Carrhae

Chapter 17

The next day I sat with the other kings on couches in the private wing of my brother’s palace. Outside peacocks roamed freely in the royal gardens and the scent of cedar and jasmine filled the ground-floor room, the doors leading to the veranda outside open to allow the air and sunlight to enter. Gafarn looked like a man reborn, his eyes afire with vigour and the haunted looked he had worn exorcised by the great victory we had won. Orodes, dressed in a rich purple silk shirt, baggy white leggings and red boots, also looked relaxed, despite knowing that the Romans were at long last on the march. Only Surena looked like a man who had just returned from the battlefield, attired in his black shirt and leggings, scale armour cuirass and helmet, which he had placed on the tiled floor in front of his couch.

After slaves had served us wine in solid gold rhytons, Orodes held up his drinking vessel to Gafarn.

‘A toast to the Kingdom of Hatra, whose forces have vanquished a great threat to the Parthian Empire.’

We raised our rhytons and drank the wine that was perhaps the finest I had ever tasted.

‘And to the Kingdom of Dura and the lord high general of the empire,’ added Orodes, raising his goblet a second time, this time to me.

We emptied our drinking vessels and the slaves refilled them as the king of kings leaned back on his couch.

‘And so, my friends, in the afterglow of victory we must turn our attention to dealing with another threat to the empire. Yesterday we received news that Crassus is about to cross the River Euphrates and begin the campaign that he believes will lead to the conquest of Parthia.’

Gafarn looked thoughtful but not particularly troubled while Silaces and Atrax looked at each other, Surena said nothing and Nergal sneered contemptuously.

‘What advice would my lord high general give?’ asked Orodes.

I drained my goblet and held it out to be refilled, but before I could say anything Surena spoke.

‘The Armenians must be pursued and Nisibus retaken before Armenia itself is invaded. The more time we spend here acting like debauched Persians the more opportunity Artavasdes has to raise another army.’

Atrax and Nergal looked wide-eyed at him while Silaces, who had spent many years campaigning with the King of Gordyene, merely shook his head resignedly. Gafarn frowned at Surena and Orodes looked aghast at his impertinence. Manners and etiquette were everything to Orodes. Even when he had been a landless, exiled prince at Hatra he had retained his strict sense of protocol and graciousness at all times.

‘I was not aware that you were now Parthia’s lord high general,’ he rebuked Surena, who looked at Orodes’ grave demeanour and blushed. I decided to save him from further embarrassment.

‘What Surena says is correct. We must send an army north to retake Nisibus and prevent the Armenians from raising fresh forces that can threaten Hatra. And if that means invading Armenia then so be it.’ Surena smiled to himself, no doubt thinking of how he and his Sarmatians would ravage Armenian lands.

‘And the Romans, Pacorus?’ asked Nergal. ‘What of them? If we march north then Crassus will surely be at the gates of this city when we return.’

‘You are right, my friend,’ I agreed, ‘we cannot allow Crassus a free hand in Parthia. Therefore I propose sending a force west to slow down his advance while the bulk of our armies deal with the Armenians, what is left of them.’

I smiled at Surena. ‘Dura’s legions, together with their siege engines and accompanied by the foot soldiers of Gordyene, Media and Babylon, can go north to lay siege to Nisibus. This will total twenty-eight thousand men. With them will go the heavy horsemen of Babylon, Media and Hatra — two and a half thousand men — plus the horse archers of Prince Peroz, Babylon, Media, Hatra, Mesene and some drawn from the ranks of Surena’s mounted bowmen, plus Gordyene’s medium horsemen. This gives a total of around thirty thousand horsemen, including Babylon’s Royal Guard. It is only fitting that King of Kings Orodes should lead this army.’

‘Some of my horse archers, lord?’ queried Surena.

I smiled at him. ‘Indeed so, my young lion, for you and I will be riding west with Dura’s cataphracts, horse archers and a portion of your own horse archers to engage Crassus.’

Orodes looked alarmed. ‘If I take sixty thousand men north, Pacorus, how many men will be left to accompany you and Surena to face Crassus?’

‘Ten thousand,’ I answered.

The others shook their heads in disbelief. ‘Ten thousand horsemen cannot defeat a Roman army of fifty thousand men, Pacorus,’ said Nergal in alarm.

