Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 4

Frantic horn blasts hastily assembled the horse archers and then we turned and galloped back to the rest of the army. I remained behind until the last remnants of Dura’s riders had been located and ordered to withdraw, and then rode back in their wake. I kept glancing back, expecting to see parties of horsemen leaving the enemy ranks to pursue us, but they did not break their steady, remorseless advance. There was no need, they knew that Dura’s army would be exhausted from having fought one battle, and there was no need for them to rush. I had walked straight into their trap. Narses must have known that even with greater numbers a straight fight between my army and his would probably result in him losing. So he had sacrificed one army; allowed it to be cut to pieces, safe in the knowledge that he had enough men to launch a second force against Dura’s tired and weakened soldiers. Ruthless and very clever. As I shouted at Remus to move faster Dobbai’s words were ringing in my ears. I had underestimated both Mithridates and Narses and now faced paying a heavy price.

The horse archers must have ridden five miles east from the army in their pursuit of the dregs of Mithridates’ army, and by the time they got back to where the legions were gathered in their ragged ranks their horses were sweating and tired. Domitus had pulled back his men about a quarter of a mile from where the mêlée had taken place. A long, thick line of dead men and horses marked the spot where the fighting had been the fiercest. Hundreds of his men lay on the ground helmetless, others leaning on their rested shields, joking and talking with their comrades. I had stumbled upon a scene of near serenity, spoiled only by the carpet of offal that had been dumped on the desert floor. The air of calm was shattered as the horse archers retreated before the advance of Narses’ army.

At first the men looked at each other in confusion, then put on their helmets and scrambled to their feet as I rode to find Domitus and Orodes. Soon trumpet blasts were coming from the ranks of the cohorts as officers and centurions joined their units and reorganised their men. Around two hundred paces behind the foot the cataphracts lay resting on the ground, squires busily unburdening their horses of the scale armour that had served them so well in the battle. Behind them were the beasts of the camel train loaded with spare arrows. They stopped and looked in confusion at each other and their masters as I halted among them when I spotted Domitus talking to Orodes, Malik and Byrd. Orodes, like many of the horsemen, had taken off his scale armour and had dumped it on the ground beside him. A squire was leading a camel to begin loading both his and his horse’s scale armour onto the beast’s back.

‘What in the name of Jupiter is going on?’ said Domitus, two of his metal discs having been knocked off his mail shirt in the fighting.

I halted Remus and jumped off his back. ‘The army of Narses approaches. We have been well and truly duped.’

Byrd was appalled that his scouting skills had let him down. ‘Impossible, we rode to the banks of the Tigris itself. There was no other army.’

‘It is true, Pacorus,’ added Malik. ‘We saw no other enemy.’

I allowed myself a smile. ‘My friends, of course you saw nothing because there was nothing to see. Mithridates and Narses are masters of deception. They allowed us to see what they wanted us to see. The second army was probably hidden on the eastern bank of the Tigris, or perhaps in Seleucia itself.’

‘How many do they bring against us?’ asked Orodes, who looked tired and drawn, though mercifully unhurt.

‘Thousands,’ I replied. ‘The point is that we do not have the energy to fight a second battle.’

Domitus was nodding his head approvingly. ‘Clever, very clever. They allowed you to slaughter one part of their force so you could wear yourself out, and then they come with fresh troops to finish you off.’

‘When you have finished admiring the enemy perhaps you might like to get the legions back to camp,’ I said.

‘You are running from them?’ Orodes was mortified by the idea of retreat.

I walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘My friend, much as I would like to fight your brother….’

‘Stepbrother,’ he reminded me.

I continued. ‘As much as I would like to fight him, and Narses, if we do we die. He has held back his horse archers and they bring more cataphracts and thousands of foot.’

‘Tired men cannot fight another battle and win,’ added Domitus.

Orodes looked dejected and said no more.

‘Well, then,’ said Domitus, ‘I’d better get the camp organised.’

He took a swig from his water bottle, replaced the cork and then strode off.

‘Domitus,’ I called after him, ‘ensure that no water is wasted. We will need every drop.’ He raised his hand in acknowledgement and then was gone.

At that moment Surena rode up. His helmet was pushed back on his head although he was still wearing his scale armour. His horse was still similarly protected. ‘I have just heard, lord. Let me take my half dragon to disperse them.’

Orodes rolled his eyes in despair and Malik laughed. Byrd stared at Surena in disbelief.

‘As much as a glorious death may appeal to you, Surena,’ I said, ‘I still have need of you. Get your men and their squires back to camp and wait for further orders.’

He looked towards where the din of kettledrums and horns was getting louder and then at me in frustration. Finally he snorted loudly and then rode back to his men.

‘He fought well today, Pacorus,’ said Orodes. ‘But he doesn’t know when to stop. He will over-reach himself one day, I fear.’

‘But not today,’ I replied.

Orodes’ squire had finished packing his armour onto the camel and now held the reins of his and his master’s horse. Orodes nodded to me and then vaulted into his saddle and rode away to his men mounted and waiting a couple of hundred paces away. I turned to Byrd and Malik.

‘My friends, though you are tired I would ask a favour of you both.’

They both nodded.

‘Byrd, I would like you to ride to King Vardan at Babylon and tell him what has happened here. Tell him that we are marching back to Dura. Warn him that Mithridates may strike at Babylon then make your way back to us. Malik, I would ask you to ride straight to Dura and convey the news of our predicament to Gallia. She will take it better if it comes from a friend. And convey my love to her also.’

He bowed his head to me. ‘You can tell her that yourself when you return home.’

I embraced him and then Byrd and then they were away, riding back to camp to get food and fodder before leaving us. Byrd would head southwest towards the Euphrates, taking him away from the enemy and allowing him to get water for both him and his horse. The great river lay around thirty miles in that direction, and Babylon another eighty travelling southeast and following the course of the waterway.

