Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (10 page)

‘It is often the case,’ I lamented.

‘Well, I killed him with a cooking spit and fled the palace. I reached the Zagros Mountains and for a while lived in the wild, catching animals and eating berries and roots. But the winters in the mountains are cruel and I was forced to beg for shelter in one of the villages on the edge of the mountains.’

‘That was fortunate,’ I said.

She shook her head. ‘Not really, majesty, because after the village headman had raped me he sold me as a slave to the commander of a passing caravan. He raped me too, as did his men.’

I was horrified and possessed of a seething anger against the wretches who had committed these acts. But Viper told her story in a matter-of-fact fashion. The experience had obviously hardened her.

‘But the gods smiled on me,’ she continued, ‘because the caravan was carrying silk and was heading for Egypt. In between abusing me and forcing me to cook their meals the men told stories of the King of Dura, his warrior wife and her band of fighters called Amazons. And I made myself a promise that I would become an Amazon. So when the caravan reached Dura I disappeared among the throng in the caravan park and fled to the Citadel. My luck changed that day because as I reached the Citadel’s gates Praxima, that is Queen Praxima, was riding out leading a party of Amazons. I did not know who she was but I threw myself to the ground in front of her horse and begged her to take pity on me and let me join the Amazons.’

She looked at me and smiled.

‘Praxima must have recognised a kindred spirit because she jumped down from her horse, lifted me up and embraced me. I have been in the embrace of the Amazons ever since.’

‘It comforts me that you are a member of my wife’s bodyguard, Viper,’ I said. ‘But tell me, what is your given name, for surely you cannot have been named Viper at birth?’

I thought I detected sadness in her eyes.

‘I do not know the name my parents gave me, majesty, because they were killed when I was a baby. But I was told later that there was a horned viper near me when the soldiers found me. They were amazed that it had not killed me but the commander of the raiding party said that it showed that I had the favour of the gods and so they took me to Ctesiphon. The high king’s sorceress thought it very auspicious that I was a slave in the palace.’

She shrugged. ‘That is what I was told.’

‘You knew Dobbai?’

‘No, majesty. She was the high king’s confidante and counsellor and I was just a lowly slave. I cannot even remember seeing her at Ctesiphon.’

Remus turned his head and grunted, indicating that she should continue stroking his neck. She giggled girlishly.

‘Remus is like a high king among horses, majesty.’

I smiled as she stroked his neck once more.

‘Don’t tire yourself out, Viper,’ I told her. ‘He will let you do that all day long.’

I returned to where Gallia was now sitting alone on the deck, her back resting against her saddle, and a floppy hat over her face.

I squatted down beside her.

‘Are you asleep?’

She lifted up the brim of her hat. ‘Apparently not.’

‘I have just been talking to Viper. Did you know that she was a slave at Ctesiphon during the time that Dobbai was the sorceress of Sinatruces?’

She sighed. ‘Of course.’

‘And she is named thus because she was found as a baby with a coiled horned viper nearby, seemingly guarding her?’

Gallia let the brim of the hat fall over her face. ‘I know.’

I was perturbed. ‘Why did you not tell me?’

‘To what end?’

‘Does Dobbai know Viper’s history?’

She lifted the brim of her hat once more and gave me a sly smile. ‘Oh, yes. She is very pleased that Viper is an Amazon, as am I. She was very aware of Viper’s history and believes her coming to Dura is a favourable omen. Now please let me get some rest. This heat is intolerable.’

By now most of the Amazons were either resting or asleep but I was restless, eager to get to Uruk. I walked to the rear of the raft where two men with skin turned dark brown by the Mesopotamian sun were holding the long rudders. They bowed their heads when they saw me.

‘It seems as though we are hardly moving,’ I said.

The nearest individual, a tall man with sinewy arms and gold rings on his bony fingers, turned and looked at the river.

‘It may appear so, majesty, but the current is strong.’

