I stood on the palace steps with Gallia when Silaces and his men rode into the courtyard, squires running to assist the king from his saddle, only to be waved away.

  ‘I’m not a cripple yet,’ he bellowed, easing himself to the ground.

  Rsan walked forward and bowed. ‘Welcome, majesty, quarters have been prepared for you and your men. You will want to rest and refresh yourself, I assume.’

  Silaces gave him a withering look. ‘Why? Do you need to rest? You are after all older than me.’

  Gallia walked over and embraced Silaces, planting a kiss on his cheek.

  ‘Don’t bully my governor, how are you?’

  ‘In need of a drink,’ he replied.

  She linked her arm in his and together they walked back to the palace. I slapped my friend on the shoulder and walked beside them into the porch, Rsan issuing orders to the duty centurion regarding the billeting of the riders from Elymais. Silaces stopped when he spotted two soldiers in bright yellow tunics and leggings across the courtyard.

  ‘Soldiers from Sakastan, part of Isabella’s bodyguard,’ I told him.

  ‘When you travel to her wedding make sure you have a big bodyguard,’ he said, ‘I don’t trust that bastard Phraates.’

  He used that word to describe the high king a lot. Silaces was never a man to curb his tongue but since the loss of Valak his utterances towards Phraates had become coarser. Among friends it did not matter but I worried that his disparaging words would reach the ears of the high king, who might march against Elymais.

  Later, after he had washed and dressed in fresh clothes, Silaces questioned me concerning my request for him to travel to Dura. We sat on the terrace as the sun was dropping in the west to turn the desert pink and the waters of the Euphrates orange. The King of Elymais stood at the stone balustrade holding a silver cup filled with wine and stared at the river below. I joined him and we stood in silence for a while, drinking in the majestic and serene view.

  He took a large gulp of wine. ‘You know what I think?’

  ‘I am eager to learn.’

  ‘If I lived here I would never leave the palace. I would stay here with my family and ensure a constant stream of friends visited me so I could enjoy days filled with fine wine, good conversation and peaceful vistas.’

  He turned away from the river. ‘Why did you ask me here?’

  I nodded to a waiting servant who refilled Silaces’ cup and walked back to the table where other servants were placing serviettes and silver dishes. According to etiquette a royal family should eat its meals in the banqueting hall but Gallia and I preferred the terrace, which was more intimate and relaxed. Tonight she wore her hair loose and sported a beautiful white dress that clung to her still shapely figure, her arms bare. She gave Silaces a dazzling smile when she appeared from our private apartments and took her place at the table. He smiled back, the first time he had done so since his arrival as my queen beckoned him over to sit next to her.

  At that moment Claudia walked on to the terrace and Silaces froze. It was the first time he had seen her since the murder of Valak and her terrible ordeal and I saw the surprise in his eyes. Claudia still had her mother’s cheekbones and thick long hair, though hers was light brown instead of blond, but the old Claudia had long gone. In her place was a serious, studious woman who always wore black and was older than her years in many respects.

  Silaces bowed his head. ‘Princess. I hope you are well.’

  ‘The gods have been kind, lord. And you?’

  ‘I’ll be better after a few more cups of wine,’ he said.

  She nodded and took her seat at the table on the other side of Gallia. Claudia was the only one of our daughters in residence, Eszter being at Hatra and Isabella having travelled with Talib and his men to Palmyra. The last to arrive was Rsan, the governor bowing solemnly to me, Gallia, Claudia and Silaces before taking his seat.

  Food was ferried from the kitchens – roasted chicken and lamb and cooked fish, accompanied by pickled radishes, almonds, garlic, raisins, bread and mustard – all washed down with wine, fruit juice and water. As the wine flowed Silaces’ mood lightened and he and Gallia chatted and laughed about past times, though I noticed that the king frequently glanced at the sombre figure of Claudia engaging in polite conversation with Rsan. Her formality and distance ironically put my governor at ease, unused as he was to sharing informal occasions with his king and queen.

  It was dark, the terrace lit by oil lamps, when I informed Silaces of my reasons for requesting his presence at Dura.

  ‘For one thing it has been too long since you visited us, my friend,’ I told him. ‘And I also want to ask you a favour.’