Malik would ride west, following the same route that the army had taken to get to this place. After travelling fifty miles he and his men would reach the Euphrates, thereafter riding another two hundred miles north before arriving at Dura. We were in Babylonian territory, but sixty miles north lay Hatra’s border, and once Malik reached my father’s kingdom he would make contact with one of the mud-brick forts that littered the realm. Each one held carrier pigeons that could convey messages faster than a horse. With luck news of my predicament would reach Dura in a week. I prayed that any subsequent news that reached my wife’s ears would not tell of my bleached bones lying in the sun.

The horse archers acted as the rear-guard of the army as the legions, cataphracts, squires and camels retreated back to camp. I stayed with the rearmost units as I watched the army disappear into the vast rectangle that we had created in the desert, and then cast my eyes to the east. The army of Narses was visible now, a black line of foot and cavalry filling the horizon. I gave the signal to fall back as a party of enemy horse archers, dressed in baggy long-sleeved yellow shirts and blue leggings, halted around five hundred paces from me. About a hundred in number, they gave no indication that they were going to attack. They merely spread into a long line and pulled their bows from their cases and observed us retreating. They advanced as we fell back, but when I ordered a halt and about-face they stopped. More of their comrades joined the end of their line until there were around five hundred horsemen facing us. We fell back another five hundred paces and they followed, but when we wheeled round to face them as before they again halted. They were obviously under orders not to provoke a fight. I was tempted to launch my own assault, but more and more horse archers were now joining them and any combat would have been a very one-sided affair. And so, as the final units of Dura’s army filed back into camp, the rear-guard and I followed them. What had started as a most propitious day had ended very badly.

I thanked Rome’s gods that they had revealed to me the mysteries of the Roman military machine, its organisation and encampment procedures. For if Dura’s army had been run along Parthian lines then we would surely have been carrion for the crows by the morning. But at least we had a ditch, rampart and palisade surrounding us. Those defences gave me time to think of a plan for the morrow. I also breathed a huge sigh of relief that it was not the Parthian way to fight at night; otherwise we would be fending off attacks during the hours of darkness.

When word had reached Marcus of what was happening, after they had arrived back in camp he had ordered the squires to man the rampart with their bows in case the enemy tried to storm the camp. The squires had taken no part in the battle and they were thus fresh and rested, and eager to fight. They may have been boys, mostly between fourteen and sixteen years of age, but they were well versed in using a Parthian bow. To curb their youthful enthusiasm Marcus gave each boy a full quiver and said he would increase his fatigue duties if he wasted any arrows.

As well as the squires and the fighting men there were farriers, veterinaries, blacksmiths, the riders of the camels of the ammunition train and the wagons, Marcus’ men and Alcaeus’ medical personnel in camp — over three thousand men.

Domitus organised parties to reinforce the rampart defences as the enemy slowly surrounded the camp. Despite my general’s fears that they would launch an immediate attack from all sides they actually showed no signs that they would assault us. They were content to deploy on all four sides of the camp and then stand in their ranks. The camp’s main entrance was on the western side and that was where Narses placed his foot, thousands of spearmen dressed in yellow tunics and blue leggings. They carried long spears topped by leaf-shaped points and wore helmets on their heads. Their large rectangular shields were made of wicker covered with leather painted yellow. They also carried what looked like long daggers in scabbards fixed to their belts. They wore no body armour. In the centre of the line stood Narses’ élite foot soldiers — his palace guard, or at least that is what I assumed they were. They wore bronze helmets with large cheekguards to protect the sides of their faces and had leather cuirasses over their torsos. Their tunics were yellow like the other foot soldiers and they too were armed with spears that had leaf-shaped blades. However, their shields were round and faced with bronze after the Greek fashion, with the symbol of the bird-god painted on each one. There were around two thousands of them.

To the north of our camp Narses deployed his horse archers, thousands of men in helmets, yellow shirts and red leggings. Some of them wore armour on their bodies. On the south side of the camp were yet more archers similarly attired, a great mass of men and horseflesh intended to awe us. Last but by no means least to the east of the camp came Narses himself, accompanied by around five thousand or more armoured horsemen.

I stood on the rampart with Orodes, Domitus and Surena as they rode towards our camp and then halted around four hundred paces away; a horde of heavy cavalry, each man holding a kontus. I estimated that we were surrounded by at least thirty thousand enemy soldiers.

Narses, the King of Persis and Sakastan, had always cut a dashing figure, adorning every inch of his powerful frame with expensive clothes and armour. Today was no different. Mounted as ever on his magnificent black stallion, whose immaculately groomed coat shone in the late afternoon sun, he and his horse wore no scale armour. Instead he wore a cuirass made up of overlapping rows of silver segments and on his large head he wore a helmet inlaid with gold. Its cheekguards were also inlaid with gold and silver and from its crown streamed a long black horsehair plume. Next to him, also seated on a black stallion, was King of Kings Mithridates. I spat over the palisade stakes in his direction, hoping he would see my insult. Perhaps he would be enraged and launch an assault. I gripped the hilt of my spatha.

‘You are wasting your spit,’ growled Domitus. ‘He’s got us where he wants us. The last thing he’ll do is make any rash moves.’

‘Give me some men, lord,’ said Surena, who appeared remarkably fresh despite his participation in the battle. ‘I can launch an attack against them. They are very close.’

Domitus looked at him and shook his head, prompting a scowl from Surena. Domitus had always regarded Surena as volatile and reckless. For his part Surena believed Domitus to be far too cautious.

‘No, Surena,’ I replied. ‘For the moment we conserve our strength.’

Domitus looked up at the sun descending on the western horizon.

‘They won’t attack today.’

‘Knowing my stepbrother,’ added Orodes, ‘he would prefer to starve us into submission rather than offer battle.’

Narses was obviously bored with watching us as he wheeled his horse away and rode back to the camp that was being established to the south of our position. His many cataphracts and Mithridates followed the lord high general of the Parthian Empire. To the east where the earlier battle had taken place, smoke was billowing into the sky. The enemy was cremating the dead on great pyres rather than burying them. Perhaps Orodes was right — the enemy intended to starve us into submission rather than assault our camp. No general would want piles of bodies and rotting carcasses near his army. Already the flies would be swarming over dead flesh, and where there was dead flesh there would soon be plague and sickness. At least there was still a slight northerly wind that carried the stench of burning flesh to the south rather than over our camp. To the west the sky was a mass of blues and purples streaked with orange and yellow. It was a beautiful spring evening. I hoped it would not be our last.

