Carrhae

Chapter 15

The quickest way to Hatra was to ride directly east towards the border of my own Kingdom of Dura and then cross the Euphrates before striking northeast across the desert to Gafarn’s city, but Andromachus suggested a different route. He advised travelling northeast to the city of Zeugma, crossing the river there and then riding east along the Euphrates before striking for Hatra.

‘Zeugma will be crawling with Romans,’ said an unimpressed Vagises.

‘And so will the Syrian border,’ replied Andromachus. ‘The difference being that the Romans in Syria are looking for you whereas those at Zeugma are not.’

I was convinced, and so the next morning we loaded food and fodder on two spare horses that Andromachus gave us, on which we also hid our helmets, armour, bows and quivers so as not to draw attention to ourselves. We wore black Agraci robes over our tunics and leggings and donned black headdresses to hides our faces.

‘Be sure to cover your face, lord,’ he told me, ‘it is well known that the face of the King of Dura carries a battle scar.’

We wore our swords under our robes, as it was unwise for even the most poor-looking traveller not to have a weapon to hand — despite the best efforts of Romans, Parthians and Agraci there were still bandits in the hills and among the woods of Syria, Arabia and Parthia. I thanked Andromachus warmly for his help and hospitality but was concerned about his safety.

Servants brought our horses into the courtyard of his villa and we vaulted into our saddles. ‘If the Romans find out that you have assisted me they will crucify you,’ I said to him.

He looked up at me and smiled. ‘They probably won’t find out, but if they do I shall say that you took me hostage and forced me to assist you. I have too many of Antioch’s senators in my pay to believe that I will receive anything more serious than a rebuke.’

I looked at the large villa in its luxuriant surroundings. ‘Do the authorities know that Byrd is my chief scout?’

He looked surprised. ‘Of course. They also know that he is your friend and the friend of King Haytham and High King Orodes and that makes them want to be his friend. Better that than him being a powerful enemy. And every rich merchant in Cilicia, Cappadocia, Syria and Judea knows that his goods are safe when they are transported on one of Byrd’s caravans.’

‘One day I think he will rule over all of us,’ I said, offering my hand to him. ‘Farewell Andromachus, Shamash keep you safe.’

‘Farewell, lord. Safe journey.’ He pulled something from his robe. ‘And take this.’

‘What is it?’

‘A pouch full of drachmas. You may need it on your journey, especially as you are impersonating poor travellers.’

He was right. Journeying via Zeugma meant that our route covered four hundred and fifty miles and at the end of every day, during which we covered at least forty miles, we stopped at one of the many halting places that had been established on the numerous lanes and tracks that made up the Silk Road. Called caravanserai, they were usually roadside inns that had a rectangular walled enclosure abutting them that gave protection from attack as well as from the elements. Accessed by a single gate that was wide and high enough to allow fully laden camels to enter, inside there were washing facilities, cooked food and fodder for animals. Most caravans, especially the larger ones, had their own guards as well as fearsome caravan dogs that were used to drive off predatory wildlife and also warn of approaching bandits. But both Parthia and the Romans realised that trade was the lifeblood of their empires and so they devoted significant resources to protecting the Silk Road. In Parthia small mud-brick forts, such as existed in my own kingdom, were built along major roads to maintain security, while the Romans also built strongpoints from where road patrols were launched to keep road traffic safe.

The caravanserai were always vibrant places, filled with many different races carrying goods from the east and west. And as well as merchants and their guards and servants, caravans would also attract religious teachers, entertainers moving between cities, mystics and even escaped slaves. There was safety in numbers and the larger the caravan the more chance it would have of reaching its destination unmolested. That was the theory at least. And of course large caravans meant substantial customs duties for the kingdoms they passed through. I often wondered how the merchants made a profit from their commerce, what with being charged tolls when they entered every kingdom, but then I remembered that they were carrying silk from China, a material that was literally worth its weight in gold.

On the night we stopped at a caravanserai on the outskirts of Zeugma, Spartacus wandered off after we had eaten a meal of roasted mutton kebabs, rice and raisins. We had seen many Romans on the road in addition to civilian travellers: men on horseback and columns of legionaries making their way to the camps they had established around the city. This was where Crassus would be crossing the Euphrates to commence his campaign in Parthia and thus his forces were mustering here.

I leaned against my saddle and saw a horse taking a piss in its stall. Our horses were in the adjacent stalls and I had elected to camp on the ground in front of them. There were small rooms that we could have hired but I wanted to give the impression that we had little money and were therefore of no consequence.

‘How long before Crassus crosses the river?’ asked Vagises, picking a piece of meat from between his teeth.

‘Two weeks, perhaps longer. Andromachus confirmed that Artavasdes was visiting Antioch so he will be preoccupied with him for a few days at least.’

‘No doubt they will discuss dividing the spoils of their forthcoming campaign.’

‘No doubt,’ I said. ‘If what Marcus Roscius said was true, that the Armenians are already on the march, then Crassus must have promised Artavasdes the Kingdom of Hatra. If the Armenians take the city then Crassus will be free to march south along the Euphrates and strike at Babylon, Seleucia and Uruk.’

‘And Dura,’ added Vagises glumly.

‘If the Armenians manage to capture the city of Hatra then the empire is finished,’ I said to compound Vagises’ melancholy.

He was horrified. ‘It is that serious?’

I saw no reason to disguise the truth. ‘If Hatra falls then the Armenians will be free to strike west at Assur and then across the Tigris into Media and Atropaiene, while Crassus and his legions will easily crush any resistance in Babylon and Mesene. Then he will be able to cross the Tigris at Seleucia and invade the eastern half of the empire. And there will no army to stop him, not with Phriapatius already on his way north to aid Musa and Khosrou. It all hinges on us stopping the Armenians and Romans at Hatra.’

‘You have forgotten something,’ he said.

‘Oh?’

‘Surena and his army.’

I looked up at the myriad of stars in the clear night sky. ‘Surena goes his own way now, that much is certain from the meeting at Assur.’

‘Surely he will assist us?’

I spread my hands. ‘I have no idea. It appears that by unleashing Surena into Gordyene I created a monster that is uncontrollable.’

‘Surena may abandon the empire but he will not abandon you,’ Vagises stated with conviction.

Our conversation was interrupted by the return of Spartacus who was carrying something in his arms. As he got closer I saw a pair of small black eyes peering at me.

‘What is that?’ asked Vagises.

