He was talking of the death of Viper, no doubt.
The corner of his mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘But the gods do not answer and in the cold light of day when the one thing you wanted to live has been snatched away, you realise that the skies and mountains are not filled with benevolent immortals but only clouds, mist, ice and snow.’
He looked at each of us in turn. ‘There are no gods.’
‘We all miss Viper,’ said Gallia, and Surena momentarily appeared as a lost boy, enraged with the world but alone and helpless, before his mask of steel returned.
He nodded at Gallia. ‘She loved you, lady, you and all the Amazons. I thank you for your kindness.’
It was a touching moment, the more so because Gallia had never liked Surena. But she loved her Amazons and that was one thing that, at least momentarily, had bridged their divide.
‘I believe in the gods,’ announced Spartacus, to everyone’s surprise. ‘I have asked them to help me capture an eagle.’
Surena looked at him. ‘An eagle?’
‘A Roman eagle,’ replied Spartacus.
‘That is the gift that our young prince here must take to Haytham to win the hand of his daughter,’ I said.
‘Princess Rasha,’ stated Spartacus with pride. Gallia smiled at him while Vagharsh shook his head.
‘I remember her,’ said Surena, ‘from my time at Dura. She used to visit the palace often. Viper was very fond of her.’
He looked at Spartacus. ‘And now she is a woman and you are to marry her. My congratulations.’
‘If he can take an eagle,’ I said.
‘The sacred symbol of every Roman legion,’ added Vagises, ‘and protected by five thousand heavily armed legionaries.’
Surena looked at Malik. ‘Your father does not mind his daughter marrying one who is not of her own kind, Prince Malik?’
Malik looked at Spartacus. ‘My sister will not lead our people so he indulges her dreams, believing that they will be unfulfilled.’
‘The son of Spartacus may surprise you yet,’ muttered Byrd.
The next day he and Malik were in the saddle before dawn as we journeyed west once more across a landscape of shallow valleys, rocky outcrops and hillocks. The midday heat was unbearable and so during the hottest hours we dismounted and walked beside our animals to conserve their reserves of strength. I remembered Strabo’s words about Remus not getting any younger and continually checked his body and head for signs of exhaustion, but he appeared to be as hearty and strong as ever. The Amazons took off their helmets and mail shirts and wore their floppy hats. Where we could we rested in the shade of rocks until the heat had abated before continuing our journey.
After journeying west from the Khabur River for three days, at the end of the third day, as the western horizon was filled with a giant yellow sun that turned the sky blood red, Byrd and Malik galloped into camp and slid off their sweat-lathered horses in front of me.
‘We see Roman scouts,’ reported Byrd, greedily drinking from a waterskin offered him by Gallia.
I handed another to Malik. ‘Where?’
‘Thirty miles to the west, near river,’ said Byrd.
‘Did they see you?’ I asked.
Malik nodded as Gallia took the waterskin from Byrd and held it to his horse’s mouth so it could slake its thirst.
‘Romani give chase but we outrun them,’ said Byrd.
During the next hour the rest of their scouts rode into camp and told their stories. Piecing together their reports it appeared that the Roman army was camped in the Plain of Carrhae, directly west of our position, on the western side of the Balikh River. The latter ran from north to south, almost parallel to the Khabur that we had crossed a few days before, and also emptied into the Euphrates.
The night was surprisingly cool as I sat with the senior officers of Dura and Gordyene to make our plans for the next day. We lit no fires so as not to betray our presence and sat on stools with our cloaks wrapped around us. The sky twinkled with stars and a full moon flooded the land with a ghostly pale light as I stood and addressed those assembled, the grunts and snorts of the animals in the camel park the only noises to disturb the quietness.
I had mentioned to Surena beforehand about speaking to his and my officers and he was quite happy for me to address them rather than him.
‘You are lord high general, lord, after all. Besides, when the King of Dura talks I listen.’
And so I emphasised to them all that we were not here to engage Crassus in battle.
‘That is what he will want: to draw us into an engagement. But we will remain beyond the range of his legionaries’ javelins and their ballista. We ambush their patrols, raid their column when we have chance and generally retard their progress. Above all we must not get embroiled in a battle. We are too few and they are too many.
‘If we force Crassus to form battle lines each day then we will drastically reduce his rate of march, which will give Orodes time to impose a peace favourable to Parthia on Armenia and then march back south to meet Crassus. We are here to buy Orodes time, nothing more.’
They all nodded in agreement, even Surena, giving me confidence that he and his men would adhere to the plan. The soldiers of Gordyene were all professionals and knew that ten thousand horsemen could not defeat an army of fifty thousand Romans, and so did their king.
‘When we begin our campaign of harassment against the enemy, lord,’ said Surena, ‘I assume that we will be making night attacks against their camp.’
I nodded. ‘That is correct. As soon as we lock horns with the enemy we cannot let go, and that means fighting at night, but that will entail nothing more than men on foot shooting at camp sentries from a distance in an effort to sow uncertainty and fear. I do not want Parthians impaled on Roman stakes or lying dead at the bottom of ditches.
‘Now get some food and sleep. You will need it.’
After the meeting I pulled Vagises to one side.
‘Your men have been issued with the new arrows?’
He nodded. ‘We will finally see if Arsam’s new weapons fulfil their promise.’
‘I have every faith in my chief armourer,’ I said.
‘It has been a while since we faced Romans in battle and twenty years since the last time we fought Crassus. I remember that day in the Silarus Valley.’
He looked at me. ‘Seems like yesterday all of a sudden. And now we ride into battle against Crassus once again, this time with the son of Spartacus by our side. Let us hope that it is a good omen and hope that his father is watching and grants us good fortune.’
I laid a hand on his arm. ‘I am sure he is, his mother too for that matter.’
‘What do you think he would have made of Surena?’
I laughed. ‘He would have liked him, I think, but would have kept him on a tight leash.’
‘His soldiers are well trained,’ he said, ‘but there is something wild about him. Dangerous. If his men get into difficulties tomorrow they are on their own. I will not sacrifice one of my horse archers to his rashness.’
‘I think we can trust Surena, Vagises. Remember he was trained at Dura.’
He nodded unconvincingly and walked off into the night. But I had every confidence that Surena’s men would be more than equal to the test set before them. Their king had been schooled at Dura, had been enrolled in the Sons of the Citadel and had risen through the ranks of Dura’s army. It was no coincidence that his army was organised and trained along Duran lines, right down to the type of horn and trumpet blasts used by his horsemen and foot soldiers. This would make cooperation on the battlefield between our two forces easy and seamless.
The new day dawned cold and misty. As usual I slept little before facing an enemy and Gallia slept among her women on the eve of battle, so I woke in the pre-dawn darkness cold and alone and exited my tent wrapped in my cloak. Squires were already feeding and watering their masters’ horses and sentries were returning from duty to grab a couple of hours’ sleep before their day in the saddle. I felt the stubble on my chin and desired to wash and shave but would have to forego that pleasure as water was scarce, the nearest supply being the Balikh River where the Roman army was camped.