Parthian Dawn (22 page)

‘Technically,’ I said, ‘when Phraates became head king, as you say, Mithridates became King of Susiana.’

Domitus shook his head. ‘No one will see it like that. Unless Phraates marches to his capital, takes it back and executes his son, he will be seen as weak. And who follows weak leaders?’

Domitus had done wonders to turn a bunch of former slaves, misfits, thugs, itinerants, drifters and idealists into a body of fighting men, and I knew that what he said was true. He was a simple man, really, an individual who was brave, loyal and forthright. You knew where you stood with Domitus, this ex-centurion whom I had come to like and respect immensely. He said little and never complained, but he was harder than the steel of the
gladius
he wore at his hip. Every man of his legion respected him, even though he had had many of them flogged and allotted extra fatigue duties to those who were sloppily dressed on parade or inattentive during training, but they knew he was fair in his punishments and he never asked any man to undertake something that he himself would not do. He never spoke of his parents or if he had any brothers or sisters, and I assumed that his mother and father were long since dead. I often thought that he might be lonely, but he never let the mask of professionalism slip. That said I tried to make sure that he was at the palace as often as possible, despite the fact that he disliked sitting behind his desk in the headquarters building. He preferred to be pacing around the legion’s camp with his officers, cane in his hand, or leading a cohort on a twenty-mile route march during the heat of the day. I rose from the table.

‘The die is cast my friend.’

He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his neck. ‘Then let’s hope that we can kill Narses quickly.’

But the army would have to wait for the moment, for a more pressing matter had to be attended to.

Despite Demetrius’ brusque manners he was not averse to earning extra money on the side. Not that he needed to as he was being paid a king’s ransom to carve my griffin statue.

‘Nonsense,’ he snapped, ‘I have given you a very reasonable rate for my services, which, incidentally, are most sought after. I could be in Egypt working for Pharaoh, who would pay me much more and provide me with a harem for my entertainment.’

He really was a most taxing individual. ‘Then why don’t you?’

He stopped his chiselling and looked at me. ‘Well, for one thing, your wife is a most charming lady. And your mother is also intriguing.’

‘My mother?’

‘Yes, the one who gave you the banner in the first place. I must say that I have never met such interesting females. Most queens and princesses are as dull as ditch water, but they are certainly not. And for that reason I stay.’

‘She’s not my mother.’

‘Really? Pity.’

‘Anyway,’ I continued, ‘will you take on a new commission?’

‘Of course, I have already promised your mother. She was most insistent, said it would bring you luck. Working with metals is slightly different to stone, of course, but my skills are extensive and I dare say I will manage.’

‘Dobbai commissioned you?’

He frowned at me. ‘That is what I said. Is your hearing impaired?’

But how did she know? Every Roman legion had a silver eagle as its principal standard, which became like a religious icon to the men. It was revered, loved and the legionaries would lay down their lives protecting it. I was determined that my own legion would have a similar standard, though it would not be the eagle design of my enemies. I was going to explain to Demetrius exactly what I wanted but had apparently been beaten to it.

‘But how do you know what to cast?’ I asked.

‘Your mother was quite specific. Now if you don’t mind I have a lot of work to do.’

I gave up trying to reason with him and left him to his stonework. A week later he sent a message saying that the new piece was finished. I took Gallia and Dobbai with me to his workshop to inspect it, and was truly awe-struck by what I saw. A golden griffin, about foot and a half long, lay on Demetrius’ bench. The expert casting had produced a piece that showed every one of the beast’s features, its talons, wings, head, body and tail wrapped around its hind quarters. It was made of metal but it seemed alive, ready to fly from the bench, for Demetrius had gone to work with his tools to expertly refine its features.

I stood in wonder, and even Dobbai for once appeared to be lost for words.

‘He’s beautiful,’ was all Gallia said.

‘A beautiful beast for a beautiful lady,’ retorted Demetrius.

‘It is to be the standard of my legion,’ I said.

Demetrius sighed. ‘A great pity, a beautiful woman should surround herself with precious objects.’

I looked at Dobbai. ‘How did you know?’

She shook her head. ‘You are easy to read, son of Hatra. Perhaps too easy.’

I knew that the griffin would become a sacred object to Domitus and his legionaries. It was late afternoon when I had the legion assembled outside the Palmyrene Gate. What a sight — five and a half thousand men fully armed and equipped standing in their centuries and cohorts! The day was still warm as the shadows grew longer, the men silent in their ranks. Domitus was in front of them with his officers, shiny metal discs on the front of his mail shirt and a white transverse crest atop his helmet. I rode out of the city with Gallia beside me. Behind us were my cataphracts in full armour and steel masks, together with Gallia’s Amazons in mail shirts and helmets, carrying their bows. Immediately behind me rode Vagharsh carrying my griffin banner and Nergal holding a thick ash shaft, on top of which, wrapped in linen, was the gold griffin. The cavalry deployed into a long line facing the legion and halted, while I nudged Remus forward until he was level with Domitus. His men stood to attention as I raised my right arm.