I turned to the others. ‘Get something to eat. Council of war in an hour.’

With due reverence the griffin and lion standards were returned to their tents and guards placed around them. Officers reported to Domitus and Orodes in my command tent and clerks recorded the number of dead and wounded. When we returned to Dura, if we returned to Dura, those killed who had families would be informed of the pensions they were entitled to. Any children of the deceased would be entitled to free education and any males could be enrolled in the Sons of the Citadel scheme should they be suitable. When I had first come to Dura Domitus had insisted that his legionaries should be forbidden to marry, as was the rule in the Roman army. However, after a while many legionaries had formed relationships and had given their women part of their wages so they could rent rooms in the city. They were de facto man and wife. And when men among the cavalry began to enter into marriages it was clearly impractical and unfair to insist that the legionaries should be treated differently. Domitus grumbled but acquiesced. I suggested that he too should take a wife but he had scowled and grumbled some more so I let the matter rest.

Before the council meeting I walked round the camp and talked with as many men as possible. Despite being outnumbered and surrounded they were in remarkably good spirits, but then victory has a habit of intoxicating the soul and diminishing the size of the enemy. Walking back to my tent I threaded my way through the neat rows of eight-man tents in which the legionaries and horsemen slept. I came across one of the Companions, a Thracian named Drenis who had been a gladiator in Capua, in the same school as Spartacus. I had absolutely no idea how old he was but judging by the scars and lines on his face he must have been a veteran of a hundred battles! His arms and legs were similarly adorned with scars and marks, further mementoes of his time in the arena and on the battlefield. He had started out as a slave before becoming a gladiator, then served in the ranks of the slave army in Italy before becoming a centurion in Dura’s army. He now commanded two cohorts, the equivalent of a Roman tribune, though he would never countenance accepting a title used by his enemies. He was standing next to a brazier holding forth to a group of his centurions sitting on stools round it. They all stood up when they saw me. I indicated to them to regain their seats.

‘Ah, Pacorus,’ all the Companions were allowed such familiarity with each other, ‘I was just telling them about when that bastard Crassus had us boxed in at Rhegium, do you remember?’

‘I do indeed, I also remember it being very cold.’

I was taken back to the southern tip of Italy, to when Spartacus had led the army to the port of Rhegium prior to embarkation aboard ships of the Cilician pirates for transportation to the island of Sicily. But the pirates had betrayed us, and Crassus had built a line of earthworks and wooden forts across the land to trap the slave army with its back against the sea.

Drenis put his arm round my shoulder.

‘So the Romans thought they had the war all done and dusted and were planning their victory parade when Pacorus and his horsemen smashes through their lines and allowed us to escape. We gave one lot a beating today and tomorrow the ones that turned up late for the show will get the same treatment. I was telling them that there’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Perhaps we might negotiate our way out of here, Drenis.’

He laughed aloud. ‘You’ve been a king too long. Besides, someone told me that Mithridates is present.’

‘He is.’

Drenis pulled his gladius from its scabbard. ‘Well he can negotiate all he wants to; he’s not going anywhere. He has to pay for what he did to Godarz.’

They all cheered at this. I clasped Drenis’ forearm and left him to his tall stories. I suddenly felt more confident that we would all live to see Dura again.

Back at the command tent Domitus and Orodes had dismissed the clerks and were seated at the table in the main compartment. They too appeared to be in good spirits.

‘What is the damage?’ I asked.

‘A hundred dead legionaries and another hundred wounded,’ replied Domitus.

‘Forty cataphracts were killed, another thirty-five wounded, two score horse archers also,’ added Orodes.

They were remarkably light casualties considering the size of the opposition, and had we faced but one army we would have been able to march on Ctesiphon in the morning. As it was we were penned in like a herd of pigs.

I unbuckled my sword belt and laid it on the table.

‘Are you hungry?’ asked Orodes.

‘No,’ I replied, staring at the polished surface.

‘You’d better get some food inside you, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.’

Outside the enemy’s kettledrums started drumming, a low thumping noise that had no interruption.

‘Looks like it is going to be a long night as well,’ added Domitus.

‘Guard,’ I shouted. One of the two sentries standing outside the entrance pulled back the flap and entered, standing to attention once inside.

‘Go and find Surena, Marcus the Roman engineer and Alcaeus.’

He saluted and disappeared. Outside the racket made by the kettledrums got louder. The enemy was obviously trying to unnerve us and deny us any sleep, not that I would have been able to sleep much anyway. Thoughts, some good, most bad, raced through my mind, foremost among them the realisation that Narses and Mithridates had duped me. Orodes sensed my unease.

‘It is not your fault, Pacorus.’

I looked at him. ‘Isn’t it? Dobbai warned me not to underestimate them and that is exactly what I have done.’

Domitus began his usual habit of toying with his dagger. ‘You had to do something. After the assassination attempt on your life you could not have carried on as if nothing had happened, otherwise you would have appeared weak.’

‘Better weak than dead,’ I mumbled.

Orodes looked most concerned but Domitus merely stretched back in his chair. ‘You know what he’s like, Orodes. Pacorus always gets morose on the eve of battle. I take it as a good omen.’

Those whom I had summoned arrived soon after and I told them to sit at the table. I rose from my chair and walked over to a smaller table nearby, grabbed the hide map that lay on it and unrolled it before them. It depicted the western half of the empire, specifically the area between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers.

I looked at the circle of faces illuminated by the oil lamps hanging from the tent poles. There was no concern or fear in their eyes, only an expectation that I would reveal to them a plan that would get us out of the predicament we were in. As ever in these situations I felt the loneliest man in the world at that moment. The burden of command bore down heavily on my shoulders. Outside the annoying drone of the massed kettledrums of the enemy continued their tuneless racket. I pointed at the map.

‘We are around twenty miles west of the Tigris and eighty miles east of the Euphrates and, as you will all have gathered, currently surrounded by the enemy. I had toyed with the idea of offering battle tomorrow.’

