Train hard, fight easy.

  ‘Bad news, highborn?’

  I had been reading Gafarn’s letter, going over the words again and again, my mood darkening with every reading.

  I looked up at him, sitting on his horse beside Horns, still holding his bow though we had finished our shooting practice.

  ‘How are your reading and writing lessons coming along?’

  He looked downcast. ‘Not good, highborn, my tutor is quick to anger and shouts at me.’

  ‘How I envy you, Klietas,’ I said, staring at the letter, ‘to be unable to read would keep me in blissful ignorance, at least for a while longer.’

  ‘Highborn?’

  ‘Nothing. As you train with them, what do the Amazons divulge about the goings-on in The Sanctuary.’

  ‘What does “divulge” mean, highborn?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It is a great honour for me to ride with the Amazons, highborn.’

  ‘Even though they treat you coolly.’

  ‘They are warriors, highborn, whereas I am a poor farmer. I have to earn their respect. But the gods willing, I will prove myself to them on the battlefield.’

  ‘I thought you already had proved yourself, with your expedition to Zeugma.’

  He shook his head. ‘Haya told me it is easy to kill a defenceless person when they feel safe, but only on the battlefield is a person’s true worth tested.’

  ‘That did not stop her, though, did it?’

  ‘No, highborn,’ he responded proudly.

  ‘Well, you will be pleased to know you will have the chance to prove yourself on the battlefield, Klietas, though you might like to remind Haya and any of her she-devil friends, that you have proved yourself, at Irbil. But I must tell you there is no honour in being an assassin. You understand?’

  ‘Yes, highborn. We are going to war?’

  I examined his youthful features and saw the glint of excitement in his eyes. To him war was all about glory and the prospect of slaying enemies. He did not consider death, defeat or injury, only victory and a chance for personal advancement. I had been the same at his age. Only over the years did the illusion of glory fade, to be replaced by a marked reluctance to unsheathe a sword in anger. But peace meant no amusement for the gods, and so the immortals ensured the minds of young men and women were filled with a lust for bloodshed.

  ‘It seems we are, Klietas.’

  At the Citadel I showed Gallia the letter and convened a special meeting of the council, inviting both Kewab and Karys to attend. Chrestus was about to leave the city that afternoon, together with the cataphracts, horse archers and the soldiers of Kewab and Karys, for a large-scale desert exercise. This was to both take advantage of the presence of an additional seven thousand professional horsemen in the kingdom, and give said soldiers something to do rather than sit around in camp brooding.

  I tossed the letter on the table, the eyes of all the attendees on the sheet of papyrus.

  ‘This arrived earlier from King Gafarn of Hatra. It reports that Armenian troops are massing on the northern border of Media, prior to launching a second invasion of that kingdom. It would appear King Artaxias of Armenia, having failed in his first attempt to kill King Akmon of Media, is determined to try again.

  ‘My brother informs me that King Spartacus of Gordyene is currently mustering his army, which he will march to the Araxes River to deter the Armenians. He also reports that Hatra’s army is being mobilised to support Gordyene and Media.

  ‘Having been in Irbil when the rebel army, financed by Rome and granted passage through Armenia, attacked the city, and having survived that close-call, subsequently being nearly killed on the Diyana Plain where Artaxias himself fought us, the queen and I are resolved to support Hatra and Gordyene in their efforts to protect Media. This is not only to honour the alliance we made with Akmon, but to put Artaxias firmly in his place, seeing as no one else has a mind to do it.’

  Chrestus, Karys and Kewab rapped their knuckles on the table top to show their enthusiasm. Rsan’s brow creased with concern and Almas appeared thoughtful, no doubt regretting he would not be able to ride north with the army. I stood and turned to the hide map of the empire on the wall, pointing at Hatra.

  ‘King Gafarn will march directly to Irbil to reassure Akmon and Lusin of Hatra’s commitment to Media. I intend to do the same, where Lucius Varsas will re-join the army prior to marching north.’

  Rsan cleared his throat to indicate he wished to speak. I retook my seat and nodded to him.

