I peered across to the left where Agraci and Parthians were intermingled in a great chaotic mêlée against isolated groups of enemy foot soldiers. And from the right came Vagises accompanied by a company of horse archers. He raised his hand to me and then Haytham.
I pointed at the confusion on the right. ‘Spandarat and my lords are enjoying themselves, it seems.’
‘Do you wish me to stop it?’ he asked.
‘No, let them have their fun.’
Haytham slapped me on the shoulder. ‘We will make an Agraci out of you yet, Pacorus.’
I ordered Vagises to organise a pursuit of the enemy horsemen with a thousand of his men after the rest had surrendered their arrows to him. They were to pursue and kill as many of the enemy as possible, not engage in any battles. If more enemy horsemen appeared they were to withdraw.
The slaughter petered out with the onset of nightfall. I have no doubt that some among the enemy survived, either feigning death and waiting for night before making their escape west, or slipping through the roving bands of Agraci, Duran and Carmanian horsemen in the haze. Nevertheless the bulk of the Egyptian army lay dead on the bloodstained earth and with it any chance it may have had of capturing Palmyra.
Haytham was ecstatic: I had never seen him laugh and grin so much. Though his good humour did not extend to the few enemy soldiers who had been captured. The next morning he had them stripped naked, flogged severely, buried in the ground up to their necks, had their eyelids cut off and left them to die in the sun. Our own losses had not been light, particularly among the Agraci who had lost over two thousand men, but with ten times that number of enemy dead covering the earth Haytham did not care. He had won a great victory, Vehrka had been avenged and his reputation as a mighty warlord had been enhanced.
Duran losses amounted to less than a hundred horse archers, though Spandarat and his lords had suffered nearly nine hundred dead and wounded — the consequence of launching ill-disciplined attacks against the enemy.
‘They died fighting,’ was all that he said, ‘what else can a man hope for?’
‘To live into old age?’ I suggested.
He spat on the ground. ‘Old age is like a living death, mark my words.’
Peroz, who had kept his men under tight control throughout the battle, had likewise suffered only light casualties: two hundred and twenty killed and a hundred wounded. Vagises returned to us two days later to report that he had added around five hundred or more of the enemy to the butcher’s bill but had called off the pursuit when he had neared Emesa.
‘What was left of them would no doubt inform that fat king that King Haytham and his army would soon be besieging his city.’
When we returned to Palmyra Haytham gave a great feast to celebrate his victory. He seemed to have invited the whole army as every inch of ground inside and outside his tent seemed to be occupied by his lords, their warriors and Dura’s soldiers. Byrd brought Noora and the radiant Rasha stuck by Malik’s side and dazzled us with her smile. As the evening wore on Haytham gathered his lords around him in front of a huge raging fire and called on me to come forward. When I did so he put an arm around my shoulder and called for quiet.
‘Years ago a man rode from the city of Dura into my kingdom with his wife, a scout and a young girl. He was a Parthian, a member of the race that is the sworn enemy of the Agraci. And yet, disdaining certain death, he brought my daughter back to me.’
There was loud acclaim. Haytham raised his hands to still the noise. He continued.
‘That man stands before you, a man I am proud to call brother, and the scout who rode with him that day,’ he pointed at Byrd, ‘is now one of my most trusted advisers.’
Malik slapped Byrd on the arm and Noora hugged him close.
‘And now my brother Pacorus,’ continued Haytham, ‘has brought his warriors to fight by my side and together we have destroyed a great army that was sent to enslave us. I therefore declare that Pacorus, King of Dura, is now officially my brother and may make decisions concerning the Agraci in my absence, so much do I value his judgement.’
I was taken aback. This was indeed a great honour and I was about to thank him when he yanked his dagger from its sheath, grabbed my right hand and drew the sharp blade across my palm. I winced in pain as he likewise cut his own palm, pressed it onto my bloody hand and then held it aloft. The crowd erupted into wild cheering.
Haytham waved forward two women who brought dressings to bind our wounds.
‘You do me a great honour, lord,’ I said to him, wondering how long it would be before I could shoot a bow or wield a sword again.
‘You are to call me brother from now on,’ he told me.
Once the women had finished applying the dressings Haytham raised his hands again and the commotion faded way, the only noise the spitting of burning logs behind us. Haytham searched out Spartacus standing next to Scarab and beckoned him forward. My nephew, who had probably drunk too much already, stepped forward, smiling at Rasha as he did so. Haytham’s daughter was beautiful tonight, dressed as she was in a flowing blue silk robe with jewel-embroidered wide sleeves. Her headscarf was also blue silk and from the centre parting of her hair was tied a silver teeka that rested on her forehead. She wore silver bracelets and anklets and around her neck hung a simple silver necklace holding an exquisite and priceless pear-shaped blue diamond. It had been brought from the lands east of the Indus and was called the ‘idol’s eye’ and must have cost Haytham a small fortune.
The Romans believed that diamonds were tears of the gods, others like Dobbai thought them useful talismans to ward off evil, while some wore them to attract others. Rasha held my nephew’s eyes with her own as he paced forward to her father and I could only think that she wore this rare precious stone to entrap his feelings.
Haytham raised the right arm of Spartacus.
‘This boy saved my life in battle and now I repay the debt I owe to him. Ask what you will of me, boy, and I will grant it.’
The crowd chanted his name and the hairs on the back on my neck stood up. I never thought that I would hear the name ‘Spartacus’ be acclaimed again but that night the air rang with the name of my dead friend and lord once more and I looked at Vagises and Vagharsh among the assembly and they smiled at me. Like me they had been transported back in time to another place when we had stood with Gauls, Dacians, Germans, Greeks, Thracians and Parthians and chanted the same name.
Haytham stilled the tumult. ‘Speak boy.’
I knew what he was going to say and closed my eyes as the brave young fool looked at his beloved.
‘I wish the hand of your daughter in marriage.’
His declaration was met by a deafening silence as Haytham’s lieutenants looked at each other in disbelief and then back at Spartacus who stood with a self-satisfied smile on his face. Rasha wore a smile of victory and stepped forward.
‘I accept.’
Haytham spun round and glared at her.
‘Stay where you are,’ he bellowed, causing her to jump.
He whipped his sword from its scabbard and held the point at Spartacus’ neck.
‘The debt is paid,’ he said menacingly.
My nephew looked at the blade and then at Haytham in confusion. ‘I do not understand, majesty.’
Malik was shaking his head and Byrd was frowning with disapproval as Haytham pressed the point of his sword into my nephew’s neck.
Haytham smiled savagely. ‘You saved my life and now I have saved yours by not cutting off your head for your insolence.’
Agraci laughter greeted this pronouncement though neither Spartacus nor Rasha were smiling.
‘We love each other,’ proclaimed Rasha forlornly.