Inside the walls a vast army of artisans brought from the four corners of the empire worked to restore the temples and palace to their former glory. Behind the palace were the private houses of the nobles who were high in Phraates’ favour, including High Priest Timo and Chief of Court Ashleen. It was the latter who met us at the entrance to the palace, his round face showing a fixed, insincere smile as he bowed in an ostentatious manner and welcomed us to Ctesiphon.

  ‘Hail, King Pacorus, tamer of the Kushans and thrice lord high general of the empire. Welcome to you, Queen Gallia, mighty Amazon who strikes fear into the hearts of Parthia’s enemies. And welcome to you, Princess Claudia, whose fame as a sorceress is known from the Euphrates to the Himalayas.’

  He ignored Kewab who was standing behind me, but placed himself beside me and requested we accompany him into the palace. I say palace but in truth there was more than one. However, as a result of Phraates’ grand construction project they had all been linked to create one vast royal residence.

  I had never liked Ctesiphon. It was a place of court intrigue and politics. As I walked along the marble floored corridor, with the lower parts of the walls clad in coloured marble slabs and the upper sections covered in mosaics, I could hear the vicious tongue of Queen Aruna, the mother of Mithridates who had taken an instant dislike to me. Her son too for that matter. It seemed like yesterday.

  ‘The high king is well?’ I asked.

  ‘Very well, majesty, the more so since he learned of the defeat of the eastern barbarians. We are all indebted to you.’

  Loathsome creature! I had learned Ashleen had been a friend of the late, unlamented Mithridates, both of them hailing from Susiana. He had escaped the great cull of that high king’s officials after Orodes had ascended the high throne, and had managed to worm his way into the affections of Phraates. When Orodes died he became a father figure to the young prince, much to many people’s dismay. And yet I had to admit that under his guidance Ctesiphon had become a place that projected kingship, power and wealth and was finally a fitting residence of the king of kings.

  Phraates himself rose from his gold-covered seat when we entered the throne room, extending his arms in a welcoming gesture as we walked from the red doors across white marble tiles to the dais behind which stood half a dozen guards. Courtiers and their wives, the latter dripping with gold and silver jewellery, bowed their heads as we passed them. I wondered if Gallia felt out of place in her boots, leggings and mail armour. Probably not. For her part Claudia was dressed like an Agraci warrior in her black leggings and tunic. We stood in a line before the dais and bowed our heads.

  ‘Everybody out!’ shouted Phraates.

  Ashleen clapped his hands to signal the courtiers should depart, nobles and their wives dutifully filing out of the chamber. I asked Kewab to wait outside the throne room.

  ‘Chairs and refreshments for our guests,’ commanded Phraates, retaking his throne.

  Slaves set down large cushioned wicker chairs and ornate footstools, others serving us fine wine and freshly baked pastries. Phraates, dressed in a purple silk robe, gold on his fingers and a crown of gold and diamonds on his head, drank from a gold rhyton. He toasted me.

  ‘To your victory over the barbarians. King Salar has written extensively concerning the campaign against the Kushans, the two-year truce you brokered and the happy news of the usurper Vartan fleeing into the night. The gods smile on Parthia.’

  ‘For a while, majesty,’ said Claudia.

  Phraates gave his cup to a slave and leaned forward.

  ‘What do the gods reveal to you, princess?’

  ‘You are high in their favour, majesty.’

  Phraates leaned back and smiled to himself. He looked at my daughter.

  ‘You should leave Dura and come to live at Ctesiphon. There is plenty of room in the palace for Parthia’s most famous sorceress and you could have your own apothecary.’

  ‘You are high in the gods’ favour, majesty,’ said Claudia, ‘because you create the circumstances to allow the immortals to enjoy and indulge themselves.’

  Phraates looked confused. ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Meaning a weak frontier invites invasion, which means bloodshed and the gods adore bloodshed, majesty.’

  ‘You forget yourself,’ snapped Ashleen.

  ‘I forget nothing,’ was my daughter’s icy reply.

