The king smiled tiredly.
‘It isn’t. Yet.’
Having tarried over his breakfast, calculating the likelihood of swaying the Median nobles to his side, Narsai rode through his army towards the Roman camp to be greeted by an unexpected sight when he reached the host’s front ranks. His momentary look of bemusement darkened to one of anger as he realised who it was that the knot of armoured cavalry men were gathered around fifty paces from the army’s ranks, a figure at once familiar by his rich blue tunic and proud stance.
‘It’s the king’s bidaxs, Your Highness.’
Kicking his horse forward, the king cantered across the gap between his army and the small group of nobles, taking in at a glance which of the Median nobles had ridden forward to meet Osroes’ man. A dozen or so faces turned to regard him as he approached, none of them kindly, several of them hostile. He noted the latter, half promising himself to have the more powerful of them meet with accidents before he remembered that his assassin had failed to return from the Roman camp.
‘I warn you, my lords, you’d do as well not to listen to this man. His master has had his wits bludgeoned from his skull by the Romans, and this one wants nothing more than to pretend that the problem does not exist.’
Gurgen shook his head in disgust.
‘I will repeat myself for those of you who may be hard of hearing, or who lack the old-fashioned virtue to arrive on the field of battle in a timely manner. Your king sends you his regards, and his regrets that he is unable to greet you in person. He wishes you to know that he is of sound mind, if still a little dazed from the way in which he was unhorsed in the battle during which he was taken. And he expressed his disappointment that you should have decided to seek his death, and sent the cream of our Median army into the Roman camp last night with orders to find and kill their own king.’
The reason for their hostility was at once apparent, and Narsai shook his head in a manner he hoped would emphatically give the lie to the bodyguard’s words.
‘I know of no such attempt on the king’s life. If our warriors, being realists in all things, decided to take matters into their own hands, I can only applaud their determination to bring this enemy to-’
‘They’re all dead. They fought their way to the king’s tent with the greatest of bravery and skill at arms, but in the end their sacrifice was without fruit. I speared the last of them myself, as he stood before my king with a drawn sword.’
Narsai swelled with genuine rage.
‘You prevented your own people from removing a hostage from Roman hands!’
Gurgen shook his head, his lip curling.
‘I killed an assassin who threatened the man to whom I have sworn lifelong loyalty, nothing more. And not all of the men who sought their king’s life were pure in their intentions.’
He emptied the bag onto the rough grass, watching Narsai’s face as the head of his killer rolled to a halt on the sandy ground, the dead man’s eyes staring sightlessly up at him.
‘You see this king’s face when confronted with the head of his tame murderer, my lords? You see him recognise his man? A dozen of your finest fought their way to the king’s side last night, determined to kill him only as a last resort, when they realised that they were surrounded. We restrained them with our empty hands, my lords, for love of our brothers and their ideal of their sacrifice, and several of my fellow captives paid for that fealty with their lives. But this man, this scorpion, lurked in the shadows behind them and sought to bring a dishonourable death to your king!’
Narsai snarled at him, turning his horse away.
‘It was the only way I could see to prevent this legion from escaping our vengeance for the men we lost, back there on that bloody hillside! And I still see it as the only answer! If you fools lack the guts, then I will have to show you how it’s done with my own archers!’
Gurgen smiled at his back, looking to the men gathered around him.
‘A choice presents itself, my brothers.’
Scaurus watched the small group of nobles intently, waiting until Gurgen turned away and strode back towards the Roman camp, proudly heedless of the risk that he might find an arrow between his shoulder blades at any moment.
‘So now we’ll see how dearly the king’s men value his life. And whether it’s born of love of the man or fear of his father, whether that value can outweigh Narsai’s need to see him dead.’
He turned to Julius with a nod.
‘We’ll march the legion now, if you will First Spear? Let’s not give them any time to think it through.’
The First Cohort went out through the hastily demolished eastern gateway at the double march, the Romans clearly intending to make the most of the morning’s cool, the soldiers’ heads thrown back to suck in the air while their centurions barked commands and struck out with real venom at any man not displaying sufficient vigour.
‘You’ve turned them into Tungrians, brother.’
Dubnus grinned at Julius as the Second Cohort lurched into motion, the air abruptly filled with the sound of Aramaic curses and imprecations that the Tungrians had quickly come to recognise.
‘Listen to that! I swear I just heard that centurion call his front rankers a useless shower of cock suckers!’
Julius smiled quietly.
‘They’re not Tungrians. But they’re something close enough that I’m starting to get quite fond of them, the dirty, idle bastards. And as for you, Your Highness, don’t you have a cohort to be beasting?’
Dubnus turned away with a smug grin.
‘No need. All my centurions know their duty well enough, as you’d expect given they’re the best soldiers in their cohort. My lads will have had them lined up and ready to run before the rest of the legion had put their cocks away. It’s discipline, that and the relief of not having to suffer under their former first spear …’
Julius waved him away, turning back to Scaurus to find the legatus still watching the legion’s cohorts as they formed for the day’s march.
‘Today’s the day, Julius. Today we’ll discover if we’re fated to die here, unlamented on a featureless plain, or survive to face death by starvation in Nisibis instead.’
The first spear raised an eyebrow.
‘You don’t believe that the city has food enough for us?’
‘I might be wrong – but if they’ve been under siege for as long as I suspect, then they’ll already be low on supplies before another five thousand mouths arrive.’
‘But if we’re marching into a death trap …?’
‘Not that we have much choice. But yes, if we’re marching into a trap, then your next question is a valid enquiry. How do I plan to get us out again, given that if Narsai doesn’t manage to turn the Medes loose on us, all he’s going to do is ring the town with peasant soldiers and try to starve us out?’
Julius waited expectantly, and the legatus shook his head with a faint smile.
‘The truth is, First Spear, that I really hadn’t thought much beyond getting in there. That, I’m afraid, will be a matter for Our Lord Mithras to arrange.’
‘There’s still no sign of any pursuit!’
Felix looked back over his shoulder reflexively, finding the western horizon still free of any indication of pursuit. He grinned at Marcus, patting Hades’ neck as the big stallion trotted effortlessly across the flat ground laid out before them, raising his voice to be heard over the thunder of his cohort’s horses.
‘With any luck the men watching Nisibis won’t realise who we are until it’s too late.’
Walking their horses across the plain until dawn’s first light allowed them to mount, they had prevented their horses from alerting the enemy by the simple expedient of muffling their hoofs with rags and strapping on nosebags full of fodder while the beasts were walked out of the camp’s southern side. Felix’s cavalrymen had already covered two-thirds of the distance to their objective. Looking out to either side, Marcus saw only the empty plain running away in all directions as far as the eye could see.