Sons Of the Citadel Page 2

  I rose and walked over to the hide map of the empire on the wall, pointing at the kingdoms in the west.

  ‘Gordyene is ruled by Spartacus and Rasha, one the son of a slave and the other the daughter of an Agraci king. They are loyal to Hatra, Dura and Mesene above all but are viewed with disdain by other kings of the empire. I moved my finger right. Media is ruled by my friend and ally Atrax, who in turn is a great friend and ally of King Aschek of Atropaiene. And let us not forget the Kingdom of Elymais ruled by our old friend and ally Silaces.’

  I pointed at the eastern kingdoms of the empire.

  ‘We all know Margiana and Hyrcania are concerned with securing their borders against the northern nomads rather than playing politics, and the same can be said of Aria, Anauon and Yueh-Chih, though their concerns relate to incursions from the tribes east of the Indus.’

  ‘Sakastan and Carmania could conceivably be where any civil war starts, majesty,’ suggested Rsan.

  Chrestus nodded. ‘By all accounts they are nearly at war now.’

  I sighed. Of all Orodes’ successes in maintaining peace throughout the empire his one regret had been failing to reconcile the animosity between the brothers Peroz and Phenon, the rulers of Sakastan and Carmania respectively. Like many siblings they had grown apart during their teenage years and had never reconciled, despite the deathbed pleadings of their father, Phriapatus. I had met Phenon only briefly, at the loathsome gathering of the kings at Esfahan, but Peroz had spent time at Dura where he had become a close friend. He had found his wife in my city, the beautiful Roxanne, though she had been a whore working in one of Dura’s brothels at the time. But love is blind and so he had taken her as his wife. It was fortunate in the aftermath of Carrhae, when Orodes had been showering his friends and allies with favours, Peroz had been given the vacant crown of Sakastan, thus saving him from having to return to his homeland with a former prostitute in tow. But it was unfortunate Sakastan bordered Carmania, which meant the animosity between the two brothers always threatened to escalate into all-out war.

  ‘Carmania and Sakastan might go to war,’ I agreed, ‘but while their two rulers will be more than happy to meet in battle their grievances and ambitions are theirs alone. And I know for a fact King Vologases of Drangiana has no intention of allowing himself to be dragged into a war between the two.’

  I jabbed a finger at the heart of the empire.

  ‘Which leads me to my final point. Phraates now controls the kingdoms of Susiana, Babylon and Persis, which combined could raise a sizeable army if pressed.’

  ‘Though not worth much on the battlefield,’ said Chrestus.

  I raised a hand to him. ‘Just indulge me, Chrestus. If another was to challenge Phraates’ right to the high throne, then Orodes’ son would raise an army from those kingdoms and once again the empire would be plunged into civil war. As I said, no one wants that.’

  ‘Most wise, majesty,’ concurred Rsan.

  ‘War is poison to commerce,’ said Aaron, his scribes noting down every word.

  ‘Phraates will be poison for the empire,’ lamented Gallia. ‘When I met him I found him lacking in virtues but abundant in vices.’

  I walked back to my chair. ‘But he will be lacking in the one vice with the potential to split the empire in two. Ambition. It is true he might want to surround himself at Ctesiphon with young slave girls and boys and live a life of depravity. But he will have no ambition because he will already hold the highest office.’

  ‘Are you trying to convince us or yourself?’ asked a sceptical Gallia.

  ‘There is another who would make a better high king,’ said Chrestus.

  ‘Who would that be, general?’ enquired Rsan.

  Chrestus looked at me. ‘King Pacorus of Dura.’

  I held my head in my hands.

  ‘Don’t all start again. I have neither the will nor the desire to accede to the high throne.’

  ‘Everyone knows you would make a better king of kings than Phraates,’ agreed Gallia.

  I looked at her. ‘And would you be prepared to leave Dura, my sweet, to live at Ctesiphon and there reside for most of your days, only occasionally visiting this city between your other duties as high queen?’

  She was horrified at the prospect. ‘Never.’

  ‘Well, then, let us have no more talk of my becoming high king.’

