Parthian Dawn by Peter Darman Page A

rectangular blocks of houses and shops separated by straight roads perpendicular to each other, much like the layout of Roman towns. I also noticed that the shops were closed and there were no people on the streets.
    ‘Where are the people?’ asked Gallia.
    ‘Prince Mithridates ordered a curfew.’
    ‘Why?’ I asked.
    ‘He, er, well. He told everyone that you were going to take the city by storm and burn it to the ground.’
    ‘He is obviously insane,’ remarked Gallia. Rsan said nothing.
    The Citadel lived up to its name, a walled stronghold with a gated entrance in the southwest corner. The walls were high and thick with a firing step all along their length and square towers at each corner, also with firing platforms on top. Archers and spearmen lining the step and towers had the protection of a high stonewall with slits in it at regular intervals. Inside the Citadel, barracks were sited along the southern wall. These were fronted by verandas. At the northern end of the Citadel were workshops, bakeries and a granary. The latter was set up off the ground on a grid of short stone pillars to deter pests and allow air to circulate, preventing the food inside from spoiling. Fronting the granary was a raised timber platform where goods could be offloaded from carts.
    On the eastern side of the courtyard was the palace, flanked by the large armoury on one side and stables on the other. There were more stables and barracks along the west wall. Finally, standing directly opposite the palace steps, stood the treasury and a squat building that I assumed to be a headquarters building, the place where the administration of the garrison took place. Except that there was no garrison.
    ‘Where is the garrison?’ Sitting on Remus in the stone-paved courtyard I looked around at what appeared to be an almost deserted stronghold. Two guards carrying spears and wicker shields were standing at the top of the palace steps, two more were either side of the gates.
    Gallia halted Epona beside me. ‘Where is everybody?’
    ‘I do not know. Rsan, where is the garrison commander?’
    ‘Dead, majesty.’
    ‘Call assembly,’ I ordered.
    Rsan ran over the front of the headquarters building and rang a large brass bell that hung from a wooden stand outside the main entrance. A few moments later fifteen soldiers were standing to attention in the courtyard. They included the guards on the steps and at the gates. I dismounted as Nergal and the rest of my horsemen trotted into the courtyard. I waved him over.
    ‘Get the horses in the stables, then find the kitchens so we can all eat.’
    Nergal saluted and looked at the short line of soldiers. ‘Is that the whole garrison?’
    ‘It would appear so.’
    As I dismissed the soldiers I ordered Rsan to follow us into the palace. Like the rest of the Citadel it was a functional building, with a colonnaded porch that led into an entrance hall with white walls and a low ceiling. We walked through the hall into the throne room, at the far end of which was a high-backed chair on a stone dais. White stone columns around the sides of the room supported a low ceiling. There was a corridor to the left of the dais and a large red door on the opposite side.
    I pointed at the corridor. ‘Where does that go?’
    ‘To the banqueting hall, kitchens, guardroom and slaves’ quarters, majesty,’ answered Rsan.
    ‘And where does that door lead?’
    He walked over and opened it. ‘To your private apartments, majesty.’
    The day was fading by the time my horsemen and their horses were settled into the barracks and we finally sat down to eat. Like the other rooms in the palace, the banqueting hall was functional and not over-large. Compared to its equivalent in Hatra it was positively tiny. Light came in through the high windows cut in the wall, though the afternoon was dying by the time servants brought us wine, bread, fruit and cooked lamb. At least the kitchens were still staffed. I asked Rsan to dine with