‘You go to certain defeat,’ remarked an even more alarmed Atrax.

I held up a hand. ‘My friends, please understand that the last thing I desire is a noble death at the hands of the Romans. I do not go to engage them in battle but rather to harry them, to both slow them down and wear them down. It is three hundred miles from Hatra to Zeugma. Crassus will cross the Euphrates in a few days’ time and I will leave this city tomorrow. He will march twenty miles a day whereas I can cover over thirty each day. Once I reach him my horsemen can launch hit-and-run attacks and stay out of range of his best units, his legions.’

‘He will march down the Euphrates,’ said Gafarn, ‘towards Babylon and Seleucia.’

‘That is correct,’ I said.

‘And towards Dura,’ added Nergal whose frown was increasing by the minute.

‘He will never get that far,’ I said. ‘How far can an army march each day while being under constant volleys of arrows and being raided by horsemen? The Romans will form a square with their shields locked, which will slow them down. Some days they might not even venture from camp.’

‘They will send their horsemen against us,’ said Surena.

I nodded. ‘True, but that is why I will take my cataphracts. They are more than capable of scattering any Roman horsemen.’

‘It is a risky strategy, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

‘Less risky than allowing Crassus to reach Seleucia,’ I replied.

‘Would it not be better to send a larger force to engage Crassus and a smaller one to deal with the Armenians?’ suggested Atrax.

‘If Artavasdes had been killed outside Hatra, then yes,’ I replied. ‘But the Armenian king still holds Nisibus and can still send another army south into Hatra. Therefore a large force is required to both lay siege to Nisibus and deal with a second Armenian army that he will undoubtedly lead to relieve that city once it is besieged.’

Atrax remained sceptical but thankfully Orodes accepted my advice and agreed that he should march north with the bulk of our forces. I was convinced that at the very least I could slow Crassus’ advance to a crawl, giving us time to capture Nisibus, defeat any forces that Artavasdes gathered and then muster an army at Hatra to engage Crassus.

Our strategy agreed I walked with the others through the palace to return to camp. Surena walked beside me, his helmet in the crook of his arm.

‘I should go north with my army, lord,’ he said.

‘Most of it will be going north, Surena, but I would like you to come with me.’

‘Why me?’ he asked.

‘Because your army is the most experienced among the empire’s kingdoms: it has been fighting the Armenians for years and you yourself are among the most successful of Parthia’s generals.’

‘No more successful than you, lord,’ he shot back. ‘And both Nergal and Silaces have far more experience than me.’

What he said was true but what I did not tell him was that I did not want him and his men rampaging through Armenia butchering all and sundry. Artavasdes would hardly be agreeable to peace if his kingdom was invaded and his people slaughtered. However, I hoped the threat that this might happen if he did not acquiesce to our demands would be sufficient to his agreeing to peace, especially after we had taken Nisibus back and Orodes stood on Hatra’s northern border ready to invade Armenia.

I put an arm round Surena’s shoulder. ‘I would esteem it a great honour and special favour if you would accompany me.’

‘Very well, lord,’ he said. ‘Would you like me to bring my Sarmatians?’

The thought horrified me. ‘I think they should accompany Orodes. They will be useful for raiding enemy territory.’

Orodes chatted to the others as we walked from the palace’s private chambers, into the throne room and then along the corridor that led to the building’s entrance. It was a beautiful late spring day, the sun in a cloudless blue sky highlighting the power and majesty of the Grand Temple and the vastness of the adjacent Great Square that was now empty of Dura’s wagons and mules.

I was walking down the stone steps to go to the stables to collect Remus when I saw a group of riders approach. They drew closer and then halted before dismounting and leading their horses towards the palace steps. I saw that the swarthy figure leading them was Apollonius, fresh from his journey to the north. He handed the reins to one of his companions and strode over to stand before Gafarn.

‘Lord Apollonius,’ he said without enthusiasm.

Apollonius bowed deeply before his king. ‘Hail, great king, slayer of the Armenian barbarians. I hurried back as quickly as I could when I heard that Hatra was in danger.’

