‘A strange thing. A few days ago, I received reports of newborns dying.’

  ‘That, alas, is not unusual,’ said Gallia, ‘many infants, and women, die in childbirth.’

  ‘Not a few,’ continued Alcaeus, ‘but every newborn. Only hours after a birth the child would die. Not one enjoyed a day of life. I examined a few of the bodies but could find no evidence of ailments or deformities. The mothers were also mostly in good health, though obviously distraught over the loss of their children.’

  ‘Poison?’ I suggested.

  He shook his head. ‘If it was in the water supply young and old would have been struck down, though high- and lowborn babies have been affected equally. It is bizarre.’

  ‘The city is on a knife edge,’ said Marcus.

  The euphoria that had greeted the departure of the Kushan siege army had given way to a lingering suspicion that Sigal had suffered significantly less than expected because of sorcery. Rumours quickly spread that the queen’s sister Claudia, a known user of magic, had used sorcery to conjure up the sand storm that had allowed her father and a great number of horsemen to leave the city unmolested, in addition to wreaking havoc within the Kushan camp. Indeed, so great had been the disruption to Kujula’s army that it had been unable to mount a single assault upon the city. Gratitude soon turned to fear, then anger when infants began to die. Dark forces were suspected to be at work and fingers began pointing in Claudia’s direction. For her own safety Isabella had restricted her sister to the palace where she remained out of sight, though not out of mind.

  Claudia and Eszter welcomed us inside the palace, the former aloof and haughty, the latter glad to see us, both seemingly carrying a great burden. I queried Eszter as to her health but she merely smiled and told me she was well. Claudia barely spoke but noticed I was carrying a slight limp. Both absented themselves from our visit to the King of Mesene.

  ‘You will find Nergal fully healed,’ Claudia informed me.

  ‘It is true that Nergal has made a full recovery,’ said Alcaeus.

  He had indeed. We found the King of Mesene in rude health sitting on his balcony in the company of Praxima. She looked more drawn and tired than him, though both of their faces lit up during a happy reunion.

  ‘You look well, my friend,’ I told Nergal.

  He rose, walked a few steps and took a bow.

  ‘And no limp?’ Malik, Jamal on his arm, was astounded.

  We were all delighted and mystified as to how Alcaeus had cured a limb that had been pierced by two arrows.

  ‘I am as dumfounded as the rest of you,’ the Greek announced, ‘but I have to say it is my best work.’

  We sat with our friends, drank and ate too much and reminisced about past glories and present victories, forgetting for a while the dreadful events taking place in the city below. It was good to be in the company of Companions again, with Malik and Spartacus as honorary members. I slept well that night, in bed with my wife, surrounded by my family and friends and behind high walls. I stayed in bed until nearly midday until a slave arrived with a message from Isabella to attend her in the palace gardens.

  She was dressed in a white silk dress, a beautiful silver belt around her waist, and wore shoes of soft leather with silver buckles. She looked every inch the queen she was. Two guards shadowed us as we strolled through flowerbeds teeming with yellow and red tulips and beside water fountains. Her large brown eyes were filled with concern.

  ‘Vartan fled the fortress before you returned, father,’ she told me, ‘along with Cookum and enough gold to purchase them both fine lives.’

  That explained Eszter’s morose demeanour.

  ‘Probably for the best,’ was my initial thought.

  ‘Their actions would seem to suggest Vartan was not Orodes’ son, father.’

  ‘What does Salar think?’

  She sighed. ‘He is glad they have left Sigal and he is rid of the problem. He also desires to be rid of another problem, as do I.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Claudia must leave the city as soon as possible before her presence provokes violence. The magistrates and priests are reporting that the people blame her for the terrible infant deaths that are afflicting them.’

  ‘I cannot believe Claudia is responsible for such horror.’

  She shook her head, her thick curling hair shining in the sunlight. She took my hand.

  ‘You know who raised her, who doted on her and who passed on her knowledge to her. It is no coincidence she has followed Dobbai into the Scythian Sisterhood, a sect that is both revered and feared in equal measure.

  ‘I have talked with Salar and we both wish Claudia to leave our city and our kingdom. You must inform her, father.’