Spartacus carefully sat on the ground next to his saddle and showed us a puppy as black as night.

‘One of the merchants’ bitches had a litter a few weeks back and this was one of her puppies,’ he held out the dog, a bundle of black fluff. ‘I saw him and thought it an auspicious omen.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘How so?’

‘The other puppies were brown or white and brown but this one was pure black. I immediately thought of Scarab and knew I had to have him. The price was very reasonable.’

‘What are you going to call it?’ asked Vagises.

‘He will be called “Scarab” in honour of my dead friend,’ replied Spartacus who began petting the animal.

The next day the three of us plus the mongrel rode into Zeugma, crossed the Euphrates and headed east. Normally the river marked the western frontier of the Kingdom of Hatra but Crassus’ invasion of the previous year had resulted in the loss of Gafarn’s western towns and their occupation by Roman soldiers. On the road we saw more legionaries going to and from the towns of Nicephorium, Ichnae, Carrhae and Zenodotium. The latter place was where Gafarn’s governor of the west, Apollonius, had enticed a Roman delegation into the town and murdered them, resulting in Crassus storming the place and selling its citizens into slavery as a punishment for their treachery. Alas for Apollonius, he had no doubt been either killed in the assault or crucified in front of the city afterwards.

After twelve days of hard riding we at last came to Hatra and rode through the western gates of the city. Kogan’s guards stood sentry on the bridge over the moat, above the gates and in the towers that flanked them. The road was filled with traffic, the streets were heaving with citizens going about their daily business and everything appeared surreally normal. We entered the city and made our way to the walled royal quarter located in the north of Hatra where the palace and the houses of the kingdom’s richest lords were sited.

Our Agraci robes were filthy and stank, our faces were unshaven, black rings surrounded our eyes and we must have looked like a trio of bandits as our tired horses approached the imposing gates in the southern wall of the royal compound. Beyond them was the quiet, ordered wealth and power of Hatra’s rulers, a world usually forbidden to the city’s ordinary citizens. The gates were open to allow access to the paved road that went through the marbled mansions to end at the Great Square, to the north of which stood the palace.

Without thinking I let Remus continue walking up to the gates when he was brought to a halt by two guards armed with spears and carrying bronze-faced shields, an officer standing behind them.

‘Halt!’ barked their commander, a brawny, bearded man whose face was hidden by his bronze helmet. He wore greaves, had a white plume in his helmet and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

‘And where do you think you are going?’ he barked aggressively.

‘To see the king,’ I snapped, ‘now out of my way.’

One of his subordinates grabbed Remus’ reins and the other pointed his spear at my belly as Vagises and Spartacus drew level with me.

‘The king is busy today so piss off before I arrest you.’

‘I am King Pacorus, his brother, now for the last time get out of my way.’

With hindsight, considering my dishevelled appearance, it was the wrong thing to say as the guard commander burst into laughter.

‘Of course you are. I should have realised from your kingly attire.’ He bowed mockingly. ‘Would your majesty like me to bring you some refreshments?’

His two men grinned at each other but I was failing to see the funny side of the situation.

‘I will tell you one last time. Get out of the way.’

‘He is the king and you are only making trouble for yourself,’ announced Spartacus, whose dog peeked from his robes and began yapping at the gate commander.

‘Guards!’ shouted the officer, who pointed at me, ‘you are under arrest. Get off your horse.’

A dozen other soldiers exited the gatehouse, ringed us and levelled their spears. I dismounted and took off my headdress.

‘I tell you again, I am King Pacorus of Dura.’

The commander stepped forward until our faces were only inches apart.

‘Even the lowliest beggar knows that King Pacorus rides a white horse and not a mangy, flea-bitten nag like yours.’

Then two of his men behind began to manhandle me towards the gatehouse.

‘Get your hands off me!’ I shouted, which drew the attention of a rider who was down the road some fifty paces. The commander drew his sword and forced its point into my stomach.

‘Right, I can spill your guts here and now, it makes no difference to me, so I suggest you behave yourself before I add chopping off one of your hands to the flogging you are going to get.’

Spartacus and Vagises went to protest but were silenced as spear points were pressed into their bellies and they were ordered to dismount.

Lord Vistaspa, who was not concerned with the arrest of three troublemakers, rode stiffly by, the guard commander bowing his head to him as he did so.

‘Lord Vistaspa,’ I called, causing him to bring his horse to a halt. He turned in the saddle and his eyes opened wide as he recognised me.

‘Release him at once you imbecile,’ he ordered the commander, ‘you dare threaten and lay your hands on the King of Dura.’

He slid from his saddle and walked over with a slight limp, his permanent souvenir from the Battle of Susa. The guards, now shamefaced and alarmed, withdrew their spears and retreated from us. Vistaspa bowed his head to me.

‘My most sincere apologies, majesty.’ He looked in confusion at my appearance and horse. ‘The last I heard you were in Syria.’

I laid a hand on his arm and smiled. ‘I was and now I am in Hatra on urgent business. I must see my brother.’

He nodded. ‘Of course. Follow me.’

Spartacus and Vagises regained their saddles and I went over to the guard commander, who knelt before me.

‘Get up,’ I told him. ‘Your diligence does you credit. Remember, though, that sometimes things are not as they appear.’

Two hours later, after having bathed, shaved and changed my clothes, I sat in the company of Gafarn and Diana in Hatra’s palace. Spartacus and his new pet were also present, the young pup scampering around the marble floor to the delight of Diana. My brother looked relaxed and his wife happy; it appeared that the foreboding that had previously hung over the city had disappeared. I told them how my mission to Syria had ended and why I and the other two had arrived at the city in disguise.

‘Very clever dying Remus’ coat,’ mused Gafarn, ‘it certainly fooled the guards at the gates. Do you want them flogged for their insolence, by the way?’

I shook my head. ‘That will not be necessary. In any case we will need every soldier we can get our hands on to fight the Armenians.’

Gafarn looked surprised. ‘The Armenians?’

‘Yes, brother. As we sit here Artavasdes and his army are marching south against this city.’

Gafarn looked at Diana and then at me. ‘We would have received intelligence from Lord Apollonius if this were true.’

I heard the name but did not understand. ‘Lord Apollonius?’

Gafarn smiled. ‘Yes, after his heroic exploits in the west I appointed him Commander of the North. He has taken an army of horse archers north to beyond Mount Sinjar to demonstrate our strength to the Armenians. If they were marching south I would have received word of it.’