I looked at his immaculate scale armour cuirass of overlapping steel plates, his spotless white shirt and brown boots that did not have a mark on them. His horse looked as though it had just been groomed and the attire of his fellow lords was similarly spotless and unruffled. Wherever they had been they had not been hurrying anywhere.

‘Where are the horse archers you led from the city?’ asked Gafarn.

‘Safely returned to barracks in the city, majesty’ Apollonius replied.

I looked past him to where his companions were shifting uneasily on their feet, glancing at each other furtively. They stank of treachery.

I walked down the final two steps and held out my right hand to Apollonius.

‘All will be settled soon.’

He bowed his head to me and took my hand, a look of relief on his face. I kept hold of it as his expression changed from one of gratitude to being perplexed and then slightly nervous. His eyes momentarily recorded terror when I rammed the point of my dagger through his neck with my left hand. The blood gushed from the wound in great spurts, covering the blade, my hand and sleeve as I continued to grip Apollonius’ hand and watch the life ebb from his body. The others gasped in disbelief as I let go of his hand and his lifeless body collapsed on the flagstones, blood still pumping from the wound.

‘Arrest them!’ I shouted to the guards on the steps as Apollonius’ stunned companions gaped at the corpse at my feet.

‘What are you doing?’ shouted an enraged Gafarn.

‘Vermin control,’ I replied as Surena and Nergal both drew their swords and assisted the guards in surrounding the captives, who were bundled away, protesting, towards the guardroom.

Gafarn grabbed my blood-soaked arm. ‘Explain yourself!’

I removed his hand. ‘It is quite simple, brother; Lord Apollonius was a traitor who had brokered a deal with the Romans to betray you. Unfortunately for him, though fortunately for you, our recent victory put paid to his plans. If you search his mansion I am sure you will find evidence of his treason, either that or interrogate his accomplices in crime to reveal the truth.’

A subsequent thorough search of Apollonius’ home revealed letters from Crassus promising him the crown of Hatra in return for his assistance. Following a brief trial his companions were found guilty and subsequently hanged from the city walls for their perfidy, their bodies left to rot in the sun as a warning to others who might be considering treason.

We burned the bodies of Lucius Domitus and Thumelicus on two pyres in the centre of the Great Square, the only time that individuals who had not been members of Hatra’s royal family were cremated in that location. Gafarn had every man of his bodyguard on parade as a mark of respect for two Companions, friends and one who had been the commander of his brother’s army. I stood with him, Gallia, Diana, Nergal, Praxima, Spartacus and young Pacorus at the top of the palace steps as Vagises and Vagharsh both carried torches to the oil-soaked pyres and lit them.

As I had done a hundred times before I watched as the flames spread round the bottom of the piles of wood and then engulfed the bodies in a great roar and explosion of fire. The Durans and Exiles filled two sides of the square, my cataphracts and horse archers another and the ranks of Hatra’s heavy horsemen the fourth. The colour parties of the Durans and Exiles stood next to the raging pyres holding the golden griffin and silver lion in salute, as tears ran down Diana’s cheeks and Gallia stood ashen-faced beside her friend.

How many more times would I stand and watch the bodies of my friends and comrades being consumed by flames? Would those who stood by me now be watching my own body being cremated in the coming months? I found myself scanning the ranks of the legionaries, trying to search out that tell-tale white crest atop a helmet worn by a man of iron gently tapping a vine cane against his right thigh, but then brutal reality hit me like a spiked mace as I realised that I would never see Domitus again, never hear his reassuring voice on the eve of battle or shake his hand after the army he had created had added another silver disc to the Staff of Victory that was now held by Chrestus between the griffin and lion emblems. Without Lucius Domitus there would have been no staff, no victories and probably no army of Dura.

The fires roared again and the bodies of our friends disappeared from view as ravenous flames greedily devoured them. I had given the order that when the fires had died down the ashes were to be placed in copper urns and taken back to Dura where I would build a great mausoleum to house them. It was the least they deserved. We had lost another ten Companions during the battle and with their deaths a few more links with my time in Italy had been severed. I wondered how many of us would live to enjoy old age.

