Carrhae by Peter Darman Page A

headquarters tent in the legionary camp where Domitus and Kronos were planning a large-scale exercise involving both legions in the desert. When I told them that they were both to report to the palace immediately they asked why. I told them that I knew as much as they did.
    ‘And who are we reporting to?’ queried Domitus.
    ‘To Dobbai,’ I answered.
    He rolled his eyes. ‘I sometimes wonder who rules this kingdom.’
    ‘I do,’ I snapped, ‘now kindly go to the palace. Where is Drenis?’
    ‘At the training posts,’ said Kronos.
    ‘Very well, I will see you both at the palace.’
    I left them both perplexed and rode outside the camp, beyond the western gate, to where rows of wooden posts had been sunk into the ground, against which legionaries could hone their swordsmanship. I saw Drenis standing watching dozens of men practising stabs, feints, thrusts and lunges with wooden swords and holding dummy shields, the practise swords and shields weighing more than the standard-issue items to strengthen each man’s arms. Drenis was tapping his vine cane against his leg, occasionally bellowing at the men to hack harder and keep the shields tighter to their bodies. I slid off Remus’ back and stood beside him.
    ‘Come to work on your sword skills, Pacorus?’
    ‘No, I require you at the palace.’
    He raised an eyebrow. ‘Problems?’
    ‘I hope not. If you could come immediately I would appreciate it.’
    He handed over command of the men to a centurion from the Durans and began marching to the city as I left him and galloped away to find Vagises and Vagharsh. Fortunately they were both in the city and so I rode with them back to the Citadel and waited for the others to arrive. Dobbai asked us to gather on the palace terrace where we were served cool fruit juice in the shade of the pergola. Even though it was late afternoon it was still hot and there was no wind to cool us.
    Thumelicus, on duty at the Citadel, had already made himself comfortable, his great frame occupying a large wicker chair as young servant girls brought him an endless supply of fruit and pastries. Domitus and Kronos arrived soon after and also emptied several cups of fruit juice to slake their thirsts, servants handing them towels to wipe their sweaty faces and necks. The last to arrive was Drenis, who unlike Domitus and Kronos had never learnt to ride and so walked everywhere. When all had assembled and refreshed themselves Dobbai dismissed the servants and ordered the doors that led to the terrace to be closed, before standing before us all – a frail old woman dressed in aged robes who drew herself up and looked at us each in turn with her black eyes.
    ‘So, we come to it, the decisive moment in the life of the empire. Parthia is like an injured lion that needs time to recover from its wounds, but there is no time. No time before the Armenians and Romans gorge on its weakened body. If they do then it is all over and Parthia will be no more. The Armenians will take the north and the Romans will conquer the lands between the Tigris and Euphrates, and afterwards those kingdoms that lie between the Tigris and the Indus. This I have seen.’
    I felt a sense of dread shoot through me and looked at Domitus who was staring ahead with a stony, emotionless expression.
    ‘Dura cannot defeat these mighty enemies on its own,’ she continued, ‘even with the assistance of the Agraci.’
    ‘We are not on our own,’ I said. ‘We have a new king of kings who leads a united empire.’
    Dobbai shook her head. ‘You are wrong, son of Hatra. Only Dura among the kingdoms is strong. The eastern realms have been bled white; you should know, you yourself killed most of their soldiers. To the north, Margiana and Hyrcania have been exhausted fighting the numberless nomads of the great steppes. Persis, the former kingdom of Narses, is a shell and Susiana and Elymais are in a similar state. Nergal’s Mesene has not been ravaged by war but is a poor kingdom that