‘The fate of the empire rests in your hands, Pacorus,’ beamed Gafarn.

  I looked at their expectant faces but was uncertain as to whether it was the right course of action. One kingdom refusing to pay the annual tribute was bad enough but five, including some of the most powerful in the empire, would rightly be interpreted as a calculated challenge to Phraates’ rule; which I did not want.

  ‘No, Dura will pay the tribute though not the surcharge.’

  Before he could speak I cut Silaces short.

  ‘I would ask you to do the same, my friend, for the sake of the empire. I ask all of you to think about the ramifications of what you are considering. I have no appetite for removing and selecting a new king of kings.’

  ‘It won’t come to that,’ said Silaces dismissively.

  ‘Won’t it? Phraates is young and if others see Hatra, Dura, Elymais, Gordyene and Mesene desert him they might be emboldened to challenge his rule.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Gafarn.

  ‘Artavasdes for one,’ I answered. ‘The Armenians are still the allies of the Romans, remember.’

  ‘The Armenians are very quiet,’ Spartacus reassured me, ‘Artavasdes has no stomach for war.’

  ‘Not yet,’ I agreed, ‘but like a vulture he will pounce if he senses the empire is divided and weak.’

  Silaces downed more wine. ‘So I am supposed to endure the insult I have been dealt, to act like a eunuch?’

  I laughed. ‘I don’t think anyone who has met you would think you a eunuch, my friend. If you want redress then demand a sum of gold from Ctesiphon as compensation for the loss of your man.’

  ‘People are not chattels, Pacorus,’ snapped Gallia.

  ‘They are to Phraates and Ashleen so why not play them at their own game?’

  Silaces drank more wine. ‘Have it your own way, Pacorus.’

  ‘You will do as I suggest, my friend?’ I probed.

  ‘Yes,’ he mumbled.

  I fixed Spartacus with my eyes. He shrugged.

  ‘I support King Silaces.’

  ‘We all do,’ I said in a raised voice. ‘What I need from you is an assurance Gordyene will not provoke a dynastic struggle within the empire.’

  ‘Very well,’ came the surly reply.

  ‘Hatra will also respect the opinion of King Pacorus,’ stated Gafarn with a smirk.

  I knew Nergal would follow the same path as Dura and so I had averted a crisis. Silaces and Spartacus were far from happy but the soothing words of Gallia and Diana went some way to easing their sense of grievance. Even so I had to spend the rest of the day placating Silaces and Spartacus before the former retired to his quarters in a sense of stupor. Spartacus was sober when he and Rasha retired and I was grateful when they decided to seek out the company of Byrd who had rented a small house in the city, having an aversion to palaces. Gafarn and Diana went with them leaving us alone with Nergal and Praxima.

  ‘Well, a civil war averted for the moment,’ smiled Nergal.

  Praxima shook her thick red locks. ‘I hope you are right about Phraates, Pacorus. If he proves a bad high king you might not be able to constrain Silaces and others like him.’

  ‘Did he really demand you retire from public life?’ asked Nergal.

  ‘He did,’ I admitted, ‘and I was glad to accept his demand. In any case I will have my hands full if Queen Cleopatra honours her promise to conquer Parthia.’

  ‘You should send assassins to kill her,’ said Praxima, ‘it would be Dobbai’s advice if she were alive.’

  Gallia laughed. ‘I was thinking of her today and came to same conclusion.’

  Same old Praxima, hard and unyielding. As the sun cast long shadows on the palace terrace Praxima’s face and shoulders were framed in a golden light. She looked like a lion and roared like one.

  ‘I don’t hold with despatching assassins hither and thither,’ I said. ‘I believe kingship requires certain standards regarding behaviour.’

  Gallia rolled her eyes. ‘I can hear the mocking laugh of Dobbai in my head.’

  ‘Dobbai?’

  Claudia swept on to the palace terrace, a broad smile on her face and all show of emotion as she hugged Praxima and Nergal. She flopped down in her mentor’s old chair, a servant coming forward to offer her water.