I felt sick, my mouth was dry and my heart began racing. The mocking words of Marcus Roscius filled my mind and it all suddenly made sense. I tried not to look concerned.

‘How many men did Apollonius take north with him?’ I asked Gafarn.

‘Twenty thousand horse archers.’

I closed my eyes and cursed my luck. ‘How many men are left in the city?’

‘The Royal Bodyguard — five hundred men — a thousand other cataphracts, five thousand horse archers plus the two thousand men of Kogan’s garrison.’

‘What is the matter, Pacorus?’ asked Diana, seeing the colour drain from my face.

Half an hour later I told her as she and her husband sat around the table in the office that abutted the throne room and which had been used many times by my father. Vistaspa and Kogan had been ordered to attend, and Chief Priest Assur’s presence had been requested. I also invited Vagises and Spartacus to the meeting, the latter having given his pet to a steward to look after. When the doors had been closed I told them of my journey to Syria, the ambush sprung by Marcus Roscius and how before his death he had boasted that the Armenians were marching against Hatra, which had been betrayed.

‘Gafarn has informed me that Apollonius has taken twenty thousand men out of the city, which confirms to me that he is the traitor in the pay of the Romans.’

Kogan and Vistaspa looked at me in disbelief while Assur raised his bushy white eyebrows. Gafarn laughed nervously.

‘You are mistaken, brother. Lord Apollonius fought the Romans in the west last year and has been most vocal in his determination to recapture the towns that were lost.’

‘The fact that he escaped with his life condemns him,’ I said. ‘The Romans always make an example of any town or city that defies them, as they did with the inhabitants of Zenodotium last year. Apollonius must have brokered a deal with the Romans; that is the only reason he was allowed to live.

‘In addition, Artavasdes visited Crassus after I spoke with the governor of Syria, which confirms to me that the two of them have been working in conjunction to coordinate their attack on the empire and specifically the Kingdom of Hatra.’

‘Lord Apollonius will be recalled,’ said Vistaspa sternly, ‘so he can speak for himself on these matters.’

‘These are serious charges, Pacorus,’ remarked Gafarn, ‘and yet though I want to believe you I have seen no evidence of Lord Apollonius’ treachery.’

‘Alas, brother,’ I replied, ‘the evidence of his treason is his absence from this city in its hour of need.’

Gafarn was beginning to get angry. ‘But we have received no reports that there are Armenian troops to the north of Hatra.’

I held out my hands. ‘Of course not, not with Apollonius himself responsible for the security of the north of the kingdom.’

Vistaspa rose from the table and went outside to dictate a letter to Apollonius ordering him to present himself at the palace immediately, though I was certain that the courier would be killed when he arrived at Apollonius’ camp. He was not my immediate concern — I needed to know where the Armenians were. To this end I asked Vistaspa to send out scouts to the north and east to discover their whereabouts, plus the despatch of another courier, to the city of Assur, to bring Silaces and his horse archers to Hatra.

‘I heard Marcus Roscius boasting,’ said Spartacus, looking very much like a prince in his white silk shirt, tan leggings and black boots. ‘He killed Scarab and I am going to kill that bitch.’

Diana frowned. ‘Language, Spartacus, please.’

‘We should have killed her before we left Syria,’ he hissed.

‘Who?’ asked Gafarn.

‘Queen Aruna.’

‘The mother of Mithridates?’ Gafarn seemed surprised.

‘Yes indeed,’ I said. ‘She has made her home in Syria and Marcus Roscius was her lover. I have no doubt that she instigated the attack on our column.’

‘Her temperament has not mellowed, then,’ commented Gafarn dryly.

‘Having failed to kill me she is irrelevant to the current situation,’ I said.

‘She still deserves to die,’ seethed Spartacus.

‘There are many people worthy of a death sentence,’ I remarked, ‘but right now we must concentrate on an Armenian army intent on putting us all to the sword.’

‘And if Apollonius returns to the city with his men?’ queried Assur in his deep tone.

‘Then, sir,’ I replied, ‘I will apologise for the gross disservice I have done him.’

But it was too much of a coincidence that he was out of the city, the more so having taken most of the city’s soldiers with him. That night I stood on Hatra’s walls and looked north but saw no glow on the horizon to indicate an army’s campfires. Later, in my old room, I wrote a letter to Orodes informing him of the danger that threatened Hatra and that Crassus had rejected his offer and would be launching his campaign soon.

The next morning I rose early and joined a war council convened by Gafarn. Hatra’s king still did not believe that Apollonius had betrayed him but agreed with his being recalled to clear up any uncertainty. I suggested that it might be prudent to impose a curfew as Apollonius could have friends inside the city who might try to seize any of the four gates to allow the Armenians to enter.

‘I think you are letting your imagination run wild,’ commented a slightly annoyed Gafarn.

‘I will double the guards at the gates, majesty,’ stated Kogan. ‘I can vouch for the loyalty of all my men.’

Vistaspa said nothing but nodded approvingly at my suggestion. I did not wish to undermine my brother’s authority but I kept thinking of Spartacus’ words regarding murmurs of discontent among Hatra’s lords concerning their low-born king. It was but a short journey from discontent to outright treachery, especially in times of uncertainty and strife.

‘Still,’ I said, trying to be optimistic, ‘at least my army and Silaces’ men will be arriving soon, and after them Orodes, Nergal and Atrax.’

‘As lord high general,’ said Vistaspa, ‘what will be your plan, majesty?’

‘I would have liked to have engaged Crassus first before the Armenians,’ I replied, ‘but now we have no option but to give battle to the Armenians before the Romans.’

‘The Armenians are more numerous,’ said Vistaspa, remembering the hordes that Tigranes had brought to Nisibus when my father had requested a meeting with them.

‘That they do,’ I concurred, ‘but the Romans have always presented the greatest threat and that has not changed. The Armenians are mere puppets of Rome. If we had stopped Crassus then Artavasdes would have yielded to our demands, of that I have no doubt.’

There were voices outside and then the doors of the meeting opened and a guard entered. He bowed to Gafarn and then spoke into Kogan’s ear.

‘Let them in,’ he commanded.

The guard exited and seconds later a dust-covered Byrd and Malik entered and nodded to Gafarn. A wave of relief swept through me as I rose and embraced them both.

‘Your army half a day’s march away,’ said Byrd.

I closed my eyes and thanked Shamash for safeguarding a small pigeon that flew from Andromachus’ villa to Palmyra.

