Kewab thought for a moment.

  ‘I would not attempt to intercept us. Instead I would muster all the soldiers of Babylon and Susiana and march south to this place, here to await the return of the army of Dura.’

  ‘What about Prince Alexander?’ probed Azad.

  Kewab puffed out his cheeks. ‘What of him? It would be logical to leave Alexander to his fate and fight the army of Dura after it has conducted a long retreat following a hard fight, which means when it returns to the Tigris it would be in a depleted state.’

  Azad was delighted. ‘Leaving Alexander to his fate, I like it.’

  I shook my head. ‘Phraates will not do that. He is close to my sister, the mother of the King of Media, my other nephew, so he will endeavour to rescue Alexander.’

  ‘Which means Phraates’ own army will be swelled by the forces of King Darius,’ said Kewab ‘A powerful coalition.’

  ‘But it also means Phraates will wait at Ctesiphon until Darius joins him,’ I said, ‘which gives us more time.’

  ‘We could always send a message to King Silaces requesting aid,’ suggested Azad.

  ‘It would be logical,’ agreed Kewab.

  I looked at the Egyptian. ‘You sound like a Greek mathematician. We will not be requesting aid from King Silaces. This is a purely Duran affair.’

  ‘Then King of Kings Phraates will not march against us, majesty?’ said Kewab.

  I pondered the question. ‘An experienced high king, one used to dealing with the moods of the empire’s kings and their politics would be able to resist the bleating of my sister and King Darius, but Phraates is not such a king, at least not yet. Still, if we move fast and beat Alexander quickly then we will be back in Dura without having to worry about Phraates.’

  Azad and Kewab said nothing. I knew it would not be the end and so did they, but there was no going back. I owed Claudia that at least.

  We marched southwest after crossing the Tigris, the great Persian Gulf on our right flank as we crossed southern Susiana and entered Persis. The desert gave way to more rugged and verdant terrain as the advance continued. Talib and his men rode far ahead of the army, Sporaces sending out parties of horse archers to provide warning of any hostile force we might encounter. But the country seemed empty of people and animals as we headed further into Alexander’s domain. The post stations at thirty-mile intervals were also empty, though not before their couriers made note of our approach and rode away to report our presence to both Ctesiphon and Estakhr. I deliberately kept Kalet and his lords close to the army rather than giving them free reign to ride hither and thither, plundering as they went. Kalet riding with Gallia, my senior commanders and me was quick to convey his and their disappointment and frustration.

  ‘I thought we are at war,’ he grumbled.

  ‘We are,’ I said.

  ‘Well, then, we should be inflicting damage on the enemy.’

  ‘The people are not our enemy, Alexander is.’

  As we approached Estakhr the land was filled with large farms and scattered villages, around them fields growing wheat, barley, rice and flax. There were also vineyards and olive trees. Irrigation canals bringing water from the mountains watered the crops. Other areas were set aside for the raising of sheep, cattle and goats. It was a rich land, the centre of the old Persian Empire that had once rule the world.

  Kalet pointed to a white-walled farmstead in the distance.

  ‘I and the others should be raiding places to search for food, so we can save our supplies.’

  I laughed. ‘How very professional of you, Kalet. But if you study the land more closely you will see the livestock has been evacuated and if you visited that farm I think you will find it too has been emptied of anything of use.’

  ‘Another thing,’ said Kalet, ‘we are not happy having to camp at night inside your ramparts.’

  He was referring to the camp built at the end of every day’s march, surrounded by an earth rampart and a wooden wall made from the stakes the army carried. It took around three hours to build a camp, every legionary knowing his precise role in its construction.

  ‘Kewab,’ I said, ‘please inform Lord Kalet why it is most important for the whole army to be inside the camp at night.’

  ‘A fortified camp makes a powerful impression on the morale of the enemy,’ said Kewab, ‘as well as fortifying the spirits of those inside it. I have been told in the Roman world there are no reported instances of a manned camp being stormed by an enemy.’

