Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 18

They hit us at twilight, when the last vestiges of light were disappearing from the world, a demented rush of feral men who hurled themselves against all four sides of the camp. Having flooded Surena’s camp and destroyed the tents of the Medians, Babylonians and Hatrans, the hill men now concentrated their fury against my own camp, thinking that it too would easily succumb to their savage attacks. But they had reckoned without the skills of Marcus Sutonius.

The squires and civilians had originally erected the camp but Marcus had subsequently strengthened it further. The surrounding ditch was eight feet deep on all sides, having a width of four feet at the bottom and twelve feet at the top due to its sloping sides, and the bottom of the ditch was lined with blocks of wood fitted with iron spikes to impale anyone who fell on them. Behind the ditch stood an eight-foot-high earth rampart surmounted by a wall of stakes, with additional stakes set in the rampart pointing outwards at an angle of forty-five degrees to make it difficult to scale.

As the last horsemen rode into camp and the eastern entrance was barred with wagons and logs covered with many long iron spikes positioned in front of them, the Zagros tribes gathered in their war bands and then charged our defences. The ramparts were initially defended by squires before the horse archers dismounted and sprinted to reinforce them, Domitus also assigning legionaries to use their shields as a barrier against the hail of light axes, javelins and arrows that was being hurled against those standing behind the stakes. Fortunately there was a distance of one hundred paces between the tenting area and the perimeter rampart all round the inside of the camp, but even so missiles still landed among tents and animals to inflict wounds, some fatal.

I ran to the northern wall where the attack was heaviest, the air filled with screams and shouts as I neared the rampart. I had ordered Gallia to stay with Domitus, who with Kronos was organising reserves of legionaries to be deployed all round the inside of the perimeter, to the rear of the rampart, in case the enemy broke through. She ignored my order and led her Amazons behind me as I ran up the bank of earth to join those fighting on its summit. The area beyond the ditch was heaving with the enemy, many of whom had been felled by arrows before they reached the ditch. The latter was now choked with the twisted bodies of the dead and dying as archers around me poured volley after volley into the seemingly endless mass of hill men that stretched far into the distance.

Legionaries were holding their shields above the stakes on the rampart as the enemy archers on their stationary horses shot at us from a range of around four hundred paces. As more and more of our own horse archers came onto the wall parties of squires were ordered to fall back to bring more ammunition to the rampart.

I dumped my quiver on the floor and stood beside a legionary whose shield had been struck by two arrows. A squire beside me released his bowstring and then beamed with delight when he saw me.

‘We are holding them, majesty.’

‘You are doing well,’ I told him.

I bent down to pull an arrow from my quiver and heard a dull thud and then a groan, and turned to see an axe imbedded in the squire’s skull. He collapsed on the ground, dead.

Despite their furious efforts the enemy could not breach our defences because the ditch was too wide and they had no scaling ladders to climb up our wall of earth, so they brought forward those carrying light javelins and throwing axes and launched them at us, reinforced by the arrows of horse archers positioned to the rear. I gave the order for everyone on the wall to kneel to present a smaller target to the enemy as we had already lost too many squires, who wore no armour on their bodies or heads. More legionaries came to the wall and formed an unbroken wall of shields along its top, behind which we could shoot our own arrows at the enemy below. The hill men had suffered enormous casualties by now and their bloodlust was starting to abate, especially when the archers on the walls poured volley after volley against the javelin throwers standing just to the rear of the ditch. The latter, half-naked, were slaughtered and so the rest of the hill men withdrew into the night, leaving their dead behind them. The assault against the northern wall had failed.

I heard my name being called and saw Domitus standing behind the rampart with Kronos and Marcus. I slapped the shoulder of the legionary whose shield had protected us both and then walked down the earth slope.

‘The southern wall is being assaulted,’ said Domitus.

‘More hill men?’ I asked.

He shook his head. ‘These are professionals and they have killed quite a few of our men.’

‘They are standing behind shields the height of man,’ added Kronos, ‘and wear scale armour, helmets and mail face masks.’

‘Royal foot archers,’ I said. ‘How many?’

‘About two thousand,’ said Domitus. ‘Do you want me to send out some cohorts against them?’

‘No,’ I replied. ‘Marcus, this is a task for your shield piercers, I think.’

He nodded and scurried off.

‘I will get some of my men to assist him,’ said Kronos, saluting and then following Marcus.

