I smiled at her. ‘Thank you.’
I looked at the talisman in my hand. It was a beautiful silver Simurgh, an ancient mythological beast that had the head and foreparts of a dog, the wings and tail of a peacock and a body covered with scales.
Claudia did not smile back but looked deadly serious. ‘It is a protective guardian for your journey. Beware the mother of snakes.’
I nodded to her in acknowledgement and then wheeled Remus around and trotted from the courtyard as my daughter ascended the steps. Vagises fell in beside me and Spartacus and Scarab took up position behind as we rode down Dura’s main street towards the Palmyrene Gate. The last time I had ridden to see Crassus was in Italy twenty years ago. Then I had been accompanied by his personal slave and had been the commander of all the horsemen in Spartacus’ slave army. Now I was the lord high general of the Parthian Empire and commanded my own army, but more than anything else I was intrigued by the prospect of seeing Crassus again. The last time I had ridden to Rome itself, the heart of the enemy’s empire, and had emerged unscathed. I had no reason to believe that this time would be any different.
Chapter 14
The commander of my horse archers was most unhappy that we were going to Syria and even more melancholic that we would be meeting Crassus. Vagises was an excellent officer and a valued Companion but one who saw no purpose in talking to the Romans. He had been with me since that fateful expedition into Cappadocia all those years ago when we had been young and foolish and had gotten ourselves captured and shipped to Italy as slaves. I am sure that he thought the whole thing was a Roman ruse to recapture us.
‘How can it be a trap?’ I asked him. ‘It was Orodes who suggested that I meet with Crassus.’
Vagises did not reply but stared ahead as our horses trotted across the border where a detachment of Roman horsemen waited to escort us to Antioch some eighty miles to the west. As we crossed the frontier between the Kingdom of Dura and Roman Syria I caught sight of a gladius set in a stone base next to a kontus. It was at this spot where I had met the Roman general Pompey and where our two armies had faced each other, ready to do battle. Instead we had agreed a truce and he had thrust a sword into the earth to delineate where Roman Syria ended. I had plunged a kontus into the ground beside it to mark the northern extent of my own border and thus had part of the frontier between the empires of Rome and Parthia been fixed, at least until now. Afterwards the two weapons had been mounted on a four-sided stone base, the side facing east being inscribed ‘Kingdom of Dura’, the one facing west bearing the words ‘Romana Syria’. Vagises saw me looking at the monument.
‘I remember that day, when you faced down Pompey and his legions. That is the only language the Romans understand.’ He spat on the ground as we passed into Syria.
‘Bastard Romans.’
‘I trust I can depend on your discretion when we arrive at Antioch,’ I said.
‘I will conduct myself according to my rank, Pacorus. I will not give the Romans the satisfaction of thinking that Parthians are uncouth, much as I would like to.’
He looked behind him at Spartacus and Scarab.
‘It was a mistake bringing Spartacus,’ he said softly, ‘if Crassus gets wind that the son of the slave leader is with us he will have him thrown into a cell.’
He really was in a foul mood.
‘If Crassus was like that,’ I reasoned, ‘then he would have arrested me when I travelled to his house in Rome twenty years ago. The Romans may be many things but they are sticklers for the rule of law and they will not violate the safe passage that we have been granted.’
He mumbled something that I could not hear and then lapsed into a surly silence as our escort rode up and its commander, a man in his early thirties with olive skin and a thick black beard, bowed his head to me. He was obviously Syrian and commanded a detachment of horsemen who were serving the Romans as auxiliaries. His name was Bayas.
‘I am here to escort you to Antioch, majesty,’ he said in Greek.
Like most of the population of Syria he was probably descended from either the Greek or Macedonian settlers who had arrived in the province in the aftermath of its conquest by Alexander of Macedon. Before then Syria had been ruled by the Persians and before them it had been home to the Egyptians, Sumerians, Assyrians, Babylonians and Hittites. And now it was ruled by Rome.
Bayas led fifty horsemen, all dressed in long-sleeved brown tunics, protected by leather cuirasses painted white, and baggy white leggings. On their heads they wore so-called Phrygian caps. Hanging from the horns of their saddles were small round shields, which were made from laminated strips of wood glued together, with bronze around the circumference to prevent them from splitting in a fight. Covered in white-painted hide, they were designed to stop a sword blow or arrow strike. Each horseman was armed with short javelins that he carried in a case dangling from his saddle and a longer thrusting spear designed for the mêlée. I wondered how many other similar horsemen Crassus had raised thus far?
Bayas was agreeable enough and I did not bother to pester him with questions concerning where he was based or the size of the unit he was attached to. Byrd’s spies in Syria would be able to provide that information when the time came.
We moved west at a steady pace of twenty miles each day, riding on paved roads and watering our horses at wells that had been sunk beside them. Syria had been a Roman province for over ten years now and the evidence of its new masters was all around. The roads were not only efficient transportation systems; they were also statements of power. It was not only traders and their goods that travelled over their smooth slabs but also the hobnailed sandals of Roman legions marching to conquer foreign lands. It always amused me that Roman horsemen had to ride on the verges either side of the road whereas my horsemen could ride on the smooth flagstones because our mounts wore iron shoes. How I would have liked to see such roads criss-crossing my kingdom and indeed the empire but the cost was colossal. Underneath the slabs was a layer of gravel and sand with lime cement, and beneath that a layer of rubble and smaller stones set in lime mortar. The base layer comprised flat stones also set in lime mortar, and beside the roads were drainage channels so that rainwater could run off.
Syria had always been a rich region, with intensive irrigation systems to water the fields, and the Romans had been fortunate in that its population had always been subject to taxation. It had thus been relatively easy for them to exact taxes from their new province as a network of officials was already in place. All they had to do was employ them to collect taxes on behalf of Rome. And as time went on Roman weights, measures and coinage replaced their Greek equivalents and Latin became the legal language of the province.
The journey to Antioch was uneventful, though Vagises’ humour did not improve and he insisted on extra guards around the camp each night. Mostly we pitched our tents near a village and Bayas negotiated with the headman so that Vagises and I could use the village bathhouse for relaxation after a day’s riding. As we travelled nearer to Antioch the villages became larger and were surrounded by drained marshes and dams. We also saw legionaries working in details organising the construction of qanats — underground irrigational canals — that brought water to the surface to irrigate the land. Syria was certainly thriving that much was certain. Bayas told me that the Romans provided the engineering skills of the legions to towns and villages for free, which somewhat surprised me.
‘The Romans’ tax system is based on the harvest of farmlands, majesty,’ he explained, ‘so the more crops that are harvested the more taxes they collect. Very clever.’