Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (17 page)

‘Those we killed at the Tigris were warriors from Sakastan,’ said Praxima contemptuously. ‘I recognised them from when we fought Porus.’

‘Narses’ soldiers now,’ I spat.

‘We will pay him back for despoiling our lands,’ promised Praxima.

‘What about this King Tiraios?’ said Malik. ‘He might be tempted to attack Uruk again.’

Nergal turned to his high priest. ‘Rahim, what do you know of Charax?’

‘Only that it is poor, divinity, poorer than even…’

He stopped himself and blushed, obviously thinking twice about what he was about to say.

Nergal smiled. ‘Poorer than Mesene, you were going to say. It is all right. I am fully aware that my kingdom is not a rich land.’

‘The point is,’ said Domitus, emptying a platter of figs, ‘that poor or not most of Charax’s army has been butchered before the walls of this city. Does anyone know how many enemy soldiers were slain?’

‘Upwards of five thousand,’ said Rahim with relish, ‘including nearly two thousand from Charax.’

Domitus puffed out his cheeks. ‘That’s a lot of men to lose, especially for a poor kingdom. I don’t think you will have to worry about Tiraios for a long time.’

‘It is he who will have to worry,’ promised Praxima.

We stayed for a week at Uruk, the wounded being treated and the rest enjoying the hospitality of a grateful populace. Surena and Viper took long walks among the remaining date palms, doum palms, sycamores and fig trees of the Royal Orchard. Gallia and Praxima organised picnics by the side of the artificial lakes in the orchard and we spent hours reminiscing about our time in Italy. Gallia even persuaded Byrd and Malik to join us on one occasion, though my chief scout hardly said anything, just staring at the pure white swans as they swam gracefully across the water. He had not changed one bit since the time I had first met him in Cappadocia all those years ago.

Domitus had scorned the idea of a picnic and instead had asked that Surena’s Ma’adan be allowed to accompany him as he took a thousand legionaries into the desert on a route march. Nergal had agreed and suggested that Kuban, who had returned to the city, play the role of enemy with his mounted warriors. Domitus had agreed. Three men died in the subsequent mock battle ten miles north of Uruk, but my army’s commander thought the exercise well worth it.

When he returned, after he had washed the dust of Mesopotamia from his body, I talked with him. He was dressed in a simple grey tunic, sandals and leather belt as I walked with him through the palace on his way to speak with Surena. As usual he carried his cane and had his
gladius
and dagger hanging from his belt.

‘I hope you two are not going to fight each other,’ I said.

He rolled his eyes. ‘I have better things to do than teach your cocky young protégé a lesson in sword fighting.’

‘Mm. Well good. Anyway, I have been thinking.

‘My congratulations,’ he said flatly.

‘Try to be serious. What is your opinion of Kuban and his men?’

Domitus twisted his cane in his hand. ‘Narrow-eyed killers, the lot of them. But good horsemen and Nergal is lucky to have them.’

‘You think they are capable of working in conjunction with foot soldiers?’

He shrugged. ‘With enough training, I don’t see why not. What are you thinking?’

‘That the legionaries should stay here for six months to stiffen Uruk’s defences, just in case Narses tries another venture.’

We passed through the main hall and exited the palace, arriving at the top of the steps that led down to the paved square where Surena’s Ma’adan were drawn up on parade. They looked a fine body of men, the late afternoon sun glinting off whetted spear points, bronze armour and helmets.

‘Not a bad idea,’ mused Domitus, ‘but you realise that if you leave nearly two thousand legionaries here and Nergal trains them to work with those flat-faced northern devils of Khosrou’s, Praxima will be bending his ear to raid Mithridates’ kingdom just across the Tigris.’

I smiled at him. ‘Precisely.’

Surena saw us approaching and shouted an order to his men, who snapped their spears to their sides as they came to attention. Domitus walked up to him, the younger man looking down at Domitus from behind the nose guard of his helmet.

‘Your men did well on the exercise,’ said Domitus. ‘I had my doubts about them but credit where credit’s due. Well done.’

