Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 6

  ‘They can watch where they put their feet,’ I replied. ‘Horses have a tendency to panic when they board rafts or boats and lose their footing.’

  ‘And elephants,’ said Domitus.

  ‘Elephants?’

  ‘Many years ago Rome was fighting a people called the Carthaginians.’

  Domitus stopped and pointed his cane at the nearest raft in the water, on which stood a party of legionaries who were being directed by one of Marcus’ engineers to lash the logs together. Though one had been forgotten and was drifting away from the bank.

  ‘Look lively,’ he shouted. ‘If that log escapes one of you will have to swim and get it.’

  The legionaries looked up and two leapt off the raft into the water to catch hold of the log before the current took it.

  ‘You were saying,’ I prompted him.

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘About the Carthaginians.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Well they had a general named Hannibal who was a bit of a genius by all accounts. Won just about every battle. Anyway he marched an army from Africa, through Spain and into Gaul so he could invade Italy. He had elephants in his army, dozens of them. But when he got to a river called the Rhone he had great difficulty in getting them across. They don’t like water, you see. So Hannibal had big rafts constructed.’

  He pointed his cane at the long line of half-built rafts disappearing into the distance.

  ‘Like these ones. And he covered their decks with soil and bushes to fool the elephants into thinking that they were stepping on to earth.’

  ‘Did it work?’ I asked.

  ‘Mostly. A few panicked and fell into the water and drowned or swam across.’

  ‘Can elephants swim?’ I asked.

  He shrugged. ‘Apparently. They stick their trunks out of the water.’

  I thought it unlikely that such a large beast could swim.

  ‘What happened to this Hannibal?’ I asked.

  ‘He won every battle except the most important one,’ replied Domitus.

  ‘Which was?’

  He gave me a wicked smile. ‘The last one.’

  He slapped me on the arm. ‘When I was a centurion, all those years ago, it was methodically drilled into me that the reason that Rome always emerges victorious is that it always wins the last battle in a war. You know that.’

  ‘Do I?’

  He gave me a wry look. ‘How many victories did Spartacus win? How many eagles did he take? How many Romans did you and your horsemen kill? But it all ended in the Silarus Valley and Rome was victorious. Won the last battle, you see. Just like you intend to win the last battle with Narses and Mithridates. You are very Roman in that.’

  ‘I am not at all like the Romans,’ I protested loudly, causing the men on the nearest raft to turn their heads towards us.

  Domitus emitted a gruff laugh. ‘Not in the way you look, perhaps, with your long hair, but your determination to exact vengeance on your enemies, no matter how long it takes, is very much the Roman way of doing things. After all, what does Dura’s army exist for if not to be the instrument of its king’s will?’

  I held up a finger to him. ‘The army exists to safeguard the city and kingdom of Dura Europos, Domitus.’

  ‘If that is true,’ he said. ‘Then why are all these rafts being built?’

  I ordered earth to be spread on top of the rafts that would transport horse archers. Marcus also suggested building wooden rails around their edges so the beasts would feel more secure on the rafts, akin to being corralled in a small field. I also decided that a thousand men would be drawn from the Durans and a thousand from the Exiles to prevent the accusation of favouritism. Though both legions were part of the army a fierce competition had grown up between them, which Domitus encouraged but also controlled. A healthy rivalry was good for morale and fighting spirit, but if unrestrained could lead to feuds and animosity. That is why I decided to take an equal number of men from each legion.

  ‘Sensible,’ remarked Domitus.

  At the end of the week, as promised by Marcus, the rafts were ready to travel, each one being equipped with rudders fore and aft to manoeuvre them on the water. I had convened the meeting of the council on the palace terrace and ordered the doors to be shut to preserve secrecy. Rsan had brought two clerks who sat and recorded all proceedings, having been warned beforehand that they were not to reveal to anyone what had been discussed, on pain of death. To make the meeting as comfortable as possible it was held in the late afternoon when the sun was dropping in the west and the heat had abated somewhat. Dobbai sat in her chair with her eyes closed, ignoring us all.