  I found Claudia in her bedroom, a spacious chamber with a balcony providing spectacular views of the mountains to the north. She was sitting at a table on the balcony when she told me to enter, giving me a cursory nod before returning to writing on the papyrus in front of her.

  ‘You look as if you have suffered a great defeat, father, rather than having saved the empire. Notwithstanding the city criers proclaiming it was Salar who defeated Kujula. My cousin really is shameless.’

  ‘I have to speak with you.’

  She pointed at a chair on the other side of the table. I sat in it and noticed a wicker basket with a lid next to it. She continued writing, using a reed pen that she dipped in the ink pot on the desk. I cleared my throat.

  ‘I am quite capable of writing and listening at the same time, father. What is troubling you?’

  ‘The king and queen desire you to leave Sigal immediately.’

  She continued writing. ‘Because of the on-going deaths of the Saka infants.’

  ‘Yes. I told Isabella you were not responsible but she and Salar fear violence may break out at any moment.’

  Claudia put down the pen and looked up at me, resting her elbows on the mahogany surface.

  ‘I saved this miserable city and kingdom from destruction and now its inhabitants want rid of me. That’s ingratitude for you.’

  ‘Just to clarify, you are not responsible for the death of Sigal’s infants, are you?’

  ‘Have you seen Nergal, father?’

  ‘Nergal?’

  ‘Your friend, the King of Mesene.’

  ‘Don’t be clever,’ I snapped, ‘of course I have seen him.’

  ‘Well, then, you will have noticed that he has made a full recovery and does not even have a limp, despite being grievously wounded.’

  ‘Alcaeus is a skilled physician,’ I said.

  She gave a derisive chuckle. ‘It was not only his skills that saved your friend, father. You remember your friend Atrax? He had a nasty limp for the rest of his life, despite a host of royal physicians. Nergal walks with the gait of a young man and you think it is due to a single Greek doctor? Healing Nergal and facilitating your escape from Sigal were no small things. There was a price to be paid.’

  I was shocked. ‘You mean the infant deaths are linked to what you did.’

  ‘Naturally,’ she replied casually, ‘while Pazuzu was aiding you the demon-goddess Lamashtu was free to claim the lives of Sigal’s newborns, for Pazuzu is the guardian of pregnant mothers.’

  I put a fist to my mouth, appalled.

  ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, father. What are the lives of a few children compared to the welfare of the millions who live in the empire?’

  I was angry. ‘And you are the judge who decides who lives and who dies?’

  She remained calm, unconcerned. ‘No, you are, father. It was you who wished to enlist divine help; I was merely the vessel to enable you to do so. When do we leave?’

  ‘As soon as possible,’ I averted my eyes from hers to look at the wicker basket.

  ‘At least we know Vartan is a fraud, an elaborate trick engineered by Phraates, I think.’

  I toyed with the lid of the basket. ‘There is no evidence of that.’

  ‘Actions speak louder than words, father. That he fled Sigal indicates his role was at an end, that he stole gold proves he was no son of Orodes. The only riddle to be solved is where has he fled to?’

  ‘Why would Phraates engineer such a project?’

  ‘To wound you,’ she said, ‘to embarrass you and to remind you that Phraates is high king and has a long reach. He also has a malicious character. All very simple, I would have thought.’

  I removed the lid and leapt back when a cobra reared up, its hood flared and lunged at me. I knocked over the chair, fell on the floor and shouted in alarm. The two guards that had been posted outside Claudia’s room ran in, swords drawn.

  ‘Get out,’ commanded Claudia, ‘there is no danger.’

  The cobra raised itself up but she merely stood and hissed at it, the guards wide-eyed as she stared into its black, cold eyes and extended her right hand.

  ‘Be careful,’ I warned, scrambling to my feet and drawing my sword.

  But Claudia continued to emit a low hiss and gently laid a hand on the cobra’s head, still staring at it. The snake slowly descended back into the basket, she swiftly replaced the lid and returned to her seat.

  ‘Please do not touch things that do not belong to you, father.’

  She glared at the guards. ‘Are you still here?’

  Troubled by what they had just seen, they sheathed their swords, bowed and exited the room.

  ‘Idiots,’ she sneered.

