The dozens of corpses that began to float towards us, the vast majority being Kushan skirmishers who wore no armour or headgear, measured our success. Hundreds of abandoned wicker shields also drifted by, along with the long bamboo bows that had caused us so much strife at Sigal.

  In the space of perhaps a quarter of an hour the eight thousand horse archers in the water had loosed nearly a quarter of a million arrows, killing or wounding perhaps ten thousand Kushans, though there was no way of estimating the enemy dead accurately because the current took the majority of corpses downstream.

  When our quivers were empty Khosrou directed his horse through the blood-laced water to where I sat on Tegha .

  ‘We should ride to the eastern bank and finished them, Pacorus. My boys have their lances and your men are equipped with swords.’

  Across the river, thousands of Kushans, grateful to have survived the battle and the river crossing, were collapsing on dry ground. They were exhausted but so were we. I saw fresh banners to the north – Kushan reinforcements. I pointed to them.

  ‘The Kushans who were approaching from the north when we on the other side of the river have arrived, my lord. I fear our part in the battle is finally over.’

  He grunted in recognition and looked around at the bodies still passing by.

  ‘Still, not a bad day’s work.’

  We withdrew from the water at the same time as the remnants of the Kushan horse archers forded the Indus to join their comrades on the opposite bank. Both sides were but two hundred paces apart but passed each other without violence, Kushan and Parthian quivers being empty. We rejoined the other kings and thankfully found both Gallia and Rasha safe and unhurt. We slid off our horses and removed our helmets, our hair wet with sweat and matted to our skulls. It was now very warm and all we desired was water. The liquid in our water bottles was tepid and tasteless but at least it was wet. My leg was now painful to walk on and as a result I limped.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ asked Gallia in alarm, examining my legs for any injuries.

  ‘It’s just my old wound, which is reminding me I am too old to play at being a warrior.’

  She cupped my face and kissed my lips. ‘You will always be my warrior.’

  ‘Horsemen approaching,’ called Malik.

  It was the return of Salar, Spartacus and Prince Pacorus, all flushed with victory and every one of them battered and exhausted. They too, along with their men, slid off their horses, removed their helmets and nearly collapsed as hours of exertions and tension finally caught up with them. Squires came forward to remove the scale armour from their near-expiring masters and the horses they rode. Thousands of horsemen filled their lungs with air with their scale armour littering the ground around them. Across the river a similar spectacle was unfolding I had no doubt, though the Kushans had the luxury of reinforcements to call upon.

  For this reason, I made myself a figure of hate as I urged Azad and his men to regain their saddles in case the enemy re-crossed the river to take advantage of our debilitated state. Gafarn did the same and soon hundreds of cataphracts were back in the saddle, in various states of armour, though their horses were spared having to wear their scale armour suits.

  Khosrou’s men dismounted to form a screen along the riverbank, ready to form a wall of spears should the enemy launch an attack. The squires were sent back to the camp Silaces and the others had established – some ten miles away – to assist the civilian camp followers in taking down the tents and bringing them forward to the river. That night I was determined to stay awake but I slept like the dead in Gallia’s arms, waking with limbs that were painful to move after the exertions of the day before. Guards had been posted through the night and patrols were sent out just after dawn to discover the whereabouts of the enemy. They returned with news that the Kushans were in the same place, though now significantly reinforced.

  ‘How many men can we muster?’ asked Khosrou, remarkably sprightly considering his participation in the battle.

  Kewab had already compiled a roll call of the army’s various contingents and now presented his findings to the gathering of kings and queens who sat in Silaces’ vast circular pavilion.

  ‘We suffered nearly three and a half thousand dead and two thousand wounded,’ my commander reported.

  ‘We should cremate our dead,’ I said.

  ‘With what?’ asked Silaces. ‘There is a distinct lack of trees in these parts.’

  ‘If the enemy crosses the river, there will be more men to burn,’ said Malik grimly.

  ‘We must send word asking for reinforcements,’ suggested Salar, ‘we cannot allow the Kushans to cross the Indus again.’

  I nodded. ‘Agreed.’

  A guard entered and walked to Kewab, whispering into the Egyptian’s ear. My commander passed on the message.

  ‘A courier has arrived from Kujula, majesty, requesting that you meet with him forthwith.’

  ‘Perhaps he wants to surrender,’ joked Khosrou.

  ‘Or have you murdered,’ said Spartacus.

  I discounted the notion. ‘If he had wanted me dead he could have stood idly by at Salar’s wedding.’

  ‘You are going to meet him?’ asked Gallia.

  I stood. ‘Yes, at the very least while we are talking his army is not crossing the Indus.’

  ‘In the event of your demise,’ smiled Gafarn, ‘do you want your ashes returned to Dura or scattered here?’

  ‘Very droll,’ was my only comment.

  It was a beautiful autumn day, the sky filled with white clouds and a gentle easterly breeze ruffling my griffin standard and that of Kujula’s cobra banner on the opposite side of the river. I rode with Kewab and Azad to where a party of Kushan heavy horsemen waited with a guard of Duran horse archers on our side of the river.

  ‘The emperor invites you to have a late breakfast with him, majesty,’ said the Kushan commander in Greek.

