‘I see my words are wasted on you, Pacorus,’ he said at length. ‘I leave for Hatra tomorrow.’
‘I will also be taking my men home,’ said Vardan. ‘I am sorry, Pacorus.’
There was nothing else to say. I bowed my head perfunctorily to my father and Vardan and then left. Gallia took her leave by again kissing the cheeks of the two kings. Orodes was the last to depart, as ever endeavouring to smooth troubled waters with his diplomatic tongue. As I waited impatiently for Remus to be brought to me Gafarn came to my side.
‘Do not be too disappointed, Pacorus. Our father is preoccupied with securing our northern border.’
‘Hatra has enough strength to deal with the Armenians and help me defeat Mithridates.’
A servant, a boy dressed in the white livery of my father’s kingdom, brought Remus to me.
‘I have been remiss,’ I said to Gafarn. ‘How is Diana?’
He smiled. ‘She is well and sends her love.’
‘And your son?’ Diana had given birth to a boy two years ago. They had named the child Varaz after his grandfather.
‘He thrives. Diana and your mother want to know if Hatra will see you and Gallia soon.’
I shrugged. ‘I have to deal with Mithridates and Narses first.’
‘Not for a few years, then,’ he quipped.
I took Remus’ reins and vaulted into the saddle. Epona was brought to Gallia and Orodes was provided with his brown mare.
‘And young Spartacus?’ I asked.
‘Big and strong, just like his father was,’ said Gafarn approvingly.
‘How old is he now?’ asked Gallia.
‘He has seen eleven summers,’ replied Gafarn.
We had brought the infant son of Spartacus back with us from Italy. Eleven years. It had passed in the blink of an eye.
‘Farewell, Gafarn,’ I said. ‘Convey my love to Diana.’
I dug my knees into Remus’ sides, causing him to snort in annoyance before he broke into a canter. I would not be visiting my father again before he took his army north, and with it any chance that I had of seeking a decision against Mithridates. By now he and Narses would be back across the Tigris with their troops. Meanwhile Gotarzes was still besieged in Elymais with no hope of relief. It was obvious to me that Mithridates was intent on destroying Dura and all its allies, and if he did he would have an iron grip over the empire. I shuddered at the thought.
‘There is nothing to be done, Pacorus,’ said Gallia later as we sat at the table in my tent with Orodes for company.
‘Your father is a wise king,’ added Orodes. ‘He knows that there is no willingness to fight a campaign in the east of the empire, beyond the Tigris. For that is where we shall have to go if Mithridates and Narses retreat further east.’
‘But if they do,’ I said, ‘at least we will have saved Gotarzes.’
‘How long can he hold out in his city?’ asked Gallia.
‘Not long, I fear,’ replied Orodes.
‘Perhaps we do not need Hatra and Babylon,’ I mused.
Orodes wore a perplexed expression. ‘I do not understand.’
I smiled at him. ‘Vardan and my father may be hesitant to resolve matters, but Nergal will not be so reticent.’
Gallia raised an eyebrow at me. ‘What plot are you hatching now?’
I clasped her face with my hands and kissed her on the lips.
‘All will be revealed when our friend and ally arrives with his men, my sweet.’
‘Does this mean we are not returning to Dura?’ asked Orodes.
I jumped up and clapped my hands together. ‘Dura will have to wait, my friend, for we have unfinished business across the Tigris.’
Gallia, tired from her rapid journey from Dura, retired soon after, leaving Orodes and me alone. I spread the hide map of the empire that I always took with me on campaign across the table. I took one of the oil lamps hanging on a tent pole and placed it next to the map so we could see its details better. I placed a finger on our present position.
‘We are less than a hundred miles from Babylon,’ I said, moving my finger over the map to take it past Babylon and towards Uruk. ‘Another fifty miles south is the northern border of Mesene.’
Orodes yawned. ‘What of it?’
‘If we accompany Vardan and then continue our journey south, with Nergal’s permission we can strike southeast towards Elymais. We may yet aid Gotarzes.’
He stretched out his arms, clearly thinking about his bed more than my plan.
‘But your father and Vardan have no interest in attempting to help Gotarzes.’
‘We do not need their help, my friend. We have Dura’s horsemen and whatever Nergal can muster. It will be enough.’
I was bluffing, of course. Even with Nergal’s forces — I had no idea how many men he would bring — we would probably be inferior in numbers to the enemy. But the thought of abandoning Gotarzes gnawed at me incessantly like a toothache.
Orodes looked at me and then at the map.
‘Have you thought that laying siege to Elymais might be a ruse to lure you to a place of the enemy’s choosing, Pacorus? Perhaps my stepbrother and Narses know you better than you think.’
In truth I had not thought of that possibility.
‘Gotarzes came to my aid when I faced Pompey, Orodes. For that reason alone I must attempt to aid him.’
I looked into his eyes.
‘I have no right to ask you or your men to hazard such an undertaking.’
A hurt look crept over his face. ‘I would be offended if I was not included in your plan.’
I smiled. ‘Well then, let us await the arrival of our friend, the King of Mesene.’
The new day dawned cool and overcast, grey clouds filling the sky to block out the sun and making everything appear dull and drab. Squires scurried around preparing meals for their masters and providing fodder for the horses. With the legions gone there were no tools to dig a ditch and erect a rampart. In any case we had lost all our wooden stakes that were used to make the rampart, so I commanded that the squires and their masters form a cordon around the camp. They complained that it was not their task to be sentries but to no avail. They may be cataphracts but they enjoyed no special dispensations when it came to the mundane tasks of military life.
It was mid-morning when Byrd, accompanied by two of his Agraci scouts, rode to my tent. He had taken to wearing the clothes of his adopted people: his head was wrapped in a black turban that covered the lower half of his face and he wore black leggings and a long-sleeved black tunic. His horse was also a black beast, its black leather harness, straps and reins giving it a forbidding appearance. The sentries outside had alerted us to his arrival so we were outside the tent as he slid off his horse and bowed his head to me and then Gallia and Orodes.
‘Nergal come,’ he said, handing the reins of his horse to one of the scouts, who then wheeled away to find the field kitchens.
‘And Praxima?’ asked Gallia.
‘She too.’
I put an arm round his shoulder. ‘Come inside and tell us your news.’
As the day was cool I ordered one of the two sentries, both squires, to fetch us some warm wine to drink and hot porridge for Byrd. He had probably been in the saddle since before dawn judging by the black rings round his eyes. He slumped into one of the chairs at the table and stretched out his legs. Byrd was reserved at the best of times, sullen some would say, but this morning he seemed more withdrawn than usual. I caught his eyes and a finger of ice went down my spine.
‘You look troubled. What is the matter?’
He looked at Gallia and then Orodes.
‘Gotarzes is dead,’ he said blankly.
‘What?’ Orodes was appalled.
I closed my eyes. ‘How?’
‘We encountered refugees from Elymais on the road,’ said Byrd. ‘They told of great battle between Gotarzes and the forces of Mithridates and Narses. Gotarzes lost.’
‘I thought he was besieged in his city,’ said Gallia. ‘Was Elymais stormed?’
Byrd shook his head. ‘Gotarzes ride out of city to give battle but underestimate number of his enemies. He heard…’