I saw Orodes nodding in agreement, his high sense of honour sometimes overruling sound military sense.

‘However,’ I continued, ‘to do so would only invite defeat and possible destruction. Therefore I intend to withdraw back to Dura.’

Orodes frowned but said nothing while Domitus continued playing with his dagger. He stopped and looked at me. He tilted his head to the sound outside.

‘They might have something to say about that.’

‘I will keep them occupied while Orodes and Surena make good their escape with the horse.’

Orodes looked confused. ‘I do not understand, Pacorus.’

‘It is quite simple,’ I replied. ‘If we offer battle tomorrow we will either lose and be forced to crawl back into camp once more, after which we will be in a more dire state than we are currently in. However, if you and Surena lead the horsemen to safety then I will have saved at least half the army.’

The significance of what I was saying suddenly dawned on Orodes.

‘You intend to divide the army?’

‘That is correct, my friend,’ I said. ‘The horse can break through the enemy while I keep Mithridates and Narses occupied. If they know that I am still in camp they will let you go.’

Orodes folded his arms. ‘I will not desert the army.’

‘Neither will I,’ added Surena, earning him a scowl from Domitus.

I pointed at Surena. ‘You will obey orders.’

I looked at Orodes. ‘I cannot order you to do anything, my friend, and nor would I attempt to. But as a friend I ask you to do this. With you leading them the cavalry stands a good chance of getting back to Dura.’

Orodes said nothing, which I took to mean that he accepted the charge, though he wore a deeply unhappy expression.

‘And after the horse have left, what then?’ enquired Domitus.

‘If the legions stay here they will be destroyed,’ I said. ‘Our only option is to march northwest across the desert towards Hatran territory.’ I traced my finger from where we were presently trapped to the southern frontier of my father’s kingdom. ‘The distance is around eighty or ninety miles.’

‘Four days’ march,’ said Domitus.

‘I fear it will take longer than that,’ I replied. ‘Marcus, what is the situation regarding our water supplies?’

Marcus stroked his chin as he stared at the map, then he looked up. ‘The water wagons are nearly full, though they will be emptied soon enough if we stay here.’

‘And if all the horses and camels are removed from camp?’ I asked.

He weighed up the figures in his mind, gently moving his head from side to side. ‘If that is so then we have enough water to last for ten days, though it will have to be rationed strictly.’

‘Thank you, Marcus.’ I looked at Orodes. ‘You see, my friend, how it is impossible for the horses and camels to remain. Our only chance is for you to take the cataphracts, horse archers, squires and camels and strike west for the Euphrates.’

‘That still leaves over twelve thousand men and thousands of mules,’ remarked Domitus.

‘Over twelve thousand plus one, for I shall be staying,’ I said, attempting levity. Domitus’ narrowing eyes told me I had failed.

I looked at him. ‘You know that mules are hardier than horses, can endure extremes of heat and cold and can survive on limited amounts of water. Without the mules we lose the tents, tools, spare weapons, armour, supplies and Marcus’ siege engines.’

‘To say nothing of the wounded,’ said Alcaeus, speaking for the first time.

‘What is the position regarding the wounded?’ I asked him.

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his wiry black hair. ‘Half are walking wounded and can hobble out of here, but the rest will have to be put on wagons if they are to survive.’

‘It’s decided then,’ I said. ‘We will leave no one behind to fall into the hands of Mithridates.’

‘When will the horse break out, at dawn?’ asked Domitus.

I shook my head. ‘No, I will request a meeting with Mithridates first. That will give Orodes time to organise his breakout attempt.’

Orodes looked at me and was about to protest but I froze him with a glare. I esteemed him one of my closest friends but we were fighting for our very existence and I had no time for ridiculous notions of honour, especially not when it came to creatures such as Mithridates.

It was now past midnight and there was nothing else to say. There would be no sleep for any of us, though, as we all still had work to do. Alcaeus and Marcus would have to construct wooden roofs over the wagons that would carry the wounded, because once we were on the march we would be constantly harassed by the enemy’s horse archers. I understood now why there had been none when we had fought the battle earlier. Narses was many things but he was no fool. He had clearly developed a strategy for dealing with us and thus far it had worked perfectly. But his war was only half won.

Before I dismissed the council there was one more thing to attend to.

‘Surena, you are no longer an officer in the cataphracts.’

The colour drained from his face at my words. His mouth opened but no words came, his eyes filled with hurt.

‘Orodes will lead the cavalry tomorrow but you will command the horse archers. Don’t let me down.’

Where there was despair there was now triumph in Surena’s eyes, plus a certain amount of smugness. Domitus looked at me, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

‘Remember, Surena,’ I added, ‘that you take orders from Orodes. I am entrusting you with three thousand men. Your task is to get them home safely.’

His cockiness disappeared, for the moment. ‘Yes, lord.’

The others filed out of the tent back to their commands. Domitus cornered me before I returned back to making my rounds of the camp.

‘You sure about promoting the puppy?’

‘He’s brave and well liked by the men. Besides, he’ll be useful directing a rear-guard.’

‘You are taking a risk.’

I shrugged. ‘The position we are in, I have no choice.’

I returned to walking round the perimeter of the camp, which by now was guarded by legionaries as well as squires armed with bows. The camp was ringed by a multitude of campfires spreading far into the distance. All of the enemy’s foot soldiers would be sleeping on the ground round their fires, the horse archers too. Only the cataphracts and the senior officers would sleep in tents on carpets and soft pillows, with the royal pavilions being the most luxurious. As I stood on the southern rampart staring at the two large pavilions that housed Mithridates and Narses I toyed with the idea of launching a large-scale night attack against them, but the ground between us and them was carpeted with sentries and sleeping soldiers. Even if we got to the pavilions there would be more troops to tackle. I dismissed the idea.

I saw a movement ahead and instinctively gripped the hilt of my sword. Was the enemy making a night assault? The squire next to me, a tall, skinny youth, brought up his bow and drew back the bowstring, which was nocked with an arrow. A hare ran towards us and then bolted right along the ditch and disappeared. I relaxed and laid a hand on the squire’s shoulder.