  There was another reason why I wanted Kalet and the lords inside the camp and that was to deter them from mounting night raids or taking themselves off on great sweeps of the land. At least confined to camp I could keep my eye on them.

  ‘There is an additional reason why it would be prudent not to stray too far from the army, Lord Kalet.’

  Kalet, clearly bored, sighed. ‘Oh, what’s that?’

  ‘The strength of the enemy,’ Kewab told him.

  Kalet chuckled and looked around.

  ‘Have you checked the eyesight of your man, majesty? He seems to have forgotten we have been moving through an empty land for days.’

  ‘What do you know about the strength of the enemy?’ Gallia asked him.

  ‘This land is fertile and supports many farms and villages, majesty,’ answered Kewab, ‘which leads me to think Prince Alexander has many levies to call on. The fact he has abandoned the land on our line of march leads me to assume he is drawing all men of fighting age to him.’

  ‘Farmers and villagers with spears are easy meat,’ said Kalet. ‘In any case for all we know they have scarpered to the hills and mountains.’

  ‘My scouting parties indicate this is not the case,’ interrupted Sporaces.

  This was confirmed by Talib who presented himself at my tent that night, the camp illuminated by the twinkling of hundreds of campfires cooking food, the air heavy with the smell of wood smoke and broth. The evening was mild and the mood of the army relaxed and confident following another uneventful day.

  ‘We have ridden as far as the mountains to the north,’ he told me, ‘and there is no one there.’

  ‘Then where are they?’

  ‘The other parties I sent east report seeing tracks and people herding livestock. They also saw soldiers on horseback patrolling the area.’

  ‘How far away?’

  ‘Thirty miles, perhaps more,’ he answered.

  I walked over to the map on the table Marcus had furnished me with, which showed the area around Persepolis,

  ‘Soon we will reach this river called the Pulwar, which leads to Estakhr, around fifty miles from where we stand.’

  ‘Alexander is there?’

  I shrugged. ‘I assume so, unless he has already fled.’

  ‘To where, majesty?’

  I traced a finger on the map to its right edge.

  ‘It does matter; wherever he goes we will follow.’

  He looked at the map and then at me.

  ‘Perhaps he is drawing you in, majesty, like a spider does its prey.’

  I smiled at the thought. ‘This prey would welcome such an invite, Talib.’

  He left the next morning as the cohorts began filing out of the camp’s eastern entrance, stakes removed from the earth rampart hammered into it the day before. Another day of marching six abreast under a sky filled with puffy white clouds and a slight northerly breeze to keep thousands in mail carrying shield, helmets, a furca and two javelins cool. Those horsemen not riding with the vanguard, rearguard and providing flank protection also walked on foot to save their horses from exertion and to keep pace with the foot. No other Parthian kingdom observed this practice, horsemen generally regarding foot soldiers their social and military inferiors. But in Dura a soldier was treated the same regardless whether he fought on foot or in the saddle. The same equality was extended to the hundreds of non-combatants who attended the legions’ pack trains, siege train and ammunition train, to say nothing of the veterinaries and Alcaeus’ medical corps.

  The move into a more fertile area lessened the burden on logistics as the animals could graze and be watered in the irrigation canals, which I gave strict orders were not to be destroyed. We were surrounded by mountain ranges, in the east the Rahmat range, to the north the Hossein range and to the south the Zarghan range, but those mountains made the soil fertile and abundant. The Rahmat Mountains resembled giant walls the gods had forged millennia ago. Made of limestone they were riddled with water seepage and springs, supplying freshwater for people, animals and crops.

  And still the enemy did not show his face.

  But a man who did show his face was Timo, mounted on a huge grey mare and accompanied by fifty horse archers, a score of cataphracts and the same number of camels loaded with supplies and tents. He was the last man I expected to see in Persis but a patrol of my own horse archers came across his party and returned with a request from the high priest for an audience. His men pitched their tents a mile from our own ramparts and he rode through the main entrance escorted by Azad and an honour guard of cataphracts. Chrestus stood in his armour and plumed helmet outside my tent with a cohort of legionaries so Timo could inspect them on his arrival. Gallia regarded such gestures as trivial but he was still the high priest at Ctesiphon and by definition the holiest man in the Parthian Empire.

