Free The Parthian by Peter Darman Page A

army shoots them with an arrow or runs them through with a sword. They don’t look so god-like when their guts are spewing all over the place. 
    ‘It is true, for example, that you were born into a royal household and thus were a prince from birth, but the kingdom you will eventually inherit will grow rich only if you ensure the welfare of your subjects.’
    ‘All of them?’ I asked.
    ‘We can do nothing about plagues and famine. These things are sent by Shamash. But we can ensure that the kingdom is safe. And a safe kingdom is a prosperous kingdom. If this land,’ he waved his hand to indicate all around, ‘was infested with bandits there would be no trade passing through, no well-tended fields to harvest and no functioning irrigation ditches to water the fields. The people would flee and we would live as paupers. Our swords and lances keep the peace and allow the people to prosper. Always remember that, for when you forget it the kingdom is doomed.’
    ‘Yes, father.’
    And he was right. The land, our land, was rich and prosperous. The distance between the Euphrates and Tigris is two hundred miles at its widest point, and in the area along their banks extending inland grains, vegetables and dates were cultivated, a complex system of irrigation dykes and ditches draining water from the rivers and keeping the land fertile. Oxen were used to pull ploughs, and cows, sheep and goats provided dairy products and meat. There was also a thriving textile industry producing wool for cloth and flax for linen.
    The land itself was owned by nobles but worked by farmers, each of whom paid rent to their vassal lord. The aristocrats who lived in Hatra owned vast estates, but those who lived in their villas in the countryside owned much smaller tracts of land. It was the duty of each farmer to own a horse and a bow and practice his horsemanship and archery skills on a regular basis. In this way Hatra had a ready reserve of soldiers that could be called on. Inevitably there were some who neglected their military duties for farm work, but in general the system worked well enough. And when a general muster was issued, the lords were the first to ride to war. Parthian kings and nobles always led from the front.
    The heat of the summer was receding now and the days were sunny but not stifling. The harvests were being gathered, which meant every road was filled with carts pulled by donkeys. When our column neared them, the carts and any human traffic on the road would move aside to let us pass. They bowed to my father and then carried on with their tasks.
    ‘You see, Pacorus,’ remarked my father, ‘they do not feel threatened by the appearance of soldiers.’
    ‘That’s because they are lazy and stupid,’ remarked Vistaspa, who had drawn level with us after leading a scouting party.
    ‘That’s because they feel safe,’ said my father.
    ‘They’ve become too accustomed to peace,’ growled Vistaspa.
    ‘But our army is the finest in the Parthian Empire, is it not?’ I added.
    ‘The army is, yes,’ said Vistaspa, ‘but if we have to issue a general call-up we’ll be in trouble.’
    ‘Not every man can be a warrior,’ remarked my father.
    ‘More’s the pity,’ said his bodyguard’s commander. Vistaspa then muttered something under his breath and rode towards the rear of the column, no doubt to take out whatever was irritating him on some poor trooper.
    My father smiled. ‘He’s a good man, Vistaspa,’ I remained silent, ‘but he is too intolerant, I fear. But there is no man I would rather have beside me in battle.’  
    Ctesiphon was something of a disappointment. It was undoubtedly large and sprawling, but its squat brick buildings were dirty and its walls were also brick and coloured a dark yellow. It was also poor, or at least its inhabitants were. The people eked out an existent from agriculture, but the Silk Road did not pass through Ctesiphon, and therefore it could not tap its wealth. But it did not have