  ‘Forgive me, majesty, but in the rush to war might it not be prudent to try to seek a diplomatic solution to the problem?’

  ‘I am all ears,’ I said.

  He brought his hands together. ‘As Armenia is in the Parthian sphere of influence, surely the intercession of High King Phraates will be enough to bring King Artaxias to heel without recourse to war.’

  ‘The high king has no interest in defending Media,’ said Gallia. ‘It was Phraates himself who began this sorry episode, for he encouraged Atrax to attack Media.’

  Rsan was shocked. ‘I cannot believe…’

  ‘Believe it,’ I interrupted. ‘I saw the letter from Phraates to Atrax myself. There is no use appealing to the high king to intervene, and in truth I have little appetite to involve Ctesiphon in this matter.’

  ‘Phraates is more interested in a new crusade against the Kushans,’ said Gallia, ‘notwithstanding his dismissal of the man who offers the only hope of achieving victory against Kujula.’

  She tipped her head at Kewab who bowed his head in appreciation. Gallia’s blue eyes focused on Karys.

  ‘The high king has displayed poor judgement of late, and it is highly unlikely his acumen will improve any time soon.’

  Rsan was squirming at our disrespect towards the high king but both Gallia and I were disappointed to say the least at Phraates’ attitude and actions towards those who had showed him nothing but loyalty.

  ‘Dura is pledged to defend Media and it will honour its commitments. Chrestus, assemble the army.’

  ‘It is already assembled, majesty,’ he told me, ‘though replacing the garrisons of the forts along the Euphrates with veterans will take a few days.’

  ‘See to it,’ I instructed him.

  Thus far Aaron and Ira had been conspicuous by their silence, the two clerks always attending my chief treasurer as usual frantically recording every utterance on papyrus. I would have expected Aaron to side with Rsan regarding his appeal to the high king to avoid conflict, but instead he stared at the table top, only diverting his gaze to look at the map when I had been standing.

  ‘What is your opinion, Aaron?’ I asked.

  ‘I concur with your majesty that Armenian aggression cannot be allowed to go unanswered.’

  I was shocked. ‘You do?’

  ‘Yes, majesty.’

  ‘Even with all the attendant costs involved in a military campaign?’ said Chrestus.

  ‘Wars are expensive, general, I agree,’ replied Aaron, ‘but Dura must be seen to uphold its obligations.’

  This was all very disconcerting. I doubted Aaron cared a fig for alliances or pledges of support. He worried only about safeguarding the flow of trade caravans through the kingdom and citizens paying their taxes. During his long career at the treasury he had always been critical of the army regarding its size, excessive equipment use in peacetime and overall drain on the kingdom’s resources. But his next question revealed he had not suddenly changed his mind regarding the army’s worth.

  ‘Will satraps Kewab and Karys be accompanying the army, majesty?’

  ‘That is their decision,’ I answered, ‘though I am mindful they and their followers came here not to fight Dura’s wars but to find a home.’

  ‘Dura’s wars are our wars, lord,’ said Karys, ‘when you march, the soldiers of King Nergal and Queen Praxima will be marching with you.’

  Kewab, who now looked less tired after a period of rest, leaned back in his chair.

  ‘As I told you, majesty, those who came with me from the east did so in the hope and expectation of fighting beside Dura’s army. They will be delighted to learn their hopes are about to be realised.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ira give Aaron a congratulatory smile and it suddenly all made sense. If the newcomers marched north with the army they would be leaving Dura, at least for a few weeks and perhaps permanently if they fell in battle or found a new home. Either way, they would not be making demands on Aaron’s treasury in the near future.

  ‘Ever considered working for the treasury at Ctesiphon, Aaron?’

  ‘Majesty?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I will write to Gafarn and Akmon to inform them Dura’s army will be marching in four days.’

  Gallia was delighted, Chrestus was delighted and Kewab and Karys were looking forward to marching with the army again. The next day Malik arrived at the Citadel. I thought his visit was a coincidence but I was wrong.

