Usurper, page 31
Kewab was shocked. ‘Me? I mean, it is a great honour, highness.’
Phraates brought his hands together. ‘King Pacorus is in full agreement with my idea.’
I could only smile. ‘I am. We have two years before the Kushan truce is over, Kewab, and in that time, you will need to recruit, organise and train this unit.’
‘As well as liaising with the kings of the east, who will play host to your force,’ added Phraates. ‘You will be promoted to the rank of satrap with a commensurate salary and be answerable to me personally,’ finished Phraates.
Kewab’s mask of professionalism slipped momentarily as he beamed with delight before composing himself.
‘You bestow a great honour on me, highness. I will do my utmost to repay the trust you have placed in me.’
Phraates was generous to his new satrap, gifting him a substantial sum of gold for the inconvenience of relocating his family to the east, to the city of Farah, the capital of Aria. It was Kewab’s choice, being approximately the mid-point on the empire’s eastern border. The cadre of his force comprised a hundred of Dura’s cataphracts and five hundred horse archers, soldiers well versed in the kingdom’s tactics who would provide company commanders for Phraates’ flying column. With Ctesiphon providing funding it was relatively easy for Kewab to build up and equip his force, and Phraates was insistent that the bulk of his command should comprise men drawn from Susiana and Babylon. In this way, he ensured that the small army owed its loyalty to him first, Parthia second. But in the aftermath of the Kushan invasion he and the eastern kings were focused solely on preparing for the next enemy incursion once Kujula’s truce expired, rather than politics.
Kewab accompanied us back to Dura, he and the rest of us emotional when we first caught sight of the Citadel sitting atop the escarpment looming over the Euphrates. Chrestus had the whole army drawn up on parade in front of the city gates to welcome us home, ten thousand legionaries, a thousand cataphracts and nearly five thousand horse archers were a sight for sore eyes and I spent a long time going among the soldiery to thank them for their loyalty and congratulate them on their smartness and discipline. Afterwards, while leaning against the stone griffin standing sentry night and day over my city, I spent hours watching camel caravans travelling east and west along the road leading to Palmyra. The traumas of the past few weeks were becoming a distant memory.
I was sad to see Kewab go but with his elevated rank and fresh commission he was chafing at the bit to get back to the east, so after a mere two weeks back at Dura we bid him, his wife and one-year-old boy a fond farewell on the palace steps.
‘I hope you return to us, Kewab,’ I said.
‘Two years will pass in the blink of an eye, majesty,’ he replied.
Gallia broke protocol and kissed him on the cheek.
‘Just make sure you and your family come back to us.’
Behind him his officers sat on their horses waiting for him, his wife cradling his small son beside him. I smiled at the boy and stroked his black hair.
‘You are going on a great adventure.’
He gawped at me and burst into tears.
We watched them leave the Citadel, outside the city a hundred cataphracts, two hundred squires, five hundred horse archers and five hundred camels were waiting to accompany Satrap Kewab east. Aaron had already billed Ctesiphon for the cost to Dura of replacing every soldier, squire, camel and arrow, the gold arriving by return of post. It all pointed to Phraates maturing into what his father would have wanted him to be.
‘After all these years and so much war and bloodshed, you are still a dreamer at heart. Come and be with us.’
Gallia was sitting with Claudia and Eszter at a table beneath the awning providing shade from the sun. But the sun was fading fast in the west, a huge red fireball turning the sky purple. Below the palace terrace the Euphrates looked like a polished curved blade laid flat on the earth. I turned from its calm beauty and walked to the table, taking my seat next to my wife.
‘I was in the camel park today,’ said Eszter casually.
‘Shovelling camel dung?’ asked Claudia.
Eszter looked at her. ‘A newly arrived caravan from Sakastan brought news of the death of Queen Hamide.’
Claudia feigned indifference.
‘Dead, how?’ I asked, picking up a date from the table.
Eszter continued to stare at her sister. ‘The bite of a cobra, apparently.’
‘How unfortunate,’ said Claudia.
