‘I see.’ I thought of the bay mare and what she was worth and how far I was prepared to risk my life for her. Quite far, I thought, particularly if I had Vologases’ backing. ‘Thank you. I will not forget.’
I bowed from the waist with my hands on my breast as I had seen Pantera do with the kings in Hyrcania and the old man returned it as if we were not mortal enemies who had lately spent a great deal of effort and other men’s blood trying to kill each other.
Soon after, I swam back across and helped the work parties to rebuild the bridge. It was lucky that we had wood enough in the camp without having to cross the river to cut more. Or perhaps it was ill luck. Cutting wood would have taken time, and in time, perhaps, Corbulo might have come and relieved us.
But under the Parthians’ hard gaze we could not dally overmuch, nor could we pretend that we didn’t have enough men, when the several centuries not working on the bridge were standing in clots around their tents, doing nothing.
The bridge was built in less than a day. That same evening, we stood in lines as Vologases had demanded, to receive him and his army.
He came in pomp, weighted in blue silk, carried on a litter at head height by men taller than any I had ever seen. His captains rode around him on black horses that sported silver and silk at their brows and tails.
After him, on horseback, not in a litter, came Monobasus of Adiabene, as smugly triumphant as any man I have ever seen. I could have killed him; I might have done so, whateverthe consequences, had he not been leading Cadus and Lupus at either stirrup with leather leashes tied to their necks.
So, like the others, I swallowed my pride and my loathing and watched as Vologases and Paetus each approached the table that had been carried over and placed in the centre of the camp. There, the entirety of both armies heard read aloud by the Parthian herald the terms of our surrender. Vologases held out a quill pen and a block of ink and Paetus stepped up to put his name to the document.
We were finished then; even if Corbulo had come, we were bound by Paetus’ word to leave without bloodshed, to abandon all of our goods, keeping only our Eagles.
Paetus stepped back and saluted — he saluted an enemy king! We gaped in disbelief.
There was a moment’s hiatus before Vologases lifted his hand in a sign that was both acknowledgement and order. At that, Monobasus released the leashes holding Cadus and Lupus and they were pushed ungently forward past Paetus to join us.
I clasped Cadus by the arms, holding Lupus more gingerly, taking care for his fractures. A short while later, I saw Syrion lifted on a litter, and had the beginnings of hope that the day might not be as bad as I had thought, that Paetus had shown wisdom in not leaving these men to the worst of deaths, that we could walk out with our heads high and our Eagles to the fore and perhaps rescue something of our reputation.
Then I saw a movement from the corner of my eye; Vologases had dropped his hand — and that was when the Parthian army fell on us like a cloud of locusts, and set about pillaging our camp as if it were empty.
Cadus pushed me away. ‘See to your horse.’
I ran fast, being light, with no armour. I saw my gladius taken, our tent ripped apart. My mail shirt was lifted, fingered, thrown from one laughing man to the next; the metal rings glimmered in the sick winter light.
But these were random acts by men who ransacked for the sake of it because that was what war expected and what Vologases demanded. A tighter, more disciplined group had moved almost before the order and made straight for the horse lines that were set beneath the palisade on the northern edge of the camp. Every one of the men was marked by the blue tern of Adiabene.
They went down the lines as my father used to, picking out the best mounts with a practised eye, tapping the tails as a signal that they were chosen, leaving their boys to squeeze in between the horses and free their halters from the tether bar.
My mare was last of the line. I reached her just ahead of the bearded maniac who threatened to take her.
‘Stop! This mare was a gift from the King of Kings. If you take her, you dishonour him!’
If I screamed, it was a pouring out of the whole camp’s anger, and my frustration that I had no blade and could not even strike him with my fist for fear of breaking the truce. I stood close, though, hoping to use my size and rage to overwhelm him.
I failed.
‘Liar!’ A gobbet of spittle struck my cheek. A leering face pressed close to mine. ‘The King of Kings gifts no Romans. She is mine now. You can kiss her goodbye.’
Fury lifted me outside myself. I grasped the man by his clothing, pushing his shoulders back and back against the palisade behind. In a whisper, driving each word into his eyes, his nose, his ears, I said, ‘Vologases gave her to Pantera in Hyrcania, after the Leopard shot the usurper. If you choose not to believe otherwise, don’t blame me if the King of Kings has your skin stripped from your naked bodythis night, leaving you living to make your apologies in the morning.’
I had never seen that, only heard of it fifth hand, but it was enough to give the man pause, and me time to hear hoofbeats behind, and turn my head just enough to catch a glimpse of the man behind me; not enough to be sure who it was, but enough to take a gamble and pray that I was right. ‘Or,’ I said, loudly, and dropped him, ‘you could ask your king, who stands behind me. He was present when the traitor died. He will confirm that Pantera made the fatal shot, and was richly rewarded for it.’
I turned as I spoke. Monobasus was still the fox-faced, narrow-eyed, duplicitous schemer I had first seen. And if rumour was correct, he had helped his third cousin on to the throne of Hyrcania the summer after we had been there, and might have helped him rebel against the King of Kings, although clearly Vologases did not believe that, or he would not have honoured him so greatly at our surrender.
He leaned on the pommel of his saddle. His beard reached halfway down his chest. His moustaches were half the length of his beard. Both were tending to greyness, salted through here and there with white. He smelled of garlic, and mustard, and wine.
Perhaps I should have fallen to my knees, as his men did beside me, but I had lost almost everything that day and was not inclined to throw away what dignity I had left.
I said, ‘Shall I describe for you the moment my lord Pantera shot two arrows at the charging boar, and then at the one who pretended to be king? His name, as I remember, was-’
‘It will not be necessary to name him.’ Monobasus smoothed his hand down his chin. Hate lit his eyes. I was beyond caring.
I said, ‘Then you will remember how the King of Kings gave to Pantera the bay mare that had been the traitor’smount. He gave her to me and she stands before you now. You may check her brands if you doubt me.’
‘I don’t doubt you. I placed those brands myself. I bred her.’
‘Then-’
‘She is yours.’ He wrenched his own horse round with a savagery that would have earned him a beating from my father for ruining its mouth.
I called after him. ‘She has given me three sons. Would you take those? Or are they not also gifts of the King of Kings.’
Monobasus did not pause. I looked at his man, who stood, uncertain. ‘They have the brand of the leopard’s paw,’ I said loudly. ‘If you take them, be prepared to answer for it to the King of Kings.’
It wasn’t easy for a horse to move fast in the crowded wreckage of our camp; Monobasus was not so far away that he couldn’t hear, or answer.
Leave them,’ he called back. ‘Leave them all.’
All. Leave all the horses. The king had spoken and must be obeyed and so, slowly, as if working through mud, sullen men nodded at the sour-mouthed boys who in turn thrust their unwilling way back through the lines to retie the halters they had so lately untied.