‘Gallia leads the army,’ reported Malik.

I slapped Byrd on the arm. ‘Your brother-in-law has saved the day for without him I would be either dead or in a Roman prison.’

‘He was under orders to keep an eye on you,’ replied Byrd nonchalantly.

‘Who guards Dura?’ I asked.

‘Spandarat,’ replied Malik, ‘much to his frustration, especially as Claudia told him that she was perfectly capable of organising the city’s defence. However, she has appointed him her official military adviser to keep him happy.’

‘At least I do not need to worry about my city,’ I said. I turned to Gafarn. ‘And, my brother, Hatra now stands a fighting chance.’

I made my apologies and left the meeting to summon Vagises before going to the stables to saddle Remus. Byrd and Malik acquired fresh horses and the four of us rode south into the desert to go and find my wife.

Two hours later on a small hillock we saw a party of Byrd’s scouts sitting on their horses. They observed us warily before recognising their commander as we drew closer to them. They trotted down the hillock and their leader, a lean man with a straggly beard, reported that the army was five miles to the south. We left them to continue their scouting duties and continued on, fifteen minutes later encountering a company of Vagises’ horse archers who formed part of the army’s forward screen. Finally we saw a vast cloud of dust in front of us and then a great column of horsemen and foot soldiers that seemingly had no end. A group of riders left the column and galloped towards us — figures wearing helmets, mail shirts and white tunics. I slowed Remus and waited as Gallia pulled up Epona beside me and removed her helmet.

‘I thought you might miss the war,’ she grinned.

I leaned over, pulled her to me and kissed her on the lips. ‘Never has a sight been more welcome.’

She glanced at Remus. ‘Where is Remus?’

‘This is Remus,’ I replied.

She was confused. ‘Why is he brown?’

‘I will tell you later.’

I returned with her and the Amazons to the front of the column where we were joined by Domitus and Chrestus, both of whom were on foot. He immediately noticed the colour of my horse.

‘Where’s Remus?’

I sighed. ‘This is Remus.’

‘Why have you painted him brown?’

‘I will tell you later.’

It took four more hours to reach Hatra, the army pitching its camp on the hard-packed dirt half a mile from the city’s southern gates. I sat down with Gallia and the others in the command tent and told them what had happened in Syria, and specifically Crassus turning down Orodes’ offer.

‘I could have told you that and saved you a journey, plus the lives of a hundred horse archers,’ remarked Domitus, chewing on a piece of cured meat. ‘All your trip will have achieved will have been to make Crassus more eager to seize the great riches he believes are at Ctesiphon.’

‘He is as arrogant as ever,’ said Vagises bitterly, who looked at me. ‘Tell them what he offered you.’

‘He wanted to make me king of kings of a Parthia that was a client state of Rome.’

‘You mean he wanted to enslave you,’ hissed Gallia.

I smiled at her. ‘That is what I told him.’

‘And that bitch Aruna tried to have you killed,’ said Domitus, smiling. ‘You made a lifelong enemy there. You should have heeded Dobbai’s words and killed her long ago. You still might have to.’

‘I have bigger things to worry about than an embittered mother,’ I told him. ‘The Armenians for one thing.’

I informed them of my concerns about Apollonius, his departure from Hatra with a large number of soldiers and how I believed that an Armenian army was on its way to Hatra.

‘I thought you said Byrd’s brother-in-law told you that Artavasdes was at Antioch,’ said Domitus.

I nodded.

‘Seems highly unlikely that his army would be making its way south without him,’ he continued, finishing off his strip of meat. ‘And you base your theory on what Marcus Roscius spouted at you before you killed him.’

I nodded again.

‘That’s a lot of assumptions.’

‘You may be right,’ I agreed, ‘but I just cannot reconcile how Apollonius escaped with his life last year without making some sort of agreement with the Romans.’

Domitus stuck out his lower lip. ‘That is strange, I agree.’

‘What does it matter?’ said Gallia. ‘We are going to have to fight the Armenians and Romans anyway.’

Domitus and Malik laughed and Chrestus smiled.

‘Succinct as ever, my love,’ I said.

‘Have the Armenians any siege engines?’ asked a perplexed Marcus.

‘Not as far as I know,’ I replied. ‘Why?’

He ran a hand over his nearly bald crown. ‘Well, even if the Armenians are advancing on Hatra, how will they capture it without siege engines?’

‘They do not have to,’ I answered him. ‘All they have to do is sit in front of the walls while Crassus is free to run amok between the Euphrates and Tigris. And don’t forget that the Romans do have siege equipment. You are an engineer, Marcus, how long can a city of one hundred thousand people hold out for without hope of relief?’

‘Orodes and Nergal have been alerted and will bring their armies here, as will Atrax,’ said Gallia determinedly.

‘Let us pray they arrive in time,’ I added.

‘Orodes will be here in two days,’ said Domitus, ‘and Nergal will hopefully be with him.’

‘Atrax might take longer to get here,’ I said, ‘especially if he has taken his army to Media’s eastern border to support Aschek.’

Domitus frowned. ‘I thought Peroz’s father was marching to aid Aschek.’

‘He is,’ I agreed, ‘but Aschek is apt to panic and so it is wise to support him in his hour of need.’

‘I don’t know how he became king,’ sneered Domitus.

‘The same way my father and Atrax did,’ I replied. ‘Their fathers died and they inherited the throne.’

Domitus pulled out his dagger and began toying with it. ‘The Romans did away with their kings over four hundred years ago. Their republic is much more efficient.’

Peroz was shocked. ‘Rome killed its kings?’

Domitus smiled maliciously at him. ‘That’s right, and since then Rome has gone from strength to strength.’

‘Even though Domitus has lived in Parthia for twenty years there is still a part of him that is forever Roman,’ remarked Gallia, ‘is that not correct, Domitus?’

‘Old habits die hard,’ he replied wistfully.

‘You can take the man out of Rome but you cannot take Rome out of the man,’ I added mischievously.

Domitus bared his teeth and pointed his dagger at me. ‘What will you do if the Armenians do not turn up and this Apollonius turns out not to be a traitor?’

‘In those happy circumstances,’ I replied, ‘then we will meet Crassus and after we have defeated him we will march north, retake Nisibus and then invade Armenia to teach Artavasdes a lesson in manners.’

Peroz thumped the table in triumph and Malik smiled at him.

‘He reminds me of Surena,’ said the Agraci prince.