‘You are a fisherman?’

He nodded. ‘As was my father and his father before him. The gods bless the Euphrates and fill it with fish.’

‘You will be away from your nets for many days,’ I said.

There would be no way to get the rafts back to Dura, aside from hitching them to horses on the riverbank and towing them back upstream. But that would be time consuming and in any case even if they were taken back to Dura they would most likely be left to rot on the riverbanks. Far better to burn them after we had finished with them. The crews would have to walk back to Dura with the army.

‘How will your family survive without the money from the sale of the fish you sell in the markets?’

He looked at his companion and they both smiled. He flashed a set of white teeth at me.

‘Lord Marcus has paid us well for our services, majesty.’

‘War is much more profitable than fishing, majesty,’ added his shorter companion.

How wrong he was. War was not only ruinously expensive but also damaging to the empire, which relied on the Silk Road for its wealth. Without trade there would be no revenues for the various royal treasuries, and thus no standing armies of horse archers and cataphracts. Even Mithridates recognised the importance of trade, which is why he did not interfere with the trade caravans travelling to Dura on their way to Palmyra and Egypt. To do so would incur the wrath of the Chinese emperor whose merchants transported silk from the east, and not even a king of kings would dare to do that.

We travelled forty miles the first day.

There were still three hours of daylight left when the lead raft, on which Domitus was travelling, drifted to the western bank, having signalled by means of the sun’s rays reflecting off hand-held pieces of shiny steel plates that those following should do the same. Steel spikes hammered into the bank provided moorings for the rafts as the horse archers led their mounts off the vessels to exercise them, leading them on foot at first before riding them a short distance inland. The legionaries, meanwhile, began constructing the camp in which everyone would shelter for the night.

The sword of every legionary, as in the Roman Army, was a
gladius
: a two-foot length of the finest steel with a double edge and sharp point. In battle the Durans and Exiles armed with these short swords turned into two irresistible saws, reducing anything in front of them into mangled flesh and bone. But the
gladius
was not the item most used in a legionary’s arsenal. That honour lay with the entrenching tool. The Romans called it
dolabra
– a wooden handle with an iron head that had a broad cutting edge at one end and a sharp point at the other. It saw more action than the
gladius
, javelin and shield combined, being used every day when on campaign to erect the ditch and rampart that surrounded a camp.

When the horse archers had finished exercising their mounts they were issued with entrenching tools and joined the legionaries in digging the ditch that would surround the camp. The earth removed from the ditch was used to erect a rampart behind it, upon which wooden stakes were planted to form a palisade. It took around three hours to erect the camp’s defences and the tents inside, all arranged in neat rows and blocks with the command tent in the centre. While the camp was being established the Amazons and Byrd’s scouts reconnoitred the surrounding terrain, which was actually still Duran territory. Curious villagers stood and stared at the mail-clad warriors that trotted into their settlements, then cheered and gathered round Gallia as she announced her presence to the headman. Most of these villages were newly established after the peace treaty with Haytham and my wife reported back to me that they appeared to be prospering.

Of course the building of the earth defences around the camp and the scouting patrols were unnecessary as we were still in friendly territory, but when on campaign the army followed protocol irrespective of its location.

The next day the army struck camp before dawn, legionaries packing up their eight-man tents and horse archers grooming and feeding their horses before exercising them briefly so they could empty their bowels and bladders before they were loaded on the rafts. Each day had up to fourteen hours of daylight and under a blazing sun and little wind the last thing the riders wanted were rafts awash with horse urine and dung.

We covered over fifty miles on the second day and nearly sixty on the third. The threat of war seemed far away as we passed fishermen on the river casting their nets into the calm blue water. We shouted to them that we were allies of King Vardan for now the eastern bank of the Euphrates was Babylonian territory. The appearance of a hundred and fifty rafts loaded with soldiers and horses would have been reported to Babylon and Hatra, of that I had no doubt, but my father and Vardan could only guess at our intentions. For all they knew we could have been travelling south to take part in exercises with the Agraci.