  Phraates was within his rights to banish her from Ctesiphon or even have her flogged for her insolence, but instead he chose to ignore her and pointed to a slave standing a few paces from the dais, beside one of the thick marble columns supporting the hall’s cedar roof. Keeping his head down to avoid eye contact, the slave walked forward and handed Phraates a magnificent sword in a purple scabbard encrusted with jewels. He stood, stepped off the dais and held it out to me.

  ‘I wish you to give this to King Malik, together with my gratitude and that of the empire for his service against the Kushans.’

  I was astounded. Was this the same man who had trumpeted ‘Parthian purity’ two years before, or had looked down his nose at the Agraci? I had to admit I was impressed by what appeared to be his growing maturity and slightly smug that he was perhaps turning into the high king I always hoped he would be. I took the sword and bowed to him.

  ‘A most generous gift, highness.’

  Phraates returned to his throne. ‘I am not a god, princess, and am mindful of my shortcomings. But neither do I have a magic crystal that allows me to see into the future. If I possessed one I would have sent you to unleash a demon to ravage the Kushan lands and kill their emperor. My one aim is to protect the empire and I will do anything necessary to achieve that aim.’

  He looked at Claudia. ‘You should consider my offer, princess. I would welcome such a ruthless servant of the empire. Let us hope Sakastan will soon recover from the loss of so many of its infants.’

  ‘I will consider it,’ she said without conviction.

  ‘King Pacorus,’ said Phraates, ‘join me in the Hall of Victory tomorrow.’

  With that he stood, stepped down from the dais, walked to Gallia, took her hands and kissed them. He did the same to Claudia before exiting the chamber via one of the doors to the rear of the dais, two guards accompanying him. Ashleen invited us to stay in the palace but Gallia and Claudia were eager to return to camp, having no appetite to attend a banquet attended by Ctesiphon’s fawning nobility.

  It was a slight but both my wife and daughter pleaded extreme tiredness after the long ride from Sakastan, that and the stress of the preceding siege. Phraates sent a letter to camp enquiring if they wanted the services of the court physician to administer calming concoctions.

  ‘I have a greater knowledge of herbs for relieving stress than any court doctor,’ sniffed Claudia.

  ‘Phraates is learning kingship,’ I said, ‘his attitude has vastly improved compared to two years ago.’

  ‘How easily fooled you are, father,’ Claudia chided me. ‘His nature remains the same but he has discovered that a cloak of civility can achieve wonders.’

  ‘Did you ask him about Vartan?’ asked Eszter, picking at her chicken kebab.

  We were enjoying a rare thing: a family meal, albeit one sat around a table in a tent and being served rudimentary fare of roasted chicken and bread, both purchased earlier from a nearby village.

  ‘He was happy he no longer resides at Sigal,’ I told her.

  ‘Of course the real question,’ smiled Claudia, ‘is whether Phraates engineered the deception.’

  ‘I suspect Ashleen,’ I said, ‘a man who was a compatriot of Mithridates and would therefore hold a grudge against Dura.’

  ‘Against Dura or against you, father?’ queried Claudia.

  ‘Against me,’ I admitted. ‘But unless I challenge the Chief of Court directly the truth will probably never be known.’

  ‘And will you?’ asked Eszter.

  ‘You have been cruelly deceived,’ I said, ‘but I doubt the intention of sending Vartan to Sakastan was to break your heart.’

  ‘That was just a bonus,’ lamented Gallia.

  I nearly broke a tooth on an over-cooked piece of chicken.

  ‘My own theory is that Phanes petitioned Phraates about the unsuitability of his brother to occupy Sakastan’s throne, which led to him being appointed lord high general in the east. The appearance of Vartan at Sigal gave Phanes a reason to move against his brother.’

  ‘Which would suggest Phraates knew about the deception of Vartan being Orodes’ son,’ suggested Gallia.

  ‘Possibly,’ I admitted.

  ‘Certainly,’ insisted Claudia.

  ‘I hate Phraates,’ hissed Eszter.

  ‘Do you think he also had a hand in the murders of Peroz and Roxanne?’ asked Gallia.

