I shot arrow after arrow at any targets that presented themselves – and there were a lot of targets. A legionary was cut down. I killed his slayer. Haya’s horse collapsed, its belly opened by a spear thrust.

  ‘Haya!’ screamed Klietas, jumping down from his own horse and racing over to where a leering Gaul was about to disembowel his beloved. I tried to shoot the Gaul but in a flash Klietas leapt on his back, dagger in hand, and began stabbing at the man’s neck again and again. I saw a fountain of blood and the Gaul go down, Haya jumping to her feet to shoot another Gaul bearing down on Klietas with a war hammer. The Gaul stopped, an arrow in his chest, but continued to stagger forward, gripping his hammer with both hands to bludgeon my squire to death. Klietas spun and slashed his dagger across his throat, showering him with more enemy blood and killing the Gaul.

  The mist was still thick as the battle degenerated into a series of isolated fights, Bullus trying to retain some sort of order among his men but failing. Half of them were dead or wounded; the rest were clustered around Gallia and myself, both of us running short of arrows. Chrestus was on his feet, shield in one hand, gladius in the other, cutting down Gauls with aplomb as he stood in the rapidly dwindling circle of legionaries. Sporaces and Kewab were loosing arrows like men possessed, some striking faces and chests, others glancing off shields and helmets. Azad, on his feet after his horse was cut down by two Gauls, gripped his sword with both hands to parry the strike of an enemy longsword, defeating the blow before replying with his own downward strike, which cut through the enemy sword. The Gaul, perplexed why this should happen, stared incredulously at his broken weapon, before dying when Azad thrust his ukku blade through his chest.

  ‘Dismount, dismount!’ I shouted, aware that we were literally sitting targets as the circle of Gauls around us thickened and the number of Amazons was whittled down.

  Without hesitation everyone slid off their horses’ backs, sheltering behind perhaps sixty legionaries. All except Kalet. He shouted abuse at the Gauls as he rode forward to slash at them with his sword. But his decision to leave the circle made him suddenly isolated, and he was immediately surrounded by a host of enemies. He cut down one, a second and a third, Gallia frantically shooting arrows at those Gauls near him in a vain attempt to save his life. But he was dragged from the saddle and disappeared from view, his Gaul killers howling with delight at his bloody demise.

  ‘He’s mine.’

  My anguish over the death of Kalet was interrupted by the loud voice of King Amyntas, two-handed war hammer in hand, who pushed aside one of his lords to face me. Or would have done had not Bullus been between us. He was as big and loud as ever, ginger hair showing beneath his helmet sporting eagle wings, his eyes bulging with rage. His was hammer was smeared with blood, as was his scale armour.

  ‘Just you and me,’ he roared. ‘Here. Now.’

  I gently laid a hand on Bullus’ broad shoulders.

  ‘This one’s mine, centurion.’

  I stepped out from behind him, spatha in hand, the sound of men and women dying and the clash of weapons clashing slowly fading as both sides drew breath after the frenzied outburst of bloodletting. Dead Amazons and their horses lay all around, those beasts still living, including Horns, having been released to escape the horror. I prayed to Shamash that my horse, a gift from Silaces, still lived in the mist that showed no signs of budging. But the ring of dead Gauls that surrounded us dwarfed our own losses. Our arrows had reaped a rich harvest, the short swords of Bullus and his men having added to the number of enemy dead. I heard muffled shouts, horns being sounded and drums being beaten and surmised the whole army was under attack.

  ‘Your life ends now,’ shouted Amyntas, pointing his hammer at me.

  He was bigger than me, stronger than me, younger than me and fitter than me. Apart from that we were evenly matched.

  ‘Don’t do it, majesty,’ pleaded Chrestus, weighing up each opponent and coming down on the side of the big Gaul.

  ‘Sometimes, Chrestus,’ I told him, ‘the life of one man can save many.’

  I walked forward, skirting a dead Gaul with hideous facial wounds, and stepped over a slain legionary whose head had been crushed by a war hammer, perhaps the one carried by Amyntas, which would soon be wielded against me. I glanced behind at a worried Gallia, her face enclosed by the cheek guards of her helmet. Amyntas was waving his hammer around, displaying a handling dexterity that was intended to intimidate me. It worked. I suddenly felt very old and uncertain, though knew I could not back down. Amyntas roared with glee at the prospect of slaying me, but fell silent when two of his burly warlords rushed forward, grabbed his arms and hauled him back.