‘You can put down your bow, now.’

So focused had he been on scanning the ground in front of the ditch that he had not realised that I stood next to him. He grunted and released the strain on his bowstring. His eyes opened wide when he recognised me.

‘Apologies, majesty, I did not realise…’

‘No need to apologise for being a good sentry,’ I reassured him. ‘How long have you been a squire?’

‘Eighteen months, majesty,’ he said proudly.

It normally took four years before a squire was fully trained and old enough to become a cataphract, usually when he turned eighteen years of age. They began their training at fourteen and not all of them made it; the lazy, stupid and untrustworthy being weeded out in the first year. This youth had obviously been assessed as being capable of achieving membership of Dura’s horsed élite.

‘What are your ambitions?’ I asked him.

‘To become a cataphract and marry an Amazon,’ he said proudly.

‘Noble aims,’ I replied, ‘I’m sure you will fulfil them.’

At least he would be riding with Orodes and Surena tomorrow, and would have a chance of seeing his home again. I prayed to Shamash that He would also grant me the same privilege. But I was sure that I was making the right decision regarding sending the horsemen away.

And still the wretched kettledrums kept playing.

Dawn came all too soon. I had slept for perhaps two hours at the most when I rose and stretched my legs outside the tent. The sky was overcast and grey, the temperature cool. I went back inside to retrieve my cloak and then walked over to the stable area. The stables themselves were made of canvas stretched over wooden frames making up the stalls. Wicker panels had been fastened together to form a slanting roof over them and the horses. Thus on campaign they were sheltered from the elements. The camels and mules were corralled in a separate area but had no individual stalls. Already there was a great bustle of activity in and around the horses as squires, their masters and horse archers checked their mounts. Whether king or squire the routine was the same each morning: the horses were watered and fed and then checked for scrapes, cuts, bruises and puncture wounds on their legs, heads and bodies. Each of the hooves was then checked to see if the iron shoes had worked themselves loose, especially after the exertions of battle. Finally their coats were groomed. This is especially important for horses that are saddled most of the day to keep their coats healthy. Horses that required shoeing were taken to farriers while veterinaries attended to those that were wounded.

After I had ensured that Remus was fit for duty I searched out Orodes, finding him mucking out his brown mare. I stood at the entrance to the stall as he heaped fresh dung into a wheelbarrow.

‘I’m sure your brother does not undertake such duties.’

He looked up. ‘Stepbrother,’ he reminded me.

‘I would ask a favour of you.’

He leaned his spade against the wheelbarrow. ‘If it is within my power, consider it done.’

‘I want you to take Remus with you when you strike out for the Euphrates. I know you will take care of him.’

His concerned look resurfaced. ‘What will you ride?’

‘Nothing. I intend to walk like the rest of the men.’

He walked over to face me, whispering so no one else could hear our conversation. ‘Are you sure about your plan, Pacorus? We could always fight the enemy today, here.’

‘We cannot afford to suffer losses whereas Narses can always send for more reinforcements from Ctesiphon. We have to retreat, distasteful though it may be.’

He voiced no protest and I hoped that he saw the merits of my plan. He cocked his head.

‘Do you hear that?’

‘I can’t hear anything,’ I replied.

‘Exactly, those wretched kettledrums have finally stopped.’

He was right. At least that was one thing to be thankful for. I returned to the command tent where Domitus was chewing on salted beef.

‘It’s very quiet,’ he said.

‘Yes, peace at last.’

Outside the camp was coming alive as men formed up for morning assembly and to relieve the sentries posted around the perimeter. The main entrance to the camp was on the western side, the exit from which Orodes would lead the cavalry, but there were other minor exits at the other three points of the compass. They were all blocked by sharpened stakes driven into the ground and pointing towards the enemy at an angle of forty-five degrees, while immediately behind them was a line of wagons.

A sentry walked in and saluted.

‘The enemy have sent a courier under a flag of truce to the southern gate, majesty.’

‘Courier?’

‘Yes, majesty. King Mithridates requests a meeting with you.’

‘Perhaps he wants to surrender,’ said Domitus.

I laughed. ‘Perhaps he does.’ I rose from the chair and stretched out my arms. I felt tired, stiff and dirty.

‘Send a message back that I will meet with the king in one hour.’

The guard saluted and left. I filled a cup with water and drank it. The liquid was tepid and unappetising.

‘I wonder what he wants?’ mused Domitus, who was now sharpening his gladius with a stone, running it along each of its edges and then admiring his handiwork.

‘To gloat I would imagine. Still, an hour will give Orodes more time to prepare his men.’

I informed Orodes that his stepbrother had requested a meeting and asked whether he wanted to accompany me. He declined, stating that he might be tempted to break the rules of parley and kill Mithridates, and such a breach of the code of honour would be intolerable for him to endure. Same old Orodes. So I took Surena along, who borrowed Orodes’ shimmering cuirass of silver scales and a helmet from a horse archer, with cheek guards but no face covering. He had also cadged a pristine long-sleeved white shirt off someone as his own was filthy from yesterday’s battle. Red leggings and brown boots completed his appearance. I had to admit that Surena looked every inch a senior officer as we rode from the camp to meet my nemesis. We both carried our bows in cases dangling from our saddles and like me Surena was also armed with a spatha. Like my own it had been taken off a dead Roman; mine from a fallen foe in Italy, his from a slain cavalryman in Parthia.

I wore my usual attire of Roman helmet with its white goose feather crest, Roman cuirass, white shirt, brown leggings and leather boots. I took an escort of a dozen horse archers. Orodes said I should take more but I saw little point. Mithridates was a murderer and liar it was true, but he would be confident that he had me where he wanted me. He would be interested in torturing me with his words and nothing more, at least for the moment. So we rode from the southern entrance under a mournful grey sky with the army of the king of kings arrayed before us. Mithridates and Narses were obviously keen to taunt me as they already waited on their immaculately groomed black horses, surrounded by at least a hundred cataphracts. Members of Narses’ foot guards stood in two blocks either side of the heavy horsemen and behind the two kings their standards hung limply from their poles, not a sniff of wind to disturb them. Servants held the reins of the kings’ horses, young boys no older than sixteen years dressed in red silk shirts and baggy yellow trousers, gold earrings dangling from their ears.