Domitus placed the point of his dagger on the table and began turning it. ‘Talking of him, can we expect your former squire to make an appearance in our hour of need?’

I held out my hands. ‘I have no answer to that.’

‘Impudent boy,’ snapped Gallia, ‘you should order him to attend you here.’

‘I could do that,’ I smiled at her, ‘and he would probably ignore me. He stormed out of a meeting with the high king so I hardly think he is going to obey a command from his lord high general.’

Gallia shook her head. ‘You say this Apollonius is a traitor but Surena’s actions are just as criminal. His troops could be the difference between defeat and victory.’

Domitus stopped turning his dagger. ‘She has a point, Pacorus.’

‘Surena, for all his faults, liberated Gordyene, raised an army and now spends his time killing Armenians. For all his insolence I cannot find it in myself to condemn him for his actions.’

‘That is because you found him, raised him up from the swamp he was living in, made him a warlord in your own image and unleashed him into the world,’ said Domitus. ‘I admire you for your loyalty, Pacorus, but he has reverted back into a wild savage, only this time he has an army and a kingdom to back him up.’

‘Surena is loyal,’ I insisted.

‘To you, yes,’ said Gallia, ‘but not to Parthia.’

Her hostility towards Surena had not abated since the first time she had met him and he had inadvertently touched her hair, so fascinated had he been by her blonde locks. Their relationship had deteriorated further when he had pursued Viper, one of her cherished Amazons. That he had gone on to marry the girl had infuriated my wife further but I knew Surena to be both brave and capable and I had viewed his achievements with a mixture of pride and admiration. If that was construed as weakness on my part by some then so be it.

The rest of the meeting was more agreeable, with Marcus reporting that his siege engines were all in working order and the camel train was loaded with not only replacement bronze-tipped arrows but also quivers full of Arsam’s new steel-tipped missiles. I gave orders that the latter were to be issued only when we faced Crassus, when we would put the theories of my chief armourer to the test. The arrival of Dura’s army meant that there were twenty-five thousand troops at Hatra, not including Kogan’s garrison of two thousand. To the west were Herneus’ ten thousand horse archers and another seven thousand under Silaces, which would swell our numbers to just over forty thousand men, enough to at least hold the Armenians until Orodes, Nergal and Atrax arrived.

At the end of the day, as I lay beside a sleeping Gallia in the palace, much of the anxiety that had gripped me since my journey from Syria had disappeared. The arrival of my troops and old friends had done much to dissipate it and the fact that no enemy army had been detected made me think that perhaps I had indeed let my imagination run away with me. I had, after all, based all my assumptions on the words of Marcus Roscius, the lover of Queen Aruna who had no doubt tutored him in the arts of deceit. What were the words of a Roman to me? Outside the warm night air was scented with the nectareous fragrance of the palace gardens where peacocks strutted, white doves roosted and fountains gushed sweet water from the eternal springs that gave the city life. This was Hatra, the impregnable fortress in the middle of the desert whose walls had never been breached by an enemy. As my wife’s chest rose slowly and subsided as she slept beside me I drifted into a sleep of contentment.

The next day the Armenians arrived.

I was standing in the palace’s large throne room in the presence of Hatra’s king and queen seated on their thrones with my mother looking very regal on the other side of Gafarn. She was wearing a long white gown with a crown on her head. Her black hair was loose and hung around her shoulders and she was had a gold belt around her waist and gold jewellery on her fingers. To the right of the dais upon which all three of them were seated was the severe Assur and his white-robed priests, and to the left Vistaspa and the commanders of the Royal Bodyguard and horse archers, plus Kogan and his senior officers. Diana’s son, Prince Pacorus, now thirteen years old, stood nervously next to Spartacus. Tall like his father, he had brown shoulder-length hair and a kindly face like his mother. When he caught my eye I smiled at him.

I stood beside Gallia in front of the dais and bowed my head at my brother and his wife, Diana rising to embrace her friend and Zenobia standing next to her. Diana also kissed Byrd and Domitus, much to the discomfiture of the latter, who stood as straight as a spear shaft beside me in his full armour, helmet in the crook of his arm. The hushed room was filled with the aroma of incense that had a calming effect. Spartacus smiled at Peroz who faced him.

‘Welcome Prince Peroz,’ said Gafarn, ‘brave son of King Phriapatius, our ally who holds the east of the empire.’

Peroz bowed his head. ‘Thank you, majesty.’

‘And welcome Pacorus, King of Dura,’ continued Gafarn, ‘whose martial fame is known throughout the world and who brings the great and undefeated army of Dura to stand by our own.’

‘It is an honour to be here, brother,’ I replied.

The exchanges were all highly formalised but Hatra was a very traditional city where Assur and his priests held great sway, believing that adherence to time-honoured rituals would win the favour of Shamash and benefit the city and its rulers. My father had been a stickler for rules and regulations just as his father before him and I realised that Gafarn had followed in their footsteps. Some of the city’s nobles may grumble but while Gafarn had the support of Assur, whose priests controlled the masses, there would never be an outright challenge to his rule. Most of the city’s great nobles were standing near him now, in the uniform of the Royal Bodyguard, while their sons rode in the ranks. But I did not see any sign of Apollonius among them, the man responsible for losing the west of my brother’s kingdom. Despite the despatch of couriers no word had reached the city of the errant lord’s whereabouts, or the twenty thousand horse archers he had led out of the city, but at least news had reached us that Silaces was on his way from the city of Assur.

The high priest who had been named after the city where Herneus was governor had just finished reciting a prayer when the doors of the throne room opened behind me, and all eyes focused on the guard who marched stiffly towards Kogan. Even before the contents of the sheet of folded papyrus that he carried in his hand were read I knew that something was awry. Where before there was calm and reassurance there was suddenly apprehension. With every step that the guard took towards Kogan the tension palpably rose until it became almost unbearable as he handed the note to his commander. Kogan did not read it but instead walked in front of the dais, bowed and then held it out for Gafarn to take. My brother did so and read its contents, then handed it to Diana to peruse.

He stood. ‘Scouts have detected a large Armenian force advancing towards the city from the northeast.’

Men looked at each other and some may have been alarmed but no one spoke. The officers of the Royal Bodyguard were too professional to allow their emotions to show. Assur was impassive — all the demons from the underworld could be converging on the city and he would be unconcerned, believing that Shamash would protect Hatra as long as the people remained pious.

‘How many Armenians?’ I asked.