  His face went red with rage. ‘Release, release me at once. I will have your heads for this, you maggots, you traitorous bastards.’

  But they did not let go and suddenly a horn sounded and the Gauls began to withdraw. I looked behind at a line of confused but grateful legionaries and a beaming Gallia.

  ‘What in the name of Shamash?’ I muttered.

  Then I heard the sound of boots pounding the earth and knew our salvation was at hand. Out of the mist, which was finally dissipating, came Lucius Varsas at the head of what appeared to be a full cohort of Exiles, its centurions immediately deployed their men around our bedraggled group. Lucius searched me out, stood to attention before me and saluted.

  ‘You are a sight for sore eyes,’ I told him, throwing my arms around him in a gesture of familiarity that took him by surprise, prompting him to become as stiff as a stone statue. I released him.

  Chrestus came forward. ‘How fares the rest of the army?’

  ‘As far as I can tell, sir, bearing in mind the lack of visibility, it remains untouched.’

  ‘Untouched?’ I said.

  ‘A clever ruse by the enemy, majesty,’ said Lucius. ‘In the mist the enemy made a lot of noise but did not attack us or, as far as I can tell, any other part of the army save your segment. But they made a lot of noise, banged many drums and blew many horns to keep us rooted to the spot.’

  ‘Clever,’ said Kewab admiringly. ‘The Gauls, having lost many men at Corum and Kayseri, knew they would fare poorly in a battle against Dura’s army, so they used the weather to mask their approach and probable weak numbers in their aim to kill the king. No offence, majesty.’

  ‘They nearly succeeded,’ I said. ‘I doubt I would have lasted long against that big brute.’

  ‘You should let me take some horsemen and hunt him down, majesty,’ said Sporaces.

  ‘An excellent idea,’ agreed Chrestus.

  I discounted the notion. ‘No, our main aim, our only aim, is to get back to Dura as quickly as possible and draw a line under this sorry, irrelevant campaign.’

  ‘Pacorus!’

  I heard the alarm in Gallia’s voice and turned to see Zenobia collapse into my wife’s arms. I rushed over as she comforted the commander of the Amazons, whose left side was soaked in blood. An enemy blade, perhaps a spear point, had obviously grievously wounded her. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow and a knot tightened in my stomach. I had seen too many similar wounds and knew it was a mortal one. I knelt beside Zenobia and held her hand, Gallia cradling her head.

  ‘Water,’ I shouted.

  Klietas thrust a water bottle into my hand. I held the opening to Zenobia’s mouth so she could take a couple of sips. She did not speak but her brown eyes were filed with gratitude. Gallia gently stroked her hair as the commander of the Amazons stared into the sky, which was now clearing as the sun burnt away the last vestiges of the mist, to reveal a vivid blue dotted with small white, puffy clouds.

  ‘Shamash bless you, Zenobia.’ I said softly as life left her and her soul departed to join the immortals in the afterlife.

  Gallia closed her eyes and for a long time she and I remained by Zenobia’s side. She had carried my banner for many years, like the griffin statue at the Palmyrene Gate becoming a permanent fixture of the army. She had never married, and as far as I knew had never even had a suitor, dedicating her life to the Amazons and Kingdom of Dura. It was a cruel fate to end her life in some nameless valley in Cappadocia, far from her home. But at least she died surrounded by her comrades and comforted in her final moments by her king and queen.

  The whole army stood to attention later as the bodies of Zenobia, Kalet and the others who had fallen fighting the Gauls were cremated on a great pyre. Gallia told me that the Gauls regarded the head as the source of life, emotions and the soul, and that he who captured the head of an enemy attained the strength of the fallen enemy. So I ordered Chrestus to organise the beheading of every dead Gaul, the trophies arranged around our fallen on the pyre before it was set alight. As the flames took hold of the great pile of wood and began to consume the bodies, I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash that he would accept our offerings and welcome the souls of Dura’s dead into heaven.