Gafarn had little time to grieve for our losses as Kogan brought a most pressing matter to his attention: the burial of the Armenian dead. Our own dead had been speedily cremated with due military honours but there remained tens of thousands of corpses lying half a mile to the northeast of the city. Ordinarily men from the army could be used to carry out the grisly task of stripping the dead and throwing them on pyres. However, the various armies would soon be marching north and east and could spare neither the time nor the men for burial duties. Gafarn therefore ordered a proclamation read in the city calling for volunteers to assist in disposing of the Armenian dead. To encourage willing participants he promised a few drachmas daily to those who came forward. Treasurer Addu protested at this but was overruled. It was now almost summer and very hot and soon the stench of rotting bodies would be carried on the wind to the city. But far worse would be the plague of flies that would envelop Hatra. Lacerated bodies lying in the sun became breeding grounds for maggots and flies by the million. And with the flies would come the threat of disease that might ravage the city.

So a long line of wagons and people trudged to the battlefield under the supervision of city engineers and companies of the garrison to deal with the army of corpses that we had created. The people who took part were the poorer sort who hoped to find valuables on the bodies of the dead, such as a pouch of money or a gold or silver necklace that they could sell. And after the corpses had had been searched they were loaded on wagons so they could be transported further away from the city where they could be thrown into burial pits. The city’s chief engineer was worried that to bury so many bodies near the city might risk polluting the underground springs that gave Hatra life, and so the dead had to be transported five miles further north.

Bodies that had been cut to pieces, together with severed limbs and the corpses of animals, were cremated where the battle had taken place, the shields of the vanquished providing wood for the mass pyres. Soon great columns of black smoke were snaking into the cloudless sky as the cadavers were burned.

I stood with Surena on the city’s northern battlements and watched the columns of smoke rise like giant cobras rearing up, about to strike.

‘Why don’t the city authorities burn all the Armenian dead?’

‘They do not have the wood,’ I answered. ‘There are simply too many.’

‘There are never enough Armenian dead,’ he sneered.

‘Ordinarily, of course,’ I continued, ‘we would use enemy prisoners or burial details but your Sarmatians appear to have killed all the stragglers and those who wished to give themselves up.’

‘Prisoners need feeding,’ he said dismissively. ‘We do not take prisoners in Gordyene.’

‘You cannot kill everyone, Surena.’

He looked at me with eyes that were devoid of emotion. ‘I learned long ago that in this world you have to kill to prevent yourself being killed.’

‘Is that the king or the marsh boy speaking?’

He suddenly looked very sad. ‘My grandparents died.’

‘I had no idea. I am sorry, truly. I liked them.’

He looked into the sky. ‘I used to receive regular reports about them from Nergal at Uruk, who was notified by couriers sent by my people. They died peacefully, my grandfather first, then my grandmother a month later. They say she died of a broken heart. They had many years together and one could not live without the other. It is an emotion I know only too well.’

He attempted a half-smile and then left me as the black cobras of death filled the horizon.

Later, after a meeting with my senior officers in my command tent, I sat with Gallia at the table and discussed with her the imminent expedition into the west. She had declared that she and the Amazons would be accompanying me, seeing little merit in remaining at Hatra.

‘You could always return to Dura,’ I suggested.

She shook her head. ‘I do not intend to remain idle while a Roman army invades my homeland. Besides, I want to test out these new arrows that Arsam has produced.’

‘Remember we go not to give battle to Crassus but to slow his advance,’ I reminded her.

‘If I put an arrow in his guts that will slow him down for good,’ she growled.

Our conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Spartacus, who was in a most agitated state.

‘You ride west tomorrow, uncle?’

‘Yes,’ I answered.

‘You will not forget your promise to take me with you.’

I had forgotten. ‘Your place, as a prince of this city,’ I said, ‘is beside your father. Lord Vistaspa for one will be expecting you to accompany Hatra’s army north to Nisibus.’

He began pacing up and down and fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.

‘I would ask you to speak to my father, uncle.’

‘Of course Pacorus will speak to him,’ said Gallia reassuringly.

‘I will?’

She frowned at me. ‘Yes.’

So half an hour later we sat with Gafarn, Diana and my mother in a small dining room near to the royal bedrooms. Slaves served us pastries and fruit juice as two others cooled my mother with great fans made from ostrich feathers.

‘I was sorry to hear about your Roman,’ she said. ‘I liked him.’

‘He will be sadly missed,’ I said.