‘We have not been able to discover that as yet,’ replied Gafarn.

‘May I suggest we convene a council of war to determine our next move,’ I said.

My mother suggested the gazebo in her secret garden and insisted on attending. It was now mid-morning and the temperature was already rising, though it was pleasant enough in the shade of the arbour. Immaculately dressed slave girls with painted fingernails and oiled hair brought us fruit juice, yoghurt, wafers, fruit and pastries as we reclined on couches and determined how best to slaughter the enemy. As we did Gafarn received more updates on the composition of the Armenian army and its distance from the city. As I devoured a delicious honey cake topped with seeds he revealed that around one hundred thousand Armenians were four hours away.

‘Outnumbered four to one,’ remarked Domitus casually. ‘Sounds decent odds.’

Vagises laughed while Vistaspa frowned but Gafarn said nothing.

‘Do Romans always give battle no matter what the odds?’ my mother asked Domitus politely.

He wiped away crumbs from around his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Yes, lady, always. They believe that if you attack first it gives you an advantage and also pleases the gods.’

‘And what gods are those?’ she enquired further.

‘Chiefly Mars, god of war,’ replied Domitus proudly, ‘and the god of death.’

My mother was intrigued. ‘And does he have a name, this god of death?’

Domitus nodded. ‘He does, lady, but I prefer not to say it in case he notices me and takes me away into the next life for doing so.’

My mother smiled. ‘How quaint. And do you believe that we should fight the Armenians, Roman?’

Domitus grinned broadly. ‘Yes, lady.’

She looked at Gafarn and then me. ‘And what do my two sons think?’

I waited for Gafarn to speak first even though technically I outranked him as lord high general.

‘I await the decision of the empire’s lord high general,’ he replied.

I finished another honey cake. They really were most palatable.

‘By the time the Armenians get here we will still have five hours of daylight left, more than enough to fight a battle. The enemy will be tired after marching all day in the heat whilst our men will be fresh, but if we allow them to make camp then tomorrow we will have to fight an invigorated opponent. I therefore propose to fight the Armenians outside the city, today.’

‘Even though we are outnumbered?’ asked Vistaspa.

‘It is not the size of the man in the fight, Lord Vistaspa,’ said Domitus, ‘but the size of the fight in the man.’

My mother laughed and clapped her hands. ‘You really are a most intriguing individual, Roman.’

‘Even though we are outnumbered,’ I replied. ‘I have no stomach to be cooped up inside this city like lambs in a pen awaiting slaughter. Silaces is on his way from Assur and Orodes and Nergal are advancing from the south. If we allow the Armenians to lay siege to Hatra they will be able to engage our friends separately while we are trapped inside the city. This I cannot allow.’

I looked at Gafarn who smiled at me. ‘I agree. Kogan, bring all the caravans that are camped outside the city within the walls and quarter them in the squares.’

‘I will need to bring my mules, wagons and siege engines into the city as well,’ I told Gafarn.

‘Put them in the Great Square,’ he replied.

Assur raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Adjacent to the Great Temple?’

‘I’m sure Shamash will understand,’ said Gafarn. ‘We are, after all, defending His sanctuary from the heathens.’

‘We will all defend your temple, Lord Assur,’ said my mother, ‘I will fetch my bow and stand on the battlements beside Lord Kogan’s men.’

Domitus looked at her in surprise.

‘You think I am a frail old woman, Roman,’ she asked, ‘fit only to be raped and murdered if the enemy breaches the walls? I can shoot a bow as well as any man.’

‘I don’t doubt it, lady,’ he replied admiringly.

Diana, who had once been an Amazon, also declared her intention to stand on the walls beside her mother-in-law, but when I suggested that Gallia might like to join them I was met by an icy glare.

‘I will be fighting alongside you with the Amazons, my dear,’ she insisted.

So I kissed my mother farewell and ordered Domitus to pass the word on to Marcus that the Duran camp was to be dismantled and the wagons and animals brought into the Great Square. He was to use the city’s northern gates, which gave direct access to the royal quarter. In addition to Kogan’s guards, the three thousand squires of Hatra’s cataphracts and Royal Bodyguard, plus a further two thousand from Dura, would reinforce the garrison. This gave Kogan a total of seven thousand men and boys, plus my mother and Diana.

The Armenians had hugged the Tigris on their way here before heading southwest into the desert to advance on Hatra. They had also probably diverted a number of troops to the city of Assur to keep Herneus occupied and prevent him from reinforcing Hatra. I was not worried about him: he had ten thousand horse archers plus his garrison to defend the city. But I was concerned that any assault against Assur would prevent Silaces from reaching us.

I walked with Domitus from the gardens, through the palace and into the Great Square, which would soon be filled with mules and wagons.

‘We will place Marcus’ smaller ballista among the first line cohorts,’ I said, thinking aloud. ‘Because we are greatly outnumbered we will deploy the Durans and Exiles in two lines to extend their frontage, with the horse archers on the wings and the cataphracts held back as a reserve. The Armenians will be confident of victory and we will use that against them by drawing them onto our javelins and swords.’

‘You have been doing a lot of thinking,’ he said.

I stopped and looked at him. ‘This is the city where I grew up, Domitus, a place of great strength and certainty in an uncertain world. When I was in Italy the thought of Hatra was a comfort to me: its many towers, its high walls and great moat. Whatever calamities befell the empire, the one constant was the strength of Hatra, the capital of the greatest kingdom in the empire.

‘But now much of that kingdom lies in enemy hands and this city itself is in peril. I will not stand idly by and watch it fall to the Armenians, not while there is breath left in my body.’

He smiled and laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘Do not fear. You have created an army that would follow you into the underworld if you asked it to.’

‘Just a few miles outside the city will suffice.’

I looked at the entrance of the Great Temple. ‘I think I will take a few minutes in the temple Domitus.’

‘Not thinking of becoming a priest are you?’

‘Not yet. Deploy the army immediately north of the city. I will meet you there. By the way, what is the name of the Roman god of death?’

He looked pensive before shrugging. ‘Mors.’

We clasped arms and then he marched off to organise the movement of thousands of men and animals. It would take about three hours for the camp to be dismantled and the tents and palisade stakes to be loaded onto wagons and mules and brought into the city. The squires would be earmarked for the menial tasks while the legions, horse archers and cataphracts marched by the city’s eastern wall to take up position beyond the northern gates. Hatra’s horsemen, meanwhile, would exit the city via the northern gates and join their Duran and Carmanian allies to await the Armenians.