I looked at her and remembered the cobra in the basket in her bedroom at Sigal. Surely a coincidence? And yet.
‘Without the malign influence of his mother Phanes might be more inclined to improve relations with Sakastan,’ opined Gallia.
I put down the date and fixed Claudia with my eyes. ‘Very convenient.’
‘Are the dates not to your liking, father?’
Eszter took a large gulp of wine. ‘We all know the answer, though none will say it. I will. Claudia killed Queen Hamide.’
Claudia mocked her with laughter. ‘So I turned into a cobra and slithered all the way to Carmania to bite the old hag, before returning to Dura?’
‘You know what I mean,’ sniffed Eszter.
‘It may come as a surprise to you, sister,’ smiled Claudia, ‘but I do not hold dominion over all the creatures that walk or crawl upon the earth.’
‘Let us talk of Hamide no longer,’ pleaded Gallia. ‘Hopefully I will have a grandchild soon and you will be a grandfather, Pacorus.’
‘You will,’ said Claudia with certainty, ‘it is foretold.’
That gave me a warm glow inside. I gripped Gallia’s hand and she smiled in return. Life was good again. We received regular guests, including Byrd and Noora from Palmyra, the old scout informing me the Romans were focused on fighting each other rather than gazing east towards Parthia. All eyes in the Roman world were on the coming final battle between Octavian and Mark Antony and Cleopatra.
‘Once that battle is fought, Romani leader who is left alive will be looking for fresh conquests.’
‘Parthia will be ready, Byrd.’
‘Jamal pregnant,’ he announced suddenly.
His words heralded a wave of expectant women. News came from Salar that Isabella was pregnant, prompting Claudia to don an air of smugness that was at first endearing and then intensely irritating. And then Gafarn and Diana made a surprise visit to inform us that the wife of Prince Pacorus had been safely delivered of her first child. These were heart-warming gifts indeed.
Another, unexpected, gift arrived a year to the day after I had sat down with Emperor Kujula after the dreadful Battle of the Indus. It was a collection of papyrus scrolls bound in a beautiful ivory-inlaid wooden box, each side of the box and the top bearing the ivory image of a griffin. The note accompanying the box was in Kujula’s own handwriting.
‘To my friend and gallant foe, King Pacorus.’
A small crowd gathered in the throne room to see the gift that had been sent from the Kushan Empire, though Aaron was wary of its contents.
‘Careful, majesty, it might contain serpents who will spring out when the box is opened.’
‘Take the box outside and burn it,’ an alarmed Rsan commanded the guards.
‘They will do no such thing,’ I said, waving the legionaries back.
A curious Claudia and Eszter had appeared, along with Chrestus, Alcaeus and Marcus, all eager to see what was inside the mysterious box, which had been placed on the floor in front of the dais.
‘Chrestus,’ I said, ‘hand me the box.’
The burly commander of the army picked it up, gave it a little shake and looked alarmed.
‘There’s something in it, majesty.’
‘In all that’s holy,’ I cried, ‘pass me the wretched thing.’
He did so. I rested it on my lap, unlocked the lid and lifted it. To discover a book inside. The number of papyrus scrolls indicated it was a large tome and I eagerly picked up the first scroll, unrolling it to read the title aloud.
‘An account of the campaigns of King Pacorus of Dura from the time of his return from Italy to the Battle of the Indus.’
They crowded round to admire the beautifully written scrolls, which were all in Parthian.
‘I would like to read that, majesty,’ said Rsan.
‘As would I,’ added Chrestus.
I spent the next few days reading about the wars I had taken part in. I marvelled at the wealth of detail the book contained, not least the account of the great civil war that had put my friend Orodes on the high throne. After I had finished I allowed others to read it, though on the condition they came to the Citadel to do so. On no account would I allow such a prize to leave the palace. I earnestly looked forward to meeting Kujula again, though as a friend sitting across a table or as an enemy across a battlefield I did not know.
