Scarab came over and bowed deeply. ‘Would you like me to clean your sword, divinity?’
Gallia burst out laughing. ‘Divinity? You should put a stop to that nonsense straight away!’
I ignored her chiding. ‘Thank you, Scarab, but I like to clean it myself.’
Gallia whipped the dagger from her boot and stabbed it down to impale a large scorpion that was scuttling past her. She held up the wriggling creature on the end of her blade.
‘Mithridates would be an idiot to return to Parthia. Death awaits him if he does.’
Scarab looked at her in alarm; this foreign woman who was both beautiful and fearsome. He did not know what to make of her. Then again, neither did most of the empire.
She looked at him. ‘Where is your family, Scarab?’
‘I lived with my parents, who were also slaves, in the house of their master in Egypt before I was sold to a merchant from Emesa. That was many years ago, highborn.’
She observed the still wriggling scorpion on the end of her dagger. ‘Perhaps one day you will return to Egypt, to free them from bondage.’
She rammed the dagger into the ground, cutting the scorpion in two.
‘I prefer to stay in Parthia, holiness.’
The next morning the company that Orodes had sent to Hatra returned with news that the Armenians were not laying siege to the city and that King Atrax and a force of Medians had arrived to strengthen the garrison. A wave of relief swept through me and I hugged Gallia because it also meant that Surena in Gordyene, to the north of Atrax’s kingdom, must have halted the Armenian invasion of his land. And Atrax would never have left his kingdom if neighbouring Atropaiene was still under threat, which meant that Aschek must have at least halted the enemy forces threatening his realm.
It took us just over two hours to reach Hatra, a detachment of cataphracts sent by Gafarn linking up with us a mile from the city walls. I was surprised that it was not Vistaspa who commanded these men but was informed by the officer in charge that the leg wound he had suffered at the Battle of Susa had still not fully healed.
If I had been heartened by the news of Atrax’s arrival in the city I was shocked when we reached Hatra and rode from its southern gates to the royal quarter in the north. The city had always been a bustling, thriving place but now it was filled with refugees with fear in their eyes. With listless expressions they huddled in doorways or gathered in cowering groups on the streets as they observed us ride past. I hardly recognised this place that had once been the western shield of the empire.
‘How long have these people been here?’ I asked the commander of our escort.
‘They arrived following the loss of Nisibus, majesty,’ he answered. ‘For a week the road to the north was filled with refugees fleeing the Armenians.’
‘How many?’
‘Thousands, majesty. The king has established makeshift camps in the city’s squares but as you can see, others are living on the streets.’
Hatra was watered by springs supplying sweet water from the earth so its citizens would never die of thirst, but its one hundred thousand inhabitants required large amounts of food each day to subsist, and thousands more mouths to feed would quickly exhaust the city’s food supplies. By the time we reached the palace in the north of the city my spirits had been deflated.
Our horses were taken from us at the palace steps and we were immediately taken to the throne room where Gafarn awaited us. If the city had appeared downcast the atmosphere in the throne room was close to despair.
The cavernous chamber had been cleared of courtiers and slaves and only a few guards remained along the walls and at the doors. The latter were closed as we paced across the marble tiles, our footsteps echoing around the room as we approached the dais. Ahead a downcast Gafarn and a pale Diana were seated on their thrones, while standing to their right were Atrax, Aliyeh and Adeleh, who looked forlorn and lost. On the other side stood the gaunt and frail Assur, chief priest at the Great Temple; Kogan, commander of the city garrison, now in his late sixties; and Addu, the city treasurer. Next to him stood a grim-faced Herneus, governor of the eastern city of Assur who nodded to me, and another, slimmer man with a thick black beard and long black hair. He was dressed in a rich scale armour cuirass, long-sleeved white shirt, brown leggings and boots. I had never seen him before.
When we reached the dais Gafarn and Diana stood and with the others bowed to Orodes, their high king. Gafarn then nodded to Kogan who ordered chairs and refreshments to be brought for us, Diana giving up her throne so that Orodes could sit on it as befitting his status. She sat in a simple wicker chair that was placed beside Gafarn while the rest of us settled into our chairs in front of the dais, though not before we had embraced both Gafarn and Diana. Nergal and I also embraced our friend and companion-in-arms Atrax. I also hugged Adeleh and tried to be warm towards Aliyeh but she waved me away. Always aloof and serious, my sister had turned into a calculating and icy queen who forgot little and forgave nothing. She had never forgiven me for the fact that her husband, the King of Media, had a permanent limp, a disability she blamed on me for supposedly encouraging Atrax to fight the Romans. The result had been his defeat and impediment.
Slaves brought us cool water to slake our thirsts as Gafarn began by thanking us for coming to his aid. He appeared withdrawn, weighed down by the burden of ruling such a great city and I wondered if he was finding it all too much. He smiled thinly at Assur who stepped forward and asked us all to rise and bow our heads.
‘Great Shamash, Lord of the Sun,’ the high priest began, ‘smile down on this Your city, and those who protect it and Your great temple. Unworthy though we are, grant us the wisdom and the means to drive back the godless heathens who have invaded Your lands and threaten those who love and fear You. In this time of strife we ask for Your divine help and deliverance. For only You can give us the strength to repel the foreign invaders.’
He turned, bowed his head to his king and returned to his position as we resumed our seats.
‘Hatra is in great danger,’ stated Gafarn flatly. ‘We lost ten thousand men at Nisibus when Prince Vata was most tragically killed.’ He smiled sympathetically at Adeleh. ‘And a further five thousand when we engaged Tigranes only a few days ago to the north. Now the hordes of Tigranes stand ready to assault this great city. Had it not been for your arrival, my lords, his soldiers might already be scaling its walls.’
‘Where is Tigranes now?’ enquired Orodes.
‘He has pulled his army back to the northeast, towards the Tigris,’ answered Gafarn.
‘He needs to be near a water source to maintain his multitude of men and animals,’ added Atrax.
‘He has requested a meeting with me,’ said Gafarn bitterly.
I looked up. ‘Meeting, why?’
‘To dictate surrender terms, no doubt,’ he replied.
‘You must never surrender, brother,’ spat Adeleh. ‘You must crush this Armenian upstart, this mountain dweller whose presence in our lands defies our father’s memory.’
‘We will not surrender, of course not,’ said Gafarn.
‘You should march against him again, brother,’ said Adeleh, ‘and this time you will have other kings beside you.’
I looked at Adeleh and suddenly it all made sense. I wondered why Gafarn had not waited until we had arrived and now I knew: Adeleh had obviously pestered him into attacking Tigranes to exact revenge for Vata and the result had been a cheap victory for the Armenians.
‘If only some had come earlier,’ said Aliyeh, looking at me, ‘then Prince Vata might still be alive and northern Hatra still free.’
I bristled at her insinuation. ‘If you have something to say, dear sister, then say it.’
‘When the Armenians invaded Hatra, you chose to help the Agraci filth first ahead of your own family. And now my sister is a widow and the enemy are nearly at the gates of this city, all because of you.’