He looked up at me. ‘Perhaps we might think of striking at the Armenians before he does so.’
I rose from the chair and walked over to the map of the empire on the wall behind him.
‘Unfortunately, geography does not favour such a move.’ I pointed at Nisibus, which was occupied by the Armenians. ‘If we muster our forces at Hatra for a strike against Nisibus it will take around a month before the troops of Dura, Babylon, Media, Hatra, Mesene and Atropaiene are gathered together. Before that happens the Armenians will themselves muster over one hundred thousand troops and march them south to seize the city of Assur and the crossing point over the Tigris. If they hold that place then they can prevent troops from Media and Atropaiene to the east from reinforcing us.’
He too rose and stood next to me, tracing a finger from Nisibus down to Assur. ‘There is nothing to prevent them doing so now, Pacorus.’
I smiled. ‘I have reinforced Assur’s garrison with Silaces and seven thousand horse archers. The Armenians have no siege engines and so it is too hard a nut for them to crack.’
‘How many soldiers can be raised to fight the Armenians and Crassus?’ he asked.
‘Just over one hundred thousand in total, not including Surena’s forces in Gordyene.’
He raised an eyebrow at this.
‘To call upon Surena will leave Gordyene exposed to another Armenian invasion,’ I said.
‘A pity, Pacorus, he is an excellent commander.’
‘He is,’ I agreed, ‘but at the start of the war we need him in the north to stop Gordyene falling and then, after we have hopefully dealt with Crassus, reinforcing our efforts against the Armenians.
‘We are fortunate that Artavasdes is the Armenian king and not his father. He would not have waited until Crassus arrived before striking south.’
‘It was a greater stroke of luck the Romans diverting their attention to Egypt when they did,’ added Orodes, who retook his seat and gestured for me to do the same.
‘I have to tell you, my friend,’ I said, ‘that even if we manage to defeat Crassus there is no guarantee that we can also stop the Armenians. I have heard reports that they are recruiting great numbers of mercenaries to swell their army. You may wish to consider relocating your court to Esfahan or another eastern city.’
He looked aghast at my suggestion. ‘To do so would in an instant destroy any authority I might have. The king of kings of the empire does not flee from his enemies, Pacorus.’
‘At least consider moving to Babylon, then,’ I suggested. ‘Its walls are at least strong and sit behind a moat. The defences here are derisory.’
‘I have every confidence in you, Pacorus,’ he smiled, ‘to prevent the enemy reaching these parts.’
Unfortunately I did not share his confidence though I did not tell him so. The army of Hatra had formerly been the western shield of the empire, a highly trained force of professionals who were the envy of other kings. But now that army had suffered great losses at the Battle of Susa and subsequently at Nisibus and north of Hatra. It had lost its commander, my father, and its morale was low. Of the armies of the other kingdoms that would be called upon to fight Crassus, Media and Babylon had lost many sons at Susa and the soldiers of Atropaiene were average at best. That left only Nergal’s horse archers from Mesene and my own army as a match for the Romans but they would be heavily outnumbered. How I wished my father was still alive.
I looked round the room and saw the empty chairs and thought of another time when I was in this study.
‘Is something troubling you, Pacorus?’
‘I was just thinking of when I was in this study with your father, just before the Battle of Surkh where we defeated Narses. He was sitting where you are now. Across the table were my father, Gotarzes, Vardan and that snake Chosroes, and myself of course. Of all of them I am the only one left alive. It seems an age ago.’
He looked at me with sympathetic eyes.
‘You know,’ I continued, ‘when I escaped from Italy I thought that life would be so simple. I would marry Gallia, inherit my father’s throne and live out the rest of my life as the King of Hatra.’
Orodes nodded thoughtfully. ‘The gods had other plans for you. They decided that you should be a great Parthian warlord.’
‘The next few months may make you re-evaluate that assessment,’ I replied.
The next day we rode back to Dura.
With Byrd’s network of informers in Syria and Cilicia I would know the moment Crassus arrived at Antioch, which would give me time to gather together the armies of Dura, Hatra, Babylon, Media, Atropaiene and Mesene. Garrisons would be left at Hatra and Assur, reinforced by sizeable numbers of horse archers to attack the Armenians should they advance south from Nisibus. Artavasdes would attack Hatra, of course, and I hoped he would because I knew that he would be unable to breach the city’s walls and would be compelled to besiege it. But there were no water supplies near the city and so he would be forced to send detachments to the Tigris sixty miles to the west. There Silaces and his horse archers riding from Assur would assault them. While the Armenians rotted in front of Hatra I would fight an outnumbered Crassus and at least stop him in his tracks. And afterwards I would march east and engage the Armenians before the walls of Hatra and destroy them — a fitting tribute to the memory of my father.
As we rode across the pontoon bridge over the Euphrates towards Dura’s Palmyrene Gate I began to whistle to myself. With luck and the help of the gods we would be able to resist the Roman invasion and throw the Armenians out of my brother’s kingdom. But as I trotted up the city’s main road to the Citadel I was unaware that the death of a young woman would throw my carefully prepared plans into chaos.
The first intimation of the event that was to plunge the empire into turmoil was when I rode through the Citadel’s gates into the courtyard and saw Gallia surrounded by the Amazons at the foot of the palace steps. Many were in tears and others were comforting each other and I felt my stomach tighten. I dismounted, gave Remus’ reins to a stable hand and walked to my wife’s side. She looked pale and shaken and I saw she was clutching a letter in her hand. A disconcerting silence filled the courtyard and I saw that Gallia’s eyes were misting with tears.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
She did not answer but held out the letter to me. She had been holding it so tightly that the words were difficult to read but I straightened it out as the eyes of the Amazons bore down on me. It was from Silaces at Assur, who had been informed by Surena that Viper had died giving birth to his son, who had been delivered stillborn. I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash that He would welcome them both into heaven. I opened them to find the eyes of my wife’s bodyguard still looking at me. What could I say to assuage their grief? Nothing. I remembered the woman who had looked like a girl, my young squire who had fallen in love with her and who had made her his queen and felt immensely sad.
‘I am sorry,’ was all I could say.
I was also sorry for Surena for now he was alone in his cold, grey palace with nothing to do but brood over his loss. I decided that I would write to Atrax to ask him to visit Surena. They were close friends and the King of Media’s cheerful disposition would hopefully stop Surena sinking into the pit of despair.
‘How little you know him, son of Hatra,’ remarked Dobbai as I sat alone with her that evening on the palace terrace after our daughters had been taken to their bedrooms. Gallia and the Amazons had locked themselves in the banqueting hall where they were holding a farewell meal for Viper and her child. It was a strictly all-female affair and so I was left to reflect on her death alone.
‘I have known him as a boy from the great southern marshes, as a squire, as an officer in my army and as a king,’ I snapped at her. ‘I think I know him very well.’