unrewarding too in their dry summers. Few Romans are happy there, for it is utterly alien. Yet nowhere is of greater strategic importance, and great trade routes cross it too.
I have thought it best to leave it more or less independent, while making sure that its king is friendly. Antony chose it as his base for his Parthian War, and though he thereby avoided the disaster which befell Crassus, his retreat was ignominious enough. His men suffered terribly in the passage of the Tabriz mountains. The Armenians gleefully snapped at his flanks and rearguard, battles had to be fought daily, horrid scrambling affairs, and stragglers were nipped off, killed and mutilated. As you know he had the gall to celebrate a Triumph for his Armenian campaign (quite illegally) in Alexandria, but the truth was his war achieved nothing and did great harm to our prestige.
From the start, I was convinced of the folly of imitating either Crassus or Antony; yet I knew we had to resume our old influence in Armenia, and wipe out the disgrace these two rash idiots had brought on our arms. The question was: how to do it? And you can imagine, it perplexed me for some time. I resolved to be patient. Then I saw my chance.
Artaxes, King of Armenia, was a fox, an acrobatic fox, I may say, for his policy was to play off the two Empires that threatened to dominate him. However, I got information that his own authority was precarious, and realizing this himself he chose to try to bolster it by making a formal alliance with the Parthians. Now the strength of our position is simply this: many Armenians fear and hate Parthia far more than they do us. The reason is simple: Parthia is near and familiar, Rome itself distant and strange to them.
I was wintering on Samos – you have been there and know its delights – when I learned of his plans. I at once sent agents into Armenia to ascertain the strength of the opposition to Artaxes and offer them our help.
Events then began to move quickly. Artaxes called on the Parthians for aid. They sent in an army commanded by the son of the Emperor Phraates (likewise called Phraates), and a tribe of Armenian rebels took the young Phraates prisoner. Their instinct was to blind and mutilate the boy, according to their charming custom, but fortunately one of my agents, a Greek called Philip, learned of his capture and took it upon himself to offer the Highlanders a great sum of gold if they would hand the boy over to him. In doing this of course he exceeded his authority, but I would urge on you the importance of having agents prepared to use their initiative. Naturally, the Highlanders demanded to see the gold first, but when it was produced were delighted with the bargain. (Philip told me that one of them pleaded to be allowed 'to mutilate him just a little. One ear at least.') The poor boy, brave enough in battle, but absolutely overcome by the unusual nature of his experience, fell into our arms with relief.
While these negotiations were going on, another Parthian prince arrived in Samos. This was Tiridates, a half-brother of the Emperor, with in his opinion a good claim to the throne. I have never understood the Parthian laws of succession, and know no Roman who does. Tiridates was younger than Phraates (the Emperor) but based his claim on the fact that he had been born while his father was a reigning monarch and Phraates hadn't. 'I was born in the purple, you see, in the purple,' he repeated over and over again in a whining, canting voice that irritated me extremely. Apparently however this claim carried some weight with Parthians, and perhaps this sort of nonsense is endemic to hereditary kingdoms where ability is valued less than birth. It seems of course quite remarkably foolish to us Romans.
What's more I disliked Tiridates, a lean squinting fellow, given to lewd conversation in appalling Greek. Still he could obviously be useful, one mustn't let personal animosity cloud one's judgement, and I ordered that he be treated with whatever honours were thought suitable for royalty. I rather liked young Phraates on the other hand. Once he had recovered from his nervous crisis, brought on by his capture, he was a pleasant youth, with something, it occurs to me, of dear Lucius' charm, though without his good sense. I couldn't imagine either Phraates or Tiridates making a satisfactory ruler, but that was no business of mine, except in so far as I intended to impose my will on Parthian foreign policy.