I walked across the square to the steps that led to the entrance of the impressive colonnaded temple, its great bronze-faced doors positioned facing east to welcome the Sun God each day as He made another journey through the heavens. I walked through the doors and into the spacious, airy interior that was flooded with sunlight coming through the many high windows cut in the walls. White-robed priests moved across the white marble tiles in soft slippers in order to make as little noise as possible so as not to disturb the Sun God.

The temple was filled with the aroma of frankincense, which was burned every morning to purify its interior of any malign influences. In the middle of the day myrrh was burned to unite heaven and earth and in the evening the priests always burned kapet, a mixture of cedar bark, juniper berries, cinnamon, wine, honey, raisins, galangal, myrrh and benzoin, to purify the temple. I walked up the central aisle to where the high altar basked in bright sunlight. I took a seat and stared at the silver eagle that was laid before it, the eagle that I had taken all those years ago. As far as I knew it had not been touched since Assur had placed it there as an offering to Shamash, though I suspected that it had been dusted if not cleaned during the past twenty years, since it looked immaculate.

Though one or two priests moved silently around inside the cavernous structure it seemed as though I was alone before Shamash. I closed my eyes and prayed to Him — that He would grant our forces victory over the Armenians and deliver up this, His city, that He would look over and protect my mother and my family, and finally that He would safeguard the empire against its many enemies in its hour of need. I opened my eyes and saw a young girl standing in front of the altar. She wore a simple brown dress; her feet and her arms were bare. She had long black hair that cascaded down her back. She knelt down in front of the altar and extended her arm to touch the eagle.

‘Do not touch that,’ I ordered.

She withdrew her arm and got to her feet, then turned to face me. She had a pretty face with big brown eyes and a mischievous grin. She sauntered over and sat down beside me. She looked at the eagle.

‘Is it yours?’

‘No,’ I replied, ‘it belongs to the Sun God.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He is god; he is all around us.’

‘Why were you sitting with your eyes closed?’

‘I was praying in quiet contemplation,’ I replied. ‘You should try it.’

She looked at me with a quizzical expression. ‘What were you asking for?’

She was an irksome child. ‘Where are your parents?’

She looked at her bare feet. ‘Dead.’

‘I am sorry.’

She giggled. ‘Why? You did not know them. You have not answered my question.’

I sighed and looked around for someone to take the urchin away but could see no one. We were totally alone.

‘If you must know I was asking the Sun God to grant me victory.’

She began swinging her lower legs that dangled from her seat. ‘Victory over who?’

I smiled at her innocence. ‘The Armenians who are approaching the city.’

She suddenly jumped off her seat and ran over to the eagle and stood by it. ‘Where are the other eagles?’

‘Other eagles?’

‘Yes, the other eagles who look like this one.’

I was mildly surprised by this question to say the least but decided to indulge her infantile mind. Someone had obviously told her about the Romans. ‘They are gathering in the west.’

‘You will have to beat them as well and then you can place all seven eagles beside this one.’

I stood up as she once more knelt beside the Roman eagle. ‘How do you know this?’

She giggled. ‘Everyone knows that the Romans are invading Parthia just as they know that you will save the empire.’

At that moment the rays of the sun shone on the eagle and reflected into my eyes, temporarily blinding me. The girl giggled again.

‘You should have faith, son of Hatra.’

I moved aside and looked at the altar but there was no one there. I glanced left and right and then behind me but saw no one and heard only my own footsteps on the tiles as I searched the temple in vain for the girl. She was nowhere to be seen. I saw a priest and was about to question him regarding seeing the child but thought better of it. Perhaps the incense had befuddled my senses and I had dreamt the whole episode. And yet…

I left the temple and walked to the stables to collect Remus who had been brushed and was beginning to return to his original colour. Around me hundreds of squires were assisting their masters into their scale armour while others were encasing horses in thick hide covered with iron scales. Farriers were replacing horseshoes, veterinaries were examining horses and cataphracts were checking their weapons.

I mounted Remus and rode him from the royal quarter and out of the city via the eastern gates. I had to thread my way through a great press of camels that were being brought into Hatra as the caravan parks around it were emptied on Kogan’s orders. The Duran camp was likewise a hive of activity as legionaries gathered in their centuries and cohorts and horsemen in their companies and dragons. Already a long line of wagons was making its way to the city and mules were being loaded with equipment. It was very hot and already my silk vest under my tunic was drenched in sweat. For the cataphracts and their horses in their heavy armour it was far worse but at least they did not have the prospect of a long march ahead of them.

Most of the tents had been stashed on the wagons but Domitus’ command tent still stood and inside he and the others awaited me, the Amazons sitting on the ground around it waiting for their mistress. I dismounted, handed Remus’ reins to Zenobia, took off my helmet and went inside.

‘Ah, the priest returns,’ quipped Domitus. ‘We were beginning to think that you might sit out the battle in meditation.’

‘Very droll,’ I replied.

I looked at Malik and Byrd. ‘Get your scouts out to ensure the Armenians do not detach forces to sweep around our rear.’

They nodded and both left. I turned to Marcus.

‘Are your ballista ready?’

He smiled. ‘The crews are fully briefed.’

I turned to Vagises and Peroz. ‘Vagises, your horse archers will initially be deployed dismounted behind the first line cohorts. The Armenians will endeavour to smash our centre with their overwhelming numbers of foot. Three thousand archers shooting at them will hopefully diminish the force of their initial assault.’

‘What of my men, majesty?’ requested Peroz.

‘You, lord prince, will be positioned on the army’s left wing. King Gafarn will take up position on the right with his horse archers.’

An hour later I was mounted on Remus reiterating my battle plan with Vistaspa and Gafarn to the rear of the army that was waiting for the Armenian host. I suggested that Vistaspa take command of all the cataphracts that were grouped in two large blocks to the rear of our position, every man having planted the butt spike of his kontus in the hard earth and the Durans having shoved their full-face helmets up onto their heads. Vistaspa was most pleased by my suggestion but it made sense: of all of us he had the most experience and was respected by both Hatra’s élite horsemen and my own heavy cavalry.

‘That’s decided, then,’ I said happily.

