‘You bring news of the new irrigation system, Almas?’ I asked, eager to change the subject.

  ‘Yes, majesty,’ he beamed. ‘Work will be complete in a month and in addition to reducing the damage caused by the spring melt waters, will hopefully lead to increased crop yields.’

  ‘You have become a farmer, father?’ said Claudia mockingly.

  ‘I have done with fighting, and you know what? Dirt is easier to wash off your hands than blood. For years I took Dura for granted. It was the city from which I planned military campaigns. After we had made peace with the Agraci, I gave little thought to the farmers that toiled in the fields, thinking the caravans of the Silk Road provided the wealth that enabled me to build and maintain the army.’

  ‘They are,’ said Claudia.

  ‘They provide money, nothing more,’ I replied, ‘but the real wealth of this kingdom resides in the thousands of men and woman who toil in the fields under an unforgiving sun.’

  Claudia rolled her eyes. ‘You are spending too much time with Greeks, father. You remind me of Plato.’

  I wracked my brains, in vain, trying to work out when I had met him.

  Claudia looked at me expectantly. ‘One of the Greek philosophers that Alcaeus is so keen on dredging up. Where is he, by the way?’

  ‘Gone on a trip to Greece,’ Gallia informed her, ‘he wants to see Athens again before he dies.’

  Another roll of the eyes. ‘I assume Athens is like any other city, being filled with noxious fumes, cripples, beggars, prostitutes and politicians. So, the army has no head of its medical corps. How remiss of you, father.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ I replied smugly, ‘it has a rather excellent replacement chosen by Alcaeus himself, a fellow Greek named Sophus.’

  Claudia was silent for a few seconds. ‘If I am right, which I invariably am, his name means “skilled” and “clever”. I wonder if there is a Greek word for “humble”?’

  ‘Who is this Plato,’ I demanded to know.

  She pointed at me. ‘He was like you, father, a man who grew disgusted with the bloodshed and rank incompetence of his times. He turned his back on politics to devote his life to philosophy.’

  ‘Not like me at all, then,’ I said.

  ‘You are quite like him, father, in as much as you pursue wisdom, understand that wisdom requires understanding of the world, and are determined to remain entirely apart from politics, that is, the affairs of the empire.’

  ‘I am determined to devote my remaining years to my kingdom, Claudia, which means improving the lives of its citizens, the same citizens who serve in the army and produce the food, weapons, clothing and animals that enable that army to operate effectively. To which end, for months now Almas has overseen the renovation and expansion of the kingdom’s irrigation systems to take full advantage of the waters of the Euphrates.’

  ‘Most noble,’ said Claudia. ‘But here’s the thing. You may have finished with politics, father, but has politics finished with you?’

  ‘As I told you, I have retired. And as Phraates is realigning the empire, he will be delighted I have done so.’

  I ordered a chair to be brought for Almas and when it arrived, asked him to sit in it, pouring him a cup of fruit juice as Claudia engaged in her favourite pastime: lecturing others.

  ‘Interesting philosophical point, is it not?’

  ‘What is?’ I asked, handing Almas a platter of pastries.

  ‘Can a man who has devoted his whole life to war suddenly become a man of peace?’

  I held out a hand to Almas. ‘Here is the living proof he can.’

  ‘You will forgive my bluntness, Almas,’ said Claudia, ‘but your change of profession was forced upon you when you lost your hand, though you must be a man of remarkable talents to go from being a lowly officer of horse archers to deputy governor of Dura.’

  ‘Your tongue is too sharp, Claudia,’ Gallia scolded her.

  ‘You must forgive my daughter, Almas,’ I said.

  ‘Not at all, majesty,’ he said, finishing a pastry, ‘normally, I would be enjoying a modest living on the pension your majesty has kindly established for wounded veterans. But the gods have been kind.’

  ‘Which gods?’ demanded Claudia.

  ‘I pray to Shamash, highness,’ he told her, ‘who has been most generous to an old soldier.’

