Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 5

I watched the great dust cloud thrown up by Orodes and his horsemen and camels grow smaller as they rapidly disappeared into the west. By contrast the pace of our great hollow square was painfully slow, literally inching its way to the northwest like an injured crab. I took up position on the southern side of the square, the men on all four sides having adopted what the Romans call a testudo formation. Derived from the Latin word for ‘tortoise’, it refers to the legionaries locking their oval shields together to the front and overhead as a protection against enemy missiles. So our massive tortoise crawled across the desert, five cohorts on each side of the square presenting a solid and impenetrable wall and roof of shields all the way round.

I felt like an unwanted guest at a banquet. I had no shield, no gladius and no use as I walked behind a wagon of cooking utensils with the other archers. All the wagons had been arranged so they ‘hugged’ each side of the square, which meant that there was a massive empty space in the centre of the square. Already the pungent smell of mules and their dung filled the warm air. I looked up and saw that the sun was finally breaking through the clouds. It was now mid-morning and the temperature was rising. It was going to be a long day.

Centurions and officers stalked around like hungry wolves, cajoling and encouraging their men. I saw Domitus strolling down the western side of the square, occasionally stopping and sharing a joke with some of the men and encouraging others. Alcaeus joined him as they made their way over to me. Thus far our progress had been relatively straightforward and unimpeded.

‘Orodes made good his escape, then,’ said Domitus.

‘It would appear so,’ I replied. ‘Did we lose many men in the fight earlier?’

He spat out a fly that had flown into his mouth. ‘A dozen killed, five wounded. The ballista shattered their morale before we even hit them.’

‘How are the wounded?’ I asked Alcaeus.

‘Those who can walk are accompanying the wagons that are carrying those too sick to use their legs.’

He had no helmet or mail shirt and carried only his medical bag slung over his shoulder.

‘You should get a mail shirt and helmet,’ I told him. ‘It’s quiet now, but soon the enemy will send their horse archers against us.’

‘In which case,’ he replied, ‘I shall shelter under the shield of a legionary.’

‘I would take Pacorus’ advice,’ said Domitus. ‘When they begin shooting the air will be thick with arrows.’

‘In that case, Domitus,’ quipped Alcaeus, ‘I shall be able to work in the shade.’

‘I could order you to wear a helmet,’ I said.

He screwed up his face. ‘And I could refuse, but I am touched that you are both so concerned about my welfare.’

He smiled and then walked off back to his medical wagons.

‘He’s impossible,’ grumbled Domitus.

‘But a good doctor,’ I replied.

It was as if the enemy had disappeared as thousands of hobnailed sandals tramped across the barren ground. The thousands of mules grunted and the oxen pulling the wagons containing Marcus’ siege engines lowered. Only a few puffy clouds filled the sky now and the sun was beating down on us and heating the earth. I was beginning to think that our trek would be unmolested when from the south I heard the infernal din of kettledrums and the sound of horns. Then the earth began to shake and I knew that we were under attack.

Narses sent in his horse archers first, a great torrent of horseflesh that swept around us and unleashed volley after volley of arrows against the square. The drivers of the wagons dived for cover under their vehicles, while the walking wounded sought shelter beneath the shields of the legionaries. Parthians use a variety of arrowheads, ranging from leaf-shaped to those with grooves for the application of poison, but the most common variety is the bronze three-winged arrowhead. And it was these that were loosed against the edges of the square.

At first horsemen rode parallel to each side of the square, shooting arrows as they did so. Discharging up to five arrows a minute, each side of the square was peppered with thousands of arrows in a matter of minutes. For those on the receiving end of this barrage it was truly nerve-wracking, arrows slamming into shields like raindrops hitting a tile roof in a thunderstorm. It was an impressive display of mass archery and against typical Parthian foot soldiers would have been devastating. Unfortunately for Narses he had sent his horse archers against men who knew how to counter his tactics. Before the first charge of his horse archers had been made the trumpets had sounded a halt and then signalled to defend against arrow attack. The men deployed on each side of the square as one all knelt down. The first rank formed an unbroken shield wall while those behind lifted their shields above their heads to form a forward-sloping roof of leather and wood to counter the arrow rain that fell on them. The front ranks also rested one end of their javelins on the ground and held them at an angle of forty-five degrees to present a line of points to deter the enemy horsemen from getting too close.

We all knelt and prayed as whooping, cheering and screaming horse archers emptied their quivers against us. Each shield weighs over twenty pounds and it was testimony to the strength and stamina of the Durans and Exiles that they were able to hold them in place while the horse archers lapped around the square. Each leather-faced shield was identical — three layers of wood glued together with the grain of each layer fitted at right angles to the preceding layer to make it harder to cut through. Wooden reinforcing strips added to the back further increased its defensive capabilities.

The first attack was noisy, frightening and largely ineffective and covered us all in choking dust. There was little time to celebrate, however, as more horns calls announced a second assault against us. This time the horse archers ignored the wall and roof of shields on each side of the formation and shot their arrows high into the sky so they fell inside the square itself. The central area of the square was empty but around its edges were grouped the wagons and the mules pulling them. Once more arrows thudded harmlessly into shields but others hit mules and caused a dreadful carnage. We lost four hundred animals in that second attack, some killed outright and others being grievously wounded as they were struck by a number of arrows. Some went mad with the pain and bolted in a vain effort to escape their tormentors, succeeding only in colliding into wagons in front of them and suffering more wounds. A few ran into the rear of the cohorts and nearly caused the formation to rupture. Only a few quick-thinking centurions saved the day, using their swords to kill the beasts outright and stop their rampage.

The square held but it required great efforts on the part of the drivers, those who hadn’t been crushed under the wheels when their beasts bolted, to get their animals under control.

The enemy horse archers retreated to regroup and fill their quivers, giving us time to take stock of the situation. I called a meeting of the senior officers to ascertain whether we could continue the march. Domitus was not optimistic.

‘As soon as we start marching again they will be back.’

‘We can’t stay here forever,’ I said.

‘Perhaps we may march through the night, majesty.’

Kronos, the man who had spoken, was the commander of the Exiles. Having just entered his forties, he had spent fifteen years fighting under King Mithridates of Pontus against the Romans and had been one of the first to present himself at Dura following Rome’s victory over that land. Thereafter thousands of his countrymen had made their way south from their homeland, through Armenia and into my father’s kingdom. Many made their way south on hearing that the King of Dura, the man who was the enemy of Rome, was raising an army and needed veteran soldiers.