‘Men of the Duran Legion, I salute you. In a short space of time you have gone from being civilians to soldiers. None know what fate has in store for us, but I do know that you will not let yourselves or me down. Some of you fought in Italy with Spartacus. Know you that I hold true to what he believed in, that each man should be judged on his own merits regardless of his position at birth or race. You stand testimony to that belief. I thank you for your faith in me, and as a small token of my gratitude I present you with your standard.’

I dismounted and took the wrapped griffin from Nergal, then walked over to Domitus and handed it to him. He looked surprised, for I had kept this project a secret from him. I took my dagger to the twine wrapped around the linen and cut the threads. The same dagger that had once belonged to a brutal centurion who had been my jailer before Spartacus had liberated me. I yanked the linen cover away to reveal the gold griffin fastened to a small steel plate atop the pole. Domitus smiled with pride as he regarded the work of art, and though his men remained silent I sensed a surge of elation course through their ranks like a lightning bolt. The orange rays of the early evening sun caught the griffin and for a moment it seemed to stir, angry, restless and fierce before the soldiers who would come to love and revere it. Thus did the Duran Legion receive its griffin standard.

Afterwards Domitus selected ten of his best men to be its permanent guard, and it was housed in its own tent in the middle of the legion’s camp. Wherever the legion went the standard would go with it. Each night it would be kept under guard in the same tent in the same location in camp. During the days that followed I heard that every man under Domitus’ command lined up to see the griffin at close quarters, believing it to possess magic, for they had heard that its creation had been under the supervision of Dobbai. I smiled at this, but perhaps they were right and perhaps it did possess supernatural qualities.

Two days later its stone companion was finished, being moved from Demetrius’ canvas workshop on its large wooden pallet by placing logs underneath and hauling it down to the Palmyrene Gate. Tingling with excitement, myself, Gallia, Dobbai, Nergal, Rsan and Godarz followed behind on foot. Demetrius fussed around the load as fifty legionaries sweated and cursed as they pulled the statue through the city, others placing logs under the pallet as it inched its way towards its destination. Domitus bellowed orders and sent for another cohort of men, for word soon spread through the city that the magical statue was finished and people wanted to see it up close. Soon there were hundreds of individuals crowding round the griffin, trying to touch it and generally getting in the way. When the new cohort arrived Domitus used it to line the street and keep people away from the statue. He also had to detail some men to keep others from trying to touch Gallia’s hair, for many believed that it was a gift from the gods and thus sacred and charmed.

By the time the griffin had reached the Palmyrene Gate thousands had gathered to see it hoisted into position. The next hour and a half was very fraught as an agitated Demetrius shouted and pleaded with the operators of the giant winch erected above the gates to take care of his work. Godarz had supervised the construction of the winch and the reinforcing of the arch above the gates, and he was bemused by the Greek’s behaviour.

‘He’ll give himself a heart attack if he’s not careful.’

‘He’s very protective of his creations,’ I said, as Demetrius fell to his knees and placed his head in his hands as the statue swayed slightly in its rope cradle.

Eventually, and thankfully before Demetrius’ heart gave out, the statue was placed on its plinth between the two towers of the Palmyrene Gate. We walked up the steps inside one of the towers and stepped onto the top of the arch. It was wide and strong, allowing the plinth to be safely positioned a few paces behind the battlements. On top staring west with unblinking eyes, was placed the griffin. I had to admit he looked magnificent and would be guarding the city long after I had left this world, Shamash willing. Demetrius fussed around the plinth, using a small trowel to apply a symbolic layer of cement around the statue’s base. He gave the trowel to Gallia to apply the last dash of cement.

‘Surely I should seal the plinth?’ I jested.

Demetrius and Dobbai both rebuked me.

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said, ‘it requires a woman’s touch, otherwise he will get annoyed.’

‘He?’ I said.

‘Don’t interfere with things you cannot comprehend,’ added Dobbai. ‘Take the trowel, child.’

With all eyes on her, Gallia took the trowel from Demetrius and applied the last piece of cement to seal the griffin to its plinth. Everyone then clapped politely and Gallia smiled radiantly.

Demetrius stroked the griffin. ‘He’s happy enough.’

‘And he can’t fly away, either,’ said Dobbai, nodding approvingly.

I looked at Nergal, who shrugged, then at Godarz who just grinned. Demetrius was paid his fee and left the city a few days afterwards a rich man, and strange to say that on the first morning after the griffin had been put in position, I rose at dawn and made my way to the Citadel’s walls, then looked west to the Palmyrene Gate. And between the towers, sitting on its plinth, was the griffin.

