‘Calm yourself, Surena, it is unbecoming to act like an excited child during a meeting of kings.’
He had heard much about Mithridates and Narses over the past few years and had even visited the palace at Ctesiphon following my abortive campaign in Gordyene. But he had never actually laid eyes upon either of them. I could tell that he was most curious to see them up close.
‘And keep your tongue in check,’ I reminded him. ‘They may be our enemies but we must retain our dignity and manners even in the face of provocation.’
‘Yes, lord.’
‘And don’t provoke them,’ I added. ‘I know your propensity for acting rashly. Just remember they are kings and you are not. Listen and learn, Surena.’
‘Not much chance of that,’ said Vagharsh from behind us, as ever carrying my griffin banner.
When we were around fifty paces from Mithridates and Narses they both waved away the boys holding their mounts and nudged their horses forward. I signalled to Vagharsh and the horse archers to halt as Surena and I continued to walk our horses forward. We halted around ten paces from Mithridates and Narses and I brought my hands forward in front of my body and rested each one on the two front horns of the saddle. Thus could my enemies see that my hands held no weapons. I scowled at Surena when I saw that his left hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, and nodded down at my own hands, then his for him to do the same. Mithridates and Narses looked on in contempt as he finally worked out what to do and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.
There were no greetings or smiles as I looked at Mithridates and then Narses, the latter a more imposing and authoritative figure than the high king; indeed, Mithridates could have been mistaken for one of Narses’ junior officers. As usual he was dressed in a black long-sleeved tunic, over which he wore a cuirass of silver scale armour, black leggings, black boots and at his left hip a sword held in a black scabbard decorated with silver leaf. He wore a richly adorned helmet on his head that fully encompassed his narrow, reptilian face. He hadn’t changed in all the years since I had first encountered him at Esfahan where the kings of the empire had elected his father to the high crown. His beard was still neatly trimmed and his eyes were still black and devoid of feeling. I also had no doubt that he was positively gloating over my predicament.
The King of Persis and Sakastan had also changed little since the last time I had the misfortune of meeting him. His pale face showed no signs of ageing and his shoulders were as broad as ever. Like Mithridates, Narses had a well-groomed beard and his brown eyes were as calculating and condescending as ever. His powerful frame contrasted sharply to the slim build of the high king, as did his big round face with its broad forehead compared to the narrow face and long, pointed jaw line of Mithridates.
Mithridates curled his lip at Surena. ‘Who’s this, another one of your slave soldiers?’
I did not rise to the bait. ‘This is Surena, a trusted and loyal subordinate.’
Mithridates smiled maliciously. ‘Where is my brother, has he seen sense and deserted you?’
‘Your stepbrother is in camp. He ate something last night that disagreed with him and feared that seeing you might make him feel worse.’
Surena laughed and Mithridates glowered at him. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Surena, no doubt making sure he remembered him.
‘What do you want, Mithridates?’ I asked, already growing tired of his company.
‘I called this meeting,’ he replied grandly, ‘to save further bloodshed.’
Now it was my time to laugh. ‘I would have thought the spilling of Duran blood would fill you with relish, especially mine.’
‘Parthians do not engage in killing each other,’ he replied haughtily, ‘or at least they should not.’
He was obviously alluding to my having been responsible for the deaths of King Porus of Sakastan and King Chosroes of Mesene. The former had died fighting me in battle and the latter had taken his own life when I had stormed his city of Uruk.
‘I fight only those who declare themselves to be my enemies,’ I said, ‘and seek to settle our differences on the battlefield. I never send assassins to do my work.’
I detected a fleeting look of alarm in Mithridates’ eyes, to be instantly replaced with icy disdain. He turned to Narses.
‘I told you this would be a mistake.’
Narses sighed loudly. ‘He is testing, I agree. But he should hear the terms.’
Mithridates nodded and looked away from me.
‘King Pacorus,’ said Narses without emotion. ‘You are surrounded and far from home. You must know that your position is hopeless. No one is coming to your aid. Hatra is preoccupied to the north and King Gotarzes is besieged in his city.’
‘I am fully appraised of the current situation,’ I said.
Narses continued. ‘If you lay down your arms now we will allow you to go back to your home unmolested.’
‘Back to Dura?’ I enquired.
‘Back to Hatra,’ snapped Mithridates. ‘Dura will be taken back into the empire, to be ruled directly from Ctesiphon. A loyal satrap will sit on its throne.’
I glanced at Surena, who was looking at Mithridates with venom in his eyes. ‘And what of my army?’
‘They will becomes slaves in the service of King of Kings Mithridates,’ replied Narses. ‘You, and your wife, though, will be allowed to return to your father’s kingdom.’
‘All except the Roman,’ said Mithridates.
‘The Roman?’ I enquired. I knew he was talking about Domitus, but I thought I would let him talk some more. Anything to waste time.
‘Yes,’ leered Mithridates, ‘the one who insulted me at Esfahan and who has been responsible for the deaths of so many innocent Parthians.’
Whether Mithridates had been responsible for more deaths was a moot point, but his words confirmed that he had an unending capacity for bearing grudges and hatred. He was referring to Domitus having placed his blade against the throat of one of Mithridates’ companions after I had had the misfortune of meeting him in the mausoleum to Arsaces, the first Parthian king, at Esfahan many years before.
‘He is the general of my army.’
‘He will not be allowed to live,’ said Mithridates, ‘but will be put to death in the Roman fashion. You see how merciful I am, to allow him to die according to his own customs.’
‘You really think I will agree to this?’ I answered with incredulity.
‘You might,’ remarked Narses casually, ‘if you knew that it would ensure that Gotarzes lives.’
What trickery was this? ‘I do not understand.’
Mithridates was relishing my uncertainty. ‘It is quite simple. Agree to the terms and Narses will withdraw the army from before the walls of Elymais and I will forgive Gotarzes his treachery.’
How many soldiers did they have? I had destroyed one army, only to see another spring from the desert. And now there was a third still besieging Gotarzes.
‘You may yet still save your ally,’ said Narses.
There followed a deafening silence as I weighed up what they offered. They knew that I would never agree to my army being disbanded and seeing its members go into slavery, much less sentence my friend and general to death. Or perhaps they thought that I was like them: calculating, ruthless and devoid of any notion of right and wrong.
‘I need time to think about your offer,’ was all I could say.
‘You have one hour,’ snapped Mithridates.
The parley was over and we returned to camp.
‘Well, Surena,’ I said as we walked the horses back to the entrance, the sky still showing no signs of clearing, ‘what do you think of the king of kings and his lord high general?’
‘They are liars, lord,’ he spat with contempt. He looked at me, concern etched on his face.
‘You are not going to surrender the army, lord?’
I smiled. ‘No, Surena, I am not.’
Back in camp Orodes was also dismissive of his stepbrother’s offer.
‘He intends to starve Gotarzes into surrender anyway. There is nothing you can do.’