‘That is not a bad idea, Kronos,’ I replied. ‘Parthians do not like fighting at night. Perhaps we can steal away under cover of darkness.’

Domitus was not convinced. ‘Except that Narses will surround us with his army. As soon as they realise we are on the march they will be alerted and will be standing to arms, regardless of whether it is night or day.’

Such was the contempt that everyone had for Mithridates that no one mentioned his name, despite the fact that he was technically in command of the enemy horde. No one liked Narses but they at least respected his military ability.

‘If they try the same tactics as the last attack,’ said a concerned Marcus, ‘we will undoubtedly lose more mules and oxen, which means we will not be able to move all the wagons.’

‘Our priorities,’ I told him, ‘are the wounded, water and food. After that, your siege engines and the spare weapons. The tents, tools and spare clothing we can do without if need be.’

‘How much water do we have?’ Domitus asked Marcus.

‘Enough for five more days.’

We all looked at him. Unimpeded we could march a hundred miles in that time. Surrounded and under constant attack we would be able to cover barely half that distance, probably less.

‘It would be best to drain the dead mules of their blood so we can drink it,’ remarked Kronos.

Compact and muscular, Kronos was actually shorter than Domitus but his lack of height did not detract from his martial bearing nor his great intelligence.

‘A veritable feast for us all,’ remarked Alcaeus dryly. ‘Unfortunately I will need additional water to keep the wounds of the injured clean, Pacorus.’

I drew the meeting to a close. ‘Very well, we will drink dead mule blood and cook their flesh tonight. Keep the situation regarding the water supplies to yourselves but enforce strict water discipline.’

There were no more attacks that day, the enemy content to make camp at a distance of a mile all around us. The blood drained from the mules tasted disgusting though their cooked flesh was palatable enough. The men rested and slept where they had fought in their ranks earlier that day. Sentries were posted every ten paces a hundred paces beyond the outer edges of the square and were relieved every hour.

The mood among the men was subdued but not bordering on despair. To date they had tasted nothing but victory, and though they had been forced to retreat they had still beaten off the enemy. I walked among as many as I could, clasping arms and sharing stories. All of us were aware of the glow of the opposition’s campfires that seemed unending as they stretched into the distance, and which indicated the enemy’s great strength. I wondered if Narses had received reinforcements during the day — he must have emptied the whole of Persis and Sakastan.

An hour after midnight I stood with my arms folded staring south at what I assumed to be the camp of Mithridates and Narses. They had played their hand expertly. I thought of Gotarzes and my stomach turned. How could I assist him now? I prayed that he could hold out until… Until what? I felt wretched.

‘Spartacus used to do that.’ I recognised the deep voice of Domitus.

I turned to see him standing beside me. ‘Do what?’

‘Stalk around the camp like a wraith and stand in the dark with his arms folded. You do a good impression of him.’

‘I’m glad I amuse you, Domitus.’

‘All right. What’s the matter?’

I kicked at the earth. ‘I feel helpless.’

‘Ah, I see. You find the new sensation distasteful.’

I had no idea what he was alluding to. ‘What sensation?’

‘The sensation of having to dance to the enemy’s tune. Up to now you have dictated what happens on the battlefield, more or less, now the sandal’s on the other foot.’

‘Nonsense,’ I snapped.

He placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘It is not nonsense. Just because you have been out-manoeuvred does not mean that you have lost the war. You have saved your horsemen and we are in good order.’

‘Far from home and surrounded,’ I added bitterly.

‘All we have to do is hold our nerve, Pacorus. There is an old Roman saying: it doesn’t matter how many battles you lose as long as you win the final one.’

The next day we marched before dawn and before the enemy was in the saddle. Of the enemy foot we saw nothing and I suspected that they had been sent back to Ctesiphon and then probably Elymais. We managed to march five miles before the enemy horse archers attacked once more and again they caused few casualties but did manage to kill a couple of hundred mules. We adopted the same tactics and presented a continuous wall and roof of shields to the enemy, against which their arrows had little effect. Nevertheless, once again we were forced to halt and stand under the spring sun.

Night came and once more the enemy’s campfires illuminated the darkness. I was comforted by the thought that Orodes would have reached the Euphrates by now and would be riding north back to Dura. Once more we drank mule blood and ate their roasted meat. We set off northwest again before dawn.

The enemy showed no great desire to launch their attacks during the early part of the day, being content to allow us to cover around ten miles before sending their horse archers against us. But Narses knew that we were using up our water supplies and he was doing enough to slow our rate of advance.

‘Narses is a clever bastard, I’ll give him that.’ Domitus smiled at me. He looked as bad as I felt, his face unshaven and his arms and tunic smeared with dirt. We sat on stools next to a wagon that had a number of arrows sticking in it. I pulled one out and began turning over the bronze head in my hand.

‘I still think a night march might be advantageous, majesty,’ urged Kronos.

‘Perhaps not a night march but a night attack,’ I replied.

‘The boys are tired,’ said Domitus. ‘They can’t fight all day and at night as well.’

‘You are right, Domitus. But I only need a dozen.’

He looked at me in confusion. ‘A dozen?’

I stood up and pointed at him with the arrowhead. ‘What did you say about me having to dance to Narses’ tune? Well, I think it is time that he danced to mine.’

Half an hour later I was squatting in a circle with a dozen volunteers, including Thumelicus and Domitus, each of us having smeared our faces and tunics with charcoal from the ashes of a fire. Even our sword blades had been blackened with charcoal and we wore nothing on our heads. We looked like a bunch of filthy miners. It was now an hour past midnight.

Domitus looked at each of them.

‘Before we leave make sure you are wearing nothing that jangles when you move.’

The pavilions of Mithridates and Narses had thus far always been positioned to the south of our position, and I gambled that tonight they would be in the same spot. That was the direction we would head to sow a little terror in the hearts of the enemy. As we exited our square, crouching low, we scampered across the featureless terrain towards the enemy camp. I prayed to Shamash that our efforts would not be wasted.

A massive moon illuminated the landscape, its great pale surface smeared with grey blotches and filling the cloudless night sky. We advanced in two files. Domitus led one and I the other. The night was cool but I was sweating as we neared the enemy sentries. I slowed and then eased myself onto my belly to crawl forward. I glanced at Domitus who was likewise prostrate on the ground, those behind us following our example. There were two sentries standing directly ahead. I looked right and left and saw the figures of two other sentries perhaps a hundred paces away. The two ahead were wrapped in their cloaks and seemed to be deep in conversation.