‘You haven’t got a hope in Hades of your father and Vardan thinking that,’ remarked Domitus, shielding his eyes from the sun as he peered at the riverbank lined with curious Babylonian villagers. ‘They are not stupid.’

It was the seventh day and we were nearing the northern extent of Mesene territory. The eastern side of the river did not change in appearance, being covered with date palm groves. Well-tended irrigated fields and fishing boats littered the riverbank. But on the western side there was only scrub and desert. That was Agraci territory and they were herders and raiders, not farmers.

‘It was clever of you to think of using rafts to transport your men, Pacorus,’ said Malik.

I had asked him, Domitus and Byrd to join me on my raft, mainly because I wanted someone to speak to during the journey. We put into shore for two hours at midday to water the horses and let them and everyone else stretch their legs and relieve themselves. And also give the crews an opportunity to rest. But the days were still long and tedious.

‘He didn’t think of it,’ scoffed Domitus. ‘It was Marcus Sutonius who came up with the idea. You can’t beat a Roman mind when it comes to practical matters.’

‘Do I detect a wistful tone in your voice, Domitus?’ I teased him. ‘A longing for the homeland?’

‘I would rather be the slave of Mithridates than go back to Rome,’ he spat. ‘Being condemned to the mines banished any affection for the homeland I might have had.’

‘You do not mind killing your own kind?’ Malik asked him.

Domitus shrugged. ‘Why should I? Pacorus pays my wages and I kill anyone who threatens his kingdom.’

‘You see, Malik,’ I said, ‘Romans are practical in all things.’

‘I like to think that part of your heart belongs to Dura, Domitus,’ said Gallia.

He winked at her. ‘I’ve lived in worse places. The people are agreeable enough and you and Orodes are good company.’ He jerked his head at me. ‘He can be a bit naive at times but all in all Dura is a tidy little city.’

‘You forgot to mention being the commander of Dura’s army,’ I said, ‘with all the attendant glories, honours and wealth that the position brings with it.’

‘I thought Domitus lives in a tent outside the city,’ remarked Malik.

‘He does,’ I answered, ‘but only because he chooses to. He could have a mansion in the city if he so desired.’

Domitus screwed up his face. ‘Living in mansions and palaces makes you soft. I prefer to live an uncomplicated life. Just like fighting: keep it simple.’

‘Just like the Roman worldview,’ I remarked. ‘Everything belongs to Rome and if anyone disagrees, kill them.’

‘Such an outlook has its merits,’ offered Domitus. ‘Pacorus has yet to learn that it is better to kill your enemies rather than let them live.’

‘You speak of Narses and Mithridates?’ said Byrd.

Domitus nodded.

‘Perhaps one of them will be at Uruk,’ said Malik.

Domitus scratched his nose. ‘I doubt it. They will send others to do their dirty work.’

‘Like Tiraios,’ said Gallia.

Malik turned his tattooed face towards her. ‘Who?’

‘The King of Charax, a city near where the Tigris and Euphrates enter the Persian Gulf,’ I told him. ‘Dobbai believes that he and his army are the ones who will attack Uruk.’

‘I remain to be convinced,’ sniffed Domitus. ‘When we get to Uruk I suspect we will find Nergal and Praxima residing in their palace, untroubled by this Tiraios.’

The following day was as uneventful as the preceding ones as the current took the rafts further downstream. The Euphrates narrows to around five hundred feet as it approaches Uruk and the flow increases. This meant that we had would reach the city by midday, which meant spending only a few more hours on this accursed raft. I had come to realise what a caged animal must feel like: pacing up and down for hours in an attempt to relieve the boredom. Our line of rafts covered a distance of three miles on the river but the individuals on every one would have seen the thin pillars of black smoke in the sky that appeared to be many miles away.