The new day dawned warm and sunny, men retching and vomiting after they had been awoken from their drunken slumbers. Khosrou looked as white as his hair as he railed against his subordinates before clutching at his head and bending over. I laid a hand on his back.

  ‘Are you ill?’

  He threw up on the grass and snatched a water bottle off one of his officers.

  ‘Why aren’t you hung over?’ he asked me, rinsing out his mouth and splashing water on his face. ‘I feel like death warmed up.’

  ‘You look like it. We must be on the move soon.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The city of Indraprastha, lord.’

  It was just as well that all our soldiers were mounted because there were many among them who were nursing thick heads and churning stomachs as we rode east, skirting shallow lakes and leaving the Kushans far behind. Jagat estimated the city to be fifty or sixty miles distant, which meant we would reach it in two days whereas General Kaniska’s men would take at least four days to get there. In the afternoon we were buffeted by more monsoon rains that forced us to halt to give both men and horses a blessed respite. But by the end of the day we had covered forty miles and made camp by a wide, impressive river that Jagat told me was called the Yamuna.

  Khosrou’s mood changed from one of feeling sorry for himself as a result of over-indulging to a burning desire to inflict damage on the Kushans. So as we headed towards the city he organised columns to ride far and wide, looting and burning villages, killing anyone they came across and hunting wild animals. But he was no fool and made sure his scouts were also ranging far from the army, providing us with intelligence on an almost hourly basis. They told of a fertile land dotted with villages that were easy pickings for Khosrou’s warriors, with no sign of any Kushan soldiers. Far from being pleased by this news Khosrou rounded on me as we cantered by the side of the Yamuna.

  ‘We should have butchered those Kushans instead of letting them go. You made a mistake, Pacorus, for surely we will have to fight them again.’

  ‘They have no weapons, lord,’ I replied, ‘and if I had not persuaded them to surrender we would have had to fight them, with no guarantee we would have triumphed.’

  ‘I saw how the Kushans fought at Sigal,’ said Malik, ‘they are good soldiers.’

  ‘What about this city we are heading for,’ grumbled Khosrou, ‘will that yield rich pickings?’

  ‘It holds the sister of Emperor Kujula,’ I told him, ‘though she may have fled the city already.’

  ‘She will not flee,’ said Jagat behind me.

  Khosrou glanced behind at the gaunt Indian. ‘You have met this woman?’

  ‘No, lord, I only know her by reputation.’

  ‘The army she sent has been destroyed,’ said Spartacus, ‘which leads me to believe the garrison of the city will be small or non-existent. If she has any sense she will flee before we arrive.’

  But she did not flee. When we arrived at Indraprastha we found a sprawling city by the side of the Yamuna, with high walls and rectangular-shaped towers at regular intervals along their entire length. Around the walls was a mixture of wooden and sun-dried clay-brick homes that were very vulnerable to attack. Khosrou, who commanded the largest contingent of our army, immediately ordered his men to fan out and throw a cordon around the city. Our approach was greeted with panic as commoners fled to the sanctuary of the city, a great column of humanity swarming around the city gates. I led my horse archers into the suburbs, the Margianans having already fired the huts, grey smoke rising into the sky and adding to the overall panic of the Kushans. I issued orders there should be no unnecessary killing and so we moved slowly, encountering only wild dogs for opposition.

  We halted and waited for the civilians to get inside the walled city, archers on the ramparts shooting a few arrows at us that fell short and hit some unfortunates at the rear of the civilian press. Katana estimated there to be less than fifty archers on the walls either side of the city gates, though there were other entrances to the city and those were also guarded. Eventually, the gates were closed when the civilians were all inside and silence descended on the suburbs.

  ‘What now, majesty?’ asked Katana.

  It was a good question. Perhaps we could have rushed the gates to force our way into the city, but that would have meant hacking our way through unarmed civilians. But if we had done so before we reached the gates they would have been closed. So the gates to the city were slammed in our faces anyway and we settled down to lay siege to Indraprastha. While the horse archers requisitioned homes and yards for stables and quarters, I walked with Malik and Spartacus to get a closer look at the city walls. There were buildings directly below the ramparts, which could in theory be used to support scaling ladders, but the walls were around forty feet high and men on ladders making such an ascent would be very vulnerable. Spartacus must have been reading my thoughts.