  ‘You are still maintaining the fantasy that it is an exercise, Pacorus?’ asked Godarz.

  I nodded.

  ‘I doubt anyone believes that,’ said my governor. ‘In any case a hundred and fifty sizeable rafts are difficult to conceal from prying eyes. No doubt their construction is already the talk of the trade caravans.’

  ‘People will have things to talk about soon enough when they are no longer there,’ I said. ‘Regarding more practical matters. Orodes, I would like you to take charge of the army in our absence.’

  He looked most unhappy. ‘I would prefer to come with you.’

  ‘If you come and we are all killed then who will lead Dura’s army?’ I said. ‘Only you have the authority and experience to command it. And in the event of my death Godarz will become king. I have written a note that says as much and have deposited it with Rsan.’

  My treasurer nodded solemnly to Godarz.

  The governor was confused. ‘But surely Gallia will rule if you are killed.’

  ‘I am going to Uruk with Pacorus,’ said Gallia. ‘As are the Amazons.’

  I had tried to convince her to stay but it had been futile. She had never been wholly convinced that making Nergal and Praxima the rulers of Mesene had been wise, the more so now that they were in imminent danger. She told me that the thought of them in danger was like a knife being twisted in her guts. So that was that.

  ‘Let us hope we arrive in time,’ she said.

  Rsan cleared his throat loudly.

  ‘Have you something to say, Rsan?’ I asked.

  He leaned forward. ‘Forgive me, majesty, but,’ he lowered his voice as he glanced at Dobbai, ‘correct me if I am wrong but we have had no reports from Mesene that Uruk is being attacked. Surely King Nergal would have sent word if his city was in danger. It would appear that you travel south on the flimsiest of pretexts.’

  Domitus raised an eyebrow but said nothing while Godarz grinned at his friend.

  ‘Have a care, tallyman.’

  The venom-laced words of Dobbai made Rsan blanch. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  ‘It would be a foolish man indeed who ignores the warnings of the gods. Uruk is in grave danger, that much is certain, and if it falls then Narses and Mithridates will be emboldened to strike against Dura.’

  ‘That is why I going south,’ I said. ‘We leave in two days.’

  The waters of the Euphrates were now blue as the level and current dropped following the surge of the early spring meltwaters, which turned the river brown. Though it was still spring the temperature was rising and I was concerned that men and horses on rafts would suffer under cloudless skies and with no shade. Therefore Marcus had shades constructed on each raft, comprising canvas sheets strung between poles fitted to the edges of each deck. This delayed our journey by a day but was time well spent. Dobbai gave instructions that each raft was to be daubed with red, blue and black paint, the favourite colours of Enki. This would please the god and ensure that no vessels would be lost during the journey.

  On the morning we left Gallia and I kissed a sleeping Claudia and ate a breakfast of dates, bread and cheese on the palace terrace. According to protocol we should have taken our meals in the banqueting hall but I thought it slightly ridiculous that two people should eat in a hall designed to feast dozens. Gallia was dressed in her white tunic, mail shirt, leggings and boots, he
r sword in its scabbard resting against her chair.

  ‘Do you regret making Nergal and Praxima the rulers of Mesene, Pacorus?’ she probed.

  ‘Not at all. Nergal is a good commander and can hold his kingdom without my help, especially now he has the Ma’adan as allies.’

  She smiled and shook her head.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘The Ma’adan are marsh dwellers, Pacorus. Poor people who eke out a miserable existence among reeds and mud banks. Do you really think they can aid Nergal?’

  ‘They are good fighters,’ I insisted. ‘And I am sure that Surena has been busy raising a force to secure Nergal’s southern flank.’

  ‘Surena, I had forgotten about him,’ she said. ‘I hope he repays the faith you have placed in him. I remain far from convinced. Still, at least Viper will be pleased to see him.’