‘Thank you, general.’

‘Please stand at ease, Surena,’ I said, ‘and take that helmet off. It’s like talking to a statue.’

He removed his bronze helm and smiled proudly.

‘Stand easy!’ he bellowed.

His men relaxed and stood at ease.

‘Where is he, then?’ asked Domitus.

Surena turned and waved forward a soldier in the front rank behind him. Attired like him in a cuirass of overlapping bronze scales, he sprinted forward and snapped to attention before Surena.

‘This is Jasham, general,’ said Surena, ‘whom I have selected to assume command of my soldiers when I leave for Dura. Take off your helmet, Jasham.’

The soldier did so to reveal a round face with a hard expression and shoulder-length black hair. He was the same height as Domitus but had broader shoulders.

‘I recognise you,’ I said. ‘You were one of the youths that sprang the ambush against Chosroes’ soldiers when I was their captive.’

‘That is correct, lord,’ Jasham replied without emotion.

‘You have come a long way,’ I told him. ‘Well done.’

I now understood why Nergal had been so unconcerned about Surena leaving Uruk. He knew that the command of the Ma’adan would be in the hands of one of Surena’s childhood friends who came from the same village as Viper’s husband.

‘How many of the men I see before me were part of that gang of young raiders who preyed on Chosroes’ soldiers?’ I asked Surena.

His face wore a wide grin. ‘A score, lord, all raised to commanders.’

‘Disciplined cut-throats,’ opined Domitus. ‘I like it.’

The Ma’adan were again drawn up in their ranks the next day when we left Uruk. The previous evening, at the feast given in our honour in the palace, I told Nergal and Praxima that I would leave all the legionaries with them for six months as a precaution against any further enemy incursions. I saw Praxima’s eyes light up with excitement and heard Domitus’ words in my head. But I knew that Nergal had a wise head on his shoulders and would not start any unnecessary wars. Or at least I hoped he would not.

Gallia embraced her friend and then led the Amazons from the palace, Byrd’s scouts leading the way with the horse archers following. I had decided that I would cross the Euphrates and ride back to Dura on the western side of the river. As Malik was with us this would not be a problem and would save us having to ride through Babylonian and Hatran territory, and save me having to explain my movements to King Vardan and my father.

On a crystal clear day, with the sun high in a blue sky and the waters of the Euphrates calm and clear, we trotted across the temporary bridge that had been constructed by lashing the rafts that had transported us to Uruk together and entered Agraci territory. We were sad to leave our friends but were in high spirits at having destroyed Narses’ plan and the army he had sent to implement it. As the sun shone on my back I was content in the knowledge that the gods were smiling on Dura and its king.

Chapter 4

Byrd and Malik rode ahead to announce our presence to Yasser, whose land we were entering. The other scouts went with them, more out of something to do than to ensure the security of their commander or the Agraci prince. The region to the west of the Euphrates was a desolate landscape of rocky outcrops, smooth sandy plains and sparse vegetation. It was a sun-blasted land that was avoided by Parthians, not least because it was the domain of the feared Agraci, in addition to many snakes and scorpions. So the land adjacent to the Euphrates lay abandoned, despite the fact that it flooded every spring and burst forth with plant life, before once more becoming arid and inhospitable in the summer. But to us it was a land of tranquillity and peace, home to our Agraci allies. We knew that the journey home would be uneventful, though we had reckoned without the complaining of Lucius Domitus.

He may have been a general but he was used to marching on foot and found riding in the saddle strange and alien. Nergal had given him a beautiful five-year-old light brown mare to ride back to Dura, an animal with a calm temperament and a relaxed gait. It should have been an ideal mount for Dura’s general but instead he did nothing but complain about it and the saddle.