  He did not look very holy with his piggy eyes and baggy jowls and was unusually polite as he inspected the guard of honour, before Gallia and I escorted him inside where refreshments waited. Two younger priests, like Timo attired in baggy white tunics, leggings and brown boots, their hair oiled and curly, frowned at the simple stool arranged for their master to sit on. But there were no plush high-backed chairs in my camp and so the high priest gingerly lowered himself on it, his two assistants standing behind him. Chrestus took up position behind Gallia and me as we were served wine and cheese.

  Timo’s eyes darted left and right at me and Gallia, lighting up as he found the wine more agreeable than expected. He probably thought we drank nothing but vinegar in Dura.

  ‘What brings you here?’ I asked.

  He smarted at my abrupt tone. ‘I am here at the request of King of Kings Phraates. He wishes you to withdraw immediately from Persis.’

  ‘I can imagine he does,’ laughed Gallia.

  ‘We will,’ I said.

  Timo’s eyes lit up. ‘You will?’

  ‘As soon as Prince Alexander has been held to account for his crimes.’

  Timo grimaced. ‘Majesty, King of Kings Phraates is aware of the misdemeanour committed by Satrap Alexander.’

  Gallia was outraged. ‘Misdemeanour? Do you call the rape of a princess of Dura a misdemeanour?’

  I said nothing but merely stared at the high priest who appeared most uncomfortable, though whether as a result of Gallia’s words or perching on the stool I did not know. But he soon regained his composure.

  ‘I have been authorised to inform you the high king is prepared to strip Alexander of his position and banish him from the empire in exchange for the army of Dura immediately withdrawing from Persis.’

  ‘These terms are unacceptable,’ I said. ‘It is now a matter of honour between me and Alexander.’

  Timo handed his cup to one of his attendant priests and brought his hands together.

  ‘King of Kings Phraates will not sanction the death of Satrap Alexander for to do so would undermine his authority. It would be interpreted as a king of the empire deciding which of the other kings should live or die. It will be a statement meaning Ctesiphon has no power.’

  ‘If others wish to interpret it thus, then so be it,’ I said.

  Timo leaned forward. ‘I am surprised, King Pacorus. You having striven so hard to put King of Kings Phraates on the throne yet you are now the chief instigator of his demise.’

  I pointed at him. ‘Any king worth his salt would be doing exactly the same as I am doing; every court in the empire knows this. If I really intended to undermine Phraates I would have accepted the offer of aid from my friends.’

  He understood the implied threat and responded with one of his own.

  ‘Even as we speak, majesty, an army is gathering at Susa where I have journeyed from. When it is assembled it will march to the aid of Satrap Alexander.’

  ‘It will not get here in time,’ I stated flatly.

  Timo was losing his patience. ‘Do you really wish to see the empire embroiled in civil war, at a time when it is threatened by Rome and Egypt? You who have always been so vocal a supporter of Parthian unity.’

  ‘Parthian unity?’ Gallia was also angry. ‘Was it not Phraates who trumpeted the policy of Parthian purity, deliberately designed to insult those who have shed blood defending the empire?’

  Timo took a large gulp of wine.

  ‘With hindsight I agree it was ill advised and indicative of an immature mind. But the high king is growing into his position and with time will I have no doubt become a worthy heir to his father.’

  ‘I agree,’ I said.

  He looked relieved. ‘Then you will take no measures to threaten his reign?’

  ‘I give you my word,’ I answered, ‘it has always been my intention Phraates should have a long and prosperous reign.’

  ‘Then you will withdraw from Persis?’

  ‘I will not.’