  We said our farewells to Orodes, Rsan and Godarz on the palace steps. The courtyard was filled with mounted Amazons in their full war gear. In front of them Vagharsh, my Parthian standard bearer, sat on his horse, the griffin banner wrapped in a waxed canvas sleeve to keep it safe from the elements. Already the thousand Durans and thousand Exiles would be marching to the river where the rafts waited. Rsan was as punctilious as ever, bowing his head to me first and then to Gallia. Godarz embraced me and kissed Gallia on the cheek, while Orodes clasped my forearm.

  ‘If Dobbai is right then while we are fighting the soldiers of Charax Narses might try a strike against Dura,’ I said.

  ‘Do not worry, my friend,’ said Orodes, ‘I will deal with any threat to your city. Though I doubt that there will be any attack. As far as my dear step-brother and Narses are concerned, you are still at Dura.’

  He leaned in closer. ‘I do not wish to poor cold water on the visions of your sorceress, but what will you do if no threat to Uruk materialises?’

  I slapped him on the arm. ‘Then we will have a great feast in Nergal’s palace and afterwards return home.’

  A stable hand brought Remus to the foot of the steps, another holding the reins of Epona, Gallia’s mare. I walked down the steps and slipped my bow into the leather case attached to the four-horned padded saddle, my quiver holding thirty arrows slung over my shoulder, another two attached to my saddle. I took the reins of my white stallion and vaulted into the saddle. It was early but already warm, the sky blue and cloudless. It would be a hot day. Remus flicked his tail impatiently as I adjusted my helmet and Gallia mounted Epona behind me. I might have fooled the citizens of Dura into believing that I was going on exercise but Remus sensed otherwise. He was a veteran of many campaigns and knew the difference between exercises and the real thing. I patted his neck.

  ‘Easy boy.’

  He snorted and scraped at the stone flagstones, eager to be away.

  ‘Your horse appreciates the urgency of the situation.’

  I recognised the voice of Dobbai who walked from behind Remus.

  ‘I leave my daughter in your care,’ I said to her.

  ‘Your daughter is in the care of the gods, son of Hatra, but rest assured that she is perfectly safe in this stronghold.’

  I nodded at her and tugged on Remus’ reins, wheeling him to the left. Gallia rode Epona to my side and together we trotted from the Citadel, a guard of honour from the Durans standing to attention as we passed them and rode through the gates. Immediately behind us came Vagharsh and then a hundred Amazons riding two abreast. We rode down the city’s main street towards the Palmyrene Gate. Already the streets were beginning to fill with citizens going about their business as well as those who crewed the trade caravans wishing to visit the markets, eating and drinking places or the city’s brothels. Everyone on the road parted as our column of riders approached, many raising their arms to cheer as we passed.

  Even with my Roman officer’s helmet covering my face everyone recognised Remus, the white stallion who had travelled back with me from Italy. Some said that he flew across the ocean with wings given to him by the gods, which were invisible to mortal eyes. I drew my spatha, the Roman two-edged sword that was a gift from Spartacus, and saluted the stone griffin as I passed beneath it and exited the city. Gallia did the same, as did the Amazons, for everyone knew that no army would take Dura Europos while the griffin remained above the gates of the city. I slid the sword back in its scabbard and regarded my armour. It too was Roman, a gift from an old friend I had fought beside it Italy, a gruff German named Castus who sadly was no longer with me. Dura’s army wore white to symbolise the purity of its cause but my armour was black. It was a two-piece leather cuirass that was muscled and embossed on the upper front with a golden sun motif, with two golden winged lions immediately beneath. Over the thighs and shoulders were fringed strips of black leather adorned with golden bees. Though the Amazons and cataphracts wore armour the nineteen hundred horse archers that waited outside the city wore no metal protection on their heads or bodies.

  It always filled me with pride and awe when I saw large formations of Parthian horsemen, the physical manifestation of the empire’s strength. Of all the things that Parthia possessed it was its herds of horses that were the most precious. Without the horse there would be no cataphracts to shatter enemy formations or horse archers to rain down volleys of arrows on opponents. And not just any horse. The hundreds of horses that now stood in line in their companies were Akhal-Tekes, or Turkomans, horses descended from the animals ridden by the Turkmen tribe hundreds of years ago. Raised in the inhospitable terrain of the deserts in the east, they had long backs, shallow ribcages and long croups. Their coat is exceptionally fine and their tails silky. With their fine and elegant heads and long legs they had a regal appearance, which was entirely apt as they were treated like kings.