Each day we rose at dawn and groomed and fed the horses, checking them over for any loose shoes and sores. Then we ate our breakfast before saddling our mounts and riding for two hours before walking the horses for a further hour to conserve their energy. We usually rested during the two hours either side of midday, taking the horses to the Euphrates to quench their thirst and wade in the water, before riding them for a further three hours in the afternoon. Without the impediment of wagons or soldiers on foot we were able to cover up to forty miles a day. On the third day it all became too much for Domitus, who had forgotten the lessons he had learned about riding on the trip to Esfahan for the Council of Kings.

‘This wretched beast hates me,’ he whined, shifting in his saddle. ‘And I’ve got blisters on my arse as big as camel spiders.’

Gallia laughed. ‘My sympathies.’

‘I don’t want sympathy,’ snapped Domitus, ‘I want to be off this bloody horse.’

‘You are uncomfortable because you are sitting all wrong,’ I told him. ‘Look at how we sit in the saddle. You are positioned too far forward. Relax and sit back.’

Our saddles had four padded horns, two at the front and two at the back, which held the rider in place. However, novice riders had a tendency to sit forward because initially it felt as though the rear horns did not offer enough support and they feared tumbling from the saddle.

‘You must trust the saddle, Domitus,’ said Gallia, ‘just as you trust the sword that hangs by your side.’

Domitus squirmed in the saddle again. ‘Trust? It’s not natural, sitting on a mangy beast with your legs dangling in mid-air.’

‘You should not insult your horse, general,’ said Surena behind us. ‘It will take offence. Try to use your legs to grip the front horns of the saddle, and keep them bent.’

Domitus was unimpressed. ‘When I want your advice I will ask for it.’

‘He’s right Domitus,’ I said, ‘you should not upset the beast you are riding on. After all, in battle your life might depend on it.’

Domitus smiled bitterly at me. ‘Not my life. I prefer to fight on foot like I was trained to do.’

‘But Romans have horsemen, general,’ said Viper riding next to Surena, her girlish voice causing him to smile.

‘They have horsemen,’ he agreed, ‘but they are only used after the legions have broken the enemy, that and for scouting.’

He pulled his cane from his belt and was about to beat his mare on the hip.

‘Don’t use your cane on your horse,’ I ordered him. ‘A horse is directed by weight distribution, leg pressure, verbal commands and the bit in his mouth, or her mouth in your horse’s case.’

‘I’m amazed you can remember all that in battle,’ he said.

‘It comes naturally after a while,’ I said. ‘If you spent more time in the saddle you would soon get used to riding.’

‘You can forget that,’ he insisted. ‘As soon as we get back to Dura my feet will be moving me around.’

To spare our bodies from the worst of the heat we wore large white cotton cloaks from our shoulders that also covered the hips of our horses. Our helmets dangled from our saddle horns and we wore broad-brimmed floppy hats on our heads. The horses also wore ‘hats’ to shield their heads from the sun.

When Byrd and Malik returned in the company of Yasser, Domitus’ ‘wounds’ were treated by an aged healer who smeared myrrh on the general’s rump to treat his blisters. That night Yasser entertained us in his large goatskin tent. We sat cross-legged in a circle on the floor as his men brought thin metal platters heaped with rice and roast goat. We ate with our fingers, the hulking figure of Yasser sitting next to Gallia, milk dripping on his thick black beard as he drank and laughed with my wife.

‘I will ride to Uruk and lend King Nergal some of my warriors,’ Yasser promised me. ‘Your wife has been telling me about your recent victory. Your fellow king will be wishing to exact revenge for the invasion of his kingdom.’

Yasser was not concerned about the politics of the empire or the safety of Mesene, but as an Agraci raiding and plunder was in his blood and he sniffed an opportunity to lead his warriors on an expedition of slaughter. I often thought that the peace between Dura and Haytham brought nothing for the Agraci to do save provide protection for the trade caravans that criss-crossed their land.

‘I’m sure King Nergal will welcome any reinforcements,’ I replied.

He pushed a mouthful of rice into his mouth. ‘And you, lion of Parthia, will you take your army east to kill Mithridates?’

How I would have liked to answer yes to that question but I had no appetite to plunge the empire into another civil war.