‘Pull as many men off the wall as is safe,’ I called after him. ‘Don’t give them any easy victories.’

Gallia joined us as the bodies of two horse archers were carried from the wall.

‘I heard about your father,’ said Domitus. ‘I grieve for you.’

Gallia embraced me. ‘He was a great man, Pacorus. We will miss him.’

I had no time for grief, though, not with what was left of the army penned in camp and surrounded on all sides.

‘Where are the kings?’ I asked.

‘With their men,’ replied Domitus.

‘Go and see that the threat against the southern wall is dealt with. I will gather the kings so we can decide our plan for tomorrow.’

I pointed at Gallia.

‘You are with me.’

Domitus paced away as I began to walk towards the command tent. My father’s body had been placed in the tent that usually housed the griffin standard, which had been temporarily relocated to stand beside the Exiles’ lion.

‘Surena warned us about this,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘That we were walking into trap. Narses has out-foxed us once again.’

‘What will you do now?’

I shrugged. ‘That will be for Orodes to decide.’

‘And how are you, Pacorus?’

I stopped and faced her. ‘My father is dead, our army is half-beaten and the enemy appears as strong as when we first engaged them yesterday. I cannot believe it has come to this.’

Her expression hardened. ‘You must remain strong. We can still achieve victory.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I have never doubted it.’

Fortified by my wife’s certainty that we would emerge victorious I decided to conduct a tour of the camp before I met the kings, which unfortunately served only to dampen my spirits once more. In the hospital Alcaeus and his medical staff were working tirelessly to stitch wounds, bind broken limbs and extract arrows from flesh. Gallia went among the wounded and tried to comfort them with soft words. We came across one of the injured, a squire lying in a cot, a blood-soaked bandage wrapped round his stomach.

‘Javelin in the stomach,’ remarked Alcaeus. ‘He won’t see the dawn.’

This boy had barely begun his life and now it was to end in a few hours, far away from his family, alone and in pain.

‘No,’ said Alcaeus, ‘not in pain. He has been given morphe to ease his journey.’

On the royal estates in Dura Alcaeus oversaw the cultivation of herbs and flowers to make medicines for his corps. The most remarkable was the milky liquid of the unripe fruit of the green poppy. Mixed with wine it produced a drink that could take away pain, the liquid being named after Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams and sleep. It had the power to numb even the most severe pain and could also be used to hasten the end of those who would not survive their wounds. It was so now as Gallia knelt beside the cot and gently stroked the face of the youth with the far-away stare, taking his hand in hers while I stood with Alcaeus watching the scene.

‘It will not be long now,’ he said softly as Gallia spoke to the boy.

‘How many squires have you treated?’

‘Dozens,’ he replied, ‘most with arrow or javelin wounds.’

‘They saved the camp. One day bards will write about how a few boys held off an army of barbarians with their bows.’

‘Let us hope we all live to see that day.’

Gallia, pale and downcast, came to us. ‘He’s gone.’

Alcaeus signalled to one of his orderlies to take the body to where the others were laid out in neat rows behind the hospital, nodded to us both and continued with his duties. The low moans and occasional screams added to the overall frightfulness of the scene and though I thanked Shamash for Alcaeus and his healers, I was glad to leave them.

In contrast I was delighted to see Domitus two hours later when he informed me that Marcus and his ballista had forced the enemy’s royal archers to retreat, the latter having discovered to their cost that their shields offered no protection against his ‘shield piercers’. With their retreat the enemy’s assault against the camp finally ceased. It was now two hours past midnight and still the kings had yet to meet. Dawn was four hours away.

We finally gathered in my tent half an hour later, all of us tired, dirty, unshaven and listless. None of us had slept much over the last two days and now we faced yet another day of combat. Even Domitus appeared drained. We drank water out of fear that consuming wine would induce sleep, chewing on salted mutton and hard biscuit as we considered our parlous position. Only Marcus appeared jovial, once again delighted that his machines had exceeded all expectations.

‘Well, Marcus, perhaps you would give us a summary of our present condition.’

He rubbed his hand across his scalp and began reading from a parchment of his notes.

‘There are in camp two thousand, two hundred cataphracts fit for duty, sixteen thousand horse archers, two hundred of Babylon’s royal guard,’ he bowed his head to Orodes, ‘nine and a half thousand legionaries and two thousand Babylonian foot soldiers. Plus three thousand squires and the camel and wagon drivers, medical staff and so forth.’

