ctesiphon, and therefore it could not tap its wealth. But it did not have to, for all kingdoms in the empire paid tribute to the King of Kings, thus there was a constant flow of money to the capital, though it obviously was not spent on its defences.
We were met outside the city by a detachment of cavalry led by the son of Sinatruces, Phraates. They carried the eagle standard of the King of Kings and were well appointed, with bright steel helmets, whetted lances and burnished shields. They wore mail vests and red cloaks on their backs. Phraates himself, bare headed, rode at the head of the column and greeted my father as an equal, as he was a king in his own right.
‘Greetings, King Varaz,’ he bowed his head. My father reciprocated. Phraates then looked at me. ‘And this must be your son, Prince Pacorus, whom we have heard so much of.’
I bowed my head. ‘Highness.’
Phraates was a studious-looking individual, his hair cropped just above his shoulders with a neatly trimmed, short beard flecked with grey. He had a broad face and a rather bulbous nose. I guessed he was nearing sixty years of age.
During the ride to the palace Phraates rode beside my father, myself and Vistaspa immediately behind.
‘You are to be congratulated, Prince Pacorus,’ he said. ‘Your valour is the talk of the empire.’
‘You honour me, majesty,’ I replied.
‘You are a worthy son of Hatra, the home of the empire’s finest warriors.’
His flattery seemed genuine, and I for one could not help but smile as we rode through the royal gates and came to a halt before the steps of the palace. It was a large, tall building with an ornate white stone façade. Guards stood on the steps, spearmen with large wicker shields and red felt caps on their heads. Our horses were taken from us and Phraates led us up the steps, through the reception area and into the throne room. This was a cavernous area some three storeys high, with a white and black marble floor, thick stone columns on either and a golden throne on a dais surmounted by a griffin at the far end. Courtiers were clustered in groups around the throne while a guard stood in front of each column. As we were led into the room the various hushed conversations died away. All eyes were on us as we approached the dais. We halted a few paces from the figure seated on the throne, an old man with white hair and a wispy beard, which was platted to resemble a serpent’s tongue protruding from his chin. He wore a golden crown encrusted with gemstones on his head, while his black tunic was adorned with golden stars. His face was thin and bony, his cheeks slightly sunken. But his dark brown eyes were alert and piercing, and had fixed on us as soon as we had entered the room.
Phraates nodded to a tall, thin man with a staff who stood beside the throne, some sort of chancellor I assumed.
‘Majesty, may I present King Varaz and his son, Prince Pacorus,’ we went down on one knee and bowed our heads.
‘Arise, arise,’ said the king, to polite applause from the courtiers. The king’s voice was deep and powerful, which came as something of a shock to me considering his frail body.
‘You are most welcome, King Varaz, and we congratulate you and your son,’ he nodded at me, ‘on your victory over the Roman invaders.’
‘Thank you, majesty,’ said my father.
Sinatruces held out his right hand, into which was placed a rolled scroll by the chancellor. The room was silent as he carefully unrolled it.
‘This document is the reason I invited you here, King Varaz, for it is a demand from the Senate of Rome. A demand that I return their legion’s eagle, which they say has been stolen, and furthermore that I pay them reparations for the destruction of said legion.’ There were angry mutterings around the room, which were silenced by Sinatruces holding up his left hand.
‘It would appear to me,’ he continued, ‘that the Romans think that the Parthian Empire is a vassal state, which must pay homage to them. This they must be disabused of. I have therefore replied that it is they who should be paying reparations to us for their gross violation of our sovereignty, and that any future incursions will be countered by great force.’ Again, applause filled the room.
‘A most wise reply, father,’ said Phraates.
I kept my eyes fixed on the floor as Sinatruces spoke, as befitting his rank, though my father looked directly at him. After the preliminary niceties were out of the way, Sinatruces spoke in the ear of his chancellor, who announced that everyone was to leave the room aside from myself, my father and Phraates. Once the courtiers had filed out, the two large wooden doors were shut. Guards still stood around the room and I had no doubt that they would be listening intently to what was about to be said, to be later disseminated as idle gossip among their comrades.
Guards placed chairs in front of the dais for us to sit in, while a slave came forward with a tray holding silver goblets. I took one and drank, slightly surprised to discover it was cool water, not wine. Sinatruces sighed and then began to speak again.
‘King Varaz, your kingdom is the shield that protects our western border, and I fear that in the months ahead that shield will be battered by Roman spears. Rome is not threatening war, but there is a large Roman garrison in Syria and I’m sure the commander there will be ordered to test your defences and will do so. Hatra is strong and will defend itself with honour, I doubt not.’
‘Majesty,’ replied my father. ‘Hatra is strong but would be stronger with reinforcements.’
‘Ah,’ sighed Sinatruces. ‘I thought we would come to that. I have to tell you that the empire is threatened from the north by the Alans and by the Sakas in the east. I cannot ask for troops from the kings who are facing those threats, for to do so would risk leaving our borders vulnerable.’
‘Rome is a bigger threat than tribes of nomads, majesty,’ said my father.
‘You are right, King Varaz, ‘but Hatra’s army is the strongest in the empire. We are not unmindful of your dilemma, and thus are prepared to grant you aid.’
‘Troops?’ my father asked.
‘Alas, no, but we will give you ten cartloads of gold to allow you to sustain your war effort.’
I cast a glance at my father and saw his eyes light up. Hatra’s treasury was already full, and such an amount would allow my father to strengthen the army.
‘A most generous offer, majesty.’
Sinatruces clapped his hands. ‘Excellent! You will both stay for the banquet tonight. A most satisfactory meeting, I think.’
We were shown to our luxurious quarters in the palace where we were waited on by a host of slaves. I bathed and afterwards had a massage at the hands of a lithe Armenian girl, whose fingers erased the aches from my neck and shoulders and sent me into a dream-like state. It was most excellent life being royalty, I had to admit.
The evening banquet was a sumptuous affair. Parthians believe that consuming red meat and fats create evil thoughts, and is in any case the food of barbarians. Thus the trays were piled high with fruits, vegetables, fish, fowl and lamb. Delicacies included oranges, pistachios, spinach, saffron, sweet and sour sauces, kabobs and almond pastries, all washed down with the finest wines. My father was seated on the left side of Sinatruces, with Phraates on his right side. I sat next to my father, while behind us stood guards. The chancellor and a number of other officials sat at another table, one of some twenty that were arranged around the feasting hall. In the centre a troupe of jugglers was entertaining the guests as a small army of servants ferried trays to and from the kitchens. Sinatruces, I noted, ate sparingly and drank little, speaking the occasional word to my father, who smiled and nodded dutifully.