  ‘I accept his kind offer.’

  Once more Tegha waded into the Indus, now mercifully free of the ghastly flotsam that had been choking it yesterday. The water was clear, slow moving and cool. I wondered where the final resting place of the corpses of the slain would be. Perhaps the current would take them all the way to the ocean, to be eaten by fishes. More likely they would be food for crocodiles. I shuddered at the thought.

  The two banners flew side by side as Kujula and I enjoyed a meal of pancakes cooked on a fire nearby and served with orange juice and yoghurt. We sat on cushioned wicker chairs under a white silk sunshade. Kewab and Azad were also being served food and drink. It was like a meeting of old friends as Kujula complimented my commanders on their conduct the previous day.

  ‘It gladdens my heart to see you well, King Pacorus.’

  The warm pancake I was eating melted on the tongue.

  ‘It does?’

  ‘Of course, my sister informs me you were charm itself during your brief stay at Indraprastha.’

  It thought of Queen Rana’s duplicity. ‘I trust she is well.’

  ‘She is.’

  Kujula handed the silver plate back to a slave, another coming forward with a bowl of water for him to wash his hands, a third proffering a towel when he had done so.

  ‘You have defeated my invasion, King Pacorus, my congratulations.’

  ‘I share the victory with my fellow kings,’ I corrected him.

  He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Who? Silaces, a man promoted above his talents? Salar, who has barely reached manhood? I will concede that in Prince Pacorus your brother has a rare talent, but King Spartacus is too rash, Khosrou is too old and Malik. Well, Malik is an Agraci who has no place in Phraates’ empire.’

  Azad was devouring a pancake but Kewab was listening intently to this foreign emperor who knew much about Parthia and its rulers, too much.

  ‘And yet here we are,’ I said.

  Kujula flashed a smile to reveal his pure white teeth.

  ‘Here we are. I have ordered wood to be sent to the place of battle and would esteem it a great favour if you allowed us to cremate our dead, King Pacorus.’

  ‘If you promise not to invade Parthia I will gladly agree.’

  He laughed. ‘The Kushan Empire is growing, King Pacorus, and like all growing things needs space to fulfil its potential.’

  ‘But not at the expense of Parthia,’ I stated firmly.

  ‘I tell you what. I will agree to a two-year cessation of hostilities,’ he said, ‘in return for which your high king will agree to meet me to discuss the frontier between our two empires.’

  ‘He will not yield an inch of ground,’ I told him.

  ‘We will see, my friend, we will see.’

  Kujula was as good as his word regarding the wood, which arrived all through that day and the next, hauled to the Indus on carts. I had Kujula’s pavilion dismantled and returned to its rightful owner, who sent me a beautiful curved dagger with an ivory handle and a cobra pommel encrusted with small diamonds to represent the creature’s eyes. Satisfied the Kushans would not attack us, I convinced the other kings to allow parties of their slaves and labourers to cross the river to retrieve the bodies of those Indians who had fallen in battle. They also transported wood across the Indus to allow us to cremate our own dead.

  The ghastly task of collecting the dead, stripping their bodies of weapons and armour and consigning them to funeral pyres took a whole day. In the evening fires raged on both sides of the Indus and the night air was filled with the nauseous smell of burning bodies. Any triumphant feelings were banished by the smell and awful sight, things that I had seen many times but had never grown accustomed to. Out of respect we stayed until every corpse had been reduced to ashes, standing in silence to pay our respects to the dead. The Kushans did the same and when the dawn broke to herald a new day both banks of the Indus were once again filled with soldiers facing each other.

  ‘What now?’ said Gallia, staring at the Kushan host a few hundred paces away.

  ‘Now we go home.’

  She looked at me. ‘You trust this Kujula?’

  ‘I do.’

  She pointed at the thousands of men lining the opposite riverbank.

  ‘He now greatly outnumbers us and could easily launch an attack.’

  ‘He could,’ I agreed, ‘but he won’t. He gave me his word he would not cross the Indus for two years.’

  She laughed. ‘Dobbai was right about you being a hopeless romantic. I was thinking about her last night, about how she shaped our lives and those of our daughters.’

  ‘She still does.’

  ‘Mmm?’

  I turned away from the Kushans. ‘Nothing. It is time to leave this place of dead flesh.’

  Khosrou and Silaces were most reluctant to depart. They had sat in silence when I told them about Kujula’s two-year truce and now they scoffed at the idea of the Kushan honouring it.

  ‘As soon as we are gone he will cross the Indus once more,’ insisted Khosrou. ‘I’ve met his kind before.’

  I doubted that. ‘If he wanted to do so, his soldiers could already have been on this side of the Indus. I believe he is a man of honour.’

  Silaces rolled his eyes. ‘He saved your life, we understand that. He likes you, we all like you, Pacorus, but his admiration for you will not deter him from expanding his empire.’

  ‘Silaces is right, uncle,’ chipped in Spartacus.

  They had joined Gallia and me as the dragons and companies were dismissed after our night-time vigil and sent back to camp, the pungent odour of burnt human flesh tickling the backs of our throats and infusing our clothes. It really was dreadful and I wished to be away. The Kushans had the same idea because their numbers on the opposite bank soon thinned to nothing.