  Seven days later we entered Hatran territory, crossing the Euphrates a hundred miles north of Zeugma and marching along the eastern bank of the great waterway. After the heat of summer it was now low and slow moving, which matched our spirits. The army marched each day and built a camp at night, officers, men and civilians going about their duties as they had done that day, the day before and would so on the morrow. But there was no elation that accompanied a winning campaign, no boasting at night around campfires and no smiles on the faces of soldiers who had tasted victory. Only a determination to be as professional as possible, to ensure standards did not slip and the army marched back to Dura in the same manner as it had left. But everyone knew that when it did return there would be no new silver disc to decorate the Staff of Victory, for this was one campaign no one would choose to remember.

  When we first saw the yellow walls of Dura and the Citadel, the black pall that hung over the army was banished. The Durans and Exiles once more had a spring in their step and the spirits of the horsemen rose. Azad ordered the cataphracts to don their armour and Chrestus commanded that the red and white plumes that had been purchased prior to the visit of Phraates to Dura, adorn the helmets of legionaries. Every kontus was decorated with a white pennant with a red griffin motif when the cataphracts rode through the Palmyrene Gate, cheering crowds on both sides of the road that led to the Citadel throwing flowers to create a carpet of foliage on which we rode. We waved back at the people, Minu behind us, promoted to command the Amazons, carrying my banner that fluttered in the breeze.

  In the Citadel, Rsan, Almas and Aaron waited in line at the foot of the palace steps, while at the top of them stood Eszter and Dalir, both looking royal in fine silk robes and expensive footwear. They both smiled at us and then looked for Kalet among the other riders entering the courtyard.

  The pall of blackness suddenly returned.

  Chapter 19

  Disbelief first gripped Eszter and Dalir when they were told Kalet was dead. They initially found it difficult to comprehend the larger-than-life figure who had become a legend among Dura’s people was no longer alive. Dalir, true to form, told me he was glad his father had died with a sword in his hand rather than ending his days as a weak, feeble individual confined to his bed. Eszter was more emotional, breaking down and sobbing in her mother’s arms. As I watched her crumble, I cursed the memory of Spartacus, the man who had tricked me into joining his war of profit and plunder, which had turned to dust in our hands.

  Malik, having lost over three hundred of his best warriors, some of them close friends, prepared to return to Palmyra. Like me he was old now, his hair heavily laced with grey and his tattooed faced criss-crossed by worry lines. He seemed to have visibly aged during the campaign, his eyes world-weary, and his slim frame now having a gaunt look. He delayed in Dura only to pay his respects to Dalir and Eszter. Though we were all sad, I reflected on how times had changed for the better. There was a time when the idea of one of Dura’s desert lords being embraced by an Agraci king would have been unthinkable, treasonous even. That era had been consigned to history, for which I gave thanks to Shamash.

  The day after our return we said our farewells to Malik. We clasped forearms and he embraced Gallia and Eszter and put a fatherly arm around Dalir.

  ‘Jamal will be glad to see you, my friend,’ I told him.

  ‘It is time Riad led the Agraci to war,’ he replied, hauling himself into the saddle. ‘I am too old to be riding to the ends of the earth.’

  ‘Me, too,’ I agreed.

  ‘That big Gaul would have killed you. You know that.’

  I nodded.

  ‘You are too old for brawling, Pacorus. Take my advice, stay at home from now on.’

  ‘I will heed your advice, my friend.’

  He raised a hand to us, turned his horse and trotted from the courtyard, his Agraci bodyguard following. When he had gone I walked back into the palace and called Klietas to the terrace, slumping into my chair beneath the awning and putting my feet on the footstool. I had derided Phraates and other kings for owning such ostentatious items, but I had to admit they were excellent for relaxing. Ashk fussed over me like a mother hen, pouring fruit juice into a silver goblet and enquiring if I required food.

  ‘No, you may go.’

  He bowed and departed, passing Klietas who hurried on to the terrace. He stood before me and bowed his head.

  ‘Highborn?’

  I poured him a drink and offered him the goblet.

  ‘Here.’

  ‘Thank you, highborn.’

  ‘Two things, Klietas. First, stop calling me and the queen “highborn”, we find it embarrassing and frankly ridiculous. Second, I am releasing you from my service.’