  ‘The gods always reward those who pay homage to them, Almas,’ she smiled

  ‘Contrary to the high king,’ I lamented, ‘who has seen fit to dismiss the man who held his eastern frontier together.’

  Almas was surprised. ‘Kewab has been dismissed?’

  ‘Phraates cannot dismiss his lord high general,’ said Gallia, ‘so instead he has made a scapegoat of Kewab.’

  ‘His appointment was only temporary,’ insisted Claudia irritably.

  ‘If only the same could be said of Phraates,’ remarked Gallia.

  I laughed and Almas smiled but Claudia was far from amused. Her mission was failing but I was determined that no soldier of Dura would again be fighting in a high king’s wars. The kingdom deserved peace, its people deserved peace and their king and queen deserved peace.

  ‘Tell me about irrigation, Almas,’ smiled Claudia.

  That night I penned a letter to Kewab telling him he would always have a home and position at Dura.

  Claudia left two days later, after first visiting The Sanctuary and spending many hours inside its walls. In my quest for a quiet life I forgot about forcing my way past its doors and told Gallia as much the evening prior to our daughter’s departure for Ctesiphon.

  ‘I have no wish to argue with you,’ I said, ‘I have not the energy. So I surrender to your wishes.’

  We were in the corridor of the palace’s private quarters, Claudia having already retired to her old bedroom to get a good night’s sleep before her journey on the morrow. The palace was quiet, the corridor being cast in a pale-yellow light produced by oil lamps flickering in recesses in the walls.

  She embraced me. ‘You are right, we should not bicker, especially at our age.’

  I made to go to the guest bedroom where I had been sleeping, but she pulled me back.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I thought….’

  She pressed a finger to my lips. ‘Allow me to be a generous victor.’

  With that she led me towards our bedroom, a sultry glint in her eye. I felt a tingle of excitement in my loins.

  Careful Pacorus, your lust might be making demands your tired old body cannot fulfil.

  We said farewell to Claudia in the courtyard the next day, the sky cloudy and grey to match the mood of our daughter, which had darkened when both Gallia and I had told her we would not be visiting Ctesiphon in the near future, if at all.

  ‘Phraates is welcome to come to Dura any time,’ I told her as her richly uniformed Babylonian escort waited in line behind her, ‘but I have little inclination to leave Dura.’

  ‘Me neither,’ added Gallia.

  Claudia looked around the courtyard. ‘He will be disappointed.’

  ‘An emotion I have experienced many times,’ I said, ‘mainly due to men like Phraates.’

  She suddenly looked at me. ‘Dura must remain a loyal ally of the high king, father.’

  ‘Dura has always been loyal,’ I replied, ‘but loyalty cuts both ways. Try to keep a muzzle on Phraates, especially his scheming against Spartacus, which almost cost the lives of your mother and father.’

  She smiled. ‘It is not your destinies to die in Irbil, or any other city of the empire. I have arranged a present for you, mother. Farewell.’

  She turned her horse and rode from the Citadel, her Babylonian escort forming two files behind her.

  Life at Dura continued as normal, Claudia keeping us abreast of developments from her privileged position as the high king’s adviser. If Phraates had been angered or disappointed by our decision to absent Dura from the politics of the empire she did not say so, but she did report that Sanabares had been made King of Mesene and the former ambassador Altan became King of Aria. We received happy news from Sigal that Isabella was pregnant with a second child, both she and Salar begging us to visit Sakastan to meet our first grandchild and hopefully our second. We replied that we would make the journey in the autumn when the heat of summer had abated. In truth neither of us looked forward to a thousand-mile journey that would take upwards of five weeks, but it was advisable to undertake it before either one or both of us was unable to ride.

  In a vision of the future, I rode in a cart with Gallia to the opening of the new irrigation system a month to the day after Almas had visited the palace to announce the date of its completion. It was not because we had suddenly become unable to ride in a saddle, but rather to keep Rsan and Aaron company. Both rarely left the city and Rsan had suddenly become very frail, his wrists alarmingly thin and his steps short and faltering. We were all very concerned about him and even Chrestus, who had been his sparring partner in council meetings for years, no longer shot his curt barbs at the governor. Indeed, on the day we left the Citadel to visit the irrigation works five miles south of the city, he assisted Rsan into the back of the cart before gaining his saddle.