No one said anything but all realised the sobering nature of these figures. In two days of fighting our combined forces had lost over eight thousand foot soldiers killed and wounded, over a thousand cataphract dead and casualties of eight thousand among the horse archers, to say nothing of Babylon’s three hundred royal bodyguards killed and three thousand squires slaughtered when the camps had been overrun. The only ray of sunshine was that the legions’ losses were light.

‘At least the enemy’s losses are greater,’ offered Surena in an attempt to brighten the mood.

‘We must march out of camp when it is light to fight the enemy once more,’ said Orodes. ‘Either that or withdraw north back to the bridge and return to Ctesiphon.’

‘I would advise against withdrawing, Orodes,’ I said. ‘The hill men may have gone but the remnants have probably fallen back to the bridge, which means we may have to fight our way across while conducting a rearguard action at the same time.’

‘I also do not wish to retreat,’ added Atrax. ‘It is dishonourable to flee thus before the false high king.’

Gallia rolled her eyes at his notion of honour but Surena was nodding his head in agreement.

‘The enemy will think that we are almost beaten,’ he said. ‘As such they will not be expecting us to attack, which may give us an advantage.’

Domitus was more sobering in his assessment. ‘Whatever the decision taken here, you all should know that this army has only one fight left in it.’

‘There is something else,’ remarked Marcus, ‘we are running short of arrows.’

I was astounded. ‘How can this be? Dura has its own camel train carrying spare ammunition, as does Hatra, Gordyene and Media.’

‘I am sorry to report that during the last two days of fighting we have expended a great many arrows and we also lost a great many camels carrying ammunition when the camps were attacked.’

Orodes looked at him with weary eyes. ‘How much is left?’

‘Two quivers for each horse archer, more or less.’

‘That will last about ten minutes,’ said Gafarn.

‘Our odds lengthen,’ remarked Atrax flatly.

We fell silent as each of us mused over the possibilities in our minds. Retreat was out of the question. We had come this far and to crawl back to Ctesiphon would not only embolden the enemy but would deal a fatal blow to our cause. We had no idea how Musa and Khosrou were faring, but if we were defeated here then Narses and Mithridates would surely pursue us as we fell back west while the other eastern kings marched against our allies in the north. And when news of our defeat and the death of my father reached Hatra the Armenians would surely launch a full-scale invasion of Gafarn’s kingdom.

‘I have an idea.’

I stopped thinking of nightmares and looked at Surena, upon whom all eyes were now fixed.

‘Please share it with us,’ said Orodes, smiling faintly at him.

Surena cleared his throat.

‘We must use Dura’s legions to attack the enemy frontally to focus the enemy’s attention, while we use our one remaining advantage — our cataphracts — to make a wide detour to envelop Narses’ right wing. Then we can roll up his whole army. The horse archers can deploy on the left of the legions to support their advance with what little ammunition they have left, but the decisive force will be the armoured horsemen.’

‘You will split the army,’ I remarked.

‘That cannot be helped, lord. We must do the unexpected to confuse the enemy.’

‘Makes sense,’ said Domitus, ‘though what about the hill men? They may return.’

‘Babylon’s foot and horse can act as a reserve to deal with any threat from the north. In addition, half the horse archers should also be deployed towards the north to form a defensive screen to cover our rear.’

‘You dilute our depleted forces even further, Surena,’ said Orodes.

‘It will make no difference with regard to missile power, lord,’ he replied, ‘the Babylonians are…’

He suddenly remembered that he was addressing not only the king of kings but also the King of Babylon and so stopped his words.

Domitus laughed gruffly. ‘He’s too polite to say that the Babylonians are finished as a fighting force.’

Orodes frowned but what Domitus said was true. The Babylonian foot had suffered eight thousand casualties and were demoralised, and even the royal guard has lost over half their number. It made sense for them to stay out of the front line.

Orodes smiled at Surena. ‘Please continue with your battle plan.’

Viper smiled at Surena who spoke once more.

‘The horse archers deployed to the north will carry no ammunition. Those who are supporting the legions will have all the arrows.’

Atrax stared in disbelief at his fellow king. ‘What use are horse archers without arrows.’

‘They will give the illusion of strength,’ replied Surena.

Surena’s plan had merits but it was also a gamble, and if it failed the army would face certain destruction. And yet it was audacious enough to succeed against an enemy who had also suffered high casualties but who must have believed that we were on our last legs. Whether we opted for Surena’s plan or not we had to do something this day. Inactivity was not an option.