We walked our horses to the meeting point halfway between our ditch and the enemy camp, or at least the southern part of it. Surena was eager to gallop across the barren ground, no doubt to clap eyes on the king of kings and his lord high general. He rode on my right and fidgeted in his saddle.

‘Calm yourself, Surena, it is unbecoming to act like an excited child during a meeting of kings.’

He had heard much about Mithridates and Narses over the past few years and had even visited the palace at Ctesiphon following my abortive campaign in Gordyene. But he had never actually laid eyes upon either of them. I could tell that he was most curious to see them up close.

‘And keep your tongue in check,’ I reminded him. ‘They may be our enemies but we must retain our dignity and manners even in the face of provocation.’

‘Yes, lord.’

‘And don’t provoke them,’ I added. ‘I know your propensity for acting rashly. Just remember they are kings and you are not. Listen and learn, Surena.’

‘Not much chance of that,’ said Vagharsh from behind us, as ever carrying my griffin banner.

When we were around fifty paces from Mithridates and Narses they both waved away the boys holding their mounts and nudged their horses forward. I signalled to Vagharsh and the horse archers to halt as Surena and I continued to walk our horses forward. We halted around ten paces from Mithridates and Narses and I brought my hands forward in front of my body and rested each one on the two front horns of the saddle. Thus could my enemies see that my hands held no weapons. I scowled at Surena when I saw that his left hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, and nodded down at my own hands, then his for him to do the same. Mithridates and Narses looked on in contempt as he finally worked out what to do and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword.

There were no greetings or smiles as I looked at Mithridates and then Narses, the latter a more imposing and authoritative figure than the high king; indeed, Mithridates could have been mistaken for one of Narses’ junior officers. As usual he was dressed in a black long-sleeved tunic, over which he wore a cuirass of silver scale armour, black leggings, black boots and at his left hip a sword held in a black scabbard decorated with silver leaf. He wore a richly adorned helmet on his head that fully encompassed his narrow, reptilian face. He hadn’t changed in all the years since I had first encountered him at Esfahan where the kings of the empire had elected his father to the high crown. His beard was still neatly trimmed and his eyes were still black and devoid of feeling. I also had no doubt that he was positively gloating over my predicament.

The King of Persis and Sakastan had also changed little since the last time I had the misfortune of meeting him. His pale face showed no signs of ageing and his shoulders were as broad as ever. Like Mithridates, Narses had a well-groomed beard and his brown eyes were as calculating and condescending as ever. His powerful frame contrasted sharply to the slim build of the high king, as did his big round face with its broad forehead compared to the narrow face and long, pointed jaw line of Mithridates.

Mithridates curled his lip at Surena. ‘Who’s this, another one of your slave soldiers?’

I did not rise to the bait. ‘This is Surena, a trusted and loyal subordinate.’

Mithridates smiled maliciously. ‘Where is my brother, has he seen sense and deserted you?’

‘Your stepbrother is in camp. He ate something last night that disagreed with him and feared that seeing you might make him feel worse.’

Surena laughed and Mithridates glowered at him. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Surena, no doubt making sure he remembered him.

‘What do you want, Mithridates?’ I asked, already growing tired of his company.

‘I called this meeting,’ he replied grandly, ‘to save further bloodshed.’

Now it was my time to laugh. ‘I would have thought the spilling of Duran blood would fill you with relish, especially mine.’

‘Parthians do not engage in killing each other,’ he replied haughtily, ‘or at least they should not.’

He was obviously alluding to my having been responsible for the deaths of King Porus of Sakastan and King Chosroes of Mesene. The former had died fighting me in battle and the latter had taken his own life when I had stormed his city of Uruk.

‘I fight only those who declare themselves to be my enemies,’ I said, ‘and seek to settle our differences on the battlefield. I never send assassins to do my work.’

I detected a fleeting look of alarm in Mithridates’ eyes, to be instantly replaced with icy disdain. He turned to Narses.

‘I told you this would be a mistake.’

Narses sighed loudly. ‘He is testing, I agree. But he should hear the terms.’

Mithridates nodded and looked away from me.

‘King Pacorus,’ said Narses without emotion. ‘You are surrounded and far from home. You must know that your position is hopeless. No one is coming to your aid. Hatra is preoccupied to the north and King Gotarzes is besieged in his city.’

‘I am fully appraised of the current situation,’ I said.

Narses continued. ‘If you lay down your arms now we will allow you to go back to your home unmolested.’

‘Back to Dura?’ I enquired.

‘Back to Hatra,’ snapped Mithridates. ‘Dura will be taken back into the empire, to be ruled directly from Ctesiphon. A loyal satrap will sit on its throne.’

I glanced at Surena, who was looking at Mithridates with venom in his eyes. ‘And what of my army?’

‘They will becomes slaves in the service of King of Kings Mithridates,’ replied Narses. ‘You, and your wife, though, will be allowed to return to your father’s kingdom.’

‘All except the Roman,’ said Mithridates.

‘The Roman?’ I enquired. I knew he was talking about Domitus, but I thought I would let him talk some more. Anything to waste time.

‘Yes,’ leered Mithridates, ‘the one who insulted me at Esfahan and who has been responsible for the deaths of so many innocent Parthians.’

Whether Mithridates had been responsible for more deaths was a moot point, but his words confirmed that he had an unending capacity for bearing grudges and hatred. He was referring to Domitus having placed his blade against the throat of one of Mithridates’ companions after I had had the misfortune of meeting him in the mausoleum to Arsaces, the first Parthian king, at Esfahan many years before.

‘He is the general of my army.’

‘He will not be allowed to live,’ said Mithridates, ‘but will be put to death in the Roman fashion. You see how merciful I am, to allow him to die according to his own customs.’

‘You really think I will agree to this?’ I answered with incredulity.

‘You might,’ remarked Narses casually, ‘if you knew that it would ensure that Gotarzes lives.’