We crawled to within fifty paces of the sentries ahead and stopped. My heart pounded in my chest so loudly that I thought the sound might alert the guards. As yet we were undiscovered but the night was so still and bright that it would be only a matter of time before we were spotted. I looked over at Domitus and pointed at him, then at the guards and then drew my finger across my neck. He nodded and assumed a crouching position. I did the same. Then we rushed them.

We did not run but rather adopted a quick scuttling pace as we neared our prey, clutching our swords as we did so. They were still wrapped tightly in their cloaks, deep in conversation when we reached them. One opened his mouth in surprise as Domitus rammed the point of his gladius into his throat. I grabbed the other’s neck from behind and thrust my sword through his back. He thrashed wildly around for a few seconds as his life ebbed away, blood sheeting from the wound.

‘Take off his cloak,’ I whispered to Domitus as I pulled the cloak off my dead sentry.

Domitus did so and then used his free arm to beckon the others over. We left two behind wrapped in the dead men’s cloaks so as not to arouse suspicion when the other guards on duty looked for their companions, then continued on towards the enemy camp. I did not know when the guards would be relieved, perhaps an hour, perhaps less. Perhaps in a few minutes’ time. In which case our little venture would be compromised.

There was no order in the enemy camp, no neat rows of shelters with sentries patrolling in between, just a huge collection of round tents of various sizes stretching as far as the eye could see. Beside some of them were large corrals holding horses, others containing camels. We moved in the shadows cast by the tents as we ventured deeper into the enemy compound. A guard stood urinating against the side of a tent. Servants, slaves most likely, huddled in groups round fires at the entrance to the animal pens, while others slept on the ground outside a great field kitchen. Suddenly, around a hundred paces away in front of us, a massive pavilion appeared.

The front entrance of the pavilion was illuminated by a row of small, lighted braziers perched on stands extending out from the ornate canopy. Sentries were standing on guard in front of them. They wore helmets, were armed with long spears and their hide-covered shields sported the symbol of an eagle clutching a snake. This was the tent of Mithridates, not Narses. The King of Persis must be located elsewhere in the camp, or perhaps he had returned to oversee the siege of Elymais. I dismissed the notion; he would ensure that we were defeated before he left the area.

Thus far we had penetrated the enemy’s camp unseen but I knew that the chances of remaining invisible would diminish the longer we remained. We had to act fast. We huddled in the middle of a host of large four-wheeled wagons positioned near the pavilion. No doubt they were used to carry the great tent and its furnishings when the army was on the march.

The others kept watch as I knelt on the ground and whispered to Domitus.

‘The guards have the symbol of Mithridates on their shields,’ I said. ‘He must be inside.’

‘All nicely tucked up in bed, no doubt,’ grinned Domitus. ‘What do you want to do?’

‘We can’t waste any more time wandering around looking for Narses. We go after Mithridates.’

A couple of minutes later we were moving very stealthily around the pavilion to access its rear. Guards were posted at regular intervals all the way round its edge, forcing us to take a wide detour into a corral holding sleeping camels. The pavilion was on our right now as we crawled through the animal enclosure, the beasts grunting in annoyance at our presence but otherwise letting us pass. I reached forward and put my palm into a pile of dung and dunked my knee in the same pile of filth as we left the animal pen and crawled to the rear of the pavilion.

Like all the great pavilions of Parthian kings this one was oval shaped. The main entrance opened into a reception area where guests and dignitaries assembled before being ushered into the dining area, usually a vast space housing couches, cushions and carpets. Next came the throne room, always separated from the dining area by curtains. Here on a dais the king presided on his throne. His commanders, advisers, courtiers and priests would gather around him. Finally, to the rear of the throne room, were the private chambers where the king slept, his concubines, friends and most trusted guards being quartered around him.

We grouped together as I stared at the rear entrance to the pavilion, which was also heavily guarded. How to get in? I wiped my nose on my sleeve and caked my face in camel dung. Damn! Of course, the camels.

‘Wait here,’ I hissed at the others then went back to where the camels were sleeping. The fence that surrounded the pen was a makeshift affair of wooden posts hammered into the ground with two horizontal poles slotted into holes in their sides. I pulled out the horizontals in between two posts to create a gap through which a camel could just about squeeze through. I grabbed the bridle of one of the mangy beasts and pulled him forward. He grunted, spat at me and then got to his feet. I led him through the gap in the fence towards where Domitus and the others were crouching. I pulled my spatha and prodded his rump with it whereupon he bellowed and raced forward towards the tent.

As the beast neared the tent he suddenly veered to the right to avoid crashing into it. Immediately several of the guards left their posts and chased after it.

‘Now,’ I shouted and ran across the ground to reach the unguarded side of the pavilion.

Royal pavilions are made from canvas, a durable and waterproof material that is also easy to cut. Domitus and I slashed at it with our swords to create an entry and then we threw ourselves inside into a space packed with musical instruments. I glimpsed a throne on a dais. Outside I could hear shouts and curses as the guards chased after the runaway camel. We moved along the canvas wall to a yellow curtain barring the entrance to the private apartments. I eased it aside slightly to spy behind it. Clutching my sword in one hand I gestured to the others to follow me. We did not have much time now, as the rip in the pavilion’s sidewall would soon be discovered.

I pushed the curtain aside and stepped into a small area that smelt of incense and roasted meat. Ahead were more curtains, these ones blue edged with gold.

At that moment the curtains parted and two male servants appeared dressed in red tunics and baggy blue leggings carrying silver wine jugs. They froze when they saw us — ten filthy, wild men with swords in their hands.

It was at times like this that I thanked Shamash for the wits of Lucius Domitus, for without thinking he raced forward and plunged his gladius into the chest of one of the servants, yanked it free and then slashed it across the throat of the other in a great scything movement that sprayed blood over the luxurious red carpets. He turned, fire in his eyes. ‘Move!’

We ran at the curtains, pushing aside the flimsy linen material to enter the private reception area of the king of kings. Oil lamps were hanging from four parallel lines of tent poles. We saw a large table in the centre and couches at the far end. I could hear moaning and shouts.

The two guards that had allowed the servants to pass through the curtains were the first to die as we burst in. We ran at the other guards who were standing by the poles, each one armed with a short spear with a great burnished blade at its tip. They held hide-covered shields painted white, the motif of an eagle clutching a snake decorating them. These were the élite palace guards of Ctesiphon and they knew how to handle their weapons.