‘I think we should decide what we are going to do,’ said Orodes. ‘Pacorus, I would hear your views on the matter.’

I could think of no alternative. ‘I agree with Surena.’

Orodes looked at Atrax. ‘And you, lord king?’

‘Let us finish this business,’ he replied.

‘And what of you, Gafarn?’ enquired Orodes.

Gafarn wore a mask of steely determination. ‘I have a debt to settle with Narses. I say we attack.’

Orodes nodded his head. ‘Very well. We march out at dawn.’

That was three hours away and so everyone left my tent to go back to his forces to brief their officers. Before they left, though, Alcaeus appeared with jugs full of a bitter-tasting liquid that he insisted we all drink. He told us that it was water mixed with an extract from a Chinese plant called Ma-huang that was a stimulant and would sharpen our dulled senses during the coming fight. He made sure that we all drank a full measure before retuning to his hospital as we went to rouse our sleeping men.

As aching and fatigued bodies were shaken awake a thorough search of the camp was conducted for arrows, including those that had been shot by the enemy during the previous day and night. In this way enough ammunition was found to equip each horse archer who would be fighting alongside the legions with three full quivers. These men would be drawn from the contingents of Dura, Media and Hatra and would be commanded by Vagises, while Surena would use his own horse archers from Gordyene to form the defensive screen immediately north of the camp. Gallia would remain in camp with the reserve.

‘I do not wish to remain in camp,’ she complained as she assisted me in putting on my scale armour.

Having already lost my father I was gripped by a desire to protect her at all costs.

‘If the hill men return then Surena will not be able to hold them with horsemen armed only with swords. Your reserve will buy us more time.’

She was unconvinced. ‘More time for what? If more hill men return then my Amazons and a few hundred demoralised Babylonians will not be able to stop them. I would prefer to fight by your side today.’

She looked at me with sad eyes. ‘In case we do not see each other again.’

I grabbed her shoulders. ‘Do not think such thoughts. Thinking them may make them come true. Think instead of Narses skewered on the end of my lance.’

She handed me my helmet. ‘A pleasing enough thought. Just ensure you are not hurt yourself.’

I tried to ruffle the battered crest on my helmet, to no avail. ‘That is in the hands of Shamash.’

She shook her head. ‘You and your gods. There are so many of them with so many names, but I have often thought that perhaps there is only one, like Aaron’s people believe.’

I looked aghast at her. ‘Only one god?’

She shrugged. ‘Shamash is your lord of the sun, but the Gauls also have a god of the sun called Lugus. I wonder how many other peoples have a name for the sun god? But there is only one sun, so perhaps there is only one god.’

I held her face and kissed her on the lips. ‘What a strange idea. I’m sure the Gauls have many gods.’

‘Nearly forty as far as I can remember.’

‘Well, then, wouldn’t you prefer to have them all on your side instead of just one?’

She was clearly in a reflective mood. ‘I suppose.’

We walked from the tent towards the stable area, around us hundreds of men putting on armour and checking their weapons before mustering in their companies and centuries.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘Surena doesn’t believe in any gods at all.’

She smiled wryly. ‘I can believe that. He’s so cock-sure of himself he probably thinks he is a god.’

‘But very able. It is gratifying to know that one of the Sons of the Citadel has become a king. It should act as an inspiration to others.’

She gave me a sideways glance. ‘Let us hope that he is as talented as he thinks he is.’

The sun was a perfect yellow ball surrounded by orange hues as we rode east from the camp’s entrance, the banners of Susiana, Babylon, Media, Hatra and Dura fluttering behind us, and behind them twenty-two hundred men going forth for the final clash with Narses and Mithridates. Immediately after leaving camp we swung north to avoid the wreckage of the Babylonian camp that had been thoroughly pillaged and set alight by the hill men the day before. The temperature was already warm and there was no wind and so the putrid stench of death met our nostrils as we skirted the northern side of the Hatran camp and then the charred remains of the encampments of Media and Gordyene. The camps themselves and the ground to the south, where much of the fighting had taken place, were covered with thousands of dead men and slain horses and camels. Some of them had been lying on the ground for two days and already were starting to rot in the heat. The smell of death is an aroma that could only have been concocted in the underworld — an odour akin to mixed dung, urine and vomit. That is what I smelt now as we cantered east towards the rising sun.