Chapter 13
Titus Rutilus enjoyed his stay at Dura, especially visiting the legionary camp and the mud-brick forts north and south of the city. He spent much time in the royal stables and armouries, taking delight in riding from the Citadel each morning in the company of horse archers and cataphracts. He marvelled at the Amazons, who adopted him as a sort of mascot. This middle-aged Roman, who had fought at Carrhae, afterwards becoming a Parthian and then a Kushan slave. He could not shoot a bow to save his life but he wielded a spatha from the saddle with some aplomb, though now his targets were straw and wood rather than barbarians. I joined him whenever I could, two men past their prime sweating under a burning sun trying to keep pace with women in their teens and twenties. Gallia was also present too, of course, pushing herself as hard as her charges and refusing to accept she was now middle aged.
Afterwards, our tunics dripping with sweat, gulping down the contents of our water bottles, the Amazons gathered round to hear something quite unique: an account of Carrhae told from a Roman perspective. I too listened with relish, hearing the names of men I had respected; Crassus, his son and Surena, the man who had been my squire before rising high to become the King of Gordyene. How I regretted how his life had ended and for years afterwards I had tortured myself with thoughts of how I should have intervened to save him. Gallia, normally cold and aloof towards Romans, temporarily put aside her amity to hear his gripping story.
I desperately wanted him to stay with us and offered him the position of farrier in the Citadel, with his own salary and lodgings in the city should he accept. He refused.
‘It is a generous offer, majesty, and as a former enemy and slave I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But I wish to return home.’
I understood. It was the burning desire of all who had been in bondage: to return to the place where they had been born and lived before being brutally wrenched away from all they held dear.
‘I hope you still have some family left, Titus.’
He suddenly looked lost. ‘The belief they still live has kept me alive all these years, majesty.’
I wondered how many of those taken at Carrhae were still slaves, or indeed still alive. If they were it was most unlikely they would be following in Titus Rutilus’ footsteps. Before he left I attended the weekly meeting of the council in the Headquarters Building, Rsan entertaining us with matters pertaining to the smooth running of the city and kingdom: repairs to the sewage systems, the state of irrigation canals, the size of the date harvest and the administration of the caravan park. My eyelids felt like lead as I tried to stay awake.
Aaron was the next to speak, arranging the papyrus sheets in front of him with military precision. The two clerks recording the minutes sat poised at their desks, waiting for him to speak.
‘I have received word from Ctesiphon regarding the annual tribute,’ he began.
The annual tribute was paid by every kingdom in the empire to support the expenses of the king of kings, which included the running costs of the palace complex at Ctesiphon.
‘This year all kingdoms are being charged a surcharge to pay for the raising, equipping and maintenance of Satrap Kewab’s mobile army.’
‘So much for Phraates paying for it himself,’ remarked Gallia dryly.
‘I thought it was your idea, majesty,’ said Chrestus, sweat running down his thick neck.
I nodded. ‘It was.’
Aaron immediately seized upon this. ‘Perhaps I might lobby Ctesiphon for Dura to be exempt from the lobby seeing as you were the progenitor of the idea, majesty.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Chrestus gruffly.
‘It means the king gave birth to the idea,’ Rsan told him.
‘You’ve got fat chance,’ said Chrestus dismissively.
‘Succinct and accurate,’ agreed Gallia.
‘We have been reimbursed for our men,’ I said, ‘frankly I have neither the inclination nor the strength to argue with the high king. We will pay the surcharge.’
‘High King Phraates has given us an object lesson in kingship,’ Gallia stated. ‘He steals my husband’s idea, proclaims to the whole of Parthia that he thought of it and gets everyone else to pay for it.’
‘At least the ukku blades remained at Dura,’ grinned Chrestus.
One hundred Duran cataphracts might have ridden east but their expensive sword blades remained in my armoury. The newly promoted squires who filled their places were issued with the ukku swords instead. There were limits to my generosity, though Aaron might have disagreed. The last item the meeting had to address illustrated why I had appointed him as the kingdom’s treasurer, and why he was frustrating to the point of distraction at times. He picked over his last piece of papyrus like a priest examining the entrails of a sacrifice.