There were a dozen of them in total and after the initial shock of our appearance, during which two more had died on our sword points, they came at us with shields held close to their bodies and spears levelled. One stood before me and jabbed his spear at me, attempting to skewer me on its point. He was as tall as me, broader but very light on his feet, pouncing to and fro and attacking me like a wildcat. He jabbed at me again, thrusting the spear point at my chest. I brought my sword arm up and across my body and then slashed it down, the metal cutting through the spear shaft and severing the head. He threw the broken shaft at me and attempted to draw his own sword. But I was too fast for him, thrusting my sword forward at his chest. His reflexes were also quick and he managed to stop the blow with his shield. In the instant when the point went into the hide and wood underneath I pulled my dagger from its sheath and rammed it hard into his face, the point going through his right eye socket. I withdraw it and yanked my sword free as he slumped to the floor. I ran forward as one of my men was impaled on an enemy spear in front of me. As he fell I ran his killer through with my sword.

I looked round and saw Thumelicus finishing off the last surviving guard with ease, dumfounding him with a series of lightning-fast sword attacks that finished with his gladius slicing deep into the man’s belly. I nodded to him and he returned the gesture. We had lost two dead but had at last found our prey.

I ran forward and ripped aside one of the two silk curtains barring the entrance to the bedroom of the king of kings, the ruler of the mighty Parthian Empire. And stopped dead in my tracks. Standing ahead, naked and sweating profusely, was Mithridates. I say standing but I could not properly tell since he was behind a naked slave girl down on all fours. He was holding her long hair tightly as he rammed his manhood hard into her from behind. He was obviously performing an unnatural act upon her young body as her face was contorted with pain and tears were running down her cheeks. Two young men, both oiled and naked, were kneeling either side of Mithridates, one of whom was licking his chest. All around naked couples were writhing in ecstasy on the plush carpets covering the floor and on the giant circular bed. And then the screaming started.

While I stared in disbelief at the orgy before my eye, Domitus raced forward tripping over one of the couples on the floor. Both young boys started to screech at this dirt-encrusted demon sprawling onto the floor beside them. Domitus sprang to his feet and slit both their throats without further ado. The room erupted in screams and wails as teenage boys and girls, all naked, ran around as though they were demented. Mithridates stopped his act of depravity and for a few seconds stared at me in disbelief, unable to comprehend that anyone, not least his greatest enemy, would dare to violate his inner sanctum.

Whistles blew behind us and I knew that the game was up. More soldiers were coming to save their king.

‘Kill the bastard,’ screamed Domitus.

Thumelicus hurled one of the dead guards’ spears at Mithridates, but he grabbed the long hair of one of the boy lovers next to him and thrust his young body in front of his. The spear blade went clean through the youth’s chest, killing him instantly. One of the girls, completely naked and completely hairless, sprang at Domitus like a demon from hell, scratching at his eyes and shrieking as she did so. He head-butted her and split her nose, causing her to collapse on the floor. Another of my men tried to spear Mithridates but he was again too quick and threw himself to the floor. The young girl he had been violating, still on her knees, looked up as the spear went through her mouth and out through the base of her skull.

I heard screams behind me and saw two of my men being run through by enemy spearmen.

‘Time to go,’ shouted Domitus.

We ran across the bedroom and slashed at the silk drapes behind the bed as more soldiers flooded into the room.

‘Kill them, kill them all,’ screamed Mithridates, standing naked with two dead bodies at his feet.

Fortunately the hysterical boys and girls were still behaving like possessed beings and got in the way of the guards chasing after us. Six of us cut our way out to exit the rear of the pavilion.

Mithridates was screaming at us as we left. ‘You are dead, filth. You hear me. Either tonight or tomorrow all of you will be dead. And then I will raze that rat-hole Dura to the ground. You are dead, Pacorus, and so is your whore wife and your children. Kill them!’

We killed the guards standing outside the part of the pavilion side we had cut through and then skirted the camel pen before heading north back to camp. Whistles, shouts and horns were now sounding the alarm and causing hundreds of men to rush to their assembly points. Horses whinnied and camels grunted as we threaded our way through the gathering throng. The general chaos was to our advantage because in the dark we were just another group of bleary-eyed soldiers endeavouring to form up.

The guards who had come to the aid of Mithridates were still on our heels however, and as we left the perimeter of the camp I glanced behind to see at least a score of them coming after us. The two men we had left at the perimeter saw us coming and prepared to face our pursuers.

‘Get back to camp,’ I screamed at them. There was no need for them to die this night. They did as they were ordered.

The sentries to our right and left saw what was happening and responded to the orders being yelled at them by our pursuers and headed in our direction, hoping to cut us off. Two were running at us from the right and another two from the left, and then I heard a hissing sound in my right ear, then another. Arrows!

We were beyond the camp’s furthest sentry line now and I could see the glow of our own braziers ahead. Arrows whistled past me and others hit the ground with a phut. Then I heard a shriek and turned to see one of my men tumbling to the ground. I stopped immediately and went to his assistance. Domitus also halted and came to my side. The man had an arrow in his hamstring. We were now around a hundred paces or so from our own camp and I could see the sentries standing and pointing at us. I put my left arm around the wounded man’s back and heaved him onto his feet. Arrows felled another two of my men as they turned and came to stand by Domitus and me. Then the enemy archers stopped their shooting for fear of hitting their own men as they bore down on us from three directions. I had to drop the wounded man as we prepared to receive their attack.

I heard grunts and saw the sentries on our flanks pitch forward onto the ground, and then saw more enemy soldiers to our front fall as arrows hit them. I turned to see two centuries running towards us.

‘Are you going to stand there gawping or are you going to get behind us?’ the voice of Drenis bellowed at us.

‘Back,’ I shouted. Thumelicus and I helped the wounded man to his feet once more and then we fled as the centuries parted and then closed behind us. Their shields then locked to form a wall and roof of wood and leather. We crouched behind the last rank as Drenis came to our side. Behind us the hundred archers who had stayed with the legions walked back to camp.

‘Very thoughtful of you, Drenis’ said Domitus calmly, ‘to organise a reception party.’

Drenis winked at me. ‘I knew you would stir up a hornets’ nest. Do you want us to finish them off?’

‘No,’ I replied. ‘Let’s get back to camp.’

‘Fall back! Fall back!’ shouted Drenis and he and his men inched their way rearwards.

A few arrows thudded into our shields but the enemy, now greatly outnumbered, lost heart and trudged back to their naked king.

When we reached the safety of our lines a crowd quickly gathered round us, eager for news. Domitus wasted no time in telling how we had reached the sleeping quarters of Mithridates.

‘Not that he was doing much sleeping. He was humping everything in sight. Pacorus was worried that he might pounce on him, you should have seen the fear in his eyes.’

