Parthian Vengeance by Peter Darman Page A

early hours I liked to keep my own counsel. Unfortunately Surena did not and this morning he was unusually talkative. No doubt the prospect of slaughter filled him with great anticipation.
    ‘How long will it take before we encounter the enemy, lord?’
    ‘We will know when we see them,’ I replied.
    ‘Hopefully less than a week, then I can be back in Dura in a fortnight. I have promised to take Viper to Palmyra.’
    Viper was one of Gallia’s Amazons, a woman who was lethal with a bow but who looked like a teenage girl. Surena was the exact opposite with his long black hair, square face, thin nose, broad shoulders and muscular arms. They had been married for over three years now.
    ‘You expect the forthcoming campaign to be a straightforward affair, Surena?’
    He looked at me. ‘Of course, lord. All your campaigns end in victory.’
    I laughed. Like most young men he only dreamed of glory and thought of victory. It never occurred to him that he might end up as a mangled corpse on the battlefield. But then we all comforted ourselves with the thought that we would be on the winning side and see our families again, Shamash willing.
    ‘If we take much plunder I was thinking of purchasing a house for Viper and me,’ continued Surena.
    ‘We do not go to plunder,’ I said sternly.
    ‘No, lord, of course not. But if any happens to fall into our laps, all the better.’
    In battle Surena was calm, brave and resourceful, though apt to take risks. In barracks he was a good officer to his men. Like many officers in Dura’s army he was enrolled in the Sons of the Citadel scheme, an idea I had after I had first assumed power in the kingdom. The best tutors from Egypt, Parthia, China and even Rome had been hired to instruct the future leaders of the army. After spending the morning on the training field the best and the brightest in the army attended classes to learn about logistics, engineering, leadership, weapon making, the philosophy of war and languages. In this way they would know the ins and outs of what were called the military arts.
    ‘There are some nice properties near the Citadel,’ mused Surena, ‘a bit of loot would go towards securing one.’
    The reports from his tutors had stated that Surena was an excellent student – intelligent, inquisitive and eager to learn. He could also be extremely irritating.
    I turned in the saddle. ‘What do you think of Surena’s grand plan, Vagharsh?’
    Vagharsh shot a glance at Surena. ‘I think he talks too much.’
    We passed under the Palmyrene Gate and I drew my sword and raised it to salute the stone griffin sitting above the arch over the large twin gates. Surena did the same and so did all the men of his company. An insolent Greek sculptor named Demetrius who had also cast the Duran Legion’s golden griffin had carved it. Dobbai had told me that the city would never fall as long as the griffin guarded the city. I believed her words and so did every man in the army and every citizen who lived in the city. As we exited the city and wheeled right to link up with the road across the river I looked behind me and bowed my head to the griffin.
    Outside the city the air was even colder and the river was shrouded in a thick mist. Though this was not atypical for the time of year I prayed that it was not an ill omen for the coming campaign. Legionaries marching six abreast were filing over both bridges when we arrived at the river where Domitus was standing talking to some of his officers. He raised his cane to me, dismissed them and walked over.
    ‘Glad you could join us, hope we didn’t disturb your sleep.’
    ‘Very amusing, Domitus. Where are Byrd and Malik?’
    He grinned. ‘You know them two. They left while Somnus was stilling entertaining me.’
    ‘Is that a whore?’ suggested a grinning Surena.
    Domitus pointed his cane at him. ‘Watch your mouth, puppy.’
    I turned to Surena. ‘Somnus is the Roman god of sleep, for your information. Now kindly be