What trickery was this? ‘I do not understand.’

Mithridates was relishing my uncertainty. ‘It is quite simple. Agree to the terms and Narses will withdraw the army from before the walls of Elymais and I will forgive Gotarzes his treachery.’

How many soldiers did they have? I had destroyed one army, only to see another spring from the desert. And now there was a third still besieging Gotarzes.

‘You may yet still save your ally,’ said Narses.

There followed a deafening silence as I weighed up what they offered. They knew that I would never agree to my army being disbanded and seeing its members go into slavery, much less sentence my friend and general to death. Or perhaps they thought that I was like them: calculating, ruthless and devoid of any notion of right and wrong.

‘I need time to think about your offer,’ was all I could say.

‘You have one hour,’ snapped Mithridates.

The parley was over and we returned to camp.

‘Well, Surena,’ I said as we walked the horses back to the entrance, the sky still showing no signs of clearing, ‘what do you think of the king of kings and his lord high general?’

‘They are liars, lord,’ he spat with contempt. He looked at me, concern etched on his face.

‘You are not going to surrender the army, lord?’

I smiled. ‘No, Surena, I am not.’

Back in camp Orodes was also dismissive of his stepbrother’s offer.

‘He intends to starve Gotarzes into surrender anyway. There is nothing you can do.’

‘Most likely he is dead already,’ added Domitus, now dressed in his helmet, mail shirt and greaves.

I was toying with the idea of offering battle instead of running. Perhaps we could still be victorious, march on Ctesiphon and relieve Gotarzes. I voiced my opinion to the others. Surena thought it an excellent idea, though Domitus, Marcus and even Orodes had grave misgivings.

‘Even if we beat them,’ said Domitus, ‘there is no guarantee that there isn’t another army waiting on the other side of the Tigris.’

‘You may offer battle,’ added Orodes, ‘but there is no guarantee that my stepbrother and Narses will accept. Most likely they will sacrifice their foot and fall back with their horse, but they could still harry us as we marched east.’

‘Another battle will use up most of our water supplies, sir,’ said Marcus.

By now the enemy army had moved into its positions around the camp, the foot to the west, horse archers to the north and east and the cataphracts in the south with Mithridates and Narses. There were nearly forty thousand soldiers surrounding us now. I knew that my two legions were worth three of four times the number of the enemy’s foot, but I only had four thousand horsemen against nearly five times that number of enemy cavalry. I had over a thousand cataphracts and the enemy had around five thousand, to say nothing of outnumbering us five to one in horse archers.

I looked at each of their faces. I knew that if I gave the command to deploy for battle they would obey without question, and no doubt would be dead by the end of the day. I could not have that on my conscience.

‘Very well,’ I said, ‘we stick to the plan. To your positions.’

Surena, Marcus and Domitus scurried away back to their men, though I asked Orodes to stay behind. As ever before combat he looked very serious. He was not like Surena, who regarded battle as another opportunity to acquire more glory and viewed it like a game with a few risks. Orodes drew his sword reluctantly, though in the midst of battle he was as expert at killing the enemy as the rest of us. But he always ensured that his conduct was beyond reproach at all times, even in the cauldron of combat.

‘I would ask one more favour of you, my friend.’

‘Anything,’ he replied.

‘Keep an eye on Surena. Above all do not let him do anything rash. I want him to become a good commander rather than an heroic dead one.’

‘Very well,’ he said quietly.

We embraced and then he went back to his men. Mithridates’ ‘generous’ offer of an hour to resign ourselves to our fate did at least give the horsemen the opportunity to finalise their arrangements. While Surena and I had been in his company, Orodes, Marcus and Domitus had drawn up the legions and the horsemen ready for the breakout. The plan was for the two legions to charge the enemy foot drawn up beyond the western entrance to the camp while I organised a diversion at the southern side. The latter was to deceive Narses and Mithridates into thinking that I was launching an attack upon their own persons and they would hopefully rally their forces to them. That was the theory at least.

Orodes charged one of the best men in his bodyguard to take care of Remus, standing now with his scale armour covering his body, neck and head. Even his eyes had wire grills over them as protection against enemy arrows. I stroked him under his chin.

‘Orodes will take care of you, and when you get back to Dura Gallia will ensure your needs are met. May Shamash protect you my faithful friend.’

I nodded to Orodes’ officer who bowed his head and led Remus away towards the camp’s western entrance. It was the first time that I would not ride him in battle.

Though they had been deployed to the west of the camp yesterday, today Narses’ palace guard were drawn up around their king and Mithridates. This meant that the foot soldiers the legions would be attacking would not be élite troops. I thanked the gods for that.

A hundred horse archers had volunteered to remain with the legions and it was they who accompanied me on foot as I ran from the southern entrance across the open ground towards where Narses, Mithridates and their soldiers were grouped. Their cataphracts were drawn up in a long line of two ranks either side of the two kings who stood with the best foot soldiers in Persis, their bronze-faced shields presenting a wall of metal in front of a forest of spears. As we ran in one rank towards the enemy, to my right I could hear trumpet blasts coming from the camp — Domitus was attacking. We rushed across the ground to within five hundred paces of the enemy, horns and kettledrums answering our trumpets.

We halted, strung arrows in our bowstrings and released them, then kept on shooting at the enemy ranks. Our arrows arched high into the sky and then dropped onto the densely packed ranks of the enemy foot. We shot at least four volleys — sixteen hundred arrows — before groups of armoured riders from each flank on either side of the foot began trotting towards us.

‘Back to camp!’ I screamed. Then we were running as though all the demons in hell were snapping at our heels. Behind us the cataphracts broke into a canter and lowered their lances. Perhaps Narses himself was leading them. I saw the camp’s entrance ahead, my heart pounding in my chest. Don’t look back; keep moving; run faster! I heard the thunder of iron-shod hooves getting closer and the shouts of men on horseback closing on their quarry. We dropped our quivers as we neared the wide gap in the earth rampart and ran into the camp with only seconds to spare. As we did so groups of legionaries either side of us and on top of the rampart next to the entrance hurled caltrops into the gap. These comprised three stakes that were ordinarily used to construct the palisade around the camp lashed together with wire to form a three-headed stake. Where only half minute before there had been a gap wide enough for twelve men to march through abreast, there now stood a thick carpet of caltrops.