Riotous laughter. Drenis handed him a water bottle to slake his thirst, then Domitus continued.

‘I’ve never seen so much naked flesh and Mithridates was using his pork lance to spear it all.’

He put an arm round my shoulder. ‘He must have thought Pacorus was another pretty young boy come to satisfy his needs.’

Wild cheering.

I raised my arms to still the commotion. ‘Thank you, Domitus, for your most graphic account of the raid. Unfortunately Mithridates still lives and will send everything he has against us later today.’

‘Let’s hope he remembers to get dressed before he does,’ shouted Thumelicus. More cheering and laughter.

I smiled. Their morale was still high despite us being many miles from home, almost out of water and surrounded and outnumbered by the enemy. I looked to the east and saw the first shards of light on the horizon. Dawn would be breaking soon. There would be no time for any rest or sleep now. Domitus dismissed the men and Alcaeus attended to the wounded man we had brought back. The wagons that he had commandeered for the injured were grouped in the southeast corner of the camp. Those men who were too sick to walk had been carried in them under protective wooden roofs. At night they were moved to tents that they shared with the walking wounded. Despite the care of his medical staff a few had succumbed to their wounds and Alcaeus feared that with each passing day more would die.

‘I have lost fifty thus far and another ten or so won’t see tomorrow’s dawn.’

‘What about the man we brought back tonight?’ I asked.

‘He’ll live. I gave him some sarpagandha to make him drowsy and I extracted the arrow and bound the wound.’

As the dim pre-dawn light began to engulf the camp Alcaeus yawned and stretched his aching limbs. Like all of us he was unshaven and had black rings round his eyes. His tunic, usually immaculately white, was torn and smeared with blood.

‘So,’ he asked me, ‘how do you rate our chances?’

‘Well, if Malik has reached Hatran territory then he would have sent a message to Dura and hopefully the lords will come. If Byrd got to Babylon safely then perhaps Vardan will send troops to aid us. And if Babylon has been alerted then Nergal at Uruk will not abandon us.’

He had a bemused look on his face. ‘That’s a lot of ifs.’

I slapped him on the arm. ‘You should have more faith, Alcaeus.’

‘I use to pray to Zeus every day when I was young, asking him to protect my parents and my city. But my parents were killed and the Romans enslaved me and I stopped asking the gods for anything. I’m not sure they even exist.’

‘Of course they exist, Alcaeus. How else can you explain all that has happened to us, of our time in Italy and our journey back to Parthia? Then making Dura strong? There must be divine guidance involved.’

He smiled at me. ‘Or it could be that you are a great warlord who has done all these things on your own. But if it comforts you to believe that there is a god smiling down on you, then that is good.’

He suddenly looked very serious. ‘In case the opportunity does not arrive later, I want to thank you, Pacorus, for my time in Dura. It has been a privilege to be your friend.’

I had the feeling that he was saying goodbye. ‘None of that, Alcaeus, we are not dead yet.’

He looked around at the tents where the wounded were sleeping and the wagons standing ready to carry the seriously hurt. The sun was beginning its ascent in the eastern sky. The new day was dawning.

‘You know what gives this army strength, Pacorus?’

‘Ten thousand foot and four thousand horse?’ I replied.

He shook his head. ‘No. It’s pride. Every man is proud to be a part of your army. Numbers are irrelevant. Each man stands tall in the ranks beside his comrades, knowing that you will never be careless with his life, will never ask him to do what you yourself would not attempt. That is why this army is strong, because you treat your soldiers like men, not slaves. They are proud to serve in Dura’s army.’

‘Well, then, we have nothing to worry about. You said it yourself — numbers are irrelevant.’

A wry smile crept over his face. ‘Even men of iron need water, Pacorus.’

He offered me his hand and we clasped each other’s forearm.

‘They will not break us, Alcaeus. I swear it.’

But they tried. An hour later the enemy attacked us on all sides. First they sent in their horse archers, who once again rained arrows down on us. Yet again they did not shoot at the ring of shields but instead loosed their missiles in a high trajectory that fell behind the cohorts. And once again they slaughtered dozens of mules, the animals crying pitifully after they had been hit. We could do nothing but stand and listen to their squeals and moans. After a while the horse archers mercifully withdrew and a lull descended over the battlefield.

I was kneeling with the other archers in the rear of the cohorts deployed on the southern edge of our hollow square, holding a shield over my head. Its top edge was tucked under the shield of the man in front of me. Trumpets blasted to order the men to stand easy and a great clatter signalled thousands of men resting their shields on the ground. They had had their meagre ration of water earlier and there was none to spare until they wet their lips in the evening. Those that lived.

Domitus and Kronos came over to where I was standing, my shield lying on the ground. Domitus pointed at it.

‘Please pick it up and rest it against your body. It has just saved your life so treat it with some respect.’

I felt myself blushing as I bent down and did as I was told, resting the edge against my body. Around me other legionaries were nudging each other and grinning at my being rebuked.

‘That was short and sweet,’ said Domitus.

‘Yesterday they spent hours showering us with the bloody things,’ added Kronos, freezing the grinning soldiers with his iron stare. They quickly faced front.

I slammed the rim of my shield with my palm. ‘They’ve run out of arrows.’

‘What?’ Domitus was most surprised.

‘They have run out of arrows. That is the only reason they have pulled back the horse archers.’

In Dura’s army a great camel train carrying tens of thousands of spare arrows always accompanied the horse archers. But most Parthian armies save my own and Hatra’s did not bother to supply its archers with spare ammunition. After all the main striking power of an army was its cataphracts. The role of the horse archers was to weaken the enemy before the heavy horsemen attacked.

‘They will send in their heavy horsemen next,’ I said. ‘If they had not run out of arrows then they would have spent more time softening us up.’

‘There aren’t enough arrows in the world to soften up my boys,’ growled Domitus, prompting Kronos to smile in approval.

Their little mutual admiration society was interrupted by the sound of kettledrums to the south. Trumpets blasted and once again the legionaries dressed their ranks and stood facing outwards. With Domitus and Kronos I pushed my way through the ranks to see what was happening. Men were twisting arrows from their shields and the ground in front of the first rank was littered with missiles. I peered ahead and in the early morning light saw the horizon filled with horsemen riding knee to knee. Cataphracts!

Narses and Mithridates did not have enough heavy horsemen to assault our square on all four sides, so they were gambling on one large attack against one of its sides. If they broke through then they would destroy the army, for behind them would come thousands of horse archers. Domitus realised this also.

‘So,’ he said, ‘it all comes down to us holding off their heavy horsemen.’