  He stood like a black stone statue in the throne room, staring at the griffin banner hanging on the wall behind the empty thrones. I had been talking with Farid about the camel train, the chief cameleer being his usual complaining self, but I would not have anyone else in charge of the army’s fifteen hundred camels and their drivers. He and they were veterans of many campaigns and were an essential part of Dura’s war machine. As soon as word reached me that the King of the Agraci was at the palace I hurried to the Citadel.

  ‘My friend.’

  He turned to face me when I walked into the throne room, giving me a half-smile before we embraced. His hair and beard were now heavily streaked with grey, offset by his black facial tattoos favoured by the menfolk of his people.

  ‘Have you been offered no refreshments?’ I said, looking around for Ashk.

  ‘Your steward was most attentive, but I told him I wished to stay here, where it is quiet. How are you?’

  ‘Old. Come, let us take the weight off our feet. You might be able to stand for long periods, but my leg won’t take it.’

  We walked to the door at the rear of the chamber giving access to the palace’s private quarters. As we did so, Malik came straight to the point.

  ‘You march against Armenia?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I wish to accompany you, to avenge Rasha.’

  I could have argued that we were going on campaign to curb Armenian hostility towards Media, according to the pact between Dura, Hatra and Akmon’s kingdom. But so irritated was I with Phraates, King Artaxias and indeed Octavian for funding Atrax’s rebels, that I saw no point in trying to dissuade him.

  ‘You would be most welcome, my friend.’

  ‘My son will stay at Palmyra to ensure there is a successor should I fall,’ he said matter-of-factly.

  ‘Hopefully it won’t come to that.’

  He shrugged. ‘Death comes to us all. Far better to meet it when cutting down enemies.’

  We reached the terrace and within minutes Ashk and a small group of servants were around us, ensuring we were settled into chairs stuffed with cushions and under the awning, so we were in the shade. Refreshments appeared, followed by Gallia, hot and flustered but glad to see Malik. He stood to embrace her, my wife holding him long and whispering into his ear. His hard features showed sadness and gratitude and then the warrior Agraci returned when she released him and they both sat. Ashk proffered a cup of water, which she quickly drained, a servant refilling it immediately after.

  ‘Malik is joining us on our campaign,’ I told her.

  She beamed with delight. ‘How did you discover we were marching north? Talib?’

  Malik shook his head. ‘Spartacus wrote inviting me to join him in punishing the Armenians for the murder of my sister. I agreed and rode here to request passage through Dura and Hatra for myself and the two thousand warriors accompanying me. But I saw the preparations in your legionary camp and knew Spartacus had also appealed to you.’

  ‘Not to us,’ I said, ‘but to my brother at Hatra. But the result is the same. It will be good to have you by our side again, old friend.’

  I heard Ashk’s voice behind me.

  ‘The king and queen are in a private meeting.’

  ‘They will see me, I’m family. Get out of the way before I throw you off this terrace. It’s me, princess.’

  I raised my eyes to the heavens when I recognised Kalet’s voice, but Gallia waved him past the protesting chief steward.

  ‘Bring wine,’ commanded my chief lord, whose eyes lit up when he saw Malik.

  The Agraci king rose and they clasped forearms before Kalet waited until a chair had been stuffed with cushions for him before sitting himself down. He looked at me.

  ‘So, off to war without telling me. A campaign to punish the Armenians, I hear.’

  He rubbed his hands. ‘Plenty of plunder to be had in Armenia.’

  ‘Have you ever been to Armenia, Kalet?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how do you know there is much to plunder?’

  He tapped his nose. ‘It’s common knowledge the Armenians paid a high price in gold for the return of the girl who married Spartacus’ son. Bad business.’

  ‘I’m glad you do not approve of the abduction of young girls,’ said Gallia.

  Kalet was studying an attractive servant girl pouring wine into his cup, encouraging her to fill it to the brim. When she had done so he gave her a lascivious wink. He raised the cup to Gallia.

  ‘Very bad business. Paying gold to get her back only to lose her again to the son of the man who had taken her in the first place. Not very clever.’

  He looked at Malik. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘I am accompanying the king and queen to Armenia.’