  ‘Archers on the walls will be able to pick off our men with ease making such a climb.’

  ‘And not just archers,’ added Malik. ‘Anyone with a rock to hand could knock a man off a ladder. You still wish to capture this queen, Pacorus?’

  ‘We came here to inflict damage on the Kushans, which we have done. But to place the sister of Kujula in danger will surely turn his gaze back towards his homeland.’

  ‘How will he know?’ asked Malik. ‘It is a great distance from here to Sigal.’

  ‘Jagat has told me the Kushans make use of courier pigeons and use them to send messages throughout their empire on a daily basis. The birds can cover up to seven hundred miles a day so I have no doubt Kujula knows we are here.’

  ‘Perhaps he does not care about his sister,’ suggested Spartacus.

  I looked up at the impressive, well-dressed walls. ‘He cares.’

  After walking around the outside of the walls for an hour or so, the odd arrow shot in our direction falling harmlessly short, we made our way back to the city gates where a delegation was waiting for us.

  His name was Tusha and I later discovered it meant ‘cold’. It was entirely appropriate because he was aloof and totally oblivious to the fact he was at our mercy. Slim, dripping with gold and accompanied only by a frightened young male slave, he exuded arrogance, authority and royalty. Katana informed me that he and the slave had walked from the city gates with his hands clasped in front of his body. The Duran guards had been so surprised and intrigued by him they let him approach unmolested, whereupon he spoke to them in perfect Parthian, declaring he had been sent by Queen Rana to negotiate an honourable surrender. Khosrou was quickly summoned but he and Tusha had to wait until we arrived back from our travels before negotiations began.

  We washed our faces and changed our tunics before Tusha was brought into our makeshift headquarters, which was actually a simple square home built of mud-bricks with a reed roof. Light flooded in through two open windows either side of the hide sheet acting as a door. We sat on stools and faced the Kushan as he introduced himself.

  ‘I am Tusha, governor of the city and Queen Rana’s chief adviser.’

  ‘You have balls,’ said Khosrou in admiration, ‘you’re lucky Pacorus’ boys didn’t put a few arrows in you.’

  One of Tusha’s bushy black eyebrows rose. ‘Pacorus? You are King Pacorus of Dura?’

  ‘I am,’ I answered, ‘allow me to introduce my fellow rulers.’

  I acquainted the governor with Khosrou, Spartacus and Malik, the Kushan rising from his stool to bow after I had uttered each name. He was most perfunctory in his etiquette, much to the amusement of Khosrou who cut straight to the chase.

  ‘What terms is your queen offering?’

  ‘Perhaps we might have some refreshments first,’ I suggested, ‘though we can offer only what we have acquired.’

  ‘You mean plundered,’ smiled Tusha.

  ‘Just like your emperor is plundering Parthia,’ said Spartacus.

  The governor changed the subject as one of my men served wine that had been ‘requisitioned’ from a nearby inn. It tasted bitter but to his credit Tusha did not wince as he politely sipped it.

  ‘The queen would like you to withdraw your men from the suburbs so the population can return to their homes.’

  ‘I bet she would,’ said Khosrou.

  Tusha smiled politely. ‘In return, the queen will offer you gold if you pledge not to attack the city, withdraw from the suburbs prior to retreating back to Parthia.’

  ‘How much gold?’ asked Khosrou.

  I put down my cup of wine. It really was dreadful.

  ‘We came to the Kushan lands not for gold,’ I said, ‘but to get your emperor to withdraw from Parthia. Your queen must pledge to send courier pigeons to him to demand his immediate withdrawal from all Parthian lands.’

  ‘Otherwise we will burn her city,’ threatened Spartacus.

  ‘My queen wishes to extend an invitation to you all to visit her in her palace,’ said Tusha, ‘where I am certain your conditions can be met.’

  Khosrou screwed up his face as he tasted the wine. ‘So we can all have our throats slit? No thank you.’

  ‘The queen will guarantee your safety,’ insisted Tusha.