‘Do you want me to reinforce this part of the line with some of my lads?’ asked Kronos.

Domitus shook his head. ‘No, if we weaken one part of the line they might throw in any reserves they have at it. We wait until they hit us and see what happens.’

He slapped me on the arm. ‘I wish we had Orodes with us.’

‘Me too,’ I said.

We went back through the ranks as the legionaries stood up and locked their shields together to present a wall of white shields once again. The horsemen became more widely spaced as they trotted towards us, each man bringing down his kontus on his right side and grasping it with both hands. The charge of thousands of cataphracts is a magnificent sight; the sun glinting off lance points, scale armour and helmets and the ground shaking as tens of thousands of iron-shod hooves race across the earth. It is also terrifying for those standing in its way. Ordinary Parthian foot soldiers would have crumbled long before the horsemen reached them. But the men standing in the path of the cataphracts were not ordinary soldiers. They had spent years training not only in perfecting their own drills but also working with horsemen, and they knew what it was like to face a charge of heavy cavalry.

At least once a month the whole army was taken out into the desert to the west of Dura to train in massed formations. At the end of the exercise the legions had been drawn up in battle array and had been charged by a thousand cataphracts. The charge had not been pressed home of course, but it had acquainted the legionaries with the sights and sounds of heavy horsemen hurtling towards them. So it was today, as upwards of five thousand armour-clad horsemen broke into a gallop to charge and thunder towards them. The enemy screamed and urged their horses to move faster as thousands of javelins were hurled at the oncoming horsemen.

In their defensive formation each cohort had a depth of four ranks, each rank made up of twenty men. It was the rear two ranks that threw their javelins as front ranks of the cataphracts tried to batter their way through the legionaries. Batter was the correct word for the charge, magnificent though it was, had already begun to falter before it had even reached the foot soldiers. No horse will run blindly into a solid object. Unable to turn aside or wheel about, the horses either tried to stop or slowed and reared up on their back legs. Some lost balance and somersaulted into the ranks of the packed legionaries, causing dreadful carnage. In those few seconds the Durans lost more men than they had in the first battle or in the previous few days. The javelin storm further interrupted the momentum of the charge but caused few casualties, the points mostly glancing off scale armour.

So a desperate mêlée began, cataphracts either trying to jab their lance points into the faces of legionaries or, abandoning the shafts, going to work with their maces, axes and swords. But the legionaries kept their discipline and fought back, the front two ranks keeping their shields tight to their front and jabbing at the horses and riders with their javelins. The gaps that had been created by the careering and thrashing horses had been sealed by reinforcements sent from the cohorts drawn from the other sides of the square, and those thrown riders who had not been killed when they had been crushed by their own mounts were quickly dispatched.

‘Archers!’ I screamed. I threw my shield to the ground and picked up my bow and the two full quivers lying at my feet. The other archers deployed in a single line either side of me did the same.

‘Shoot at the faces of the riders,’ I shouted.

I nocked an arrow in the bowstring and searched for a target. Dura’s armoured fist wore full-face helmets but most heavy horsemen in the empire sported open-faced helmets. They gave a rider a wide field of view and were not as hot to wear for hours on end in battle. The disadvantage was that they left the face exposed. I saw a rider stabbing at legionaries with his kontus and released my bowstring. I watched the arrow hurtle through the air to strike the man’s eye socket. He yelped and clutched his face with his hands, as he was pulled from his horse by a group of legionaries and disappeared from view beneath a flurry of gladius blades. I loosed another arrow that missed a rider who was hacking right and left with a mace. Then I shot three more arrows, one of which went through a rider’s mouth. I quickly used up my arrows as the rest of my archers also emptied their quivers.

‘Arrows,’ I shouted. The others also held up their bows to signal that they too required more ammunition.

In front of us riders were still trying to cut their way into the Duran ranks, flailing their weapons with frenzy. But our line was holding and it was becoming obvious that the enemy horsemen had been stopped. Domitus stalked immediately behind the rear ranks, gladius in hand, shouting encouragement. Wounded men were hauled from the ranks and attended by members of Alcaeus’ medical corps. The seriously injured were placed on stretchers and taken to where Alcaeus had established his hospital area.

Panting legionaries, Exiles sent to us as reinforcements by Kronos, ran along the line and dumped full quivers at our feet, no doubt enemy arrows they had picked up. We began shooting again. I saw a mounted enemy officer directing his men against us, calmly issued orders within feet of our front line. He was around a hundred paces from where I stood as I drew the bowstring back so the three flight feathers were by my right ear. I did not look at the arrowhead, only the target. The sounds of battle disappeared as I concentrated. My breathing slowed as I exhaled and let the bowstring slip from my fingers. The arrow sliced through the air over legionary helmets and hit the officer’s right eye socket. His arms immediately dropped by his sides and his head slumped forward. He remained in his saddle, just another dead man on the battlefield.

Above the clatter of weapons striking helmets and shields and the roar of men cursing and crying out in agony came the shrill sound of horn blasts. Slowly the cataphracts disengaged and retreated from our front line. The legionaries began cheering and banging their swords and javelins on their shields, chanting ‘Dura, Dura’. The enemy’s heavy horsemen reformed their line and then about-faced and withdrew. We had beaten them. Domitus came rushing over and we embraced each other like small boys who have just discovered a heap of freshly baked cakes.

All around men fell to their knees and gave thanks to their gods while others, racked with pain from wounds now the frenzy of bloodlust had left them, winced and leaned on their shields or their comrades for support. Others fainted from exhaustion, for they had been standing and fighting in the sun for hours now. We had been fortunate that the enemy had assaulted only one side of the square. If we had been attacked on all four sides then perhaps they would have broken us.

‘They knew their foot and horse archers couldn’t break our line,’ said Domitus, who had taken off his helmet and was wiping his sweat-covered scalp with a rag. ‘They gambled that their heavy horse could break through and they lost.’

He glanced at the sun and squinted. ‘What I wouldn’t give to dunk my head in the Euphrates right now.’

‘That, my friend,’ I said, ‘is our Achilles’ heel.’

My fears were confirmed by Marcus who reported to me as I lay on the ground, my right forearm across my eyes to shield them from the sun. I was exhausted from the exertions of battle and from having no sleep on account of the night raid on the enemy camp.

Domitus kicked the sole of my boot.

‘You awake, Pacorus?’

‘If I wasn’t before I am now.’ My limbs ached and with difficulty I sat up.

‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ said Marcus. ‘But the water situation is most dire.’

