‘I regret that you have rejected my high king’s offer because the easy victories you experienced last year have lulled you into a false sense of superiority. If you cross the Euphrates this year you will find that easy victories are hard to come by and you may experience the bitter taste of defeat instead.’
Cassius grew angry at my words. ‘You dare to insult us.’
I remained calm. ‘I do not threaten like an angry child, Cassius, I merely point out that Parthia will not lie down and let itself become one of Rome’s slaves.’
‘I am sure that other peoples who now call Rome “master” thought the same,’ he shot back.
‘They were not Parthian,’ I answered.
‘Your loyalty does you credit, King Pacorus,’ said Crassus, maintaining his calm demeanour, ‘but not even you can reverse the tide of history. You came to this city with an offer from your high king but now I make you an offer. If you submit to the authority of Rome then the Kingdom of Dura will be untouched by my army when it crosses the Euphrates. What is more, when the conquest of Parthia is complete you will be appointed king over all the territories from the Euphrates to the Indus to rule in Rome’s name, though I will naturally retain control over all trade routes. But you and your heirs will be the guardians of a new Roman eastern empire that will dwarf that of all previous kingdoms.’
I felt a sudden urge to laugh in his face though I controlled my emotions. Did he really think that I would sacrifice my friends, my family, my kingdom, my empire and my race to become a Roman puppet? In his mind he probably thought it a reasonable offer and perhaps regarded me with a degree of affection, like a man views his favourite dog. I picked up my silver cup filled with wine and took a sip.
‘Many years ago a man once told me that it is better to die on your feet than live on your knees,’ I said. ‘You think you offer riches and prosperity but in reality you offer nothing more than slavery; slavery for me and my heirs, for my kingdom and the people of my empire.’
‘I can take by force what I now offer, it makes no difference to me,’ he said dismissively.
Now I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the table. ‘Then do so, for by all that I hold dear I swear that I will never bow down to Rome or its servants.’
Cassius began to say something but Crassus silenced him. ‘That is your final word on the topic?’
I nodded. ‘It is.’
He pursed his lips. ‘That is regrettable. Twenty years ago you came to my house in Rome and I made you an offer.’
‘I remember,’ I said.
‘You refused it just as you refuse my offer now,’ he continued. ‘Then I promised that I would pursue Spartacus and the slave army until it was destroyed and I was true to my word. I also told you that when I took the field I would show no mercy to the enemies of Rome. I make the same promise to you now — there will be no quarter shown to you, your high king or any others who stand in my way.
‘Twenty years ago you managed to escape Italy and return to Parthia but now there is nowhere left to run to. Rome stands on the frontier of your empire. In your heart you must know that resistance is futile. Look around you, King Pacorus, at the magnificent palace we sit in. Where once the kings of the mighty Seleucid Empire walked now Roman soldiers patrol. Go north to Cappadocia and Pontus and you will see Roman banners flying from the walls of every town and city; travel south and you will see Roman legionaries keeping the peace in Judea and Egypt. Rome is destined to rule the world. No kingdom can stand against it, no empire can stand against it, much less one man.’
There was nothing left to say. The meeting ended with strained smiles and icy politeness but I knew that I had to get back to Dura as quickly as possible. The only comfort I could take from my visit to Antioch was that Crassus was supremely confident and that might make him casual in thinking that his march into Parthia would be nothing more than a victory parade. But perhaps he would act with speed and skill and be over the Euphrates with his legions before my army had left Dura. My heart sank with the thought that Marcus Licinius Crassus might indeed reach Ctesiphon before the month was out.
As I strolled from the meeting room with Vagises accompanying me I looked at the commander of my horse archers.
‘Please let me know the instant hairs begin to sprout on your palm.’
The next day we left Antioch, which appropriately was cold and wet with the peaks of mounts Silpius and Staurin wreathed in mist. Crassus maintained the role of perfect host, allocating his son to be our escort and bidding me farewell at the foot of the palace steps. Spartacus was delighted that Publius would be riding with us to the border and rode next to his new friend, both of them laughing and joking with each other.
‘It is a great shame that soon they will be trying to kill each other,’ I remarked as I observed them.
Crassus held out his hand. ‘It does not have to be so, there is still time for you to consider my offer.’
I took his hand. ‘I prefer freedom to slavery.’
He smiled. ‘Farewell, King Pacorus.’
I vaulted onto Remus’ back and led my men from Antioch’s palace. My soldiers wore their white cloaks around their shoulders and those of Publius scarlet mantles. The city streets were busy but not crowded as we rode along the main street and exited the city via the Iron Gate. This time there were no legionaries lining the road and so we had to thread our way past camels and mules loaded with wares and people on foot carrying great bundles of goods on their backs. After we had travelled past the two mountains it was easier to ride on the grass verge beside the road, and more convenient for the unshod horses of our hosts.
I rode at the head of the column beside Vagises but did not engage him in conversation. My mind was filled with thoughts of the coming clash with Crassus and the Armenians. From yesterday’s meeting it was clear that Rome wished to see Gordyene returned to Armenian control and that Crassus had the conquest of all the land between the Euphrates and Tigris as his initial aim. And after that? No doubt the rest of what was left of the Parthian Empire.
‘What’s this?’ Vagises’ voice brought me back to the present. Ahead a column of riders was approaching, perhaps a hundred or more, horsemen armed with spears and carrying shields on their left sides, though none were wearing helmets. At first I thought it was Bayas and his band of Syrian warriors who had returned to escort us to the frontier but as they got closer I saw that the man leading them was dressed in Roman war gear. I raised my hand to halt the column and Publius walked his horse forward to be beside me.
‘It appears that your father does not trust us to return to Parthia, Publius, and has sent additional soldiers to ensure we leave Syria as quickly as possible.’
‘I was not informed of an additional escort, sir,’ he replied.
It was not Bayas who led these Syrian riders but an individual I had hoped to avoid during my visit to Syria. He halted his horse before me, a haughty expression on the face that was enclosed by a shiny helmet with a ridiculously large red crest, while his torso was protected by a bronze muscled cuirass inlaid with silver and on his feet he wore ornate boots decorated with flaps in the shape of lions’ heads. His white tunic with a narrow purple stripe and large red cloak completed his appearance. Tall and imposing, Marcus Roscius regarded me coolly.
‘Greetings Marcus Roscius,’ I said. ‘I hope you have recovered from your illness.’
‘Legate Marcus Roscius,’ he replied stiffly. ‘I am here to ensure you leave Syria promptly.’
He saluted Publius. ‘Hail Publius Licinius Crassus. I will save you the trouble of having to ride all the way to the frontier.’