  Khosrou roared with laughter. ‘I will stick with Spartacus’ option. Talk is cheap, governor, and I have no desire to see my head decorating your queen’s walls.’

  ‘My sentiments exactly,’ said Malik.

  ‘Perhaps the queen would be prepared to accept certain conditions that would guarantee our safety,’ I suggested.

  ‘What did you have in mind, majesty?’ asked Tusha.

  ‘Our men will take possession of one of the entrances to the city, in addition to lining the route from the gates to the palace, but will remain outside the palace walls. I assume it has walls?’

  He nodded to me but his face registered concern. ‘What is to stop your army entering via the gates you control and sacking the city?’

  ‘Nothing,’ gloated Spartacus.

  I frowned at my nephew. ‘The army will withdraw from the suburbs, as an act of goodwill.’

  ‘That’s our best offer,’ said Khosrou.

  ‘I will convey it to the queen, majesties,’ smiled Tusha.

  To encourage the spirit of goodwill I persuaded Khosrou to order his men not to burn any more buildings, a command conveyed to the army’s other contingents. But our men still occupied the suburbs and as night fell I saw few torches on the city walls, indicating that the garrison was small. We had to assume General Kaniska was still heading for Indraprastha, though he and his men would not arrive for three days.

  ‘I will take my men and ambush them,’ said Khosrou as we sat in our headquarters eating a tasty meal of chicken kebabs, rice and samosas.

  ‘That would leave me with four thousand men,’ I replied.

  ‘The Kushans don’t know that,’ remarked Malik.

  ‘I could take my men instead,’ offered Spartacus, ‘how much resistance can a column of unarmed, beaten men offer?’

  ‘None,’ I said, ‘which is why we are not going to butcher the general’s men.’

  Scouts were despatched to the west, however, to keep watch on the general’s men and report back on their progress. Having little knowledge of the towns and cities of the Kushan Empire, we all assumed they would be heading for Indraprastha, though they might have already diverted for another destination. Uppermost in my mind was the situation at Sigal, which I assumed was still under siege. Claudia’s message brought temporary relief but that had been days ago. We needed to bring matters to a close here as speedily as possible, which Queen Rana was also eager to do because the next day a message arrived from Governor Tusha that she had agreed to our terms.

  I rode in the company of Khosrou, Spartacus and Malik with two companies of Durans, who took possession of the gatehouse and the walls on either side for a length of a hundred paces, while two more companies of Khosrou’s soldiers, including Kuban, accompanied us through the city to the palace. Behind us fluttered our banners, an escort of Kushan heavy horsemen in scale armour and carrying long lances flying pennants showing a cobra motif formed a vanguard and rear-guard. I brought Jagat along in case the queen did not speak our language, the old Kushan looking around in admiration at the city he had visited only a few times previously.

  As soon as we entered the well-maintained roads I was aware that, like at Dura, there was a regular network of streets running from east to west and north to south, intersecting each other to form blocks of buildings. Jagat next to me informed us that each block was divided into two areas: one containing dwelling houses, the other shops. The latter were usually built in a row along each street and were rectangular in shape with a small room at the rear.

  ‘You can purchase anything in this city,’ he told me gleefully, ‘fabrics, perfumes, silver and gold jewellery, herbs, meats and fish.’

  As we rode from the gates through the city we saw no markets and streets that were empty, whether as a result of a royal edict or because people had locked themselves in their homes we did not know. But the clean streets and well-maintained buildings pointed to a prosperous city. The palace itself was surrounded by a mud-brick wall faced with white plaster and accessed by two red-painted gates that led to a place of peace, water gardens, gazebos on small islands and exotic birds. Tusha met us at the gates, dressed as usual in his white flowing gown and accompanied by similarly attired officials who I learned were the chief magistrates of the city. They were all polite and accommodating as our horses were taken from us and we were escorted to the palace itself.

  It too was constructed of sun-dried clay-bricks that had been painted white, which gave the building a brilliant appearance in the sunlight. The portico had white marble columns and white marble tiles, as did the corridor that led to a throne room filled with sculptures, carvings and paintings of Indian myths. I stopped at one particularly striking painting, which showed a fierce half-human, half-horse creature armed with a round shield and curved sword, doing battle with a beautiful woman who had eight arms and was riding a lion.