‘How dire?’ I asked.

‘Enough in the wagons for only half a day.’

I held out an arm to Domitus who hauled me up. I picked up my helmet and bow.

‘Very well, I said. ‘Council of war in ten minutes. Assemble all the senior officers.’

As our precious water supplies were allocated in order or priority — to those who had been fighting, to the rest who had been standing in the ranks, and lastly to the wounded — Domitus, Kronos, Alcaeus, Marcus and the cohort commanders gathered in the centre of the camp. They sat down on stools arranged under a temporary awning Marcus had rigged up between two wagons, though it was now late afternoon and mercifully the sun’s heat was abating.

‘You and your men did well today,’ I told them. ‘There are very few soldiers who can hold their ground against the empire’s finest cataphracts, but they did and more.’

‘I thought Dura had the finest cataphracts in the empire,’ said Drenis, the others cheering at his words.

‘But we are still surrounded and far from home,’ I continued. ‘Marcus informs me that our water supplies will last only one more day. We cannot remain here if we are to live.’

‘We could always strike for the Tigris,’ suggested Kronos. ‘It is only two or three days’ march from here.’

‘Without water the mules and oxen will quickly expire,’ said Marcus.

‘To say nothing of the wounded,’ added a grim-faced Alcaeus.

‘We cannot do that,’ I answered. ‘Even if we reach the river we will be nearer the enemy’s homeland and will face certain destruction, even if our thirst has been quenched.’

‘What, then?’ asked Domitus.

‘We attack the enemy. Tomorrow. At dawn. We will advance on the camp of Mithridates.’

Domitus rubbed his nose and looked into the distance.

‘You disapprove?’ I said.

‘The boys are tired and thirsty. If they form into a battle line and advance there is nothing to stop the enemy from hitting us behind and on our flanks.’

‘Ordinarily,’ I replied, ‘I would agree. But these are not ordinary circumstances. We are being ground down here. We cannot shake off the enemy and we will not be able to outrun them. They have time on their side; we do not. They won’t be expecting an attack.’

‘Well,’ said Kronos, ‘at least we won’t have to stand around being pelted with arrows and charged by horsemen.’

‘Very well, then,’ I said. ‘Organise your men. We attack south at dawn.’

The meeting broke up and the officers returned to their commands. I suddenly felt a sharp spasm of pain in my left leg and stopped until it eased. I rubbed my left thigh with my palm. Alcaeus spotted my pained expression and came over to me.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘No. It’s the old wound I picked up at Dura when the city was besieged.’

That was nearly four years ago, when Chosroes had brought his army to besiege my city and I had defeated him, suffering an arrow wound to my leg in the process.

‘Alas, there is little I can do. Being on your feet all day long has inflamed it. I would advise rest and keeping the weight off it but that hardly seems appropriate.’

‘I shall have to wait until we get back home.’

The air was suddenly filled with trumpet blasts and I knew that we were once again under attack. As tired legionaries reformed into their ranks and hoisted up their shields once more the enemy assaulted us on all four sides. The pain in my leg disappeared as excitement heightened my senses and the stamina of an immortal filled my being. I rushed over to the south side of the square, thinking that the enemy might be trying to break our line there once more. The other archers formed a long line behind the ranks of the cohorts as the clatter of metal against metal filled the air.

The light was beginning to fade as the level of noise rose but I could see no enemy horsemen. Most strange. Domitus ran back from his men to report. Behind him the rear two ranks of two cohorts hurled their javelins at the enemy.

‘It seems that they are throwing the dregs against us now. All foot soldiers, mostly ill armed and acting in small groups. Some have no weapons at all.’

Kronos reported the same thing. On all four sides of the square small groups of poorly armed men would charge us in an attempt to break our line. But they either died before they got within striking distance of the front ranks, felled by javelins, or were literally cut to pieces when they came within gladius range. They would fall back, reform then charge again, only to meet the same fate. As the sun set the desultory affair continued, the piles of enemy dead getting larger by the hour as dusk gave way to night. Some of the enemy wore only tunics, no armour or helmets. Their only weapons were stones that they hurled at legionaries in a vain attempt to split a skull encased in a helmet. Some had to be whipped forward by their own officers before they would fight, only to have their bellies sliced open by the waiting legionaries. After a while they stopped attacking and stood out of javelin range, hurling insults at us. So I moved the archers forward and stood with them beyond the front rank of the legionaries. And as the moon once again filled the night sky to illuminate the enemy in a ghostly glow, we shot at them. Legionaries ran back to the wagons to pick up bundles of enemy arrows that had been shot at us earlier. They had been meticulously collected by details of men under the command of Marcus. They were dumped at our feet as we shot arrow after arrow at the enemy.

At first we were content to stay close to the front ranks, especially when a group of the enemy made a half-hearted attempt to rush us. But after a while there was nothing left living in front of us, just heaps of dead that stretched left and right and into the distance. I rested the end of my bow on the ground. The fingers on my right hand hurt and my right shoulder ached. I had no idea how long I had been shooting at the enemy or how many arrows I had used.

Domitus came through the ranks of his men to join me. In his mail shirt, white tunic, greaves and helmet with its white crest he looked like a phantom in the moonlight.

‘What’s happening on the other sides of the square?’ I knew that there were no archers to support the legionaries on the other three sides of our formation.

‘They are holding the line with ease. Kronos sent a message that a load of unarmed slaves or such like attacked from the east. Most were cut down by javelins, the rest died easily enough on our swords.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

He looked up and down the line with a grim smile on his face.

‘I do. Narses and Mithridates are keeping us occupied while they go about their purpose.’

‘What purpose?’

‘They’re either scarpering or they will hit us again when it’s light and roll right over us.’

I suddenly felt very tired and every limb in my body ached with a fury as the awful realisation dawned on me that the last reserves of our strength had been used up on slaughtering the scrapings of the enemy army.

The men were spent. They had been fighting almost non-stop for over twenty-four hours. Dehydrated, tired, hungry and filthy, they had surpassed themselves in maintaining their discipline, morale and fighting spirit. But even men of Dura’s army now needed rest.

When the dawn came there were no longer any enemy soldiers attacking us, only heaps of dead and dying in front of the first rank of legionaries. These stood leaning on their battered shields like ghosts, staring blankly ahead at the twisted mounds of men that they had made dead flesh. There was no water left to slake their thirsts now. With parched mouths and fatigued limbs they remained silent and waited for the next enemy assault. The final assault that would destroy them. Except that there was no assault, and as the red and yellow rays of light lanced the eastern sky and Shamash returned day to the earth once more we realised that there was no enemy. Narses and Mithridates had gone and taken their army with them.

