Authors: Peter Darman
‘He needs to be dealt with.’
‘It will take more than eight legions to destroy King Pacorus,’ remarked Pompey. ‘Remind me, how many men did you lose at Dura?’
All conversation stopped as Crassus toyed with his food and mulled over what Pompey had said. During the latter’s absence Crassus had strengthened his spider’s web of political and business allies, though if he left Rome then Pompey would no doubt set about trying to unravel them. He would have to give the Parthian question careful thought.
The rest of the evening was pleasant enough, with dancing girls and poetry readings saving the two men having to make polite conversation. Pompey never mentioned Parthia again and Crassus did not press the matter, but as Pompey was bidding his rival goodbye he reiterated that in return for his assistance in the matter of land for his veterans he would throw his weight behind securing Crassus a command in the East.
The next morning, while sitting in the study of his rented villa three miles south of Ephesus, Crassus pondered his next move. Ajax, his faithful slave, brought him water and fruit as he sat at his desk. He usually took breakfast in his study to allow him to get through the bulk of his work before the afternoon. Ajax was about to leave when Crassus stopped him.
‘Do you remember that Parthian whom you brought to my house in Rome some nine years ago, I think it was?’
Ajax stood still searching his mind for a few seconds. ‘Ah, yes, sir. I rode to the camp of the slave leader with your letter addressed to him, then escorted him back to Rome. He rode a white horse if my memory serves me right.’
Crassus sat back in his chair. ‘That is correct. Well, it appears that young man escaped from Italy after I crushed the slave rebellion and returned to his homeland. He is now a king who halted Pompey’s advance in the East.’
‘He did appear to be a most resourceful young man,’ offered Ajax. ‘Not to be underestimated.’
Crassus looked at Ajax, who wore a blank expression. Perhaps he had also heard of the defeat of Lucius Furius at Dura. Did he know that his master was thinking of a campaign in the East, was he warning him against such a venture? He dismissed such thoughts. Of course he could not know. Still, Ajax was an old companion, a trusted servant who had much responsibility in the house of his master. He was still a slave, of course, but one that Crassus was immensely fond of.
‘Thank you, Ajax, you may go.’
Ajax bowed his head and made to depart but then stopped and turned around. ‘Some letters have just been delivered; do you wish to see them now, sir? One of them is from Gaius by the look of the seal.’
‘Yes, bring them to me.’
Crassus had always taken an interest in sponsoring promising young men, in both politics and martial affairs. Grateful protégés made useful future allies. It was a gamble, though, and often ended in failure. Crassus shook his head as he remembered Lucius Furius, a man who had cost him a great deal of money and had ended up as a corpse in Mesopotamia. Too hot-headed by far, and losing three legions and expensively assembled siege engines and engineers to work them was unforgivable. At least Furius had saved his eagles. The shame would have been unbearable had those precious objects fallen into the hands of barbarians. Well, at least Furius had had the good manners to die a hero’s death. Crassus hoped his latest protégé, a certain Gaius Julius Caesar, would do better. And so far Gaius had proved himself to be most able, though only time would tell.
Crassus fingered the letter knife on the table in front of him. There were many reasons to mount a campaign against Parthia, not least the attraction of succeeding where Pompey had failed. Sandstorm indeed! He would not have turned back just because of a strong wind. No, Pompey had obviously lost his nerve. A war against Parthia would be an opportunity to put Pompey in the shade. What’s more, the wealth that would be captured would more than pay for the expense of raising an army and maintaining it during the campaign. He had heard that Ctesiphon, the Parthian capital, was filled with gold. But he would leave nothing to chance. He would raise his army and prepare it thoroughly for a campaign in the East. And afterwards the eastern frontier of the Roman Empire would no longer be the River Euphrates, it would be the Tigris. Though what would prevent a capable commander marching his army as far as the Indus? What was certain is that the whole of the western half of the Parthian Empire would become Roman territory, its inhabitants conquered and sold into slavery, and that included the citizens of Dura Europos and its troublesome king.
Copyright 2011 Peter Darman
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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