  ‘Your father has been peace-making,’ Gallia told her, ‘and we were just theorising what Dobbai would have made of it.’

  Claudia took a cup of water and sipped its contents. She grinned at Praxima.

  ‘War is coming to Parthia despite father’s efforts, and he will play a major part in it. But you know all this.’

  She put the cup on the table beside her.

  ‘How long is Silaces staying at Dura?’

  I lay back in my chair and closed my eyes.

  ‘I assume he will return to his kingdom tomorrow.’

  ‘You must persuade him to stay,’ she insisted.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It will be most auspicious if you delay his departure.’

  The next day I did ask Silaces to stay, not because Claudia had suggested it but because I felt bad about browbeating him into submission regarding the annual tribute. Over breakfast I said it was a shame if he hurried back to Elymais after taking the time to travel to Dura. I offered to show him the armouries, legionary camp and the city itself. He accepted.

  He stayed for over a week, as did Spartacus, Nergal, Gafarn and their wives. Byrd also remained at Dura and so it I became a tourist guide, showing our guests everything Dura had to offer. Surprisingly Claudia tagged along, displaying her prowess with a bow during the archery competition I arranged at the training fields early one morning. Rasha also showed her proficiency at archery, using the bow Gallia had gifted her all those years ago. When it came to saying our goodbyes the mood of our visitors was better than it had been when the kings of Elymais and Gordyene had arrived.

  ‘I thought that ended better than it began,’ I said to Gallia as she lay in my arms, candles flickering in the welcome breeze entering our bedroom.

  ‘What did you make of the commander of Silaces’ bodyguard?’

  ‘I didn’t make anything of him. Why, has he offended someone?’

  She bit my ear lobe. ‘Do you know his name?’

  ‘No. Should I?’

  ‘You are so blind sometimes, Pacorus.’

  She began to play with the lock of her hair hanging around my neck.

  ‘His name is Valak and he is Silaces’ most trusted commander.’

  ‘I hope so if he leads his bodyguard.’

  ‘And he wears a lock of Claudia’s hair on a chain around his neck.’

  I sat up. ‘What?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, Pacorus, did you not notice Claudia taking a keen interest in him? Why do you think she wanted Silaces to stay?’

  I jumped out of bed. ‘I’m not sure I approve. We know nothing about this man. He is not nobility and some kings might take exception to some common soldier taking an unhealthy interest in his daughter.’

  She sat up in bed and propped herself up against the wall as I paced.

  ‘Claudia likes him and I do not consider the affection to be unhealthy. You do want her to marry, do you not?’

  ‘What? Of course, but I had imagined it would be to a king or at least a prince.’

  ‘Why?’ she shrugged. ‘I thought you were against stuffy conventions. Dura is not Ctesiphon.’

  ‘He should have asked my permission at least.’

  ‘Ah, so your pride has been hurt.’

  I did not rise to her bait. ‘I will speak to Claudia immediately about this. Dura may not be Ctesiphon but there are standards and rules of behaviour.’

  I walked towards the door but she called me back.

  ‘Claudia might take you more seriously if you had some clothes on, Pacorus.’

  I waited until the morning to confront my eldest daughter who was in an excellent mood. I encountered her leaving the private apartments with bow and quiver in hand, dressed in a loose-fitting white tunic, boots and tan leggings.

  ‘I need to speak to you, Claudia.’

  ‘Can’t stop, father, I am going to collect some herbs.’

  ‘I thought we could have breakfast together.’

  She paced quickly from the corridor into the throne room, servants bowing to us as we passed them.

  ‘I’ve already eaten.’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you about Valak.’

  She stopped to face me. ‘What about him?’

  We were in the middle of the empty chamber, though two Durans stood either side of the closed wooden doors at the opposite end to the stone dais.

  ‘Your mother tells me you and he have become well acquainted.’

  ‘We are to be married, father,’ she said matter-of-factly.

  She strode away towards the doors. The guards opened them to allow us to exit, snapping to attention as we passed to enter the reception hall.