  He looked distressed. His jaw dropped, and misery filled his eyes. I rose from the chair to face him.

  ‘Now before you start babbling about how you have let me down, I want to show you something.’

  I took his elbow and led him to the stone balustrade. Below were the blue waters of the Euphrates. I pointed to the east.

  ‘What do you see?’

  He focused hard on the barren landscape.

  ‘Nothing, high…, majesty.’

  ‘Now look to the south and tell me what you see.’

  He turned his eyes away from the desert across the river to the extensive palm groves and fields on the western bank of the river, extending as far as the eye could see.

  ‘Palms, fields and livestock, majesty.’

  I slapped him on the back.

  ‘Exactly, Klietas. People far more qualified and talented than me have made the desert bloom. Where before there was rock and sand, there is now greenery and prosperity. And not just around the city. Thanks to the tireless efforts of the army’s engineers over the years, and not a little investment, the land inland from the river for a distance of over two hundred miles is now blooming.

  ‘Dura needs farmers, Klietas, not squires or soldiers.’

  I walked back to my chair and eased myself into it.

  ‘That being the case, I am buying you a plot of land to farm, along with animals and everything else to get you started. It is a reward for saving my life.’

  His face lit up. ‘You are most generous, highborn.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Find yourself a wife and have lots of sons who will carry on your line and work the land when you are gone.’

  He raised his goblet and toasted me, grinning like an idiot.

  ‘I will ask Haya to marry me, highborn.’

  ‘Majesty, Klietas, majesty. But Haya is not for you, I’m sad to say.’

  His smile disappeared.

  ‘She is promised to another?’

  The distraught visage returned.

  ‘No, but I fear she is not the settling down type. She is an Amazon, Klietas, a skilled killer who would be horrified by the prospect of doing whatever a farmer’s wife does.’

  ‘If I become rich I can buy her fine jewellery and build her a big house.’

  His naivety was touching.

  ‘Cast your mind back to your expedition to Zeugma. Haya killed Cookes?’

  ‘Cookes?’

  ‘The fat governor.’

  ‘Yes, majesty,’ he beamed with pride.

  ‘And you have seen Haya fight on the battlefield?’

  ‘Yes, majesty.’

  ‘And have you seen her look?’

  ‘Look, majesty?’

  ‘The look of glee in her eyes when she shoots down an enemy with her bow, the expression of satisfaction and pride at the sight of a foe dying by her hand. I’ve seen it many times in many eyes. Many soldiers do not enjoy killing but take pride in their profession and kill because they have to, because it is expected of them. Haya enjoys it. For her and others, war is an addiction they cannot do without.’

  I looked at him and knew my words were wasted. He was in love with the girl and no amount of reasoning would change that. I threw up my arms.

  ‘But feel free to ask her to be your wife anyway. Neither the queen nor I will stand in your way. But before you do, turn your mind to your farm.’

  After having a word with Almas, I found Klietas a nice plot of land around ten miles south of the city, which was part of the royal estates used for horse breeding. It was near the river and nourished by a new canal that had been constructed to bring water from the Euphrates and take it inland up to ten miles. Almas informed me there was already a mud-brick hut in situ, along with animal pens, which would save Klietas valuable time. To aid him in his enterprise, I ordered the treasury to purchase a pair of oxen, which my former squire would use to plough his land more easily, as well as rent out to other farmers when his own land was tilled and seeded. It was a large plot of land so Klietas would need hired hands to assist him, so I ordered the treasury to make funds available to pay hired labour during the first three years of Klietas’ endeavour. Finally, I asked Almas to keep an eye on him and let me know if he got into financial difficulties.

  Life returned to normality, which meant attending weekly council meetings. Formerly I had found them tedious, albeit necessary, but as the years passed I took comfort in their unrushed certainty and attention to the minutiae that was essential to the smooth running of the kingdom. For reasons of courtesy and as thanks for their services while we had been away, I asked Dalir and Eszter to continue to sit in on those meetings. I also asked Kewab to attend, partly because I wished him to be involved in the affairs of the kingdom, and partly because I enjoyed his company. As a result, the meeting room in the Headquarters Building was rather crowded, though mercifully the fierce heat of summer was now but a memory.