‘Well give it to him, then,’ he said, exasperatedly.
The guard walked to my side, bowed his head once more and held out a papyrus scroll. I took it and unrolled it. It was from Spandarat at Dura and informed me that he had heard from Haytham that an Egyptian army was mustering at Emesa in preparation for an attack against Palmyra.
‘Problems, Pacorus?’ enquired Orodes.
I threw the missive on the table. ‘It would appear that we have been duped again, my friends. That letter was from Dura. An Egyptian army is assembling at Emesa and intends to march west to capture Palmyra, and in my absence Dura no doubt.’
‘Why would the Egyptians attack Dura?’ asked Gafarn.
‘Why? Because Egypt is under the Roman heel and dances to Rome’s tune. Just as we watch the Romans so do they observe us. Crassus has always coveted Dura and now he sees a cheap and easy way to take it: with an Egyptian army that he has no doubt hired.’
‘What will you do?’ asked Atrax.
‘I must return to Dura with my horsemen,’ I replied. ‘Haytham will fight, of that I have no doubt, but he cannot defeat an army of horse and foot on his own. He will need my support.’
Orodes, who had lived at Dura and knew Haytham well, was nodding in agreement but Gafarn was ashen faced. ‘You will take your army back to Dura?’
‘Only the horse archers, Gafarn. The rest will stay here.’ I stood up. ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I have to consult with my officers.’
As I rode back to camp I was in a strange way relieved that this crisis had suddenly appeared as it gave me an excuse to leave Hatra and concentrate on defeating the enemy. Had I been Hatra’s king I would have dispersed its horse archers to the south and east and leave the city as bait for the Armenians and Romans. Once they took it their supply lines would be mercilessly harried by thirty-five thousand horse archers, to say nothing of the forces that Dura, Babylon, Media and Atropaiene could assemble. Even the Romans with their siege engines would find their effectiveness quickly diminished by a Mesopotamian summer sun and a parched desert devoid of any pasture or oases. But I was not Hatra’s king. Perhaps I should have been after all. Useless thoughts; concentrate on the here and now.
‘It’s a bad plan, Pacorus.’
Domitus was pacing up and down in my tent, tapping his cane against his thigh, always a bad sign. I sat with Chrestus, Gallia, Marcus and Peroz while my general mumbled to himself and had a face like thunder. He stopped and pointed the cane at me.
‘The moment you leave your brother will realise that he has an additional ten thousand well-trained foot soldiers and a thousand cataphracts to play with and we will be marching north to recapture Nisibus to avenge your friend’s death. What was he called?’
‘Vata,’ I answered.
‘And he will also realise that you have brought your siege engines. The temptation will be too great for him.’
I held up a hand to him. ‘You are the general of Dura’s army, Domitus, and it is not to go anywhere without your permission, and your authority supersedes even that of Orodes as king of kings.’
He eyed me warily. ‘And you will tell him that?’
‘I will.’
‘And your brother?’ he pressed me. ‘I will also be able to ignore his commands if I think it is prudent to do so?’
‘Yes.’
He grunted and retook his seat. ‘How many riders will you take?’
‘All the horse archers,’ I told him, smiling at Peroz, ‘as well as the Carmanians. The cataphracts can stay here. Eight thousand horsemen should be enough.’
‘Eight thousand plus the Amazons,’ added Gallia. ‘I’m coming with you.’
Immediately after I had convinced Domitus of the wisdom of my plan I wrote a note to Spandarat ordering him and his fellow lords to stay at Dura until I arrived, which would be in six days. I emphasised to him that on no account was he to ride out and fight the Egyptians on his own. The courier left my tent as Malik and Byrd halted their horses outside before entering. They and their scouts had been riding to the north of the city searching for Armenians.
‘Find anything?’ I asked.
Malik filled two cups with water from a jug on the table and handed one to a dust-covered Byrd. ‘Nothing.’
‘Sit down,’ I told them. ‘I have some news that will be of interest to you.’
I informed them about the army assembling at Emesa, its plan to attack Palmyra and my riding to assist Haytham.
‘You will be coming with me I assume?’
They both nodded.
‘Good. You have another chance to avenge Vehrka, Malik.’
Malik drained his cup and refilled it. ‘Egypt is many miles from Emesa. Why is its ruler interested in Palmyra?’
‘Rome is the ruler of Egypt now,’ I replied. ‘Aulus Gabinius must have restored Egypt’s king to his throne and now we see the consequence of him being Rome’s puppet.’ I smiled at Byrd. ‘Your network of spies in Emesa has served us well.’
‘I will lop off that fat king’s head with my own sword,’ swore Malik.
Whether or not Sampsiceramus himself led the army did not concern me. I was more alarmed by the prospect that Mark Antony, the young commander we had captured, might now have a senior position in the Egyptian force or perhaps might be leading it in person.
‘I said you should have killed him,’ was Gallia’s only remark when I revealed my fear to her.
I told Spartacus and Scarab that they would also be accompanying me. There was nothing for them to do at Dura and I was eager for my nephew not to slip back into his old, undisciplined ways while at Hatra. I therefore instructed him to visit the palace with me to say his farewells to his parents while Gallia and I took our leave of them and said goodbye to my mother. As usual she was on her knees in her beloved garden, trowel in hand planting fresh flowers. The deranged Rubi sat in a chair nearby as slaves fussed around them both. Gallia sat with Rubi and talked softly to her as the mad woman rocked to and fro in her own little world, baring her teeth and hissing when I approached. I sometimes thought that the insane were the only truly happy people in this world.
We left the next morning at dawn, just over eight thousand riders carrying waterskins, sacks of fodder, saddlebags filled with food and four quivers each slung over our shoulders. We left the camel train at Hatra and would be able to pick up additional ammunition at the armouries in Dura, but I had a feeling that we would need a great quantity of arrows in the days ahead. We would not take any of the new steel-tipped arrows with us — they were reserved for Crassus’ legions.
Our rate of advance was a steady thirty-five miles a day across the sun-blasted landscape, riding hard but always walking the horses during the hottest hours of each day. We trotted across the pontoon bridges at Dura on the sixth morning and rode straight to the Citadel where Rsan and Aaron were waiting for us at the bottom of the palace steps. Peroz and Vagises took their men to the now deserted legionary camp where they would water their horses in the animal troughs fed by the Euphrates. Malik and Byrd, following a short break, would continue on to Palmyra.
I slid off Remus’ back as stable hands came forward to take him, Epona and the horses of the Amazons and my squires to the stables. Vagharsh stood on the paving stones, leaned on his flagpole and arched his back.
‘I’m getting too old for careering around the empire,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ I agreed.
The griffin banner was safely enclosed in its wax sleeve but after returning to Dura it was always placed on the wall behind the dais in the throne room and that is where he now took it, ignoring my governor and treasurer as he walked slowly up the steps.
‘Where are our children?’ asked a concerned Gallia.
Rsan bowed. ‘Awaiting you in the throne room, along with Lord Spandarat and Dobbai.’
They both trailed after us as we walked through the reception hall into the throne room, to be greeted by the sight of Spandarat and Dobbai side by side on our thrones and our three children in a line in front of them. Vagharsh was unrolling my banner to place it back on the hooks on the wall, ignoring the two occupants of the thrones and our children. Isabella and Eszter ran to us when they saw us though Claudia remained where she was, curtseying to us when we stood before the dais. She had now seen eleven summers and was growing tall like her mother, though unlike Gallia her long hair was now dark like my own.