Avenger of Rome

XXXVII

The attack would be in overwhelming strength. Vologases would mass his archers and savage the Roman ranks with endless showers of arrows that would turn the sky black. Shields or no shields, Valerius knew his men would suffer casualties. In an hour, perhaps less, a thousand of these men would be dead or injured. Perhaps he would be dead himself. And when the Roman line was holed and leaking blood, the King of Kings would send in his Invincibles, the armoured cavalry led by mighty warriors like Sasan. It was a battle which could have only one ending.

But it takes time to position tens of thousands of archers, and time to organize the metal-clad spearmen who would follow them. Too much time.

Because a blast of horns announced that Corbulo had come.

‘Legate Traianus sends his compliments and where would you like us, sir?’

Valerius turned to find a breathless Tiberius at his shoulder, grinning like a boy presented with his first toga. He clapped the younger man on the shoulder.

‘Your ugly face has never been more welcome, tribune. Tell Traianus I suggest he places the Tenth Fretensis in front of the auxiliary line. Cohort formation, with his flanks anchored against the valley walls. The cohorts of the Fifteenth and the auxiliary infantry will form the second line.’

The young man ran off and Valerius watched with Serpentius as, to the sound of the familiar trumpet calls, the legionary heavy infantry streamed through the gaps in the pit line and along the front of the relieved auxiliaries, effortlessly moving from column to cohort. The legion was formed of ten cohorts, the tactical fighting unit of the Roman army, nine of them made up of four hundred and eighty men organized into six centuries of eighty legionaries each, plus the elite first cohort, almost double that strength with eight hundred men. The first included the legion’s aquilifer, who carried the eagle standard and took his place behind the line beside his legate. The cavalrymen began cheering and Hanno opened his mouth to stop them, but Valerius interrupted him.

‘Leave them be. Ten minutes ago they thought they were dead. Let them celebrate.’

‘If they had any sense they’d attack us now.’ Serpentius pointed to where the enemy archers wheeled and circled in apparent confusion.

Valerius nodded. Even with reinforcements pouring into the valley the Roman position would never be more vulnerable than now, with the defensive line half formed and the men weary from the long march. But half a mile away Vologases waited — and did nothing.

‘That’s the trouble with having an enormous army.’ The clatter of hooves announced Corbulo’s arrival, along with his aides and signallers. ‘It takes a long time for commands to be distributed. Any of Vologases’ generals who acted without orders would face the strangling rope, even if his actions resulted in victory.’

Valerius studied him for any sign of irony, but clearly Corbulo didn’t equate his own position with that of a Parthian general.

‘What is your estimate of enemy numbers?’

‘Anything between sixty and seventy thousand, plus the usual slaves, stockmen and baggage carriers…’

‘… and King Vologases’ harem.’ Corbulo frowned at Hanno’s intervention and Valerius could swear the Syrian blushed under his dark skin. ‘He is said to have three hundred wives,’ Hanno stumbled on, ‘and will certainly have brought at least half with him.’

‘Then you must be sure not to inconvenience them, Valerius.’ Hanno looked mystified and Corbulo continued, ‘Seventy thousand? Similar odds to those faced by my old friend Suetonius against your rebel queen.’

‘Similar odds and a similar position,’ Valerius confirmed. Suetonius Paulinus had lured Boudicca to the field of his choice. A long shallow slope bounded by trees and hills to left and right to ensure he wouldn’t be outflanked. And on that slope the flower of Boudicca’s army died. ‘But not a similar enemy. Boudicca’s warriors were brave, but they weren’t organized. They knew how to fight as individuals and they died as individuals. Vologases’ army knows how to kill Romans and they enjoy doing it.’ He thought he might have gone too far, but Corbulo only nodded distractedly.

‘Then we must ensure the same outcome despite that uncomfortable fact.’

Valerius didn’t mention the other similarity in the position of the two armies. Suetonius had left himself nowhere to retreat. If the Roman line had been broken the legionaries would have been slaughtered to the last man.

‘Withdraw your troops when the Tenth is in position,’ the general said. ‘Make sure they are rested, fed and watered. You’ve done well, Valerius. You have given us a chance. But there is more work to do. I’ll give you two hours, and then you must be in the saddle. Leave me one cohort of light cavalry to keep King Vologases amused.’

Valerius saluted and left Hanno to organize his men. On the way back to the horses he and Serpentius met Tiberius as the tribune hurried back to his general.

Valerius hailed the young soldier. ‘Fortuna be with you, Tiberius. I said you would have your chance to become a hero. Well, this is it.’