  I shook my head. ‘Alas, I think that sorry episode was entirely of my making.’

  Claudia raised an eyebrow. ‘You?’

  ‘I invaded Persis, which led to the death of Spada, which led to the appearance at Dura of Indira. I suspect, and it is no more than a suspicion, that Queen Hamide learned of Indira’s skill with knives and hired her and other assassins to kill Roxanne and Peroz.’

  Eszter was appalled. ‘She ordered the murder of her own son?’

  I puffed out her cheeks. ‘Perhaps she intended for only Roxanne to die. Who knows the truth?’

  ‘I killed Spada,’ said Gallia firmly, ‘so perhaps blame should be apportioned to me.’

  ‘The actions we take have consequences that affect our lives like a spider spinning a web,’ said Claudia. ‘The question now, though, is what action will father take against Phraates.’

  She knew the answer before I opened my mouth. I had lobbied hard to put Phraates on Ctesiphon’s throne and I was not about to undo all my hard work. I knew that both Silaces and Khosrou would willingly support me if I decided to dethrone him. But then what? Civil war? A fresh Roman invasion against a weakened empire? And surely any internal strife within the empire would tempt Kujula to mount another invasion, notwithstanding the truce.

  ‘Invasions from both east and west,’ I said out loud. ‘I will not be responsible for such a thing.’

  Claudia was not surprised. ‘It is the right decision, father.’

  Eszter stood and glared at her. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, sister, I’m sure the mothers of Sigal will take comfort from that.’

  She stormed away into the night, Claudia flicking a dismissive hand in her direction.

  ‘Poor Eszter,’ reflected Gallia.

  ‘She would have been far poorer if Vartan had stayed at Sigal, mother. Fake or no, Phraates would have demanded his removal one way or another. Things worked out for the best.’

  She had a mischievous glint in her eyes and I wondered what sorcery she had used to entice Vartan to flee Parthia. Perhaps none. Perhaps he was just a thief and imposter who spotted an opportunity.

  ‘Eszter will soon forget Vartan,’ Claudia told us.

  The next day I returned to Ctesiphon to visit the Hall of Victory. It was a modest-sized limestone building constructed on a stone plinth to the rear of the palace, surrounded by a beautifully dressed stone wall and accessed via a single wooden gate. The wall was high so no one could see into the hall’s compound. Phraates, dressed in a simple white silk tunic, escorted me through the gate to the hall itself, which resembled a Greek temple. Rectangular in shape, it was flanked by rows of white marble columns and accessed by a vestibule. This led to the sanctuary where the eight captured Roman eagles resided, each one mounted in its own sandstone plinth. In the centre of the hall stood a bronze statue of the god Marduk, the deity of Babylon. Around the walls stood Babylonian guards in their purple leggings and tunics, above them hanging the Roman vexillum standards taken during the campaign against Mark Antony. Fitted to the walls were captured legionary standards: spears holding a number of metal discs called philarae and topped with a human hand image called a manus . Each signum also had a plate beneath the manus bearing a unit title.

  The collection had been laid out tastefully and took full advantage of the sun’s rays flooding through the windows immediately below the roof of wooden beams and terracotta tiles. The stone plinths had been positioned so they were bathed in sunlight, the silver eagles glinting and seemingly moving to give the impression of live birds as the sun traversed the sky.

  ‘Of all the kings of the empire, you have the most right to be here, King Pacorus.’

  ‘You are most kind, majesty.’

  ‘You approve of this hall?’

  I stood in front of one of the eagles. ‘I do.’

  ‘So, what to do about these Kushans?’

  I turned away from the eagles. ‘Phanes is unfit to be your lord high general, majesty, and should be removed from that position forthwith.’

  Phraates, as ever escorted by two huge Scythian axe men, nodded.

  ‘But who to replace him? Would you consider accepting the role once more?’

  The thought appalled me. ‘You do me great honour, majesty, but I fear I am needed back in Dura so I can guard the empire’s western frontier.’

  Phraates suddenly looked alarmed. ‘You suspect the Romans may attack again?’