  I held the eyes of each of them in turn.

  ‘And that is an order.’

  Chrestus sighed loudly and looked out of the window, Rsan nodded gravely and Aaron refilled his cup with water. Gallia was not best pleased but I knew she detested royal protocol and duties as much as I did, perhaps more.

  ‘Rsan,’ I said, ‘instruct your clerks to write letters to every king of the empire stating Dura supports Phraates becoming high king. I will sign them prior to their despatch. I myself will write to Phraates immediately pledging my allegiance. The transition of power must be quick and smooth.’

  After they had finished recording the minutes of the meeting Rsan instructed his clerks to draw up the letters to the various kings of the empire. They would be ready by the end of the day and forwarded to their recipients just after dawn on the morrow. Parthia did not have the paved roads possessed by the Romans which had greatly impressed me when I had campaigned in Italy with the slave general Spartacus. But it did have a system of post stations throughout the empire where couriers could receive a fresh horse before continuing on their way. Usually distanced around thirty miles apart these stations contained stables, living quarters, fresh water, food and fodder. Each kingdom maintained the stations within its own territory to ensure the smooth delivery of post across the length and breadth of the empire. A letter written at the Euphrates could be at the Indus, a thousand miles away, in less than ten days.

  Gallia and I strolled back to the palace as the sun began to dip in the west, a huge red fireball casting long shadows in the Citadel’s courtyard.

  ‘Phraates will make a bad high king,’ said Gallia. ‘Why do you support his elevation?’

  I stopped and thought. ‘You are right about his character but it is what Orodes would have wanted and for that reason alone I am reluctant to object to Phraates.’

  She shook her head. ‘You are too sentimental, Pacorus.’

  I thought about Orodes. ‘It is the least I can do for our friend.’

  We turned as a horse galloped into the courtyard, guards peering down from the battlements as the brown mare was pulled up and a dust-covered rider sprang from its saddle. The figure removed the shemagh and shook her hair free, smiling at us both. She turned to the guards and dazzled them with a smile. They returned to their duties.

  ‘Where is your escort?’

  Claudia turned her smile on me. ‘Escort, father? Why would I need an escort to ride in my own kingdom?’

  ‘My kingdom,’ I told her, ‘and you need an escort because it is royal protocol princesses do not go anywhere without an escort.’

  She removed a leather bag attached to one of the four horns of her saddle and led her horse towards us, kissing me on the cheek when she reached us.

  ‘Oh, father, always so formal. I know this land like the back of my hand and anyway I took my bow with me.’

  She had a full quiver of thirty arrows slung on her back and her bow was tucked in its case by the side of her saddle.

  I looked at the bag. ‘What’s in there, more snakes?’

  An earlier trip into the desert had reaped half a dozen saw-scaled vipers that had escaped into the palace, causing wild hysteria among servants and visitors like, until they were cornered and killed by a squad of legionaries.

  Claudia held up the bag and grinned. ‘Just herbs, father, I promise.’

  She tossed back her head and laughed. She was incorrigible, a wild child of Dura who had a keen mind, a depository of great knowledge, but she refused to be tamed. Like a feral horse she went her own way and scorned conventional habits. She should have been married long ago and there had been n
o shortage of suitors. Claudia had inherited her mother’s high cheekbones and lithe frame and though she was not perhaps beautiful she was very striking. Now approaching her thirtieth year I despaired of ever finding her a husband.

  ‘Orodes is dead,’ said Gallia suddenly.

  Claudia’s smile disappeared. ‘I grieve for you both. He was a good king and friend to Dura. I liked him. Who will replace him as high king?’

  ‘Your father is insistent Phraates should be king of kings.’

  Claudia nodded. ‘Yes, that is the way it should be.’

  ‘How so?’ snapped Gallia.

  ‘It was foretold, mother, just as it was foretold you and father would come to Dura all those years ago.’

  She led her horse towards the stabling block, giving us both a sympathetic glance as she did so. Gallia said nothing, knowing her eldest daughter had been under the close supervision of Dobbai from her birth. The old woman had acted as Claudia’s guardian, confidante and tutor, imparting all her knowledge to her over the years. We both knew Claudia was skilled in ancient medicine and magic.

