‘More like deep gouge marks, sir, as though someone had been hacking at the earth with an entrenching tool.’
Chapter 3
Three days later Gallia and the children were allowed to return to the palace. Dobbai had confined herself to her bedroom and had asked not to be disturbed, saying that the ritual had exhausted her and she needed time and isolation to recuperate. The children were disappointed but I explained to them that she was now an old woman who needed lots of rest. Claudia was not fooled, though, and said that Dobbai had told her before she had left the palace that she was going to use strong magic. I shuddered to think what else she had imparted to my daughter over the years.
‘And did it work?’ asked Gallia as she brushed her hair in our bedroom that evening, a slight wind ruffling the net curtains at the entrance to the balcony.
I smiled. ‘Well, as far as I know the Romans and Armenians have not disappeared.’
She turned and frowned at me. ‘Don’t be flippant, it does not suit you.’
I rose from the bed and stood behind her to kiss her on top of her head. I told her about the clay statues, the cold mist that came from nowhere, the chilling growls and howls that filled the air and the disappearance of the statues the next morning. I did not tell her that all those who had taken part might be in danger of divine retribution.
She placed her brush on the table and looked up at me. ‘I hope you are wearing a charm to ward off evil.’
‘Evil?’
She stood and ran a finger down my scarred cheek. ‘I am not a fool, Pacorus. I know that Dobbai sent the children and me away because the spell she was going to weave was potentially dangerous to those taking part.’
I reached inside my shirt and pulled out the lock of her hair I always wore round my neck. ‘This is the only charm I need. Besides, Dobbai called on the gods to protect the empire and since I fight to protect Parthia I don’t have anything to worry about.’
She looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes. ‘Perhaps. Let us hope the gods see things the way you do.’
‘We should have held the ceremony weeks ago. Perhaps then Vata might still be alive and the Armenians would not hold half of my brother’s kingdom.’
She shook her head. ‘Vata took the decision to fight the Armenians, no one else.’
I turned away from her and walked to the balcony entrance, parting the curtains to stare at the night sky.
‘It is my fault he is dead.’
‘What?’
‘When the kings faced the Armenians all those months ago I urged my father to attack them. I knew we could have beaten them that day but he declined to fight. When they returned Vata must have believed that he alone could defeat them.’
She walked over and placed her arms round me. ‘Then he was a fool and paid for his foolishness with his life.’
‘And half my father’s kingdom,’ I added.
Orodes and Nergal arrived at Dura five days later with their combined forces, their men pitching tents on the east bank of the Euphrates, directly opposite the Citadel. It was the first time Orodes had been back to the city since his coronation as king of kings and he received a rapturous reception from the citizens. He had always been a popular figure and now was even more so. People believed that the empire was in a pair of safe and just hands after the tyranny of Mithridates. Gallia and I rode out to greet him, Nergal and Praxima and escorted them through the city to the Citadel, along a route thronged with cheering crowds.
‘If they only knew the peril the empire faced,’ Orodes said to me, smiling and waving at the people as young girls tossed rose petals at him.
‘Sometimes it is better to live in ignorance, my friend.’
That night we gave a great feast in the banqueting hall to celebrate the arrival of our friends and their senior officers. It was an opportunity for old friends to meet again for Orodes and his bodyguard had once lived in the city and had fought as part of Dura’s army. He insisted on ignoring protocol and sat with Alcaeus, Domitus, Kronos, Vagises and other senior officers from my army, men he had shared many dangers with. Gallia and I occupied the top table with Nergal, Praxima and Dobbai, who seemed to have regained her old vigour and appeared to be pleased that we were all together again.
I was especially delighted to have Nergal and Praxima back at Dura. Nergal had been my second-in-command in Italy when we had fought for Spartacus and although Vagises was an excellent leader it had been Nergal who had forged my horse archers into a fearsome weapon. I had no regrets about making them rulers of their own kingdom but sometimes I yearned for the old times when we had been all together.
Dobbai must have noticed that I was in a reflective mood as she remained beside me when Nergal left the table to speak with some of the men he used to command.
‘The years pass and yet we do not notice until it is too late,’ she said.
‘I did not know you were a philosopher,’ I replied.
I pointed at Nergal who was in fits of laughter among a group of Duran horse archers. ‘Nineteen years ago Nergal and I were captured by the Romans and taken to Italy. It seems like yesterday and yet it is also another world. So much has happened since that time, and yet here we are on the verge of another campaign. After Susa I just yearned for peace and yet that is the one thing that seems to elude me.’
I looked at her haggard face. ‘Will I ever know peace?’
‘Alas, son of Hatra, it is both your fate and doom to be a great warlord. You cannot stray from the path the gods have chosen for you. You cannot change your destiny.’
Her words gave me scant comfort but the company of my friends made it an enjoyable evening and the next day I rode with Orodes and Nergal to the legionary camp. Domitus and Kronos arranged a parade of the Durans and Exiles to honour our royal guests and afterwards we retired to Domitus’ command tent. Orodes was still the same amiable character I had known for years but I noticed that there were now some worry lines on his face. I suspected the onerous office of king of kings was already taking its toll.
‘Axsen refuses to stay at Ctesiphon when I am not there,’ he told us, ‘she dislikes its atmosphere and associates it with Mithridates. She has moved back to Babylon.’
‘Babylon is her home,’ I said. ‘Besides, it is only a short distance from Ctesiphon.’
‘Who is in charge of the royal treasury?’ asked Domitus.
A wry smile crept over Orodes’ face. ‘Alas it is not as full as it should be. Mithridates took a sizeable quantity of gold with him when he fled to Syria.’ He smiled at me. ‘There were also a number of kingdoms who refused to pay the annual tribute. What gold remains is under the protection of Mardonius who provides troops from Seleucia to garrison Ctesiphon.’
‘You will use it to rebuild Babylonia?’ asked Nergal.
Orodes nodded. ‘I promised Axsen that I would assist in the rebuilding of her kingdom, which suffered grievously at the hands of Narses and Mithridates. So you see, my friends, I am an impoverished high king.’
Poor Orodes. He had once been banished by his stepbrother Mithridates because of his support for me and had spent years at Dura as a landless prince. Now he ruled an empire that was exhausted by civil strife and beset by foreign invaders.
Horses’ hooves on the baked earth outside the tent interrupted our musings and seconds later a dust-covered Byrd and Malik stepped inside the tent.
‘So,’ beamed Malik to Orodes, ‘this is where you’re skulking.’
Orodes rose from his chair and the two of them embraced, dust coming from Malik’s robes as they did so.
‘It is good to see you, old friend,’ said Orodes, as he hugged Malik again. He then embraced Byrd.
‘And you too, Byrd.’
‘Help yourself to some water,’ I said to the pair as the others greeted them, ‘you look as though you have had a hard ride.’
‘Bring news of Romani,’ said Byrd, taking a cup of water from Malik and sinking into a chair.