  ‘Do you not think you should have spoken to me first?’

  She spun to confront me. ‘Why? Do you want to marry him?’

  ‘Don’t be insolent, Claudia, this is a serious matter. You do not know anything about him.’

  ‘On the contrary I know much about him. He is originally from the Zagros Mountains and his mother was a healer, his father a native of Elymais. He has fought beside Silaces for over fifteen years and is in high favour with the king who treats him like a son.’

  She continued on down the palace steps into the courtyard. I followed.

  ‘How do you know he will make a good husband after knowing him for only a week?’

  She stopped again to face me. ‘How long did it take you to realise mother was the woman for you? A week, a year or longer?’

  She already knew the answer because I had told her many times I fell in love with Gallia the first time I saw her.

  ‘Are you going to tell me I should be different, father?’

  She was right but I would not concede the point.

  ‘We will speak later. Why are you leaving so early?’

  She paced away towards the stables. ‘Because plants plucked in the early morning have greater potency, father.’

  I trailed after her to the block where her horse was stabled, a fiery Nisean stallion that only accepted her as its rider. Gossip among the stable hands insisted it was Dobbai reincarnated as a horse. Claudia went to his stall and entered, leading the stallion out. It flicked its ears when he saw me.

  ‘Don’t alarm him, father,’ she said stroking his flank and then examining his legs and hooves.

  ‘Taking him out, princess?’

  Strabo appeared from the adjacent stall. ‘I was just about to feed him.’

  ‘He will have to wait,’ Claudia told him, throwing a white blanket edged with red and adorned with red griffins on her steed’s back.

  ‘What are you gathering, anyway?’ I asked.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Leaves of the adaru plant and fox grape if you must know.’

  ‘Making a potion to kill someone, princess?’ grinned Strabo.

  She grabbed the four-horned saddle hanging on a wall bracket and threw it on the horse’s back.

  ‘You may be interested to know, Strabo, I am making a potion to cure a case of a badly swollen tongue. So swollen it fills the patient’s mouth. It is the husband of a palace servant I am fond of so I said I would help.’

  ‘Sounds nasty,’ said Strabo.

  ‘The penalty for being a gossip, Strabo. The gods have punished him for spreading malicious lies.’

  ‘So the adaru and fox grape will cure him?’ I enquired.

  She began buckling the saddle straps.

  ‘Together with tamarisk leaves and dog’s tongue plant, yes. The ingredients are chopped up firmly, sifted and kneaded with the juice of the kasu plant.’

  She checked the saddle and then fitted her mount’s bridle.

  ‘Butter is rubbed on the tongue and the medication placed on top.’

  She led her horse from the stables.

  ‘Of course the application has to be accompanied by the correct prayers to placate the gods, otherwise the patient will surely die.’

  Strabo looked at me in alarm.

  ‘Just in case you were thinking of trying it,’ she told us.

  I followed her outside.

  ‘You should have an escort,’ I said.

  She laughed dismissively. ‘I have my bow and a swift horse, father, I think I will survive.’

  We walked back into the courtyard where she vaulted into the saddle. The gates to the Citadel were open as those employed in the palace, armoury, treasury and stables began to arrive, together with carts carrying an assortment of supplies. I caught sight of Chrestus strolling through the gates, cane in hand.

  ‘I bid you farewell, father.’

  She urged her horse ahead and it trotted from the courtyard, Claudia raising her hand to Chrestus as she departed.

  ‘She should have an escort,’ he said. ‘I need to speak to you, majesty.’

  ‘Sounds ominous.’

  We walked back into the palace, to the terrace where Gallia and I usually ate breakfast. It was a sunny day but on the horizon to the west was what appeared to be a huge wall of brown and yellow – a sandstorm.

  ‘I estimate we have an hour before it hits,’ I said. ‘Will you eat with us, Chrestus?’

  ‘I have already eaten, majesty.’

  Servants brought pancakes, honey, dates and milk.

  ‘At least sit down, general,’ urged Gallia, ‘you look like you are on guard duty.’