  ‘I wish Claudia could find herself a husband and focus on the world of mortals instead of the ways of the gods,’ I lamented.

  ‘Dobbai raised her,’ said Gallia. ‘We both know she is different from Isabella and Eszter.’

  ‘Indeed she is.’

  Isabella, our second daughter, was betrothed to the young son of King Peroz, and Eszter our third daughter, was currently residing in Hatra as the guest of Gafarn and Diana, learning to be a Parthian princess. Dura was a frontier city and whereas Isabella was thoughtful and Claudia mature beyond her years, Eszter was wild, quick to lose her temper and very loose with her tongue. I blamed myself for being away so much during her formative years. So Gallia and I had sent her off to Hatra’s palace where strict protocol and manners held sway. She had not written to us since her arrival out of spite but Gafarn had notified us she was doing as well as could be expected considering her undisciplined upbringing!

  When the fierce heat of the day had abated the palace balcony was a splendid place to be, offering as it did stunning views of the Euphrates and the land to the east of the river. The vast sky was a soothing purple as the sun began to set. There was the slightest of breezes carrying the aroma of spices, and the surface of the river was like a slab of mauve marble. Refreshed and reflective, we sat with our daughters on the balcony and partook of wine, pastries, bread, cheese and strips of roasted chicken. At such times my position as ruler of Dura was irrelevant as I shared a meal with my family, a simple pleasure worth a king’s ransom, though it did not take long for Claudia to spoil proceedings.

  ‘Of course Orodes was murdered, poisoned most likely.’

  ‘How awful,’ said Isabella.

  ‘You have no evidence to suggest foul play,’ I told her.

  Claudia sipped at her wine. ‘Orodes was always destined to suffer the same fate as his father. I was told this long ago. His son has a malicious nature, you said so yourself, father, so what I have said should not come as a shock to you.’

  ‘I can believe it,’ said Gallia softly, turning her blue eyes on me. ‘Yet another reason why Phraates should not become high king.’

  ‘On the contrary, mother,’ said Claudia, ‘Phraates will make a good high king.’

  Gallia’s eyes burned with anger. ‘Because he murdered his father?’

  ‘Because he will ensure the empire will remain relatively peaceful and united against its enemies,’ replied Claudia.

  ‘I will hear no more talk of Orodes being murdered,’ I commanded.

  ‘Quite right, father,’ said Isabella.

  We sat in silence, each of us digesting Claudia’s words rather than the food. I tried to dismiss them but knew she was not one to babble nonsense or give voice to foolish opinions. I lost my appetite as what she had so glibly announced sank in.

  I heard a cackling sound above and looked up, to see a pair of eagles coming together in what I assumed was some sort of mating ritual. But the loud screeching soon convinced me the birds were not mating. We stood and craned our necks as the cawing and screeching got louder and more high-pitched, the birds tussling in mid-air in what was obviously a deadly duel. Two guards, hearing the sounds from the corridor leading to the terrace, came rushing with swords drawn. I waved them away as above came a series of high-pitched screams and something dropped towards us. Towards me to be precise. Some sort of animal had been held in the talons of one of the birds, both of them still fighting their mid-air battle. I instinctively caught the animal and saw to my amazement it was a young gazelle calf.

  The eagles separated and flew away. The calf was bleeding and paralysed with fear, all of us were stunned. I held it in my arms as Gallia and Isabella stared open-mouthed at it and me. But Claudia understood the symbolism of what had just occurred.

  She rushed to me to take the bleeding animal from my arms.

  ‘The gods send you a message, father. The eagles are Rome and the calf is Phraates. It will lie with you to save him and the empire from the clutches of the Romans.’

  I was going to speak but she rushed from the terrace, cradling the injured calf in her arms.

  ‘I will see to it the animal lives but you must ensure Phraates and the empire survive,’ was her parting shot.

  ‘Extraordinary,’ was Gallia’s only utterance.