  I was going to ask why she had a live cobra in her bedroom but thought better of it. She was a law unto herself and her life had taken a very different path to the one that I had hoped. But perhaps Dobbai had come to Dura not only to aid Gallia and myself but also tutor Claudia in her ways. Those ways were responsible for the deaths of newborns currently afflicting Sigal and the knowledge weighed heavily upon me as I later tried to console Eszter.

  ‘There will be others,’ I told her.

  ‘He left no letter or gave warning, he just vanished.’

  Her voice was like that of a small child whose pet had just died. I cradled her in my arms.

  ‘I loved him, father.’

  She was bereft of hope and disconsolate. I did not tell her I was secretly delighted the spectre of Vartan no longer loomed over us. If Eszter had married him it would have created all sorts of difficulties, not least the accusation of Phraates that Dura was harbouring a usurper. But now the dilemma had been solved at the cost of some gold coins and my daughter’s broken heart. If Vartan had been a fraud then Phraates had succeeded in wounding my youngest daughter rather than myself, though it did cast the high king in a new light.

  ‘We can find you a Parthian prince to marry,’ I said, ‘you will soon forget Vartan.’

  ‘I will never marry,’ she told me, ‘Claudia has told me. I’m glad.’

  I dismissed the idea. ‘Nonsense, when we get back to Dura you will think differently. Do you want me to find him?’

  Her ears pricked up. ‘Who?’

  ‘Vartan, of course, I can send Talib and his scouts to scour the land for him and his fat friend.’

  She pondered the offer and for a few seconds her expression changed as she thought about seeing her beloved again. But then the mask of sadness returned.

  ‘No, I am not interested in vengeance.’

  That was a pity because the idea of dragging Vartan to Dura and having him executed for betraying my daughter had a strong appeal.

  ‘As you wish.’

  I conveyed to Gallia everything Claudia had told me earlier as she sat at her bedroom table brushing her locks, using a mirror of burnished silver. The night was still and cool, the shuttered doors to the balcony closed, light provided by oil lamps mounted on the walls.

  ‘I blame myself.’

  She stopped brushing her hair and spun to face me. ‘Why? We were trapped in Sigal, remember? Without Claudia’s help things might have turned out very differently.’

  ‘All those infants,’ I lamented.

  ‘Perhaps when we leave it will stop.’

  We did so the next morning, Salar and Isabella standing on the palace steps to bid us farewell. The king had provided a mounted escort but there was no need. It was very early and the streets were as yet still mostly deserted. It was a strange send-off. Eszter was glad to be leaving a place that had promised so much, but in the end had proved a bitter disappointment; Claudia and Isabella eyed each other with a barely disguised disdain; and Salar was protocol itself, barely able to hide his relief that my eldest daughter was leaving his kingdom. Malik and Jamal were glad to be away from palaces and riding back to their Agraci tents, Spartacus and Rasha delighted to be back in each other’s company, though Gafarn and Diana were genuinely sad to see discord among our family. I kept glancing at Nergal, spear-straight in the saddle and looking remarkably fit and refreshed. If only he knew the price of restoring his health. Silaces was in a bad mood after a night of heavy drinking with Kalet, who had returned from the south with his men.

  We linked up with our respective contingents two miles south of Sigal, the horsemen already on the road after striking camp before dawn. Kewab arrived with Titus Rutilus in tow, the Roman wearing the uniform of a Duran horse archer.

  ‘In a few weeks you will be home, Rutilus,’ I said.

  Gallia turned to glance at the Roman.

  ‘Ah, I forgot to tell you, my dear, this is Titus Rutilus who did us a great service when we were in Kushan lands. We owe him a great debt.’

  ‘You are too kind, majesty,’ said Rutilus. He bowed his head at Gallia. ‘It is an honour to meet you, majesty.’

  ‘You were a slave?’ she asked him. ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘A town called Longula, majesty, located just south of Rome.’

  Claudia giggled and even Eszter managed a smile as Gallia spun in the saddle and glowered at him.

  ‘You are a Roman.’

  ‘Yes, majesty, I was captured at Carrhae, a battle near…’

  ‘I know where Carrhae is,’ Gallia said icily, ‘I was there.’

  Rutilus was surprised. ‘You, majesty?’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘That’s right, Roman, I was the one who killed your leader, Marcus Licinius Crassus.’