  Just like Remus the Teke has a high opinion of himself as well as being vigorous and restless in nature. He responds to gentle training but becomes stubborn and resentful if treated rudely. Parthians soon discovered this and found that if they lavished care and attention on them, they would be rewarded with having the finest warhorses in the world. So, just as in other kingdoms in the empire, Dura had a small army of farriers, veterinaries, stable hands and seises – trainers skilled in raising Tekes. The horses even had a specialised diet comprising dry alfalfa, pellets of mutton fat, eggs, barley and quatlame, a fried dough cake.

  And what was the result of all this expensive care and attention? A horse that had extraordinary speed and stamina, and which could tolerate heat and hunger and do without water longer than any other breed. Truly a gift from the gods.

  The company commanders saluted then followed the Amazons as we continued our journey to the rafts. I had originally commanded that two dragons – two thousand – of horse archers would travel south, but this had been reduced by one hundred when Gallia had decided that she and the Amazons would be accompanying me. Marcus had worked out the exact number of men and horses, plus supplies together with the fifty horsemen still due to arrive, that could be transported on the rafts. When we arrived at the river he was busy organising their loading. They looked like a long line of pagodas in the morning sunlight, each one covered with canvas awnings. When we dismounted the company commanders came forward to receive instructions from Marcus’ men regarding which rafts their men would board.

  ‘All have been marked with a number, in addition to the colours that your sorceress insisted be painted on each one, majesty,’ Marcus told me.

  I looked at the line of rafts disappearing south along the river.

  ‘You have done an excellent job, Marcus. My congratulations.’

  He looked at the first group of horses was being led towards a raft.

  ‘We have also scattered earth over the decking to facilitate the smooth loading of the horses, as you ordered.’

  He frowned and shook his head as one of the horses started snorting as its owner tried to lead it on to a raft.

  ‘It would have been better, majesty, to have taken foot soldiers only.’

  ‘Then I would have no mi
ssile support, Marcus,’ I told him. ‘And I am without your ballista, don’t forget.’

  A column of wagons pulled by mules trundles past, each one loaded with supplies: spare canvas, tents, weapons, quivers full of arrows, javelins, swords, armour and helmets. I was suddenly worried that a hundred and fifty rafts would not be enough.

  ‘I hope we have enough room for the men, horses and supplies, Marcus.’

  He looked at me aghast. ‘I can assure you that my calculations are correct, majesty, down to the last spare mail shirt.’

  The thundering of hooves interrupted our conversation as Byrd, Malik and the scouts arrived: fifty black-clad men with unshaven faces riding sleek Arabian horses. Malik jumped from his horse and handed the reins to a startled clerk. He walked up and embraced me as Byrd also dismounted and scanned what appeared to be the apparent chaos of carts, men, horses and rafts.

  ‘I was wondering when you would arrive,’ I said to him.

  Byrd ambled over and nodded.

  ‘You nearly missed the trip, Byrd,’ I said.

  ‘You not leave for hours yet,’ he sniffed.

  I had sent a message to Byrd and Malik requesting their presence. I had informed them of the true purpose of the journey because I needed Malik to send a message to Haytham’s lords that Duran troops would be making camp on their territory as we headed to Uruk. Halting on the western side of the Euphrates would save having to land on Babylonian territory and would thus keep King Vardan ignorant of the whole expedition. Vardan was an ally and friend of my father and if he found out about my aiding Mesene then so would my father. There would then follow a stern Hatran lecture about not embroiling the empire in another civil war and that I could do without.

  ‘My father approves of your actions,’ Malik told me, ‘but rebukes you for not inviting him along. He is finding the transition from warlord to merchant difficult.’

  I laughed. ‘You mean rich merchant, Malik.’

  The peace agreed between myself and Haytham had made Palmyra the destination of the trade caravans taking silk to Egypt, which was making the Agraci king extremely wealthy.