  Claudia barricaded herself in her room for the next few days, as she was wont to do, issuing orders for warm milk to be brought to her quarters at regular intervals. After a week she reappeared with the news the calf had returned to full health and was to be kept in the Citadel. I was grooming Tegha following his morning exercise when she sauntered into the stables cradling the calf, which did look remarkably revived. A result of Claudia’s secret potions rather than just milk I surmised.

  ‘Strabo,’ she called loudly.

  Cataphracts and stable hands poked their heads from the stalls they occupied as she walked up and down the large and well-ventilated block, bowing their heads to her as she passed. I put down the brush and walked from Tegha’s stall. I heard a gruff voice behind me.

  ‘Who’s got too much to say for themselves? Oh, begging your pardon, princess.’

  Strabo, my equine quartermaster, resembled a beggar in his dirty tunic, grubby leggings and unkempt hair, but there was nothing he did not know about horses. He had once told me he found the company of people difficult and irksome, preferring to mix with horses. But I counted myself blessed he administered Dura’s stables because he and his handpicked team of veterinaries and farriers ensured my horsemen had the finest mounts in the empire. And considering Parthians were great horse lords that was no mean achievement.

  Strabo wiped his nose on the sleeve of his tunic and bowed his head to Claudia.

  ‘A gazelle calf. I thank you, princess.’

  Claudia eyed him suspiciously. ‘For what?’

  ‘For bringing me this tender young piece of meat to eat, most generous.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘This animal is not for the cooking pot, Strabo. It is to be raised and cared for here in the royal stables.’

  He looked bemused. ‘What?’

  ‘You are to see to it no harm comes to it for it was a vessel of the gods.’

  He pointed at it. ‘That?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Much as I would like to indulge you, princess, I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to. Though I dare say one of my stable lads could take care of it until it is ready to be released.’

  Claudia glared at him. ‘Did you not hear me? I commanded you to take care of the calf and it is to live here until it dies.’

  Strabo was many things but a courtier he was not.

  ‘Clear off now before I wring its neck.’

  To avoid an embarrassing scene I stepped between them.

  ‘Kindly remember where you are and who you are. It is unseemly for one of the king’s daughters to be arguing in public with my quartermaster of horse.’


  Strabo folded his arms and gave Claudia a smug impression.

  ‘Similarly it is disrespectful for said quartermaster to be rude to my daughter. Claudia you will take the calf to the temple in the city where the high priest can care for it. As you and he are well acquainted I am sure he will be delighted to hear your story and more than willing to house the calf.’

  ‘But, father…’

  I held up a hand to her. ‘That is my command. Now go.’

  She hissed at Strabo, curled a lip at him, turned and stormed out of the stables.

  ‘She needs a husband,’ muttered Strabo.

  But both Gallia and I had given up any hopes of finding Claudia a husband long ago. Some kings would have arranged a marriage for their female offspring for political reasons, which was the common practice throughout the empire. But we were loath to force our daughters to enter a union against their will, and in any case Dura did not need to hide behind the strength of other kingdoms. So the years passed and Claudia remained unmarried.

  After a month replies to the letters I had despatched to the four corners of the empire began to arrive at Dura. I assembled the council when I possessed a missive from every king to inform it of the decisions of the empire’s rulers.

  ‘Mild indifference seems to be the order of the day,’ I told them. ‘The most enthusiastic reply came from Phraates himself at Ctesiphon, who was delighted Dura wholeheartedly supports his elevation to the high crown.’

  ‘No surprise there,’ sniffed Gallia.

  ‘As expected,’ I continued, leafing through the letters, ‘Gafarn says he has no objection to Phraates, a feeling echoed by Nergal. Spartacus is totally disinterested judging from the two-line letter he wrote me; Silaces states he will also support Phraates. Atrax also goes along with supporting Phraates and Aschek states he has no objection.’

  I picked up another bundle of letters.

  ‘Of the eastern kingdoms only Margiana and Hyrcania have reservations.’

  ‘What reservations?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘King Khosrou writes it would have been better if at his birth Phraates had been thrown away instead of the afterbirth.’