Free Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) by Peter Darman Page B

spare canvas, tents, weapons, quivers full of arrows, javelins, swords, armour and helmets. I was suddenly worried that a hundred and fifty rafts would not be enough.
    ‘I hope we have enough room for the men, horses and supplies, Marcus.’
    He looked at me aghast. ‘I can assure you that my calculations are correct, majesty, down to the last spare mail shirt.’
    The thundering of hooves interrupted our conversation as Byrd, Malik and the scouts arrived: fifty black-clad men with unshaven faces riding sleek Arabian horses. Malik jumped from his horse and handed the reins to a startled clerk. He walked up and embraced me as Byrd also dismounted and scanned what appeared to be the apparent chaos of carts, men, horses and rafts.
    ‘I was wondering when you would arrive,’ I said to him.
    Byrd ambled over and nodded.
    ‘You nearly missed the trip, Byrd,’ I said.
    ‘You not leave for hours yet,’ he sniffed.
    I had sent a message to Byrd and Malik requesting their presence. I had informed them of the true purpose of the journey because I needed Malik to send a message to Haytham’s lords that Duran troops would be making camp on their territory as we headed to Uruk. Halting on the western side of the Euphrates would save having to land on Babylonian territory and would thus keep King Vardan ignorant of the whole expedition. Vardan was an ally and friend of my father and if he found out about my aiding Mesene then so would my father. There would then follow a stern Hatran lecture about not embroiling the empire in another civil war and that I could do without.
    ‘My father approves of your actions,’ Malik told me, ‘but rebukes you for not inviting him along. He is finding the transition from warlord to merchant difficult.’
    I laughed. ‘You mean rich merchant, Malik.’
    The peace agreed between myself and Haytham had made Palmyra the destination of the trade caravans taking silk to Egypt, which was making the Agraci king extremely wealthy.
    ‘If it is any consolation to your father, Malik, I am sure that he will still have to use his sword when the Romans decide that Palmyra is a prize worth fighting for.’
    Byrd was right about the commencement of our journey. It took three hours to load the rafts with men, horses and supplies and it was hot and airless when we finally pushed off from the riverbank. Each raft was crewed by four men who were used to travelling on the Euphrates. They stood fore and aft on each raft, using their rudders to steer. In the upper reaches of the Euphrates there are many rapids where the water flows quickly through steep canyons and gorges, making travel by boat extremely hazardous. But in the Euphrates Valley the river is wide – between five hundred and sixteen hundred feet – and the current slower. The flow took us now as we drifted downstream. It appeared that we were hardly moving, the surface of the river calm and seemingly undisturbed by our passage. Only by studying features on the shore was I able to discern that we were indeed not stationary.
    Ahead were the rafts carrying the legionaries and supplies, behind the vessels transporting the horse archers. I was in the company of Gallia, Vagharsh and seventeen Amazons. The horses had been tethered to the rails and were in the shade of the awnings, the sleep-inducing movement of the raft having a calming effect on them, for which I thanked Shamash. I smiled when I saw Vagharsh asleep with his head resting against his saddle, snoring loudly. As soon as the horses had been loaded and tethered they were relieved of their saddles and saddlecloths, and the Amazons had also taken off their mail shirts and helmets. They stacked their bows, quivers and sword belts by their saddles and either followed Vagharsh’s example or sat in groups talking. Two, however, were always on guard, one watching the eastern shore, one scanning the western riverbank. For what I did not know, since to the west was Duran territory and the east was Hatran