I met with him, Orodes and Nergal one morning when the old commander took us on a tour of the city’s defences. Like most Parthian kingdoms Babylon had a city garrison comprising spearmen and archers, though Mardonius also commanded a large detachment of slingers. The spearmen who guarded the walls and gates of the city were dressed in purple trousers, purple tunics that covered their arms and ended just above their knees and wore turbans on their heads. They carried wicker shields, six-foot-long spears and long knives. Adequate for defending Babylon’s high walls that were protected by a deep moat, they were poor battlefield troops. Still, they had defeated two sieges so I commended the commander of the Marduk Gate when we encountered him. It was the same officer I had met following the second siege. He had looked gaunt and tired then but now he was well fed and full of energy and showed off his men to me enthusiastically. All their spears had whetted points and their uniforms were spotless.
‘The soldiers of the garrison appear reinvigorated,’ I said to Mardonius, who was now walking with the aid of a stick. Out of politeness I did not inquire if it was the result of a wound or old age.
‘We have the arrival of Prince Orodes to thank for that,’ he smiled at Orodes.
‘You are too kind,’ replied Orodes. ‘I have merely assisted when I can.’
‘Word is,’ said Nergal, ‘that the lords in Susiana and in the kingdoms in the east of the empire are unhappy with Mithridates and his lord high general. They have lost many sons and subjects these past two years.’
‘So has Babylon,’ remarked Mardonius grimly.
All of us present knew that a third invasion of Babylon would probably finish the kingdom for good. Though the Silk Road ran from Seleucia through the Kingdom of Babylon the dues raised from the caravans were insufficient to pay for the rebuilding of Axsen’s realm. The only way that would be possible was to capture the royal treasury at Ctesiphon, and that meant in turn taking Seleucia first, which meant plunging the empire into a fresh war.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘at least Babylon has Mesenian and Hatran troops on its territory to reinforce its own army.’
I had sent Marcus and a contingent of engineers to Babylon at the turn of the year to assist in the rebuilding of the irrigation systems that had been damaged during the last siege. The next day I found him standing on the edge of one of the many canals that emanated from the Euphrates. He looked like a vagrant dressed in his wide-brimmed floppy hat and dirty tunic. He was surrounded by a score of workers carrying spades and picks. I waited until he had finished briefing them and then walked over when they had dispersed.
‘You look like a poor farmer, Marcus.’
He raised his arm in salute after the Roman fashion. ‘Yes, sir, though master dredger would be a more accurate description.’
He took off his hat and wiped his crown with a cloth for it was a hot day.
‘How is it going?’
‘Slowly. The damage done to the irrigation system can be repaired easily enough, but some of these canals are over a thousand years old so people tell me. The farmers and villages cannot hope to maintain such an old system efficiently. I have suggested to the queen that she establish an irrigation corps to maintain the whole system.’
He pointed at the river and then moved his arm to encompass the surrounding countryside.
‘Weirs and diversion dams are what we need to create reservoirs to supply canals that can carry water far into the countryside. That and a small army of dredgers to prevent the new canals and the old ones from silting up.’
I was impressed. ‘You have been busy.’
‘The queen and Orodes have accepted my ideas. I like her and she’s clever.’
‘In what way?’
‘To build a new irrigation system and raise the manpower to maintain it on a permanent basis will be expensive, so she approached her high priest.’
‘Nabu?’
‘Yes, that’s him,’ he replied. ‘Face like a caravan dog chewing a wasp. Anyway, he has agreed to fund the project from the temple treasury.’
I thought that highly unlikely. ‘He has?’
‘Of course, more irrigation means more crops, which means more tribute for his temple. These religious types are all the same: as long as their temples are full of worshippers paying tribute they are happy enough.’
Nabu appeared to be positively beaming during the time preceding Axsen’s marriage to Orodes. The city was a blaze of colour with painted statues of horned bulls along the Processional Way, purple flags flying from the temples and palace, and a great stream of people flocking to his temple to offer their gifts to Marduk. In the days before the ceremony the huge palace compound was filled by the arrival of other kings and their retinues. My mother and father arrived with Gafarn and Diana, plus Diana’s young son and the boy Spartacus. Vistaspa and my father’s bodyguard camped outside the city, as did the retinues of Atrax, Aschek and Nergal. I think Axsen found it all a bit overwhelming but Orodes was the perfect host, welcoming the kings and their wives and making time for all of them.
The day before the wedding my father invited Gallia and me to a family meeting in a wing of the palace that had been set aside for him. It was the first time in years that my sisters and I had been all together in one place. Adeleh was still smiling as she hugged Gallia and then me, happy in the knowledge that the next wedding she would be attending would be her own. Aliyeh, now Queen of Media, was polite, aloof, serious and icy in equal measure in contrast to her husband who was gracious and friendly. Aliyeh blamed me for the fact that her husband walked with a limp and thought me a bad influence on him. Gallia also knew what Aliyeh thought of me and the greeting between the two was uncomfortable to say the least. After their curt embrace, Gallia threw her arms around Diana.
We sat on couches as slaves served us wine and food and we smiled politely at each other. After a while, though, the atmosphere became oppressive.
‘This is nice,’ said my mother, trying to lighten the mood as Gallia and Aliyeh stared unblinking at each other.
‘How are the Armenians, father?’ I asked.
‘Quiet, thanks be to Shamash.’
‘We should have settled affairs with them last year, then they would be even quieter.’
‘We do not need more war, Pacorus,’ said Aliyeh. ‘Media needs peace to repair the damage visited upon it last year, which also claimed the life of its king.’
‘Of course, I meant no offence, Atrax,’ I said. ‘We all grieve for your father.’
My father nodded gravely and my mother wiped away a tear. They had been good friends of Farhad. My father looked at me.
‘Hatra has been hearing stories from Gordyene, of an undeclared war being fought within its borders. Do you know anything of this, Pacorus?’
I felt distinctly uncomfortable. He obviously knew something, but how much?
‘Gordyene is Armenian,’ I replied evasively.
My father smiled knowingly. ‘Then let me ask you another question. Do you know of a man named Surena, who appears to share the same name as one of your commanders that accompanied you to Hatra last year?’
I saw Atrax blush and shift uncomfortably. My father looked at him and then at me. I felt my cheeks burning.
‘I see that you do. You play a dangerous game, Pacorus, and were it not for the fact that you aided me last year I would order you to recall this adventurer, this bandit, who fights on my eastern border. Hatra wants no war with the Armenians.’
‘And neither does Media,’ added Aliyeh, speaking for Atrax and out of turn.
Gordyene lay to the north of Media, just across the Shahar Chay River.
‘If the Armenians are occupied in Gordyene they will not trouble Hatra or Media,’ I answered.
‘Do you not think that you should have consulted Hatra and Media before you launched your private war, and Atropaiene for that matter?’