‘Or a Roman kitchen slave,’ continued Diana.
Gafarn stopped nodding. ‘What?’
‘Or a Bedouin slave, even,’ Diana carried on.
Gafarn looked uncomfortable. ‘I think we are straying from the point, my dear.’
Diana looked at him reproachfully. ‘No we are not. Have you forgotten your roots, Gafarn, or mine? If Spartacus wishes to pursue his dream then who are we to stand in his way?’
‘The people of this city will not tolerate an Agraci queen, that much I know,’ insisted Gafarn.
‘Then he must give up the throne,’ replied Diana, ‘for that is the price he must pay if he truly wants this girl.’
‘Most eloquently put,’ said my mother, which did nothing to improve Gafarn’s humour. ‘After all, you have another son who was born in this city. He will make an excellent king, I think.’
Gafarn looked hurt. ‘You do not think Spartacus will make a good king?’
My mother thought for a few seconds. ‘Spartacus has a restless spirit that bridles against convention. He needs to make his own way in the world, that much I know. You may think you can chain him to this city but you would be wrong. He was born to rule but not this kingdom. I believe he is destined to win a crown by his own efforts.’
‘Is he outside?’ Gafarn asked me.
I nodded.
‘Guard!’ he shouted.
The doors opened and one of Kogan’s soldiers walked in.
‘Is Prince Spartacus in the corridor?’ snapped Gafarn.
‘Yes, majesty.’
‘I request his presence.’
Moments later my nephew stood to attention before his father.
‘You wish to ride with Pacorus tomorrow?’
‘Yes, father.’
‘To take a Roman eagle?’
‘If Shamash wills it,’ he replied.
Gafarn looked at Diana. ‘So you can take it to Haytham and claim his daughter.’
‘Yes, father,’ said Spartacus with pride.
‘You cannot be King of Hatra and have an Agraci wife,’ said Gafarn slowly so my nephew would understand the significance of his words. ‘This city is ranked among the finest and most Parthian in all the empire, and its kings have always fought the Agraci. Haytham is more feared and hated than the Romans and Armenians combined. That being the case, his daughter can never sit on Hatra’s throne.’
‘What your father is trying to say, Spartacus,’ interrupted Diana.
‘What I am telling you,’ said Gafarn, ‘is that if you marry this Agraci princess you will never wear Hatra’s crown. Your brother will inherit the throne. So what do you want more — Hatra or this Agraci girl?’
‘Her name is Rasha,’ said Spartacus.
‘I know,’ replied Gafarn.
‘I am glad, father, for you will know how to address her at our wedding.’
Gallia laughed and Diana smiled as Gafarn’s cheeks became flushed with anger.
‘Very well,’ my brother said, ‘so be it. You may ride west with Pacorus tomorrow and may the gods keep you safe.’
Spartacus grinned at me boyishly before kissing his mother and grandmother and bowing to his father prior to his exit.
‘I will keep an eye on him, have no fear,’ I said.
‘As will I,’ added Gallia.
‘All your fears may come to nought, Gafarn,’ said my mother. ‘There is no guarantee that he will take one of these eagles and then he will not marry Haytham’s daughter.’
A glum-faced Gafarn nodded at my mother and the rest of us sat in silence, as above us the gods roared their approval at the reckless daring of a young prince.
The next day we left Hatra to face Crassus.
Surena had given orders that his Sarmatians, rather than accompany Orodes, were to return to Gordyene to provide additional security for his kingdom, though I doubted whether his realm would be troubled by any Armenian incursions bearing in mind that its army had just been destroyed. In addition, Vanadzor and all his major towns had their own garrisons in addition to the standing army he had raised. Nevertheless he was not to be dissuaded and so they promptly left Hatra at the same time as their king rode west. He did not bother informing Orodes, which could have been interpreted as an insult, and I had the feeling that Surena was glad to be away from the company of kings, priests and nobles so he could continue fighting his own private war.
He liked few men and trusted even less. He viewed Atrax as a friend who had supported him in his successful efforts to liberate Gordyene and also trusted Silaces, though was apt to see him more as a subordinate rather than a fellow king. I think he also respected me for giving him the chance to become a soldier and then commander in Dura’s army and trusting him to lead an expedition into Gordyene, which had wildly surpassed my own expectations. But I realised that he viewed Orodes with disdain bordering on contempt and thought Gafarn and Aschek weak rulers. For the forthcoming campaign he had entrusted the command of his medium horsemen and foot soldiers to Silaces, who had once led them in Gordyene.
Now Surena led six thousand of his own horse archers west in the company of a thousand Duran cataphracts, two thousand squires, a thousand camels carrying spare arrows, three thousand of my own horse archers commanded by Vagises and Gallia’s Amazons. The four thousand camels controlled by the squires were loaded with waterskins as well as food as we would be travelling across the barren desert to get to Crassus as quickly as possible.
As usual Byrd, Malik and their scouts formed the vanguard of our force, disappearing before dawn and reappearing at the end of the day to report that they had seen no signs of the Romans. We did not know if Crassus had crossed the Euphrates but I felt sure that he had done so and would be either at the Hatran towns he had captured last year or perhaps had even begun his march along the river. After five days we reached the Khabur River, a tributary of the Euphrates, and let our animals drink from its cool waters as the squires refilled our waterskins. Because it was now summer the water level was low so we were able to ford the river with ease. We halted for a day at the river to allow Byrd and Malik to scout west and also southwest towards the Euphrates in search of our prey, but they reported seeing nothing except a few nomads wandering across the barren landscape. I was pleased: the further west we travelled without encountering Romans meant the less Parthian territory that Crassus occupied.
That night I invited Surena to dine with us, which actually meant nothing more than sitting round a campfire since we had brought with us the eight-man tents used by the legionaries rather than my command tent. And because we had no tools or stakes we dug no ditch or rampart to surround our camp, though every third man was always on guard duty to prevent us being surprised during the night. Parthians did not fight at night but Romans did.
‘I have always found that strange,’ remarked Surena as the fire in front of him crackled and spat. ‘Parthians prefer to fight during the day because it honours the Sun God, but if they kill the god’s enemies, regardless of whether it is at night or during the day, then surely he will not be offended. If he exists, that is.’
Vagises looked at him with horror. ‘You do not believe Shamash exists?’
‘I do not believe any gods exist, and if my words are blasphemy then let the gods strike me down.’ He looked up at the night sky and nothing happened.
‘You see,’ he continued, ‘nothing.’
Vagises looked at me and smiled. He had been a part of Dobbai’s ritual and had seen the strange events with his own eyes, plus the timely death of Tigranes afterwards and the unexpected withdrawal of Roman forces from Syria, and finally the great victory we had won before the walls of Hatra.
‘Perhaps the gods helped you defeat the Armenians in Gordyene and made you King of Gordyene,’ I suggested. ‘Have you thought of that?’
‘Why would they do that?’ he sniffed.
‘Perhaps because you are resourceful, brave and a great general,’ I replied.
He looked at the flames in the fire. ‘When men are desperate and at their wits end, when they are afraid and alone, then they will ask for the help of the gods. But only because they have no one else to turn to. They will beg and promise the gods anything to received an answer to their prayers. I know, I was such a person once.’