  ‘Name it and it shall be yours,’ he said, his speech slightly slurred.

  ‘Soon we will be travelling east to Sakastan,’ I said, ‘and I want you to command the armies of those kings who will be travelling with us. I have been in discussion with Gafarn, Spartacus and Nergal and they agree with me that in our absence you should lead their combined armies, plus the army of Dura.’

  Silaces frowned. ‘Lead them against whom?’

  I placed my cup on the table. Of those present only Gallia knew of my plan.

  ‘I shall write to Phraates informing him of my intention to escort Isabella to her marriage with Prince Salar. The rulers of Hatra, Mesene and Gordyene will likewise inform the high king of their intention to journey to Sakastan. He will appreciate the courtesy.’

  ‘You hope,’ said Claudia, ‘though someone will have to explain to him the notion of courtesy first.’

  Silaces laughed and banged the table with his fist, much to Rsan’s chagrin.

  ‘Be that as it may,’ I continued, ‘I shall also be informing Phraates that in our absence King Silaces has been granted full authority to command the armies of Hatra, Mesene, Gordyene and Dura, along with any auxiliary forces that said kingdoms may raise. This is both to preserve the western frontier of the empire and the territorial integrity of the aforementioned kingdoms.’

  Claudia was nodding in approval, Rsan appeared uncomfortable and Silaces none the wiser.

  ‘You think the Romans are planning another invasion?’ he asked.

  ‘Highly unlikely,’ I replied, ‘but in our absence I do not want Phraates to be tempted to take any unwise actions, the more so because I have no doubt that my sister is still pouring poison into his ears. One hundred and thirty thousand men should curb his avarice.’

  Silaces grinned. ‘Ah, I see. Clever, Pacorus, very clever.’

  But Rsan was horrified. ‘You would threaten the high king, majesty?’

  ‘I do not threaten him, Rsan, I merely remind him that the armies of the western kingdoms stand ready to battle their enemies.’

  ‘Of course, he will see straight through the ruse,’ said Claudia. ‘Phraates has a malicious mind, father. He will seek to strike at you but not in a manner you expect.’

  Everyone stopped their eating and looked at her, the princess who was now part of the secretive, semi-mystical Scythian Sisterhood that operated in the shadows. Like most people I knew very little about them, only that Dobbai was their high priestess, though she had been dead for many years.

  ‘But you know?’ queried Gallia.

  Claudia picked up a date and nibbled at it. ‘Why should I know, mother, I am not privy to Phraates’ schemes?’

  ‘He should have been strangled at birth,’ grumbled Silaces, causing Rsan to nearly choke on his wine. ‘You should have been high king, Pacorus.’

  Gallia placed a hand on Silaces’ and smiled warmly at him but Claudia would have none of it.

  ‘Father is entirely unsuited for the role of high king,’ she announced. ‘His sense of honour and loyalty to his friends would wreck any chance of maintaining peace within the empire.’

  ‘How so?’ I asked.

  Claudia finished the date. ‘Imagine a dispute between King Nergal of Mesene and the ruler of the adjacent Kingdom of Babylon. You would naturally side with your friend, notwithstanding the merits of the king of Babylon’s case.’

  I held up a hand. ‘Nergal would never try to encroach upon another king’s realm.’

  Claudia threw back her head and laughed. ‘Oh, father, you are so predictable and in a single sentence reveal that you would never side against your friends. In any case I said nothing about a territorial dispute. Let us theorise that King Nergal had taken a liking to the queen of Babylon.’

  Now I was angry. ‘Impossible. I have known Nergal for more years than you have been on this earth and he would never be unfaithful to Praxima.’

  ‘He’s right, princess,’ agreed Silaces.

  ‘I have always found King Nergal to be a most conscientious monarch,’ stated Rsan.

  ‘You have all proved my point,’ said Claudia. ‘Notions such as conscience, loyalty and friendship mean little to Phraates. I doubt he has any friends and I’m sure he does not care. But such an individual is well suited to the role of high king. It is probably the loneliest position in the whole world.’

  ‘He’s still an arrogant bastard,’ spat Silaces unapologetically.