  As if to herald a new dawn for Dura, the sun shone from a cloudless sky and there was a slight northerly breeze to prevent the temperature from becoming too uncomfortable. Almas rode a magnificent brown stallion beside the cart, explaining the technology behind a successful irrigation system. The wagon was covered to shelter us from the sun, though the canvas sides had been raised to give us a view as the cart trundled down the city’s main street towards the Palmyrene Gate, a score of Amazons led by Zenobia following and a score of male horse archers trotting ahead.

  Farmers had always used the Euphrates to water their crops, but in Dura it had been a relatively recent practice. Before I came to the kingdom there were no villages north or south of the city because of the on-going war with the Agraci. There were the walled strongholds of the kingdom’s lords positioned close to the river, around which crops grew to feed the lord and his retainers, plus their horses. But these were islands in a literal desert, a desert that was moreover filled with enemy raiders. But peace with the Agraci had meant settlements could be established the length and breadth of the kingdom. But these required safe and reliable supplies of water if they were to flourish.

  ‘Having spent many hours in the company of the guild of farmers,’ Almas began, ‘I can safely say that Dura will have one of the most up-to-date irrigation systems in the Parthian Empire, if not the world.’

  ‘A system that has absorbed a considerable amount of money and labour,’ added Aaron.

  ‘Which will be repaid to the treasury ten-fold, if not more, my old friend,’ Rsan assured him.

  ‘As Lord Aaron says, it is not cheap ensuring water of the right quality is delivered at the right time and in the correct quantity to the fields,’ said Almas.

  Chrestus wore a bemused expression. ‘Water is water, surely?’

  ‘Alas no, general,’ said Almas. ‘Because Dura is a very dry kingdom, water used to irrigate crops can evaporate quickly, leaving a layer of salt behind. The very nature of irrigating crops, which means water is spread out in a thin sheet, encourages evaporation. Over time, salt builds up on the surface and makes the soil infertile.’

  Aaron raised a hand. ‘If irrigation is so damaging to the soil, why have we lavished a great deal of money establishing a new system?’

  ‘A fair question, lord treasurer,’ replied Almas, ‘but rest assured the kingdom’s money has not been wasted.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ I said.

  ‘The only way to deal with the problem is to apply enough water so that salt is flushed off or through the soil,’ Almas informed us. ‘Doing so means salt will not build up in the soil, though for it to work requires a large volume of good-quality water, together with rapid and efficient drainage systems.’

  The cart trundled to a halt and we alighted from it to walk to a diversion dam built around two hundred yards from the Euphrates. Lined with stone, it was fed by a canal connecting it to the river. In turn, a system of irrigation ditches took water from the dam to the crops in the fields. There were gates on all the ditches to control the amount of water from them to the fields.

  Sluice gates at the river were wooden and faced with copper to prolong their life, and the height of the bank had been raised to prevent any flooding when the spring melt waters came, though when they did, dams that had been built along the length of the Euphrates would be filled with water. The one we stood on was of modest size and located near the river, but others were larger and had been sited inland up to a distance of two or three miles from the Euphrates. The reservoirs were fed by wide canals, which had taken many months to dig, Chrestus loaning Almas cohorts of legionaries to speed up the work. In truth, it was still on-going, especially in the south of the kingdom where settlements were less well established. But there were now villages along the river for a distance of over two hundred miles from the city, and the new irrigation system would allow new settlements to be established further inland.

  Hundreds had gathered at the spot, a century of Durans keeping the crowd at bay as we made our way to where a coterie of white-robed priests was burning incense to purify the air to welcome Shamash to the proceedings. The high priest was the same serious individual with a booming voice who had married Eszter and Dalir, his long arms rising when he spotted Gallia and me heading the official party. His voice seemed to fill the air as he began his invocation to Shamash, his eyes staring up at the heavens as he did so.

