The Parthian by Peter Darman Read Free Book Online Page B

citadel of stone in the middle of a desert called Al Jazirah. There were four roads into the city, from the north, south, east and west. We were on the northern road, which today was lined with the troops of my father’s army. Ranks of cataphracts and horse archers lined each side of the dirt road for a mile up to the main gate. There must have been five thousand horsemen, while on the city walls I could see spearmen standing to attention. As we entered the final leg of our journey we were met by Bozan and his son, Vata. They stood mounted on the road, and before them stood a foot soldier holding the Roman eagle that I had taken. Bozan and Vata drew their swords, saluted my father and I, and then took their place in the procession immediately behind my father and Vistaspa. The soldier with the eagle marched at the head of our column directly in front of me. As we passed each group of horsemen on the road, the lances of the cataphracts were dipped in salute, as were the drawn swords of the horse archers.
    Hatra was a city of one hundred thousand people, and as such occupied a large area. The whole of the city was encompassed by an outer stonewall fifty feet high, made of large square blocks of brown limestone, with defensive towers at intervals of every hundred feet. Access to the city was via four gates at each of the four points of the compass. In front of the city walls was a deep, wide ditch, with wooden causeways spanning it at every gate. At the gates were drawbridges, wooden platforms with one hinged side fixed to the wall and the other side raised by chains, which were pulled up at night to seal the city. For added security, each gate had two portcullises — heavy grilled gates suspended from the gatehouse ceiling. They could be rapidly dropped down if the city came under attack. They were made of oak bars and had iron spikes at the bottom. Held in place by ropes, they could be released quickly by slashing those ropes.
    Inside the city, in its northern sector, stood an area surrounded by a second stonewall. This was the palace quarter, which also housed the imperial barracks bloc, the city’s temples and the houses of the aristocracy. This inner city also had four gates, which were more like small citadels than mere gatehouses.
    Hundreds of years ago the area now occupied by Hatra was an oasis, fed by freshwater springs that pumped water from deep within the earth. It was these springs that filled the city’s massive moat, watered its citizens and kept the gardens green and fountains working. But the area around the city was deliberately deprived of water to keep it desert. My father said that this was because, should an enemy army besiege the city, it would have no supplies of water for its troops or animals.
    We rode across the causeway that led to the outer wall’s northern gate, then under the wall and across the wooden bridge that led to the inner wall’s northern gate. Spearmen stood to attention on each side of the bridge and trumpeters sounded the salute as we entered the environs of the palace quarter. Once over the bridge and through the gate, we rode into the great square. On normal days the square was quiet as no stallholders were allowed to ply their trade on its sacred stones. Sandwiched between the royal palace and the Great Temple, the square was reserved for august occasions only. Today was such a day. It was a massive rectangle, and on its south side was the royal barracks housing the king’s bodyguard and their horses. These comprised a sprawling mass of stone billets, stables and offices. Beyond the barracks were situated the houses of Hatra’s nobles and prosperous citizens. Anyone could purchase a spacious house in the inner city, if they had the wealth. Today, Hatra’s finest citizens were gathered in the square to pay homage to the king and his army, and to me also, I surmised.
    On the steps of the royal palace, surrounded by courtiers and priests, stood my mother, Queen Mihri. Every