Tiberius’s eyes darkened. ‘I had hoped to fight at your side.’

Valerius smiled. ‘There will be other times, Tiberius.’

‘What…?’

‘You know better than to ask. A good soldier obeys orders and keeps his mouth shut. For Rome.’

The younger man looked incredibly vulnerable as he returned the salute. ‘For Rome.’

Serpentius commented, ‘The Parthians will eat him alive.’

‘No.’ Valerius studied the retreating back. ‘I don’t think they will.’

His unit commanders were waiting at the mouth of the valley, and he quizzed them on the readiness of each cohort until Hanno arrived. When he finally revealed their mission a few of them shook their heads in disbelief, but no one questioned the plan and they dispersed to alert their troops.

Two hours later Valerius rode north at the head of Corbulo’s cavalry, leaving to their fate the two legions who would soon be facing the combined might of Vologases’ archers and cataphracts. He could feel the confusion and disappointment in his men. They were soldiers, and conditioned to obey orders without question, but that didn’t stop them wondering why they were riding away from a battle. Well, they would find out soon enough. In an hour he would turn east towards the mountains of ancient Mazandaran and the Great Sea; a land that had defeated even Alexander. Auxiliary units arriving with the rearguard of Corbulo’s force stared unhappily as their cavalry deserted them. There were a few shouts of derision, but Valerius and his men ignored them. The squeak of wheels alerted him to the arrival of a line of heavily laden carts. He remembered his puzzlement when he had noticed them in the baggage train at Zeugma. Now he saw again the massed ranks of Parthian warriors packed into the valley and thought he understood. So that was what the old fox intended?

With a last look back to where Corbulo awaited the first Parthian attack, he urged Khamsin forward.

To whatever fate would bring.

At first the going was easy on the dry flatlands north of the mountains. Valerius was able to deploy his regiments three abreast across the plain and minimize the dust cloud by keeping them to a walk. Only when they were well away from the valley did he have his signaller sound the trot. At first, the entire force was contained within a square mile of grassland, but, gradually, the country became more broken and the troopers were forced back into column. Even riding eight abreast Valerius was dismayed to realize his force stretched back almost five miles. Petronius, the engineer who had accompanied Corbulo’s expeditions, rode at Valerius’s side, occasionally consulting one of his scrolls and studying his surroundings with fierce concentration.

‘This is it,’ he said when they reached a path leading up a valley identical to a dozen others they had passed.

Valerius thought he sensed doubt. ‘Are you certain?’

‘Certain.’

‘How many times have you been this way?’

‘Once. Eight years ago.’

‘Once?’

Petronius nodded. ‘Once.’ He saw the look in Valerius’s eye. ‘But I’m certain.’

The ground rose gradually and the path became less distinct. To their front lay what appeared to be an impenetrable mountain range, but for now Valerius kept his concerns to himself. He and Petronius rode ahead of the column until they reached a small plateau. When Valerius looked back he felt his spirits quail. By now it was almost dusk. In the golden haze the dust raised by the line of cavalrymen stretched far into the distance, snaking along a track that was now only wide enough to accommodate two horses at a time. The men at the tail would still be far out on the plain. It was impossible.

‘Can it be done?’ He cursed the fear in his own voice. Not fear for his life, but fear that he would fail.

‘I believe so,’ the engineer said. ‘With the gods’ aid.’

Valerius heard the unspoken ‘and if the commander can hold his nerve’.

‘Then it will be done.’ The words emerged as a snarl and Petronius flinched at the violence in them.

It was the numbers, Valerius thought. The numbers made it impossible. Perhaps if he sent half of his regiments back it could be done. But that would leave him with too few men to achieve what Corbulo demanded.

‘Is there any reason why Vologases shouldn’t do what we are doing?’

Petronius hesitated before answering. ‘No, but… it is unlikely. He already has the alternative of continuing along the Tigris to outflank us in the west. It would cost him a week and General Corbulo has placed a token force there to block him, but it could be done.’

Valerius looked at the sky as the first riders began to pass him. ‘It will be dark in an hour.’ The engineer nodded. ‘Order them to dismount and wrap their horses’ hooves to deaden any sound.’

He was still on the plateau when Hanno rode up twenty minutes later. The Syrian’s exhausted eyes mirrored Valerius’s thoughts. ‘It is impossible,’ he said quietly.

Yes, it was impossible, but it had to be done.

Because if Valerius failed, Corbulo’s army was doomed.