‘This concerns the Roman slave Titus Rutilus, majesty.’
‘Marcus finds his company most agreeable,’ said Rsan, ‘and will miss him when he departs for Rome.’
‘As will we all,’ I added.
Aaron rapped his fingers on the table top. ‘Indeed, and I must bring to your majesty’s attention his travelling expenses.’
I sighed. ‘What about them.’
He read from the papyrus. ‘You have gifted him a horse, saddle, saddlery, a sword, a dagger, a change of clothes, cloak, tent and a pouch of money, a not inconsiderable amount, for his journey.’
‘You waste your time, Aaron,’ said Gallia, ‘Pacorus likes this Roman and would see him journey to Rome like a returning hero.’
‘He is a hero, of sorts,’ I told her testily, ‘and I owe my life to him. Me and thousands of other Parthians. He goes back to his homeland with my blessing, my gratitude and my gifts. My gifts, Aaron.’
The treasurer smiled, folded the papyrus and nodded. ‘It is as you say, majesty.’
Sporaces and a score of his men accompanied Titus Rutilus and me on our journey to Dura’s northern border. It was a leisurely progress, the final leg taking us to a four-sided stone base in which was set two weapons: a Parthian kontus and a Roman gladius . The eastern side of the base was inscribed with the words ‘Kingdom of Dura’ and the side facing west ‘Romana Syria’.
‘This was the spot where armies of Rome and Parthia faced each other,’ I told him. ‘The Roman commander, Pompey, decided that peace was preferable to war. I liked him.’
‘He was murdered in Egypt, majesty.’
‘So I heard.’
I offered him my hand, to his great surprise.
‘I wish you good fortune, Titus Rutilus.’
He took my hand. ‘Thank you for everything, majesty.’
‘I have a request,’ I said, ‘if ever you get to the Silarus Valley in southern Italy, ask whatever gods you follow to look kindly on the souls of those who fell there. I lost a lot of good friends in that valley.’
‘I swear it, majesty.’
The day was overcast with a cool easterly wind blowing. I pulled my cloak around me and watched him ride into Syria. I prayed he would find the peace that all of us look for but few of us ever find.
Epilogue
The riddle of Vartan was never solved. With his disappearance from the empire Phraates lost all interest in the young man who had claimed to be Orodes’ illegitimate son, though I did not doubt he had despatched assassins to track him down and kill him. If he did and if they were successful I never heard. But I doubted they found him because knowing Phraates’ personality he would have proclaimed his vengeance to the whole empire. Even if he had been a fake Phraates would have wanted him dead to tie up any loose ends. There were rumours Vartan and Cookum had fled east across the Kushan Empire to seek sanctuary in China, and for a while I enquired at Dura’s caravan park if anyone had heard of Vartan and his fat companion. None had. For her part Eszter’s morose demeanour gradually faded to be replaced by the proud and independent princess we all knew and loved. I broached the idea of finding her a suitor but she was lukewarm. No doubt the experience at Sigal had made her wary of a new romantic involvement and so I did not pursue the idea. In the weeks afterwards she spent much time among the Agraci at Palmyra where she had a number of dalliances with some of Malik’s warlords.
In the immediate aftermath of our return to Dura my main focus was on the Kushan threat to the empire. The truce with Kujula held, which gave Kewab time to organise his mobile force and liaise with the eastern kings to build a rampart against the Kushan invasion everyone was certain would come. Kewab himself sent regular weekly reports from Farah, which I read at the council meetings in the Citadel. They told of a skilled organiser and diplomat who found time not only to supervise the raising and training of ten thousand horsemen but also soothe the fears of the eastern kings who were suspicious that his small army would become a tool of Phraates to browbeat his eastern kingdoms. He even managed to visit Phanes at Puta, though the King of Carmania became a reclusive figure following the death of his mother. Increasingly his son Prince Babak assumed more and more powers in his father’s kingdom, and happily he was able to work with Kewab for the good of the empire. Unfortunately, Phanes refused to allow any of his soldiers to join Kewab’s force.