The legions followed us out of camp and after them came the horse archers who would fight on their left flank. The last to leave would be Surena and his men to form our northern screen, while inside, straining at the leash, would be Gallia with the meagre reserve. I felt pity for Domitus and his men, who would have to march across a carpet of dead flesh to get to grips with the enemy, unless the enemy decided to assault them first.

On we rode, leaving the harvest of dead behind as we cantered further east and the sweet smell of grassland entered our nostrils. The black smoke that still hung in the air over the torched camps had fortuitously masked our exit from camp, increasing our chances of achieving surprise when we struck the enemy’s flank. After five miles or so we headed south and then west before Orodes called a halt so we could deploy into our attack formation — three ranks of cataphracts spread over approximately two-thirds of a mile. Due to losses in both men and equipment over the preceding two days only the front rank was fully equipped with the kontus. Only around half of the second rank had lances and the third rank carried none at all. Much of our leg and arm armour was dented and many scales had been torn from their thick hide suits, but at least every man and horse was wearing some sort of armour protection.

It took only a matter of minutes for the contingents to deploy into formation. On the right flank of our depleted formation was Orodes’ bodyguard — two hundred men — in the place of honour. Next came my seven hundred Durans and to the left of them nine hundred and fifty Hatrans, now led by Gafarn as Vistaspa was lying in a cot in the hospital. Finally, on the left flank, were Atrax’s three hundred and fifty men. As they had done many times before my men had their helmets pushed back on their heads as they waited for the signal to advance, many sharing jokes with their comrades, others checking their weapons, their reins wrapped round their left wrists.

We had gathered a hundred paces in front of the centre of the line as the final preparations were made, the sky once again an intense blue.

‘I wanted to thank you, my friends,’ said Orodes, ‘for your support and faith in me. Our journey has been a long and difficult one and now it comes to an end, for good or ill.’

‘It is just the start of your journey as the high king of Parthia, lord’ I said.

‘A new dawn for the empire,’ stated Gafarn.

‘And an end to tyranny,’ added Atrax.

Orodes raised his lance. ‘A new dawn.’

‘A new dawn,’ we replied in unison.

We then shook hands and wished each other well before rejoining our men.

‘Time to avenge our father,’ I called to Gafarn as he veered away to join his Hatrans. He turned round and raised his left hand in acknowledgement.

Horses scraped at the ground and men pulled their helmets down over their faces as Orodes raised his kontus to signal the advance. Horns were sounded and a wall of horseflesh moved forward into a walk.

Whatever was in the drink that Alcaeus had given us had worked for I felt invigorated, intoxicated even, my senses heightened to make me aware of every small detail around me — the heavy breathing of my horse, the clattering of maces and axes hanging from saddle horns against scale armour, the thud of Remus’ iron-shod hooves on the turf. But he and the other horses were tired from the previous two days of battle and their advance was laboured. To conserve their strength we trotted in the direction of our target for a distance of around three miles, maintaining our formation, before breaking into a canter. We cantered for a further ten minutes to bring us within striking distance of the enemy’s right flank.

I could see them now: two great blocks of horsemen, one behind the other, the front one seemingly expanding and contracting — horse archers. The front ranks were obviously advancing to shoot their arrows before retreating to allow the rear ranks to ride forward and shoot their missiles. And once they had used up all their ammunition they would be replaced by the second formation massed behind them, waiting patiently to take their turn in the front line. And on the extreme right of the scene being played out before my eyes there was another group of horsemen — Dura’s horse archers — locked in a duel with their adversaries.

Orodes rode out in front of our formation and signalled a halt, horns blasting to convey his command through the ranks. I slowed Remus to a trot and then a walk and then rode forward to join Orodes, Atrax and Gafarn who had also left their men.

Orodes was highly animated. ‘We must destroy those horse archers on their right wing but it will not require all out forces. Pacorus, your men will combine with mine to attack the horse archers. Atrax and Gafarn, take your men around them to attack the rear of the enemy’s centre.’

They both saluted Orodes and rode back to their men.

‘One more charge, Pacorus,’ shouted Orodes, ‘one more charge and they will break.’

Obviously Orodes had had a double measure of Alcaeus’ magic liquid.

I raised my kontus. ‘Let us crush our enemies, see them scattered to the four winds and hear the lamentations of their women.’