‘You decided to stay, then?’

A guard overhead me. ‘Majesty?’

I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’ I left the wall and went back to the palace. It is just a piece of stone I told myself. And yet…

The next few days witnessed a feverish passage of letters to and from Hatra as my father coordinated the response of those loyal to Phraates. The latter, ensconced at Ctesiphon, gathered what forces he could from his own kingdom of Susiana and fortified his royal residence. The plan was for all the kings to march with their forces to Ctesiphon, and then to strike at the rebels quickly before the infection of their treachery spread. Thus far Khosrou and Musa stood on the defensive as the rebel kingdoms lay directly south of their borders.

Byrd returned to Dura with Malik, and I greeted the Agraci prince warmly for he had become a good friend. That night he dined with us and told us the news from his lands.

‘My father and sister send their greetings,’ he said.

‘How is Rasha?’ asked Gallia, her beauty now fully restored after our journey from Irbil.

‘Well, lady, thank you,’ replied Malik, looking sideways at Dobbai, who had now seemingly become a permanent resident of the palace.

‘And you, Byrd,’ she continued, ‘is life being good to you?’

Byrd shoved another piece of meat into his mouth and nodded his head. ‘Good, lady. I like the desert.’

Malik grinned. ‘He likes one piece of it, that occupied by a young widow whom he visits often.’

Gallia looked at me with a triumphant smirk on her face.

‘That is excellent news, Byrd,’ she said. ‘We are pleased for you, aren’t we Pacorus?’

‘Of course,’ I said.

Malik stared again at the old woman in black rags sitting at the table, apparently invisible to us. She saw his stare.

‘You have something to say, desert lord?’

‘Forgive me, Malik,’ I said. ‘This is Dobbai, who was once the sorceress of King Sinatruces and now…’

‘And now I have returned from whence I came to make sure Pacorus does not deviate from his path.’

Malik was intrigued. ‘And what path is that?’

She wiped her hands on her robe, stood up and walked from the room.

‘It is not for you to know,’ she said. Then she stopped, turned and pointed a bony finger at Byrd.

‘What of the Romans?’

‘Romani troops marching north from Syria,’ was his reply.

‘Marching to where?’ I asked.

Byrd shrugged. ‘North, not know where.’

‘As long as they are not marching towards us I do not care,’ I remarked.

‘Keep one eye on Rome, son of Hatra,’ said Dobbai ambling from the room.

‘I would come with you, Pacorus,’ said Malik suddenly.

‘This is not your fight, Malik,’ I replied.

‘Yet I offer you my sword.’

I nodded. ‘Then I accept it.’

Some say war is all glory, battles and slaughter, but I learnt long ago that organisation is the key to victory. Dull attention to detail is what gives an army success. Godarz had once been the quartermaster general in the army of Spartacus and now he made sure that my horsemen were fully prepared for the trials to come. Camels were hired and loaded with spare saddles, horseshoes, bridles, harnesses, saddle clothes, brushes and veterinary implements. Others were loaded with spare arrows, thousands of them, plus replacement bows, quivers and food — hard-baked Parthian bread that Domitus swore was worse than the equivalent in the Roman army. The legion marched with its tools, tents, spare weapons and clothing packed onto carts pulled by mules, ill-tempered beasts that Domitus nicknamed ‘Dobbais’. He thought this hilarious, until an old and grizzled one snatched his vine cane and chewed it through. He would have slit its throat had not Godarz, who was with him at the time, threatened to make sure that Rsan charged Domitus for a replacement. My two hundred cataphracts had their own camel train, but during the march they rode as spearmen armed with lances and round wooden shields. Their bows and quivers were carried in large hide cases stored on the camels, for no Parthian warrior went to war without his bow. But these men were the steel fist of the army, trained to smash through an enemy in combat. Before battle they would don their scale armour and then encase their horses in similar attire, but to march for a whole day under a Mesopotamian sun was more than even the hardiest warrior could endure. I sent the sons of the nobles who served as cataphracts back to their fathers in the days before we marched, for I still needed horse archers to complement my heavy cavalry. I did not order that the lords present themselves, for the memory of the insults dealt to them by Mithridates would still have been fresh in their minds. So I requested that they release a small number of their men to serve with me for the campaign. In this way I left it to them to decide how many they would furnish, if any. I have to confess I was nervous about their reply. They owed me allegiance, but these men were frontier warriors who had carved out their domains from the unyielding desert, and had then defended them in the face of Agraci aggression. The Agraci threat had now gone, but after their ill usage at the hands of Mithridates would they be willing to send men to serve under another upstart king?