  Byrd had told me they were in disarray. ‘I fear so, majesty. They are desperate to retrieve the eagles in this hall.’

  He gave me a sly glance. ‘Should the Romans invade, I assume the one hundred and thirty thousand soldiers you were eager to inform me about before you departed for Sakastan will be sufficient to defeat any Roman invasion.’

  ‘More than enough, majesty.’

  ‘Mm, so that just leaves the Kushan threat.’

  ‘I have been thinking on that, majesty, and believe I may have a solution.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Just as you have appointed a satrap to rule Persis, may I suggest you do the same to organise and lead a force to counter the Kushans. A fully professional force of horsemen that can respond to any threats launched across the Indus, and one that can reinforce the army of the king whose realm is directly threatened by the Kushans.’

  Phraates weighed up my proposal for a few minutes, walking up and down the row of plinths before pointing at me.

  ‘But who would lead such a force? It cannot be Phanes and if I appoint Salar then Phanes will devote his time undermining his brother. Khosrou is too old, Aschek too lame and Cinnamus and Monaeses both too useless.’

  It was a fair assessment, though if I had a mind to I would argue that Khosrou still had a lot of fight left in him.

  ‘I was thinking of someone else, majesty.’

  He looked at me in exasperation. ‘Then name him.’

  ‘Kewab.’

  ‘Your Egyptian?’

  ‘I prefer to think of him as the man who engineered the defeat of Mark Antony, the man who organised the defence of Sigal and man who is the rising star of Dura’s army.’

  Phraates was unsure. ‘Would the kings in the east accept such an individual?’

  ‘They would with your authority behind him, majesty.’

  I explained in some detail how only Dura, Hatra and Margiana in the empire had standing armies. Every king had a personal bodyguard and garrisons and in times of war would summon his lords and their retinues to form an army. This gave him thousands of horse archers that had only a rudimentary knowledge of tactics. And only Dura had foot soldiers of any worth.

  ‘A slightly harsh assessment,’ said Phraates.

  ‘My foot soldiers have beaten everything thrown at them, majesty, even when they have been greatly outnumbered. Training, discipline and superior tactics and equipment will win every time, if professional soldiers are handled correctly.’

  ‘And you feel this Kewab is the right man to command such a force.’

  ‘I do, majesty.’

  He pondered my opinion for a few moments.

  ‘And would this force include foot soldiers?’

  ‘No, sire. It would need to be mobile and therefore composed solely of horsemen, a mixture of cataphracts and horse archers.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘A dragon of cataphracts and nine dragons of horse archers, with an accompanying camel train of ammunition.’

  He bowed his head to the statue of Marduk.

  ‘Ten thousand professional horsemen, plus squires and cameleers would cost a king’s ransom.’

  ‘A small price to secure your eastern frontier, majesty.’

  ‘My only concern is the loyalty of your Egyptian. He owes everything to you rather than me, which make me query his allegiance.’

  ‘He knows I am loyal to the high crown of the Parthian Empire, majesty, and thus will fight to preserve your rule, just as I have done. He is above all a professional. Besides, if you are paying the soldiers of his force their loyalty will be to Ctesiphon.’

  He turned and walked towards the entrance, his guards following.

  ‘Bring him to the palace this afternoon, King Pacorus, and tell him nothing of what we have discussed.’

  We met in the office of the high king, the same office I had sat with his grandfather and my father when we were fighting Narses all those years ago. How the years had flown by since then and now. Phraates’ grandfather had been a kind, fair man and those qualities had doomed him. His grandson was made of different material. The two Scythian axe men stood behind him as he waited for slaves to serve us wine in gold chalices before speaking to Kewab.

  ‘King Pacorus speaks very highly of you, commander.’

  ‘He does me great honour, highness, as do you inviting me to your palace.’

  ‘I will come straight to the point, commander, because time is short. I have decided to create a permanent force on my eastern frontier to deter the Kushans. It will consist entirely of professional horsemen financed by Ctesiphon’s treasury. I envisage its composition to be a dragon of cataphracts and nine dragons of horse archers. I wish you to command this force, commander.’