Meanwhile I waited to hear from Philip. You may be surprised that I should have chosen to employ a freedman in so delicate a diplomatic affair, even though you have been brought up to be free of many of the prejudices of our class, but I have found that Greeks are adept at any underhand or undercover business, and he had been recommended to me by another trusted agent. I had though another reason for choosing him. The situation in Armenia was so fluid and so fertile in opportunities for mischief that there were few Roman nobles I would have cared to trust. They might have found occasion to proclaim inconvenient Republican notions – from a position of strength. As I have often told you, I have ever been on my guard against the seductive cry of Liberty – which generally means demanding a licence to feather the crier's nest. A freedman, owing everything to me, and being nothing without my support, was a more suitable intermediary. I commend this policy to you. Besides, a Greek can undertake action such as a Roman nobleman should disdain.
I didn't plan the subsequent murder of Artaxes. It was no business of mine what the Armenians did with their King. Indeed, in some ways, it would have suited me to receive him in exile – there is much to be said, when dealing with client-states, for having an alternative king in baulk. However, Philip made me aware that Artaxes was very deeply committed to Parthia, and had even made plans to retire there (for like all prudent tyrants he had made provision for a change of fortune). He told me too that feeling against the King ran high. His rule had been bloody and treacherous and all through the Tardiz mountains were to be found men sworn to avenge the murder of their friends or kinsmen. It seemed best therefore to leave him to the mercies of his countrymen. Armenians are not given to tenderness and his death agony was prolonged and painful. It was also highly popular; when the King's body was displayed to the people of Erzerum, they fell on it with glee and tore it apart.
Some clans remained loyal to the memory of the dead King and proclaimed his son. Our allies asked me to send troops to maintain order. I thought it best to entrust command to your stepfather, Tiberius, then a young man (if you can believe it), for I was still cautious lest the heady wine of Armenia go to a general's head; but I was careful to give him an experienced council of advisers such as I have now provided for you. We secured the situation and set Tigranes, the late King's brother, on the throne. He had long resided in Rome and seemed a man of decent mediocrity, though, as you know, we have had trouble with him since. Kingship does go to a man's head.
You have asked why I didn't make Armenia a Roman province. I thought of doing so, but desisted for two reasons. First, I had no wish to perturb the other client-kings in the East (though I thought ail might benefit from a contemplation of Artaxes' fate). Second, I had observed the character of Armenia and couldn't believe the Armenians would submit tranquilly to direct rule. They would be blind to its benefits and alert to their loss of liberty. They are proud, resentful, untrustworthy and clever. They would make awkward subjects. Better, I thought, to leave them in a state of grateful and conditional self-government. They should be free to be ruled by a native king so long as they did not abuse that freedom and remained loyal to Rome. Artaxes' fate would be a warning to subsequent kings. This is still my opinion.
Having established a friendly government in Armenia I was able to turn my attention to Parthia. I assured Phraates that I had no desire for anything but good relations with his great Empire. I told him I was honoured by his son's presence in my household and hoped that the boy would enjoy a glorious future. I added that his half- brother Tiridates was urging a course of action which didn't, at the moment, seem to hold out advantages for either Rome or Parthia; though of course things could change. I informed him that I proposed to despatch an embassy led by my stepson Tiberius Claudius Nero to discuss matters of disagreement between the two greatest Empires in the world.
'There is however,' I added, 'one cause of grievance which makes it difficult for Rome to resume friendly relations with Parthia. You retain standards and trophies taken from the armies led by Crassus and Antony. Their loss was a disgrace which Rome burns to avenge. I believe you may also still hold Roman soldiers taken captive in these campaigns. Rome cannot rest easy while Roman citizens languish in foreign lands.'
I ended with a flourish of the peacocking compliments which delight Orientals, and which I should advise you always to employ.
Phraates was alarmed by the shift in the balance of power and by my veiled threats concerning Tiridates. He welcomed the embassy, more especially because his brother proved to command more support in the Empire than we had believed. So Phraates was eager to conclude a Treaty and agreed to my demands after less than the usual long-drawn-out argument. The standards were handed over to Tiberius who made a dignified speech (though I was told that he used so many old-fashioned expressions that his translator was baffled; that won't surprise you, we have always had fun with your stepfather's archaic pedantry, haven't we…?)
The recovery of the standards was a great achievement. Not a drop of Roman blood was spilled. But the
