‘Perhaps not all kingdoms still want to be a part of the empire.’
‘Father?’ I admit that I had no idea what he was suggesting.
‘Nothing,’ he mused. ‘We will know more presently.’
The next day we reached Zeugma. Two hours after dawn we were approached by a patrol of cavalry, their commander’s lack of surprise about our presence explained by the courier my father had sent to the city immediately after our battle. The twenty riders were all light horseman wearing no armour and carrying swords and shields. They had a passable appearance, though I noted that their shields were battered and their uniforms scruffy. We wore no armour, which was packed and carried on the camel train that accompanied us. My father, his bodyguard and I wore white silk tunics, baggy leggings and loosely fitting cotton caps. Swords hung in scabbards from our leather belts and our shields, which we didn’t carry when wearing scale armour, were slung on our backs. Fastened to our saddles were our bows in their leather cases, with a quiver full of arrows attached to a leather strap that ran over our right shoulder and across our chest, with the quiver itself sitting at our left hip. Our horse archers formed a mounted phalanx behind the king’s bodyguard, followed by the supply camels and a rearguard of more horse archers. Our lances were similarly strapped to the camels, which spent each day spitting, belching and breaking wind. They were truly disgusting creatures, and absolutely essential to the Parthian war machine.
The commander of the Zeugma cavalry saluted my father. ‘Greetings, highness. King Darius is eagerly awaiting your presence at his palace. Already news of your victory is spreading throughout the empire.’
My father said nothing but merely nodded at the young officer, while Vistaspa also fixed him with a cool stare. The silence was most oppressive and if I was feeling uncomfortable then the officer must have been feeling worse, as sweat began to trickle down his face.
My father nudged his horse forward, past the young officer. ‘Give my greetings to my friend, King Darius. Tell him we will pay our respects at his palace this afternoon.’
With that my father’s horse idled past the static riders, as did Vistaspa and I. Their commander, unsure what to do, eventually gave the signal to his men, who turned around and galloped back to the city, their horses kicking up a cloud of dust as they did so.
‘You are angry, father?’
‘You saw the state of them,’ he replied. ‘Darius sends a bunch of beggars to escort us into his city. We’re lucky they didn’t try to rob us.’ This prompted a rare smile from Vistaspa. ‘I’m not having my soldiers sullied by having to ride with them. I’d rather ride a camel.’
‘We are now in Darius’ territory, my liege,’ said Vistaspa. ‘He may not take kindly to being treated as an unequal.’
Normally the commander of a king’s bodyguard would not dare to address his lord thus, but Vistaspa himself had once been a prince and he and my father had a close relationship, almost like brothers, which was another thing that annoyed me about him.
My father bristled at the suggestion. ‘We’ve saved his lazy fat arse from being roasted over a Roman fire, and he can’t even be bothered to ride out himself to thank me. He doesn’t deserve to be a king. Little toad.’
‘A rich toad,’ remarked Vistaspa.
We reached the city of Zeugma two hours later. Lying on the west bank of the River Euphrates, the city hugged the river for four miles either side of the bridge of boats that spanned the waterway. Surrounded by rocky outcrops, Zeugma was like a golden egg in a stone nest. As we approached the bridge we encountered heavy traffic on the road, mostly camel caravans going east or heading for Roman Syria. Soon we were covered with a fine dust kicked up by the dozens of camels, donkeys and human feet on the highway. In the distance, on a gently rising hill that swept up from the river, sat a host of large villas, where the city’s aristocrats lived I assumed. And on the top of that summit, standing alone but proud, sat a building more magnificent than the rest, with brightly coloured flags flying from every tower.
‘Vistaspa, find a place to pitch our camp for tonight. My son and I will visit our host and convey our greetings. Find a place upstream, where the water is fresh. Come Pacorus,’ my father urged his horse forward. Vistaspa motioned for a troop of horse to escort us, and then went in search of the garrison commander.
As we moved across the wooden bridge and into the city, we passed through one of the gates in the city’s walls. Guards stood on the ramparts and both inside and outside the wooden gates, each one hung on large iron hinges. The guards watched us as we passed but made no effort to stop us. Clearly we were expected. Once inside the city we were met by a richly adorned officer on a shiny black stallion flanked by two of his men, who also rode immaculate black horses. He wore a red headband, a yellow tunic with silver edging at the neck and yellow trousers. His only weapon was a sword at his left hip, which was encased in a red scabbard adorned with jewels. He placed his right hand on his chest and bowed his head.
‘King Varaz, my liege King Darius welcomes you to his city and asks that you partake of his hospitality.’
‘I and my son would be honoured,’ my father replied. ‘Please lead the way.’
Our escorts rode before us as we headed away from the city’s wide main thoroughfare onto a side road that was obviously reserved for nobles and the king, as it was empty of all traffic. Guards in yellow tunics and trousers, armed with spears and wicker shields, stood on each side of the road every ten paces or so.
After about twenty minutes of climbing gently we came to the royal palace. The palace’s main gate was a single arch flanked by two towers, the whole structure covered with yellow enamelled tiles. The palace itself was set in the middle of verdant gardens filled with palm trees, fountains and carefully manicured lawns. Servants rushed forward and placed wooden stools beside our mounts to aid our dismounting. Our escort also dismounted and bowed again to my father.
‘Your horses will be fed, water and groomed. My master awaits your pleasure, King Varaz.’
My father acknowledged him and bade him lead the way. I followed, while our cavalry troop led their horses towards the stables. The palace was of pure white stone fronted with white marble columns with gold-covered volutes. We ascended the marble steps and entered the portico, which had a marble floor. We were led through the portico and into the throne room, the centerpiece of which was a golden throne, upon which sat a middle-aged plump man with a bulbous nose, piggy eyes and a somewhat leering expression. As soon as he saw us he jumped out of his throne and ambled towards my father, arms outstretched.
‘Hail King Varaz, conqueror of our foes. Slayer of our enemies,’ his voice was slightly effeminate.
‘Hail, King Darius,’ replied my father, as they embraced each other as brother kings and equals.
My father turned to me. ‘May I present my son, Prince Pacorus, whose courage brought victory against the invaders.’
Darius observed my slyly for an instant with his piggy eyes, then forced a smile as I bowed to him. ‘Of course, of course. How grateful we are that you have saved us from a dreadful fate. Prince Pacorus. Splendid. Now we must eat. You must be hungry. I certainly am.’
He gestured towards a small ante chamber, into which he scurried, followed by a host of slaves, most teenage boys and girls, all of whom were young, attractive and immaculately groomed, and all of whom were naked from the waist up. In the antechamber Darius flopped down on a luxurious red couch. He invited myself and my father to sit on other couches that were arranged in a circle around his. The walls were covered with paintings of wild animals and naked nymphs. Guards in yellow tunics and trousers stood at each corner, each armed with a spear with a highly polished blade. Darius clapped, and within second more semi-naked slaves brought in silver platters piled high with food — bread, fruit, roasted lamb, fowl and fish — while others carried flagons of wine. A small table was laid in front of us, upon which was soon piled dishes of food. A young girl, no older than sixteen, poured wine into a silver goblet held by another young slave, a pale-skinned boy who bowed and passed it to me once it was full. The wine was exquisite.