  He pulled up a chair as we tucked into the fare.

  ‘So, how can I help you?’

  ‘It’s Alaric, majesty.’

  Honey dripped on to my fingers. ‘What’s he done now?’

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Chrestus, ‘but he should be retired from the army as soon as possible. The last training exercise with the Agraci nearly killed him off.’

  ‘He appeared well enough at the meeting of the Companions,’ said Gallia.

  ‘Because he had spent nearly a week beforehand in hospital recovering, majesty.’

  I shoved part of a pancake coated with honey into my mouth.

  ‘He’s been in the army a long time, Chrestus.’

  ‘Too long,’ came the harsh reply. ‘He’s over sixty now and marching with men nearly forty years younger.’

  ‘Can’t you promote him?’ suggested Gallia.

  ‘He’s been a legionary ever since the Durans were established,’ said Chrestus, ‘and has never risen any higher. To promote him now, in his dotage, would reek of favouritism, which is why it would be better all round for him to be retired, with your permission, majesty.’

  I put down my pancake.

  ‘Alaric was one of those who escaped from the gladiator school in Capua thirty-six years ago,’ I answered, ‘after which he fought with Spartacus for three years before accompanying us back to Parthia. He has served by my side ever since. He has never married, has no family aside from the Companions and lives only to wear the mail tunic and leather sandals of the Durans. The army is his life, Chrestus, and I will not take that away from him.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ replied my general, ‘but the next campaign the army embarks on might be his last.’

  ‘We all face the same prospect,’ I said.

  ‘But few of us expect to die of heart failure on the way to the battlefield, majesty,’ he replied.

  ‘I will think about what you have said,’ I promised.

  He saluted and left, taking my appetite with him.

  ‘He’s right,’ I admitted, ‘Alaric is too old to be marching in the ranks. If he was a horseman it might be different.’

  ‘Can he ride?’

  I looked at her. ‘He can. Pity he can’t read or write otherwise I could assign him to office duties.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Claudia has gone into the desert to collect plants,’ I told her, ‘she really should start acting like a princess rather than a desert urchin.’

  Gallia dismissed my concern. ‘You cannot tame her, Pacorus, she is what she is. Did you speak to her about Valak?’

  I threw up my arms. ‘A case in point. She said she is marrying him and that is that. See what I mean? Totally out of control.’

  ‘She has a brain in her head. She would not choose a husband without considering everything.’

  I drank some milk. ‘Unless she is infatuated. We think of Claudia as calculating but what if he has turned her head?’

  She gave me a bemused looked. ‘I think not. Why don’t you write to Silaces to discover more about this Valak if you are so concerned? He must be a man of honour and courage at least if he commands his bodyguard.’

  I leapt from my chair. ‘Yes! A bodyguard, of course.’

  I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her on the lips.

  ‘You are a genius.’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘I think, my sweet, I have found a way of solving Chrestus’ problem and clipping Claudia’s wings at the same time. I will see you later.’

  By now the palace and courtyard were hives of activity. Many palaces in the empire were places of opulence and excess but not Dura’s, which was above all a working building. Already petitioners were gathering in the reception hall to book an appointment to see either Rsan or one of his deputies to obtain a licence to sell goods in the market, construct new buildings within the city walls or lease a property for the purposes of running a business or renting out rooms. The law courts handled legal matters but aside from cases involving theft, murder, kidnapping and criminal gangs, all defendants had the right of appeal to the palace. This resulted in an additional workload for Rsan and so at least once a week I sat in the throne room to hear cases while he and his assistants heard others in the dining hall. Because Dura was a prosperous kingdom such administrative duties could be most onerous.

  I walked through the chattering throng in the reception hall, guards ushering people aside with their shields, and walked down the steps into the courtyard. This too was heaving with people, horses, camels and carts unloading supplies for the kitchens, armoury and barracks that occupied one wall of the Citadel. I threaded my way between piles of freshly deposited horse and camel dung, sweating stable hands being ordered by the duty centurion to remove it forthwith.