  Kalet took a large gulp of wine. ‘Me too.’

  ‘That is a decision for me to make,’ I said sternly.

  He looked genuinely hurt.

  ‘I was fond of Rasha, too.’

  Malik nodded his head and I knew I had been outmanoeuvred. It was true Kalet and his lords had liked Rasha. She had known many of them, having spent much time in her youth in Dura, and I daresay the old rogue did have a soft spot for the Agraci princess turned Parthian queen. But he was like a hunting dog when it came to the possibility of killing and plunder: he was unrelenting. I looked at Gallia, who gave an indifferent shrug.

  ‘King Malik is bringing two thousand warriors with him,’ I said to Kalet, ‘so you may select a similar number to ride north with you.’

  ‘That few?’ he complained.

  ‘And no Dalir or Eszter,’ said Gallia. ‘This is the first time Dura’s army will be leaving Parthian territory and we do not know if it will be coming back.’

  Her words silenced the conversation and I realised that, save for the raid into Kushan territory after we had attended Salar and Isabella’s wedding, no Duran troops had ever left the empire.

  ‘What’s the objective?’ asked Kalet, smiling at the servant girl with the jug of wine and beckoning her over.

  It was an excellent question. For Malik, there was no doubt.

  ‘Revenge.’

  Kalet sipped at his wine.

  ‘Fair enough, lord, but what does that entail? Burning the Armenian capital, killing the Armenian king or taking hostages for ransom. If I may be so bold, I would recommend the latter option.’

  ‘You would,’ I said.

  But he had raised an important point. What would we do once we had invaded Armenian territory?

  ‘There is someone who will be able to provide an answer,’ I announced.

  Malik was unconcerned about campaign objectives. As an Agraci he had no concern for treaties, territorial acquisitions or Parthian honour. All he wanted was to spill blood to avenge the death of his sister and Spartacus had given him an opportunity to do so. Gallia also wanted revenge, along with the head of Prince Atrax, an objective I was also a supporter of after his dreadful behaviour at Irbil. As for Kalet, now Dura had become a kingdom where the law ruled, and it had peace with the Agraci, his only chance to reprise his raiding days was when he joined the army on campaign.

  We sat eating and drinking for too long, Malik’s stern disposition being replaced by the more easy-going man I had known for forty years, helped by Kalet whose infectious humour and carefree attitude helped to lighten the mood. Afterwards, Kalet being assisted to a guest bedroom to sleep off his drink-induced stupor and Malik accepting our offer of hospitality to stay in the palace, I went to search out Kewab. It was night, the air humming with the sound of crickets and filled with mosquitoes. To keep the insects at bay we smeared our limbs and necks with eucalyptus oil, though others used cinnamon oil or basil. The Citadel was unusually busy for the late hour, Rsan’s clerks working late in the Headquarters Building organising the issuing of supplies and weapons for the forthcoming campaign.

  I saw Almas talking to Kewab outside the armoury, both ceasing their conversation when they saw me approach.

  ‘I would have a word with the satrap, Almas,’ I smiled.

  The deputy governor bowed his head, nodded to Kewab and took his leave.

  ‘Logistical matters?’ I enquired.

  ‘No, majesty, we were reminiscing about the Phraaspa campaign. Seems like only yesterday.’

  I felt a pang of guilt. ‘I did not invite you and your followers to Dura just to reinforce the army, Kewab, but it seems events have dictated otherwise.’

  ‘When I briefed my officers on the coming campaign, they were absolutely delighted and relieved.’

  ‘Relieved?’

  ‘Many who came with me from the east have known nothing but war for the past few years. They have developed a taste for it, and to be fair they are very good at it. They are eager to test themselves against the Armenians.’

  ‘As you know, the Armenian army is massing just north of the Araxes River, prior to launching a fresh invasion of Media. Ideally, if they do we can intercept and destroy them before they reach Irbil.’

  ‘As soon as they discover three of Parthia’s finest armies are converging on them, majesty, more likely they will retire north.’

  ‘That is what I fear. The least desirable outcome is a summer spent chasing Armenians around their own homeland.’