‘My contacts in Antioch report Romani legion moving to Zeugma. Governor and Mithridates go with it.’
Zeugma was a former Parthian city that was ruled by the aged King Darius, a child molester who had defected to Rome nearly twenty years ago. Built on the banks of the northern Euphrates, a hostile Zeugma meant enemy troops could pour into northwest Hatra.
‘So the Romans intend to link up with the Armenians and march south to put my stepbrother back on Ctesiphon’s throne,’ remarked Orodes bitterly.
‘The other Roman legion is still licking its wounds at Emesa,’ added Malik. He looked at me. ‘Surely one legion can be dealt with easily enough?’
‘One legion, yes,’ I replied. ‘But one legion plus one hundred thousand Armenians is another matter. Our only hope is to link up with Gafarn at Hatra and meet the enemy north of the city with our combined forces.’
‘How many men do you think we can field against the Armenians, Pacorus?’ asked Orodes.
‘After combining our forces with those at Hatra, perhaps fifty thousand men,’ I answered.
Orodes looked concerned. ‘So few? I thought Hatra alone could muster over sixty thousand men.’
‘That was before Vata’s defeat and the loss of the north. The towns in the northwestern part of the kingdom are still holding out as far as I know and Lord Herneus remains in charge at Assur in the east, but the loss of Nisibus and the surrounding lands is a heavy blow.’
‘And remember Hatra’s army also suffered losses at Susa,’ added Domitus.
‘We all suffered losses in that battle,’ remarked Orodes grimly.
I tried to raise their morale. ‘Gafarn will wait until we arrive and then we can launch a counterattack against the Armenians. Thus far they have tasted only victory and will be over-confident, expecting an unopposed march to the walls of Hatra. In adversity the seeds of our triumph may have been planted.’
I was not sure whom I was trying to convince, myself or them, but I knew that we stood a chance of at least halting the Armenians if Gafarn waited for us to arrive at Hatra.
Except that he did not wait and the next day a courier arrived from Hatra telling of a battle with the Armenians fifty miles north of the city in which Gafarn had been soundly beaten and his forces scattered. He himself had escaped back to the city with the remnants of his army, but Tigranes had now inflicted two major defeats on Hatra’s army in a matter of weeks and the kingdom stood on the brink of calamity.
I showed the letter to Orodes who read it and passed it to Nergal. We stood on the palace terrace in stunned silence as Gallia and Praxima also digested the grim news.
‘Why?’ I heard myself saying. ‘Why would he give battle before we arrived?’
I sat down and stared at the floor. Tigranes would surely now lay siege to Hatra itself. He was probably only one or two days’ march from the city. It was now imperative to get to Hatra as quickly as possible. I looked at Orodes and knew he was thinking the same.
‘We leave at dawn tomorrow,’ he said.
I saw Dobbai wander onto the terrace and walk over to her chair. She smiled at Orodes and ignored the rest of us before easing herself into her nest of cushions. She looked at our glum faces.
‘Did you all eat something disagreeable at breakfast?’
‘We have received ill tidings from Hatra,’ I snapped. ‘Gafarn gave battle to Tigranes and lost.’
‘Naturally,’ she said casually. ‘They do not call the Armenian king “great” for nothing, and who is Gafarn but a low-born slave who has gained a throne by chance?’
I was fuming at her casual attitude to this fresh calamity that had beset the empire and stomped over to face her.
‘I hope that ritual we all took part in was not in vain,’ I seethed.
Her eyes blazed with fury. ‘Do not blame the gods for the vanity of Vata or the idiocy of your brother.’
Orodes and the others looked at us in confusion as Dobbai rose from her chair and pointed at Orodes.
‘You must beware of your brother, high king, for your failure to kill him at Susa will return to haunt you err long.’
‘Mithridates is with the Romans in northern Hatra,’ he replied.
‘He has left them,’ she replied with conviction.
‘Where is he?’ I asked.
She looked indifferent. ‘How should I know? But I would advise you to find him quickly.’
She sat back down in her chair and closed her eyes. I was still fuming and Orodes was shaking his head in confusion.
We left Dura at dawn the next morning; horse archers, cataphracts, squires and camels carrying spare arrows in a great column heading east to Hatra. Domitus and the two legions were left behind with the lords and their men in case the Romans at Emesa and their fat ally decided to try another assault against Palmyra. To this end I sent a message to Haytham with Malik who went back to Palmyra with Byrd, that he was to summon Domitus immediately if the enemy left Emesa, but asked him not to initiate hostilities until my men had reinforced him.
Gallia and Praxima rode together at the head of the Amazons whose numbers had once more been restored to one hundred women following their losses at Susa. The number of my cataphracts had also been made up to a thousand by promoting the eldest among the squires and inducting youngsters to take their places. The horse archers were once more up to three thousand by undertaking a recruiting drive within the kingdom.
We covered at least thirty-five miles each day so that it took us just over four days to reach Hatra. Mercifully, though it was still hot, the fierce heat of high summer was behind us. That said it was still very warm and so riders and horses sweated as we travelled across the sun-blasted sandy ground. The thousands of animals kicked up a huge dust cloud that was our faithful companion each day, covering us in a fine layer of grime that stuck to our clothes and sweaty flesh. It also made us cough as the particles entered our mouths and nostrils until we were forced to cover our faces like the Agraci do.
At the end of the fourth day we camped ten miles southwest of the city and Orodes sent a company of horse archers ahead to make contact with the garrison. I prayed that the city of my ancestors had not already fallen to Tigranes as I watched them disappear with the sun on their backs as it dropped into the western sky. Around me exhausted men and boys unsaddled their horses and let them drink from waterskins before they were corralled in temporary stables made from poles and canvas sheets, while the camels spat and growled as they were relieved of their heavy cargoes.
There were no campfires that night as the sky was devoid of clouds and the glow of any flames would be seen from afar, especially by any Armenian patrols that might be near. As a precaution we posted a heavy guard in all directions and enforced strict noise discipline.
The Durans arranged their eight-man oilskin tents in neat rows as they had done many times before on exercise and on campaign. The horse archers of Mesene did likewise. Only the horsemen from Babylon and Susiana pitched their tents in ever-widening circles around the canopy of the king of kings.
I sat on the ground in front of the tent I would share with Gallia as Scarab cleaned my helmet and cuirass a few paces away. After he had pitched our tent he smeared cedar oil around its base to repel any snakes that might be lurking nearby, while we all scoured the ground to kill any insects in an effort to deter camel spiders approaching us. Though they were not poisonous these giant eight-legged monsters could inflict a nasty bite that could easily become infected in the heat of the day.
Gallia watched Scarab go about his duties.
‘I hope you are not treating him like a slave.’
I was most hurt. ‘Of course not! He knows he is a free man and is with me of his own volition.’
‘He must be the oldest squire in the army.’
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘but he joined us under exceptional circumstances and will just have to catch up.’