The ground we would fight the battle on was ideal for horsemen, comprising largely flat terrain with the occasional depression or mound. In the spring rains there is a brief covering of young green grass but this quickly disappears to leave an environment as it appeared now: sun-roasted hard earth with a sprinkling of the only plants that can live in this harsh land — southernwood, wormwood and dragonwort. Domitus had positioned his legions so they faced northeast, which meant that the sun was behind his men’s’ backs as it began its slow descent in the west. We were around half of a mile from Hatra’s northern gates, allowing the army room for manoeuvre and also being close enough to provide an escape route back to the city should disaster befall us. The legions covered a frontage of a mile and either side of them each wing of horse archers presented a frontage of half a mile. Our battle line looked impressive but we were as thin as papyrus and everyone knew it.

We did not see the Armenians first but rather heard them — a low, rumbling sound to the northeast that slowly got louder as the enemy approached.

‘Kettledrums,’ I mumbled to myself.

If there was one thing that I had come to loathe it was kettledrums, which always reminded me of the armies of Narses and Mithridates, though they were both dead. As soon as I heard that awful drumming sound my mind conjured up images of the pair, sitting on their horses mocking me. The Durans and Exiles had been sitting or lying on the ground and when they heard the annoying racket some stood up and peered into the distance. Most, though, continued their rest or conversation with their comrades. They had heard it too many times to let it bother them and had become expert at using it to judge how far away the enemy was.

Minutes later a group of horsemen galloped through the gap between the legions and Gafarn’s horse archers on the right flank, most of whom were also sitting on the ground beside their mounts.

Byrd and Malik brought their horses to a halt in front of me and raised their hands in salute. I saw that their horses were both sweating from a long gallop. Their arrival was a signal for others to gather around us as the figures of Domitus, Vagises and Chrestus strode from the ranks of legionaries ahead and Gafarn left his horse archers with a company of bodyguards following him. And from the Carmanians rode Peroz and fifty other horsemen with Vistaspa also riding from his cataphracts. He joined Gafarn and the prince of Carmania as they drew level beside Malik, their escorts remaining fifty paces away.

Byrd uncorked his water bottle and took a sip. ‘Armenians half an hour away.’

‘Numbers?’ I asked, though I already knew that they greatly outnumbered us. Domitus, bareheaded, nodded at Malik as he stood in front of Remus next to the sweating Chrestus.

‘A hundred thousand foot and fifty thousand horse,’ replied Byrd without emotion.

Domitus pointed his cane at me. ‘I thought you said we would be outnumbered four to one? I make it six to one. You sure you didn’t count some of the enemy twice, Byrd?’

Byrd patted his horse on the neck. ‘You take my horse and count them for yourself if you no believe me.’

‘We’ve seen enough armies to be able to estimate their strength, Domitus,’ said Malik.

Domitus raised his cane to salute his old friend and then looked at me. ‘You still want to fight them?’

I looked at Gafarn in his cuirass of steel scales and helmet adorned with Hatra’s crown. ‘It is your city and your crown, brother.’

Gafarn may have found the demands of kingship taxing but today his face was a mask of determination. It was as if he could finally dictate events rather than them ruling him. ‘We fight. They will arrive soon and it would be a grave discourtesy not to be here to greet them.’

‘Good,’ I said, ‘the Armenians have treated Parthia with contempt for too long.’

I looked at Domitus and Chrestus. ‘I am afraid that your men will be acting as the seawall against which the Armenian waves will crash. You will have Vagises’ archers for support but it is imperative that you hold their attack.’

‘You are certain they will attack, majesty?’ asked Vistaspa.

I smiled. ‘If I had one hundred and fifty thousand men under my command I would wish to sweep the enemy from the field. They will attack, especially when they see how few we are.’

I looked at Gafarn and then Peroz. ‘You must use your horse archers to goad the enemy so they will launch their horsemen against you. Once they do withdraw to allow Lord Vistaspa to commit his cataphracts. The heavy horsemen of Hatra and Dura are the empire’s finest and nothing the Armenians possess can match them. When Lord Vistaspa charges with his cataphracts the enemy’s horsemen will be shattered, then Peroz and Gafarn will commit their horse archers.’

Vistaspa nodded approvingly and Peroz looked thoughtful.

‘Remember, lord prince, goad the enemy, entice him to attack. Use the tactics you have learned at Dura.’

‘Yes, lord,’ Peroz beamed.

I next addressed Vagises. ‘As soon as the legions are engaged in a mêlée get your men mounted and pull them back to my position here. They will act as a reserve just in case events take an unexpected turn.’

‘You mean if we get our arses kicked,’ said Domitus.

‘In which case,’ I added, ‘the horsemen will act as a shield to allow the legions to retire to the city.’

Domitus slapped Vagises hard on the back. ‘Don’t worry about us; we’ll be dead most likely so you and your horse boys don’t need to concern yourselves with our safety.’

Peroz was horrified. ‘My men and I will never abandon you, Lord Domitus. We will never dishonour our homeland by fleeing.’

Domitus squinted at Peroz. ‘You remind me of Orodes and Pacorus with all that nonsense about honour.’

‘You honour me, general,’ smiled Peroz.

Domitus looked at him and shook his head. ‘See what I mean.’

The kettledrums were getting louder and the horizon was now filling with small black shapes as the Armenians approached.

‘To your positions,’ I said, ‘and may Shamash be with you all.’

Peroz and Gafarn raised their hands in acknowledgement and then galloped back to their men as their escorts grouped round them. Vagises and Chrestus were deep in conversation as they made their way back to the legions deployed in the centre, while Domitus took off his helmet and brushed its white crest.

‘You take care of yourself, Pacorus,’ he said.

‘I will take care of him, Domitus,’ replied Gallia.

Satisfied that the crest looked presentable, he replaced his helmet on his head and raised his cane at us before ambling back to take command of his men.

‘He looks as though he is taking an afternoon stroll,’ remarked Vistaspa, though not in a mocking way.

‘He is the finest soldier I have ever met,’ I said. ‘One day mothers in Parthia will tell stories to their children of Lucius Domitus, the Roman centurion who forged the army of Dura into an invincible weapon that put all of its enemies to the sword.’

I heard the shrill blast of trumpets and saw ten thousand legionaries hoist up their shields and javelins and form ranks as the Armenians flooded the ground to the front of the army like ants swarming from a huge nest. The infernal din of kettledrums filled our ears as the enemy manoeuvred into position. Spearmen clutched their weapons, archers tested bowstrings, slingers pulled lead shots from their pouches and horses scraped impatiently at the earth as tension and foreboding gripped tens of thousands of men who were about to fight the Battle of Hatra.