  ‘Shamash, judge of heaven and earth, lord of justice and equity, director of upper and lower regions, Shamash, it is in your power to bring the dead to life, to release the captive. Shamash, I have approached you. Shamash, I have sought you out! Shamash, I have turned to you!’

  On and on it went, hundreds standing with heads bowed as the high priest begged for Shamash’s blessing, his voice never faltering as he paid homage to the Sun God. I searched the crowd around the reservoir, looking for a tall figure in a cowl but saw nothing. I glanced left and right to see Rsan, leaning on his walking stick, head bowed, eyes closed. Aaron, who was a Jew, wore a dignified expression, while Chrestus, who was from Pontus and had never visited the city’s Temple of Shamash, looked bored to distraction. But he was a loyal servant of Dura and its king was a loyal servant of Shamash, so I hoped the Sun God would forgive my general.

  The service ended with the high priest making a libation to Shamash by pouring water taken from the Euphrates from a terracotta pot into the reservoir. After emptying the vessel, he turned to me and bowed.

  ‘It is done, majesty.’

  I thanked him and nodded to Almas, who gave the signal to one of the army engineers who had been assigned to the project, the man picking up a red flag and waving it from left to right. Soldiers operating the sluice gates at the river end of the canal opened them. Moments later water began entering the reservoir, to cheers from the farmers and their families among the crowd and polite applause from the merchants and nobles present.

  ‘My leg has locked,’ I whispered to Gallia, who took my arm and helped me away.

  ‘Come on, old man, back to the palace for you.’

  A rider appeared among the now dispersing crowd, manoeuvring his horse through the throng, jumping down from the saddle and halting before me, bowing his head and holding out a note. I took the papyrus and broke the seal showing a horse, the mark of Aria. I read the words and smiled, Rsan, Aaron and Chrestus looking at me quizzically.

  ‘Kewab is coming home,’ I told them.

  Chapter 3

  All is as the gods will it. Man is but a puny, insignificant wretch who holds no sway over the way the world is ordered and the events that take place within it. A farmer may plant his fields and water his crops in the hope they will grow and provide him and his family with food after they are harvested. But a flood, drought or a plague of locusts may destroy his crops and condemn his family to starvation. A merchant may buy goods and ship them on a camel caravan to a distant land where they will be sold for a great profit. But the caravan may be attacked and his goods stolen, thus reducing him to poverty. A king may rule a kingdom and invest much of its wealth in a vast irrigation system to greatly increase the crop yield to not only ensure his growing population has enough food, but also to sell the projected enormous surplus to fill his treasury. But the gods had other plans.

  It was now spring, and the Euphrates was rising, filled with the melt waters bringing torrents of water from the mountains in Pontus, in addition to a thousand smaller water courses bloated with melted snow and ice that fed into the great waterway. For over two hundred and fifty miles the border of Dura that abutted the Euphrates held back the swelling waters, city officials and engineers being able to control the flow from the river to water crops and fill canals and waterways. I was bursting with pride when I convened a special meeting of the city council to personally thank Almas in front of all of his peers, and to confirm him as deputy governor of not only the city but also the whole kingdom.

  ‘Dura owes you a huge debt of gratitude, Almas,’ I told him, ‘you have made the desert bloom.’

  ‘Hardly that, majesty,’ he replied, ‘the western bank of the Euphrates was already inhabited, thanks to your own peace treaty with the Agraci.’

  I was having none of it.

  ‘Thanks to you, Almas, Dura no longer has to rely on the Silk Road solely for its wealth. Increased crop production means an increasing population, which means a great surplus of crops that can be exported.’

  ‘I was only following where you have already trod, majesty,’ smiled Almas.

  ‘Loathe as I am to break up this meeting of Dura’s self-appreciation society,’ said Gallia, ‘but the king has some important news.’

  ‘I do? Ah, of course, I had clean forgot.’

  I briefly examined the letters in front of me. Aaron, Ira, Chrestus, Rsan and Almas looked at me expectantly.