He screamed at his horse so she rose up on her hind legs and then bolted forward. I laughed and dug my knees into Remus and he too raced ahead. Behind us nine hundred heavy horsemen broke into a gallop. We were around a mile from the enemy and it took ninety seconds to cover half that distance before we levelled our lances to break into the charge. The enemy spotted us but had less than a minute to act before we struck them — hundreds of cataphracts hurtling headlong at the right flanks of two blocks of horse archers, while Atrax and Gafarn thundered behind them. They ran out of time.

We did not so much hit the enemy but rather gouged a great chunk out of them when we smashed into their flank. I drove my kontus into the side of a rider’s horse and then drew my spatha to slash left and right at heads and torsos that wore no armour, killing and maiming with wild abandon as I screamed at Remus to keeping moving. It was carnage as hundreds of men began a killing frenzy. The enemy horse archers had only one aim — to flee — but there was no escape from the steel-clad demons in their midst.

Orodes and his horsemen scythed their way into the front block of horse archers, those who were fighting Vagises’ men, while my heavy horsemen lanced into the rear group.

The initial impact took us deep into the enemy’s formation, those riders in our path trying desperately to get out of the way but most failing as maces split unprotected skulls and swords lacerated bodies. I held my new mace in my left hand and my spatha in my right. They felt weightless as I swung them at any enemy flesh that came within range. I ran a horse through the neck with my sword, smashed a man’s nose with my mace, and then severed a rider’s arm with a downward cut of my spatha. Arrows hit my body and horse and bounced off — Dura’s horse archers were still shooting into the enemy’s ranks — and Narses’ horse archers tried to slash me with their swords, the blades glancing harmlessly off my leg and arm armour. I was suddenly gripped with merriment and began laughing hysterically as I slashed, hacked and clubbed with my weapons, my face and armour being splattered with enemy blood.

On we fought, now herding the defeated horse archers before us. The din of thousands of men locked in combat filled the air, a great roaring noise that engulfed the battlefield and blotted out all other noise. I was screaming at the enemy but could not hear my voice as the ranks of the horse archers thinned and suddenly disappeared. We had ridden straight through them. I looked left and right and saw other riders coming to a halt with blood-smeared weapons in their hands. I turned and saw Vagharsh with my banner and nodded to him. He smiled grimly and then pointed ahead. I turned and saw a great mass of archers on foot loosing their missiles over the heads of the dense ranks of spearmen arrayed in front of them. He looked exhausted but I felt elated. I caught sight of the tall trees of the date palm grove in the distance and realised that the legions must have pushed the enemy spearmen through it and out the other side. Behind the latter enemy archers were shooting volley after volley to support the hard-pressed spearmen in front of them.

More and more riders grouped around me as we reformed our ranks to attack the foot archers. As we did so I looked to my left and saw the heavy horsemen of Media and Hatra envelop of formation of foot soldiers, though from this distance I could not tell what or who they were. And then, in the same area, I saw a brief glimpse of a large yellow banner. Narses!

Orodes came to my side, his armour battered and his sword covered in gore. I pointed at the archers in front of us attired in yellow tunics, red felt caps, brown leggings and carrying only bows and long daggers.

‘They are shooting at the legions over the heads of their spearmen.’

Orodes wore the expression of a man possessed. ‘We will destroy them, my friend.’

‘You will destroy them,’ I told him. ‘I have a personal debt to settle.’

‘Debt?’

I pointed to the south, to where Gafarn and Atrax were battling the enemy. ‘Narses is there. Vengeance is mine.’

‘Go, then,’ he said. ‘And may God go with you.’

I nodded to him and turned in the saddle.

‘First company of cataphracts, with me.’

We galloped across ground carpeted with the corpses of dead and dying men and horses, Vagharsh and seventy men behind me, as I went in search of retribution.

Gafarn and Atrax were now assaulting the palace guards of Narses and Mithridates: spearmen wearing bronze helmets with large cheekguards, leather cuirasses and large round shields faced with bronze and carrying the symbols of Persis and Susiana. I shouted with joy. Finally, after the oceans of blood that had been spilt and the years of fighting, we had the last reserves of the enemy cornered. The heavy cavalry were lapping round the solid phalanx of the spearmen, which appeared to number around four thousand, trying to work their way in. But the guards were holding firm and presented an unbroken square of spear points. I would have swapped my kingdom for Marcus’ machines at that moment.