The enemy’s horses panicked and either tried to veer aside or pull up sharply to avoid crashing into the caltrops. Those behind smashed into the front ranks as dozens of horses and their riders were caught up in a giant, tangled press. Some horses reared up on their hind legs and threw their riders to the ground, to be trampled by other animals behind. It was chaos and I wished that I had fresh archers to shoot arrows into the faces of the horsemen and the unarmoured bellies of horses as they reared up, but all I had was a hundred men who stood panting and slapping each other on the back at their escape from the clutches of the enemy. More legionaries ran onto the rampart and hurled their javelins at the disorganised mass of horsemen. Most glanced off scale armour harmlessly; a few found flesh. Finding their way barred, the enemy officers reasserted control and began to pull their men back. They retreated out of arrow and javelin range and re-dressed their ranks. There were few empty saddles but, more importantly, we had created a diversion and given the army at the camp’s western entrance time to carry out its attack unhindered.

The Romans call it cuneus, meaning ‘wedge’, and as the attention of Mithridates, Narses and the cream of their horsemen was focused on what was happening immediately to their front, the Duran Legion and the Exiles were pouring out of the western entrance of the camp, straight into the enemy’s foot. Each legion charged at the enemy in one long column, each one made up of dozens of ranks of six men.

Immediately before they charged at the enemy a barrage of missiles was unleashed by the ballista operated by Marcus and his men. These had been placed on the ramparts either side of the western entrance. The smaller ballista were essentially over-sized and over-powered bows fixed horizontally on wooden stands that shot bolts, stones and solid metal balls over great distances.

The charge of the Durans and Exiles was a foregone conclusion, made quicker as the enemy actually advanced towards the camp and then stopped abruptly when ballista ammunition began tearing into their tightly packed ranks, some bolts and balls taking heads off and showering those around with bone and gore. Soon the ranks faltered and then fractured as some men attempted to turn around and run from the horror that was being visited upon them, while others tried to press on with their attack. And then they were hit by the legions.

Two great columns of men resembling a pair of great armoured serpents slithered out of camp towards them, the front two ranks gripping their lethal short swords tight to their bodies while those behind held their javelins at the ready. The ballista stopped shooting as the head of each column reached the enemy’s battered front rank. And then the slaughter began.

As the front ranks of the enemy stood transfixed by the snarling and screaming legionaries running at them, the sky was suddenly filled with other missiles as the men behind the front two ranks hurled their javelins forward. Ever since I had first encountered them in Italy I had been fascinated by the Roman javelin, a spear that bent upon impact, making it impossible for an enemy to throw it back. And now dozens of javelins embedded themselves in enemy flesh, felling dozens. And then the legionaries went to work with their swords, stabbing upwards into thighs and bellies and over the rims of their shields into faces.

I was told later that the two columns went through the enemy like a gladius through a linen shirt. On the legionaries went and the enemy was glad to get out of their way, fleeing left and right before them. So the Durans and Exiles prised apart the enemy, herding them into two disorganised and dispirited blocks, one to the north and the other to the south. In the middle the two columns of legionaries pushed their way forward until they had broken clear through the enemy. And then they stopped. Trumpets blasted and the Durans and Exiles halted as one. Whereas the enemy foot was a mass of frightened and confused men, the Durans and Exiles retained their discipline and cohesion. Train hard, fight easy.

The Duran Legion formed the northern column and the Exiles the southern one. The trumpeters of both formations now sounded again and as one the Durans faced right to present a wall of shields to the enemy that had been barged aside and herded in a northwards direction like a flock of sheep. At the same time the Exiles faced left to prepare to advance against the second mass of enemy soldiers. Different trumpet blasts signalled a general advance, followed by another hail of javelins as both legions once more hurled their missiles at the enemy, the squeals and cries announcing that the latter’s ranks had been culled once more. Then the legions advanced north and south respectively, literally herding the enemy before them and creating a wide corridor behind them. Then Orodes led his horsemen out of the camp.

The corridor that had been created by the foot was wide enough to allow the Prince of Susiana to deploy his cataphracts in a great wedge formation, he and his bodyguard forming the point, the banners of Susiana and Dura fluttering behind him as he led the horsemen into the desert. Behind the cataphracts came the squires leading camels loaded with food, fodder, full water skins, spare arrows, weapons and clothing, plus the camels of the ammunition train. Either side of the squires, providing flank protection, rode two great columns of horse archers, each one riding parallel to the rear of the legions. As they did so they shot volleys of arrows over the legionaries into the ranks of the enemy foot soldiers, causing them to fall back further. Surena came last with the rear guard — a thousand horse archers following in the wake of the other riders.

The enemy’s attention had been first focused on what was happening at the southern entrance to the camp, especially after I led a hundred archers to pepper the enemy with missiles. The great number of horse archers deployed to the east and north of the camp remained immobile when the legions attacked from the camp’s western entrance. Now, as I ran with the other archers and those legionaries that had been detailed to support us to join the departing legions, the enemy horse archers began to move. Those to the north of the camp, obviously alerted by couriers to what was happening to the west, endeavoured to assault the Duran Legion. Fortunately for the Durans the enemy foot soldiers that had been herded north acted as a barrier between them and the horse archers.

By the time Narses had realised what was happening Orodes and the cavalry and camels were galloping west into the desert, leaving the legions to redeploy into a giant hollow square as it inched its way northwest, towards Hatran territory. I caught up with them as enemy horse archers forced their way into the empty camp via the eastern entrance. Everything had been packed into the wagons and on mules, which were now positioned around the inner sides of the hollow square.

The enemy cavalry had ridden out into the desert to try and catch Orodes, but had been recalled. The first part of the plan had worked — my horsemen had been saved. But then the grim realisation dawned on me that I plus thousands of others were now surrounded by around forty thousand enemy troops. Orodes may have escaped but our ordeal was only just beginning.