  ‘He’s content playing with his silver eagles, I have no doubt,’ I opined, thinking of the two captured Roman eagles that were presented to him by Claudia and Rasha after our victory at Lake Urmia.

  ‘A case in point,’ said Claudia. ‘You all remember how Phraates was promoting his ludicrous Parthian purity doctrine, which was instantly cast aside when Rasha presented him with the Roman eagles.’

  ‘How can anyone trust such a man?’ asked Silaces.

  ‘They cannot and would be foolish to do so,’ said Claudia, ‘but such pragmatism, allied to ruthlessness, will ensure that the empire holds together, which is what we all want.’

  What I wanted was to attend my daughter’s wedding in peace instead of having to worry about the Romans, Armenians, the politics at Ctesiphon or the hostility of my sister Aliyeh. My other sister Adeleh, a member of the Sisters of Shamash, remained at Hatra and did not journey with Eszter, Gafarn and Diana to Dura in preparation for the grand procession east. A tent city sprang up on the eastern bank of the Euphrates, opposite the escarpment on which the Citadel perched, as the kings and queens began to arrive. Soon the red griffin banner that fluttered from the Citadel was joined by the white horse of Hatra, the double-headed lion sceptre crossed with a sword of Mesene, the silver lion of Gordyene and the black flag of the Agraci. The latter made Rsan wince every time he looked up at the standards but the Agraci had been visitors to Dura and its palace for many years and no one batted an eyelid when black-robed riders appeared out of the shimmering heat haze to trot through Dura’s gates. Indeed, Malik had a large house in the city so frequent were his visits to Dura. He came with Jamal, Byrd, Noora, Talib and his scouts and two thousand warriors, plus a host of camels carrying tents, food, weapons and a thousand goats.

  ‘Goats?’

  ‘The Agraci’s wedding gift to Isabella,’ Malik announced proudly as he walked with me to the palace after dismounting, Gallia and Jamal deep in conversation behind us.

  ‘That is most generous, my friend,’ I said, wondering how we would be able to herd a thousand goats from Dura to Sakastan.

  For the pre-journey feast Gallia had insisted that all the guests be lodged in the palace, notwithstanding Malik’s property in the city. It was now rare for the many bedrooms in the palace to be occupied all at once but for a brief time they would be filled and the corridors would echo to the sound of laughter and conversation.

  We had not gone a few steps when Eszter ran down the stone steps and flung herself at Malik, laughing, hugging him and planting kisses on his tattooed cheeks. Ignoring all protocol, she then embraced Jamal and kissed her too. Gallia laughed but I raised my eyes to the heavens. It was our fault that Eszter had spent too much time at Palmyra with the Agraci, learning their ways and becoming a wild child of the desert. With her dark brown eyes and even darker complexion she looked like one of the desert people and, too late, we had packed her off to Hatra to soften her hard edges and become a Parthian princess. But a wild animal is never truly tamed and so it was with Eszter.

  ‘Try to remember you are a princess,’ I scolded her.

  She kissed me on the cheek, grinned at the Agraci king and queen and bounded back up the steps.

  ‘It so good to be back at Dura,’ she squealed before disappearing into the palace.

  ‘I had hoped that she would find a suitor in Hatra,’ I lamented, ‘but alas the young nobles have no desire to marry a wildcat.’

  ‘She is a credit to you both,’ smiled Malik. ‘There are many men at Palmyra who would love to tame such a beauty.’

  ‘We love having Eszter at Palmyra,’ said Jamal.

  I looked up at the blue sky and swore I could hear the gods laughing. Of my three daughters one had become a mystic, another was seemingly fated to marry an Agraci warrior, which would ensure she would be forever banished from Parthian society, and the other was to marry a prince of a kingdom at the eastern edge of the empire. What had I done to deserve such a brood?

  ‘What are you looking at?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Isabella was the most orthodox of the three, though she too had been a frequent guest of the Agraci. It was a stroke of good fortune that Peroz had found his way to Dura in his youth because when he ascended to Sakastan’s throne, he and his son Salar were frequent visitors to my kingdom. Isabella and Salar first became friends, then besotted with each other and so it was decided they should marry. It was an unusual occurrence for a union between Parthian kingdoms because both parties were extremely happy about the arrangement.