I saw the banners of Media and Hatra and headed towards them. I found a frustrated Gafarn and Atrax with their senior officers.

‘We failed to break them,’ said Atrax bitterly.

‘Palace guards, the best the enemy has,’ remarked Gafarn.

Their cataphracts were already beginning to disengage from the spearmen and were falling back to our position around four hundred paces from the enemy, when from behind I heard a great rumbling noise, like distant thunder.

‘What is that?’ asked Atrax.

Gafarn appeared drained as I turned to face the direction the noise was coming from. My heart sank as I saw a yellow flag and a great wave of horsemen riding towards our position. Their frontage must have covered at least half a mile.

‘It is Nergal,’ exclaimed Atrax.

I could still not identify the banner. ‘Are you sure?’

He laughed out loud. ‘Quite sure, Nergal has come.’

My eyes then focused and I saw that the banner was yellow and sported a double-headed lion sceptre crossed with a sword — Nergal had brought his army. Wild cheering began to erupt around me as word spread that reinforcements had arrived.

As Nergal’s horse archers flooded the area immediately south of our position the king and queen of Mesene rode to my side. I reached over to hug Praxima and gripped Nergal’s forearm, and then saw with surprise that Gallia and the Amazons were also with them.

‘Your presence is most welcome, lord king,’ I said to Nergal. ‘As is yours, lady,’ smiling at Praxima beside him.

Gallia came to my side. ‘I thought you were supposed to be guarding the camp.’

She waved away my admonishment. ‘Surena guards it with his horse archers that have no arrows, him and the squires.’

She looked at the square of enemy spearmen. ‘What is happening here?’

‘It is quite simple,’ answered Gafarn, raising his hand to Nergal, ‘they stand in rock-like defiance of us. We cannot break them.’

Gallia nodded thoughtfully and then smiled at Praxima who pulled her bow from its case. ‘Like old times, Gallia.’

Gallia grinned in delight. ‘Like old times. Amazons!’

She then pulled her own bow from its case and dug her knees into Epona’s sides and bolted forward followed by Praxima and the Amazons. I shook my head.

I looked at Nergal. ‘I would greatly appreciate it if your archers would assist our two wives.’

He grinned, raised his bow and then he and hundreds of his horse archers galloped after the Amazons.

The cataphracts sat and cheered as the Amazons and Nergal’s horsemen rode at the enemy in continuous circuits, loosing their arrows and slowly eroding the number of spearmen. Fortunately Nergal had brought his own camel train with spare arrows so the destruction of the enemy spearmen was now assured. Then I saw the yellow banner of Narses and knew that the battle was not yet over.

The King of Persis was riding at the head of a line of armoured horsemen that was moving at speed towards the surrounded spearmen in an attempt to relieve them. I saw more spear points behind the cataphracts stretching into the distance and realised that a great number of horsemen were bearing down on my wife and friends.

‘We must head them off. Line and column to deceive them,’ I shouted to Gafarn and Atrax.

They gestured to their officers and seconds later horns were sounded to signal the advance. Moments later over twelve hundred riders were cantering towards the enemy horsemen, without lances and riding tired horses. But if we did not intercept Narses and his men they would swat away our horse archers and save the spearmen. So we broke into a gallop and extended our line to cover half a mile as the gap between the two sides shortened by the second. Five hundred paces from them our formation divided into two columns, the riders at the extreme ends of each flank forming the head of a column as cataphracts suddenly veered left and right to fall in behind them to create a space into which Narses and his heavy horsemen charged, to hit thin air.

There is no point in tired horsemen that have not a kontus among them charging headlong at riders who are fresh and armed with lances, unless they wish to become a kebab — a kontus will go straight though the thickest scale armour. So we flanked right and left to become columns as Narses and his men hurtled past us and we wheeled inwards to strike them in their flanks. The enemy slowed and then halted as the horsemen in front of them parted but in doing so their momentum was lost as we once again drew our weapons and moved into the enemy mass.

Most of the horsemen we faced were spearmen wearing helmets, leather cuirasses and carrying round shields. They jabbed their spears at our bellies but from a near stationary position we could break the spear shafts with our axes and maces. A spear point glanced off the steel on my left arm. I brought my spatha down to splinter the shaft and then brought up the point to thrust it at the rider as he closed on me, the blade going through his larynx. Once more I had my mace in my left hand as I swung it against the side of a man’s helmet, the flange denting the metal and knocking him from his saddle.

