‘My presence within the Parthian Empire is not welcome, I think,’ King Haytham explained.
‘Your presence is very welcome, lord,’ I reassured him.
‘To you, perhaps. But you are different from other Parthian kings. I will accompany your foot soldiers back to Dura.’
‘I am in your debt, lord.’
He smiled. ‘When I am in danger, then perhaps you will bring your army to assist me.’
‘You have only to ask,’ I said.
He walked over to Gallia who bowed her head to him. He then leant forward and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Do not leave it too long before you visit Palmyra, Gallia.’
She dazzled him with her smile. ‘Tell Rasha I will see her soon.’
Malik embraced us both and then we all followed Haytham outside where a score of his mounted warriors waited for him.
When he was in the saddle he raised his hand to us and then departed.
‘He is a good man,’ I said.
‘Yes he is,’ agreed Gallia. She turned to look at me. ‘You may find that your father is not as agreeable.’
She was right about that. The reception I received from him was icy to say the least. When we were shown into his marquee my father was seated on a great couch discussing matters with Vistaspa. Both of them were dressed in white flowing robes, not their war gear. When we entered Gafarn rose from the couch next to my father and embraced Gallia and then me. He too was dressed casually.
‘Our father is spitting blood,’ he whispered to me.
Vistaspa also rose when I entered with Gallia and Orodes and bowed his head to us. My father raised his hand to me and smiled at Gallia, who stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. On another couch, dressed in a rich purple tunic and yellow silk leggings, his feet encased in red slippers studded with silver, sat King Vardan of Babylon. I bowed my head to him, as did Gallia, while Orodes, being a prince, went down on one knee before him and my father.
Vardan had not changed much in the years since I had last seen him. A short, broad-shouldered man, he had a round face and a long nose. His full beard and moustache were brown, though I noticed that, like my father’s hair, they now had flecks of grey in them.
‘Greetings father, lord king,’ I said to them.
Gallia walked over to Vardan and likewise kissed him on the cheek.
‘Greetings, lord king. I hope Axsen prospers.’
Princess Axsen was Vardan’s daughter. Unfortunately she had inherited her father’s physical attributes and was a rather short, stocky woman, though possessed of an agreeable nature and great charm.
Vardan smiled at Gallia. ‘She sends her love to you both and wonders why you have not visited her at Babylon.’
‘We have been remiss, lord,’ she said. ‘I promise that we will visit her soon. Is that not so, Pacorus?’
‘Mm, yes, of course.’ I was watching my father during this interlude between my wife and Vardan. He had a face like thunder and clearly wanted to get something off his chest.
‘Be seated, all of you,’ he snapped. ‘And get off your knees, Orodes.’
I unbuckled my sword belt and rested it against the couch opposite my father that Gallia and I sat down on. His servants offered us wine and pastries. Orodes reclined on another couch opposite to Vardan, the King of Babylon smiling at Gallia though ignoring me. I felt like a chastened child.
‘Haytham has left?’ asked my father.
‘Not two hours ago,’ I replied. ‘He and his men escort the legions back to Dura.’
My father turned the silver cup he was holding in his hand, staring at it as he did so.
‘Probably just as well. The presence of a large group of Agraci east of the Euphrates will not sit well with many people.’
‘And what people would they be, father?’
He stopped turning the cup and looked at me with narrow eyes.
‘Most of the Parthian Empire. It was a mistake enlisting Haytham’s help. It is one thing having him as a friend and ally on your western border, quite another inviting him and his army into the empire.’
‘It is my fault, lord,’ said Gallia apologetically. ‘I was the one who requested King Haytham’s aid.’
My father smiled warmly at her. ‘It is not your fault, daughter. You were only trying to save your foolish husband.’
Now we were coming to the kernel of the matter.
‘Foolish, father? Is it foolish to seek justice from those who attempted to murder me, who did succeed in murdering my governor?’ I pointed at Vistaspa. ‘A friend of the commander of your army, no less.’
My father placed his cup on the table beside his couch. ‘Perhaps you mistake revenge for justice.’
I could feel my temper rise within me. ‘Mithridates needs to be punished for his failed assassination attempt.’
Vardan took a sharp intake of breath while my father rose to his feet and began pacing in front of me, turning his head as he spat words in my direction.
‘You take it upon yourself to march against Ctesiphon, in the process violating the territorial integrity of both Hatra and Babylon. You march your army through our kingdoms without even the courtesy of asking for our permission. Then you bite off more than you can chew, nearly get yourself killed and then have to rely on Vardan and me to get you out of trouble. I did think, once, that you would make a good king, but the events of the last few days have disabused me of that notion. With the Armenians raiding my northern territories the last thing I want is a war on my southern border.’
‘I fear Varaz is right,’ added Vardan. ‘The empire needs internal stability in the face of external threats. All of the northern borders are aflame.’
‘You are right, lord king,’ I replied, ignoring my father who had regained his couch. ‘That is why we must grasp the opportunity that has presented itself.’
‘Opportunity?’ Vardan looked at me with a confused expression.
‘Nergal will arrive within the next two days, and with his horsemen combined with our own we may yet strike at Ctesiphon and destroy Mithridates.’
Vardan’s eyes widened with shock. ‘Strike at Ctesiphon?’
‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘Mithridates will not be expecting that. And with the horsemen of Babylon, Hatra and Mesene combined with my own we will surely destroy his army.’
Vardan said nothing, his mouth opening and closing like that of a fish out of water. Gafarn buried his head in his hands and Orodes and Vistaspa both stared at the red carpets spread on the floor.
‘Hatra’s army will not be marching against Ctesiphon,’ said my father slowly and forcefully. ‘I will not be dragged into your war, Pacorus.’
‘Nor I,’ added Vardan. ‘For good or ill, Mithridates is the king of kings. We cannot have another civil war in the empire, Pacorus, not at all. The Romans, Armenians and the tribes of the northern steppes will take advantage of our weakness.’
‘Exactly,’ said my father. ‘There will be no empire left if we fight among ourselves once more.’
‘And Mithridates and Narses are allowed to go unpunished for their crimes?’ I said.
‘The only proof that it was Mithridates who sent those assassins was the word of the killers themselves,’ replied my father. ‘Perhaps it was someone else who sent them. After all, you have made many enemies since you became King of Dura.’
‘I thought Hatra and Babylon were friends of Dura,’ I said.
‘You abuse our friendship, Pacorus,’ replied my father. ‘This is the second time that Vardan and I have brought our armies to help you.’ He was referring to the time when I had faced the Roman Pompey on Dura’s northern border. ‘But instead of being grateful you want to embroil us in another war. Well not this time. This time we are going home.’
‘I have to concur with your father,’ added Vardan. ‘Babylon cannot afford to fight a war against the might of the eastern kings.’
‘Pacorus is grateful for your support,’ said Gallia to my father, ‘to both of you.’ She smiled at Vardan. ‘Is that not correct, Pacorus?’
I said nothing, which earned me a look of fury from my wife. I held my father’s iron gaze, not blinking.