  We bickered for what seemed like hours, until the sun had gone down and lamps lit the interior of the tent. Eventually, exasperated, Timo left and returned to his own camp. He did not return and the next day departed back to Susa. Gallia poured scorn on his feeble efforts but I accepted he was only doing his master’s bidding. In his position I would have done the same but I could no more crawl back to Dura with my tail between my legs than could a camel sprout wings. Honour demanded I avenge Claudia’s violation, the army expected it, my wife demanded it and the gods wished it. Why else would they make the march to this place uneventful and provide such ideal terrain for a battle? And battle there would be because the day after Timo had left Talib returned to us with news the enemy had been sighted at last.

  The camp tingled with excitement as news spread Alexander’s army had been spotted, Talib reporting columns of foot soldiers and horsemen had been seen filing out of Estakhr into the plain of Marvdasht to the west. The plain was flanked to the north and south by tall hills dotted with cypress and pistachio trees, which also occupied the plain, though not in great numbers or closely spaced so as to interrupt horsemen. Sporaces sent patrols of horse archers ahead to reconnoitre the ground as the legions marched out of camp. They returned with news the enemy had taken up a defensive position between two narrow hills jutting into the plain from north and south. I had my horse saddled and rode out to see the enemy dispositions for myself, legionaries raising their javelins as I cantered past them.

  The two hills in question were around six miles east of our camp and narrowed the plain to around four miles. Talib joined us after having ridden close to where the enemy was forming up, before being chased away by a party of horse archers. The enemy riders in turn retired when they spied the appearance of the legions. Behind us Gallia’s Amazons pulled their bows from cases and stringed arrows, deploying into a long line in case any enemy approached, though none ventured near.

  I looked right and left at the two steep-sided hills, which appeared empty of soldiers.

  ‘Have you seen any men on those hills?’ I asked Talib.

  ‘No, majesty.’

  ‘We could send legionaries to take them,’ suggested Azad.

  ‘What is the point?’ I replied. ‘The legions can break those foot soldiers ahead. I saw what Persis could offer at Phraaspa. It hardly fills me with dread.’

  Kewab cleared his throat behind me. Gallia smiled.

  ‘Looks like you are going to get a lecture,’ grinned Sporaces.

  ‘You have something to say, Kewab?’ I asked.

  He nudged his horse forward so it was next to Tegha. He pointed at the unbroken line of brightly coloured soldiers around four hundred paces distant.

  ‘It would be better to allow the enemy to attack, majesty. In doing so they will move forward to expose their flanks. I suspect Prince Alexander’s horse archers are concealed behind those two hills.’

  I nodded. ‘I agree, but Alexander lost five thousand horse archers in the north so the whereabouts of the survivors does not concern me. However, I fear General Chrestus would never forgive me if I ordered him to stand on the defensive.’

  ‘We should send soldiers to take possession of those hills, majesty,’ insisted Kewab.

  Azad shook his head and Sporaces rolled his eyes. Ahead the rumble of drumbeats reached our ears as the enemy tried to fortify their courage.

  ‘Remember the enemy is led by Prince Alexander,’ I told him, ‘a man who has redefined the term incompetence. I want this over as quickly as possible.’

  Kewab made to protest but I raised a hand to him.

  ‘Enough, to your positions. We destroy Alexander’s army, take Estakhr and serve summary justice on the prince. If the gods are kind they will grant him a death with a sword in his hand.’

  Chrestus deployed each legion in two lines, the Durans and Exile placing five cohorts in the first line and five in the second, the cohorts widely spaced to allow those in the second line to move forward through the first line should the Persians prove difficult to budge. The cataphracts provided a reserve behind the legions with Sporaces and his horse archers on the right wing and Kalet and his lords on the left. The plan was simple and to a large extent dictated by the enemy’s position: the legions would smash through the enemy to allow the horse archers to pour through the gap between the two hills and cut down any surviving enemy soldiers. We would be at the walls of Estakhr before night and then Marcus could deploy his machines.

  I began to whistle as the Durans and Exiles began marching towards the enemy.

  ‘You are in a good mood,’ said Gallia.

  ‘Why not? Now we finally have Alexander and we will have justice for Claudia.’

  We were walking our horses forward in the rear of the legions; ten thousand hobnailed boots sending shudders through the hard-packed earth.