  There was an awkward silence as Rutilus digested the revelation.

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ I said.

  ‘And yet only a short while ago the Romans invaded Parthian once again,’ said Gallia, ‘only to meet the same fate. Mark Antony will not be returning any time soon.’

  ‘I knew him in Gaul,’ exclaimed Rutilus, ‘or at least served under him. He was Caesar’s deputy then.’

  ‘Julius Caesar?’ asked Kewab.

  ‘Yes, commander,’ answered Rutilus. ‘A great general.’

  ‘He was murdered in Rome by a group of senators,’ Kewab told him.

  ‘You should visit Ctesiphon, Roman,’ said Gallia, ‘before your return home. You will find there six of the seven Roman eagles captured at Carrhae and the two that were taken at Lake Urmia. There is another in the Great Temple at Hatra that was taken by my husband in his youth.’

  ‘Where is the other eagle captured at Carrhae, majesty?’ asked Rutilus.

  I turned to look at Rasha riding beside Spartacus.

  ‘It was traded for a great treasure,’ I told him.

  As it happened I decided Ctesiphon should be on our route home, though the primary purpose was not to show Titus Rutilus Phraates’ collection of Roman eagles but to plan a response to the Kushan threat. As we made our way there our numbers were whittled down. Silaces and his men returned to Elymais, Nergal, Gafarn and Spartacus headed for Uruk, taking Malik and his Agraci with them. At the Tigris we bade them farewell, along with Kalet and his lords. Kewab persuaded me it would be diplomatic to send Azad, his cataphracts and the bulk of Katana’s horse archers with them, retaining an escort of only two hundred riders, including the Amazons, to make the trip to the capital of the Parthian Empire. Much to Gallia’s annoyance I asked Titus Rutilus to accompany us, along with Marcus and Alcaeus. The two Romans spent most of the journey north along the side of the waterway chatting about Rome and Parthia and their respective political systems.

  We sent heralds ahead to the governor of Susa requesting permission to ride through Susiana, which Phraates ruled along with Babylon, receiving a delegation from the city with an invitation from said governor inviting us to dine with him. I politely declined, informing the commander of his horsemen bringing the missive that I had been away from Dura long enough and desired to get home as quickly as possible. So we continued on along the eastern bank of the Tigris, passing by huge date palm groves, populous villages surrounded by fields irrigated by the river and dozens of fishing boats on the waterway. It was a picture of a land prospering, and at peace. It brought a smile to my face. It was the reason I had dedicated my life to the empire.

  Around six miles south of Ctesiphon we ran into another party of horsemen, all dressed in dragon skin armour, comprising a leather vest with attached overlapping polished silver plates that protected the chest and back. Their burnished open-faced helmets glittered in the sunlight, as did their whetted lance points. Their purple leggings and tunics showed they were from Babylon, the city of Phraates’ mother and dear to his heart. The standard bearer beside the party’s commander carried a banner showing the horned bull of Babylon, the symbol of the city’s strength, power and rage. The officer removed his helmet and bowed his head.

  ‘Greetings King Pacorus, Queen Gallia. No party of soldiers larger than twenty is allowed within five miles of the royal palace, majesties. High King Phraates invites you to rest and refresh yourselves at Ctesiphon, highnesses.’

  We took Claudia and Kewab; Eszter declaring she had no interest in seeing another palace and especially had no desire to see Phraates again. She was happy wallowing in her self-pity so she stayed in the camp pitched beside the Tigris, Katana assuring me he would take her hunting with him to keep her amused.

  ‘There is nothing like blood sports to mend a broken heart, majesty,’ he told me.

  It had been nearly two years since we had attended the coronation of Phraates and in that time Ctesiphon had changed markedly. In the days of Sinatruces and his son Phraates, the grandfather of the current high king, and even Orodes, the sprawling palace-cum-small city complex had been a mixture of opulence and decay. But now it was becoming a place of splendour, its perimeter wall, which previously an army could have marched through its many gaps, had been repaired by the hundreds of slaves who toiled unceasingly beneath a burning sun. At the restored main entrance two huge banners flew from the gatehouse, one showing Babylon’s bull, the other the symbol of Susiana, the kingdom of his father’s birth – an eagle with a snake in its talons.