An hour after dawn had broken and as the sun began its accent in a cloudless sky, Kronos and Domitus joined me as I left the ranks and walked south. My left leg was screaming at me to stop and lie down. It was with difficulty I ignored the torment, enduring a stab of pain with every step. We halted a couple of hundred paces from our lines and stared at the empty space previously occupied by the enemy camp.

‘So, they’ve gone,’ mused Kronos.

‘All that fighting last night was to cover their retreat,’ said Domitus, smugly.

‘You were right,’ I replied. ‘But why? They had almost finished us off. One more day and we would have been meat for crows.’

‘Perhaps that god of yours took pity on us,’ suggested Domitus.

‘Well if he did,’ said Kronos, ‘he only did half a job because we still have no water.’

Our good fortune with regard to the enemy vanishing was forgotten as I gave orders for the army to continue its march northwest, if only to escape the stench of dead flesh that permeated that air. We broke up some wagons to make a pyre on which to burn our own dead, but the thousands of opposition slain and dozens of mules that had been killed by arrows we left to rot. In no time corpses were swarming with large black flies gorging themselves on decaying flesh. As the black smoke of the funeral pyres drifted upwards into the vivid blue sky those still living trudged from the scene of horror.

We maintained our hollow square formation but had not gone half a mile before trumpet calls signalled the alarm. Reflexes honed by countless hours on the training fields commanded tired bodies to once again close ranks, shields forming a wall and roof around our battered formation. I hobbled over to the northern side of the square to join Domitus and Kronos who were standing beyond the front rank peering into the distance.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

Domitus pointed his vine cane directly ahead. ‘Riders.’

My heart sank. ‘The enemy?’

‘Looks like,’ he replied.

I strained to identify the shimmering black shapes on the horizon that were getting larger, albeit agonisingly slowly.

‘Why are they approaching from the northwest?’ asked Kronos. ‘It makes no sense. They should be coming from the south or east.’

I did not care from which direction they were coming, only that once more the enemy was approaching. I knew that this time they would succeed in breaking our square, and after that… There would be no after that for us. With a macabre fascination I watched the figures grow larger as they approached. Oddly they did not fill the horizon in a line but seemed to be riding in a column. Black shapes on black horses. I could now make out spears, the sun catching the tips of the whetted points, presaging our slaughter.

The silence was unbearable as we watched, unable to take our eyes off the black demons approaching with the intent of sending us into the next life. There were a lot of them that much was certain, for they were kicking up a large dust cloud.

‘They are Agraci.’

All three of us turned to stare at the legionary behind us whose eyes were obviously keener than ours. In his relief and joy he momentarily forgot that he was speaking to his king and general as he smiled at me and said the words again.

‘They are Agraci. It is Prince Malik.’

We snapped our heads back to the front once more to see with our own eyes the miracle that was unfolding. Ahead, swathed in black robes and riding a black horse, was the son of King Haytham, my friend and Dura’s ally. But he was not alone. Beside him, galloping towards me on her faithful mare, rode Gallia, her face covered by the cheekguards of her helmet. Behind her came Vagharsh carrying my griffin banner and behind him rode the Amazons, while on Gallia’s other side was Orodes.

As the low rumble of horses’ hooves filled the air the ranks behind me were silent. Then they erupted into wild cheering, the sound reverberating along each side of the square as the word was passed that our salvation had arrived. Domitus slapped me hard on the arm and Kronos locked me in an iron bear hug. With difficulty I fought back the tears as I fell to my knees and bowed my head in thanks to Shamash, who had surely woven this miracle.

Domitus helped me to my feet as Malik, Gallia and Orodes pulled up their horses in front of us and my wife leapt from her saddle and wrapped herself around me. Both of us sprawled in the dirt. This brought whistles and hoots from the men behind as Gallia stood up, untied the straps on her helmet and threw it on the ground. I hauled myself onto my feet once more and she grabbed my face and kissed me long on the lips.

‘I came as fast as I could,’ she said, running a finger tenderly down the scar on my left cheek. ‘I would ride into hell if need be to save you.’

My eyes misted as I looked at her flawless face and blue eyes.

‘Orodes must have ridden like the wind to reach Dura in so short a time.’

She reached down to hold both my hands. ‘No, my love. We left Dura before Orodes had time to reach the city.’

She smiled her most beautiful smile as Orodes came up and embraced me. He stood back seeing my haggard appearance, my torn and filthy tunic, my battered cuirass and unshaven face.

‘You look terrible.’

He, as ever, looked immaculate in his scale armour cuirass, well-groomed hair and clean-shaven face.

‘I have been entertaining Mithridates and Narses these past few days. Alas, I have had no time to wash and change.’

Malik, face adorned with the black tattoos that were the hallmark of Agraci men folk, embraced me warmly.

‘It is good to see you, my friend,’ he beamed.

‘You too, Malik. Never has a Parthian king been so glad to see an Agraci prince.’

There followed a series of happy reunions as Malik’s warriors, who must have numbered over a thousand, flanked the square and rode south and east to ensure that we were not surprised by a returning foe.

‘There is little chance of that,’ said Orodes as we all retired to my command tent that had been hastily assembled in the centre of the square. ‘Their scouts will have reported that a great number of horsemen are riding to your relief.’

I was surprised. ‘Really?’

‘Of course,’ added Gallia. ‘Your father brings the army of Hatra to your aid.’

‘Your horsemen are accompanying your father, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

‘And with him rides my father and ten thousand of his warriors,’ added Malik.

‘King Haytham?’ I could scarcely believe it.

‘Of course,’ continued Malik. ‘When Queen Gallia issues a summons, men obey.’

This was most excellent news and I had difficulty in maintaining my composure. I embraced Gallia once more and then Orodes. But then I noticed that someone was missing.

‘Where is Surena?’

‘I sent him east with a thousand horse archers,’ replied Gallia.

I stared at her, unsure whether my hearing had been damaged during the fighting. I smiled.

‘Very droll. I assume he is with the rest of my horsemen.’

‘It is true, Pacorus,’ said Orodes. ‘He was sent to the Tigris with a thousand riders and ordered to ride south.’

I looked at him and then Gallia.

‘What madness is this?’

‘No madness,’ replied Gallia. ‘Dobbai told me that Surena would reap a rich harvest east of the Tigris so that’s where he is heading.’

I was so relieved and tired in equal measure that I asked no more questions about Surena. But I felt certain that he and a thousand of my horse archers were riding to their deaths.