Then the Amazons and Nergal’s archers were by our side, shooting arrows at the enemy who were now beginning to slowly fall back. I continued to slash and hack with my weapon and then saw a helmet with a red crest and a fleeting glimpse of a yellow banner. A spearman fell from his saddle under my blows. Then I was before Narses himself.

Dressed in an armoured cuirass covered in silver scales, he directed his horse straight at me and hurled himself from his saddle to grab me as we both tumbled to the ground. My sword was knocked from my hand though my mace’s leather strap was still wrapped round my left wrist as I lay winded on my back. Narses wore no scale armour so he was able to spring to his feet to stand over me, ready to plunge his sword into my chest. I rolled onto my left side as he missed and thrust the blade into the earth beside me, grabbed the handle of my mace and swung it to the right with all my strength. Narses emitted a roar of pain as a flange bit into his leg just above his right knee and he staggered back.

I used the mace to hoist myself onto my feet as he attacked me with a series of savage downward swinging cuts with his sword. One glanced off the side of my helmet to produce a ringing in my ears as I tried to fend him off. I was tiring now and several of his strikes managed to get through my defence, striking my shoulders, knocking off iron scales and biting deep into the hide underneath. I was breathing heavily, desperately trying to fill my lungs with air to alleviate the burning sensation in my chest.

There was blood showing on his right leg but it seemed to have no effect on him as he aimed a horizontal cut against my left shoulder that I stopped by holding my mace with both hands to deflect the blow. I was aware of nothing around me as I transferred the mace to my right hand and threw it at his face. He did not expect that as he ducked to avoid it and I ran at him with all my strength, knocking him to the ground and the sword out of his hand. I held his neck with my left hand and frantically punched his face with my fist, screaming insults as I did so. But he managed to grab his sword and rain blows against the side of my helmet with its pommel, finally knocking me aside.

He staggered unsteadily to his feet, dazed, and with difficulty grasped his sword with both hands to drive it into my prostrate body before him, as I grabbed my own sword lying between his feet and thrust it upwards into his groin.

He winced fiercely, his teeth locked together as I took what seemed like an eternity to haul myself to me feet. Narses dropped his sword and looked at me pitifully, but there was no pity in me this day. I ran my spatha through his cuirass and into his belly, gripping it with both hands as I did so.

‘That is for my father.’

I yanked the blade free and he fell to his knees, still staring at me with disbelieving eyes, blood gushing from between his legs. I reached forward and ripped the helmet off his head, then brought my blade down on his head, splitting his skull.

‘And that is for Farhad.’

He pitched forward to lie face down on the ground. I stood over him, clasped the hilt of my sword with both hands and rammed it down hard, driving it through his body.

‘And that is for Vardan.’

I held up my arms and screamed in triumph and then saw the figure of Mithridates gallop away with a score or more of other horsemen behind him. I pointed at him.

‘Kill him, kill him. Will someone kill him?’

But no one heard me as I stood and watched the snake ride away and then disappear from view.

Vagharsh was the first to arrive where I stood like a guard dog watching over an old bone, escorted by the men of my first company of cataphracts. He looked at the dead body.

‘Who is that?’

‘King Narses, Vagharsh. He is finally dead.’

Vagharsh nodded and then looked at the scene of carnage all around. ‘Him and a lot of others.’

I was suddenly afraid for Gallia. ‘Where is the queen?’

‘She is safe,’ he assured me. ‘She is with the kings.’

He nudged his horse over to where Remus had been calmly standing next to Narses’ horse and brought him to me, then assisted me into the saddle. I ordered horsemen to mount a guard over the body of Narses to ensure it was not taken away and then rode to join my wife.

When I found her she was with Nergal, Atrax and Gafarn as Vagharsh had said, and after embracing her and the others I told them that Narses was dead. I also informed them that I had seen Mithridates flee, back to Susa I assumed.

The battle was now petering out. The phalanx of enemy guards had been decimated by arrow fire and the survivors had given themselves up after Narses’ relief charge had failed. A courier brought news from Orodes that he had destroyed the enemy’s horse and foot archers and had linked up with Vagises, while the legions, despite being under a hail of arrows and sling shots from the start of the fighting, had managed to inch their way forward into and through the date palm grove, forcing enemy spearmen back as they did so, until the remnants of the latter had simply dissolved as the survivors fled south.

The Battle of Susa was over.