  ‘You see,’ I announced in triumph, ‘Kujula is as good as his word.’

  ‘It would be good to get some fresh air in our lungs,’ agreed Malik.

  ‘Have it your own way, Pacorus,’ said Khosrou grudgingly, ‘but this is not the end of things, mark my words.’

  ‘I agree.’

  He was surprised. ‘You do?’

  ‘Of course, but the empire needs to organise a proper response to the Kushan threat. Perhaps a meeting of the council of kings.’

  Khosrou and Silaces groaned.

  ‘A better proposition would be creating you lord high general, Pacorus,’ said Silaces.

  ‘I second the motion,’ stated Khosrou.

  ‘As do I,’ added Salar.

  ‘Hatra also supports the election of Pacorus to be lord high general for the fourth time,’ grinned Gafarn. ‘It must be a record.’

  I was far from amused. ‘There is no way on this earth that I will be assuming high command again. Three times is more than enough. Any of you are more than qualified for the position.’

  ‘No chance,’ snapped Silaces.

  ‘I would rather eat my own liver,’ said Khosrou.

  ‘Being manservant to Queen Aliyeh would be preferable to being Phraates’ lapdog,’ stated Gafarn.

  We all stared at Spartacus, who looked like a cornered boar.

  ‘I’m married to an Agraci,’ he babbled.

  I looked at Rasha. ‘I don’t think that will save you. Rasha is after all high in Phraates’ esteem since she gifted him the two Roman eagles taken at Lake Urmia.’

  ‘No!’ shouted Spartacus. ‘I will not be bullied into this.’

  Laughing, I looked at Salar who was also grinning.

  ‘But we are overlooking the obvious candidate, a man who has not only withstood the Kushan storm but defeated it. A man who forged an alliance that threw Kujula back across the Indus with his tail between his legs.’

  Salar looked around, searching for the individual I was talking about.

  ‘He’s referring to you, Salar,’ said Gafarn.

  The young king was shocked. ‘I am honoured, but…’

  ‘But nothing,’ roared Khosrou, ‘It is an excellent idea.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Silaces.

  ‘My brother will object strongly,’ said Salar.

  ‘He has lost all credibility,’ Gafarn told him, ‘Phraates may be many things but he is no fool and knows that defeat is infectious. I think you will find the high king has already washed his hands of Phanes.’

  ‘No great loss,’ sneered Khosrou.

  We stayed in camp a further day, by which time Kujula and his Kushans had long gone. We in turn packed up our tents and departed, making our way west towards the mountain passes that would take us back to Sigal. On the way, we said a fond farewell to Khosrou and his redoubtable commander Kuban, the old fox trying to lure Gallia back to Merv with the promise that he would make her queen of the northern steppes. She embraced him warmly, kissed him on the cheek and reminded him he already had a queen. His repost was he was still young and desired more heirs so they could squabble and fight to win the right to win his crown when he was dead. I watched his doughty warriors on their hardy ponies follow their king and thanked Shamash that Parthia could call on the services of such men.

  We were in high spirits during the journey back to Sigal but arrived to find a city wrapped in grief.

  Chapter 12

  An official delegation, which included Isabella, greeted Salar and the rest of us two miles from the city, my daughter mounted on an elephant draped in a vivid red cloth, its tusks covered with gold. It looked ridiculous but was at least docile and did not spook our horses. My oldest daughter looked pale and drawn but I put it down to her missing Salar and the stresses of the siege that both had endured. She was happy enough to see her husband, their reunion touching and heartfelt. She embraced me and Gallia and welcomed the other kings and Rasha back to Sigal, but when I enquired as to the whereabouts of Claudia and Eszter she answered evasively they had remained in the palace.

  The trip to the royal residence was a sombre affair, glum-looking civilians cheering the return of their king half-heartedly and pointing at Gallia and myself accusingly. What we had done to deserve such hostility I did not know, but was soon enlightened by a delegation of city officials waiting in the palace courtyard. White-robed priests were chanting prayers at the palace gates, burning esfand to purify the palace and those within it.

  A row of yellow-uniformed swordsmen snapped to attention when a line of trumpeters sounded a fanfare, Isabella’s elephant kneeling on the cobblestones so the king and queen could alight from the ornate wooden compartment chained to its back. I nodded and smiled at Alcaeus and Marcus who stood beside the line of officials, the most senior of whom, wearing a gold chain around his long neck, walked forward and bowed to Salar.

  ‘Welcome home, majesty, the people of Sakastan salute you for your victory over the barbarians. We hope and pray your return will banish the plague that has descended on your people.’

  Salar was shocked, as were we all, though he was in no mood to hold a council meeting after being away from his new wife for so long. He told the official he would convene a council meeting in the morning, leading Isabella and the rest of us into the palace. I cornered Alcaeus as the officials, heads shaking and mumbling to each other, took their leave.

  ‘It is good to see you again, Pacorus, hopefully your return will signal a change in the city’s fortunes.’

  ‘Thank you. What is this plague? I saw no evidence of it during our journey through the city.’