  ‘That is a representation of the Goddess Durga fighting Mahisha, the fierce demon buffalo,’ said a female voice, ‘note what the goddess is holding in her hands.’

  I turned away from the painting to see a delicate, beautiful woman sitting on a white-painted thrown wearing a white silk sari, her hair a lustrous black. Striking pearl earrings complimented the silver necklace from which hung diamonds.

  ‘Her majesty Queen Rana,’ announced Tusha.

  We walked to the dais and as one bowed to the slim young woman with an oval-shaped face, slightly rounded chin and full lips. She dazzled us with a smile.

  ‘We welcome you to Indraprastha.’

  She was tiny, childlike, and my first sentiment on seeing her was shame. Shame that we were threatening such a frail young woman, combined with anger directed against Kujula that he had exposed his sister to danger. Her brown eyes settled on me.

  ‘Welcome King Pacorus, whose fame and exploits crossed the Indus long before your famed Durans.’

  She dazzled Spartacus with a smile. ‘Welcome to you, King Spartacus, husband of Queen Rasha of the Agraci, brother to the fearsome King Malik who now stands in my throne room.’

  Malik smiled at her and bowed to her once more. Rana next addressed Khosrou.

  ‘Welcome King Khosrou of Margiana, a man whose courage and fortitude have brought peace to Parthia’s northern border for many years. How fortunate is High King Phraates to have such a warlord by his side.’

  She stood and spread her arms, her diminutive frame made even smaller by the chamber’s high ceilings.

  ‘And here you all are, having defeated the army of General Kaniska, one of the Kushan Empire’s most talented commanders. I thank you all for your restraint in not putting my city to the sword.’

  She clapped her hands. Two stocky slaves struggled to carry a wooden chest from the side of the hall to place it in front of the dais, putting it down with a thud. Tusha waved them away and walked over to the container, opening the lid to reveal a horde of gold coins. Khosrou’s eyes lit up.

  ‘In gratitude for preserving my city, allow me to make a small gift by way of thanks.’

  ‘You are most generous, majesty,’ I said, ‘but in truth we do not desire your gold but…’

  ‘But my brother to quit the siege of Sigal and return home. Yes, Governor Tusha has acquainted me regarding the objective of your campaign,’ she told me, returning to sit on her throne. ‘To which end I have already despatched a courier pigeon pleading with him to withdraw from the walls of King Salar’s city.’

  I was impressed. She was obviously well informed when it came to the death of Peroz and the accession of Salar, which led me to believe that she and her brother were in regular contact.

  ‘That is all we desire,’ I said.

  ‘But we will keep the gold,’ added Khosrou.

  ‘Who won the battle between the goddess and the demon?’ I asked, desiring to change the subject.

  The queen once more left her throne, jumped down from the dais and linked her arm in mine, gently ushering me towards the painting. Malik, Khosrou and Spartacus followed, two burly guards armed with wicked curved swords shadowing their queen. We all halted in front of the painting.

  ‘It took the goddess ten days of fighting to slay the demon, eventually piercing his chest with a trident,’ said Rana.

  ‘Why does she have eight arms?’ asked Malik.

  ‘So she can hold the things that govern the lives of mortal men.’ She pointed to each instrument in turn. ‘The chakra in her upper right hand symbolises righteousness, indicating that we must perform our duties in life. In her upper left hand is a conch, which symbolises happiness and shows us we must perform our responsibilities cheerfully. The sword in her second lower right hand symbolises the eradication of vice. The bow and arrow in her second left lower hand symbolises character as Lord Rama, showing us that whatever difficulties we face in life we should never lose our values. In her third lower left hand is a lotus flower, informing us that we must live in the world but not become tainted by its wickedness. The club in her third right lower hand symbolises devotion and surrender, that whatever we do in life we should do with love and devotion. The trident in her fourth left lower hand symbolises courage, which means we must have the fortitude to eliminate evil qualities inside us. Finally, you will see that her fourth lower right hand is empty, which symbolises forgiveness and the goddess’ blessings.’