  At the feast that evening she certainly looked like a queen in the making with her unblemished skin, thick, softly curling brown hair and large brown eyes. Her slender but shapely frame was wrapped in a shimmering blue dress that would have complemented the blue sapphire ring that Salar had given her but it had gone missing during the journey from Sakastan. Isabella had been distraught so I had told her I would find a jeweller to replicate it. She had told me that was not the point. But she hid her disappointment as she sipped wine from a silver rhyton and talked politely to Gafarn seated next to her.

  It was like the old days with the dining hall filled with guests and the drink flowing freely. Kalet and his lords sat at one table, gorging themselves on huge chunks of roasted meat, on another Malik’s warlords trying their best to out-consume them. Dura’s nobles and their ladies sat at other tables, ignoring the ruckus. If this had been any other Parthian city there would been outrage and indignation at the behaviour of the ‘barbarians’, but this was Dura, a frontier city where people were judged on their character and not by which social stratum or race they belonged to. They knew that the lords who lived in the desert around the city were wild and uncouth. But they had spilt much blood in defence of the city and its kingdom. Likewise with the Agraci, once feared foes but now valuable allies responsible for safeguarding the lifeblood of the kingdom. That lifeblood was the camel caravans that came from China carrying silk bound for Parthia, Egypt and Rome. The customs dues paid by the caravans poured into the treasury and made Dura rich.

  I sat between Nergal and Gafarn on the top table, basking in the company of my family and friends. Gallia was laughing and joking with Diana and Praxima, three of the original Amazons, while Eszter was teasing Spartacus, the strapping ruler of Gordyene and the husband of Rasha, his Agraci wife. Sitting aloof from the revelry was Prince Pacorus of Hatra.

  I tipped my rhyton at him. ‘Is the prince unhappy?’

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ replied Gafarn. ‘I think he finds Dura’s frontier atmosphere strange. His wife is expecting their first child. That might also be on his mind.’

  ‘Excellent news,’ I said loudly. ‘When is she due?’

  ‘In six months, give or take,’ replied Gafarn.

  ‘You are to be a grandfather again,’ smiled Nergal, ‘I salute you.’

  I slapped the King of Mesene on the back. He and Praxima had never been blessed with children on account of the hard usage his wife had been subjected to when she had been a slave in a Roman whorehouse. Dobbai had once told me Praxima would never bear children and although Nergal never mentioned the topic, I’m sure the absence of an heir weighed heavily on them both.

  ‘Why so glum, then?’ I asked.

  Gafarn grinned. ‘He is worried he may be summoned to Ctesiphon. As a result of him covering himself with glory in the campaign against Mark Antony the high king believes he has the qualities to be his chief military adviser.’

  He gave us both sideways glances. ‘Those of us who also took part in said campaign being beyond the pale as far as Phraates is concerned. How long do you think we will be away for?’

  I shrugged. ‘Four months, give or take. Surely Pacorus could stay at Hatra if he is worried about missing the birth.’

  Gafarn shook his head. ‘Hatra’s Royal Bodyguard is going to Sakastan and where it goes, its commander goes. You know what a stickler for rules my son is.’

  He was being sarcastic but I could still hear the pride in his voice. Pacorus was a fine young man, the heir to Hatra’s throne who was accepted by all the noble families of the city as being suitably qualified to rule them. Gafarn’s other son, the strapping King of Gordyene, was also a source of pride to his parents though it was as well that he ruled the wild kingdom of the north. Being the natural son of the slave Spartacus was bad enough but the fact he had taken an Agraci wife meant he would never have been acceptable to Hatra’s nobles. But fate had been kind to young Spartacus: he had a striking wife, three sons and a kingdom reflecting his character.

  ‘Where did you find it?’

  Isabella was beaming with delight at the sight of her sapphire ring placed on the table before her.

  ‘In your tent, lady.’

  I immediately stood and pointed at the woman who faced my daughter.

  ‘Arrest her.’

  Guards walked briskly from their stations behind the top table with swords drawn as Isabella picked up the ring and looked quizzically at the tall, striking woman with hair as black as night.