‘And now you both go once more to fight our enemies,’ she said. ‘I pray that you both return. We seem to have nothing but war now, not like in the reign of Sinatruces when the empire had peace.’

‘His death heralded many testing times for Parthia, I agree,’ I said, ‘but now we have a chance of forging a new era for the empire.’

‘Pacorus has a favour to ask you,’ Gallia said to Gafarn.

My brother opened his hands. ‘Consider it done. Nothing should be refused the hero of the hour.’

‘I would like Spartacus to accompany me tomorrow.’

Gafarn looked perplexed. ‘If you are deficient in cataphracts I will get Vistaspa to give you some of Hatra’s companies.’

‘This concerns the Agraci girl, does it not?’ smiled Diana.

Gafarn held his head in his hands. ‘Not this again.’

My mother was most curious. ‘What Agraci girl?’

‘Spartacus has fallen in love with the daughter of King Haytham, who has insisted that he can only marry the girl if he captures a Roman eagle.’

My mother’s eyes lit up. ‘Like the one in the Great Temple.’

‘That is correct, mother,’ I said.

‘I think it would be better,’ insisted Gafarn, ‘if I took Spartacus with me to Nisibus so he can forget these nonsensical ideas about marrying an Agraci woman. He is the heir to the throne of this city and should start acting like it.’

‘Princes should not marry beneath them, I agree,’ said Diana, ‘after all, we do not want a member of a low-born race sitting on Hatra’s throne, such as an Agraci woman.’

Gafarn nodded triumphantly. ‘Precisely, my dear, I could not have put it better myself.’

‘Or a Roman kitchen slave,’ continued Diana.

Gafarn stopped nodding. ‘What?’

‘Or a Bedouin slave, even,’ Diana carried on.

Gafarn looked uncomfortable. ‘I think we are straying from the point, my dear.’

Diana looked at him reproachfully. ‘No we are not. Have you forgotten your roots, Gafarn, or mine? If Spartacus wishes to pursue his dream then who are we to stand in his way?’

‘The people of this city will not tolerate an Agraci queen, that much I know,’ insisted Gafarn.

‘Then he must give up the throne,’ replied Diana, ‘for that is the price he must pay if he truly wants this girl.’

‘Most eloquently put,’ said my mother, which did nothing to improve Gafarn’s humour. ‘After all, you have another son who was born in this city. He will make an excellent king, I think.’

Gafarn looked hurt. ‘You do not think Spartacus will make a good king?’

My mother thought for a few seconds. ‘Spartacus has a restless spirit that bridles against convention. He needs to make his own way in the world, that much I know. You may think you can chain him to this city but you would be wrong. He was born to rule but not this kingdom. I believe he is destined to win a crown by his own efforts.’

‘Is he outside?’ Gafarn asked me.

I nodded.

‘Guard!’ he shouted.

The doors opened and one of Kogan’s soldiers walked in.

‘Is Prince Spartacus in the corridor?’ snapped Gafarn.

‘Yes, majesty.’

‘I request his presence.’

Moments later my nephew stood to attention before his father.

‘You wish to ride with Pacorus tomorrow?’

‘Yes, father.’

‘To take a Roman eagle?’

‘If Shamash wills it,’ he replied.

Gafarn looked at Diana. ‘So you can take it to Haytham and claim his daughter.’

‘Yes, father,’ said Spartacus with pride.

‘You cannot be King of Hatra and have an Agraci wife,’ said Gafarn slowly so my nephew would understand the significance of his words. ‘This city is ranked among the finest and most Parthian in all the empire, and its kings have always fought the Agraci. Haytham is more feared and hated than the Romans and Armenians combined. That being the case, his daughter can never sit on Hatra’s throne.’

‘What your father is trying to say, Spartacus,’ interrupted Diana.

‘What I am telling you,’ said Gafarn, ‘is that if you marry this Agraci princess you will never wear Hatra’s crown. Your brother will inherit the throne. So what do you want more — Hatra or this Agraci girl?’

‘Her name is Rasha,’ said Spartacus.

‘I know,’ replied Gafarn.

‘I am glad, father, for you will know how to address her at our wedding.’

Gallia laughed and Diana smiled as Gafarn’s cheeks became flushed with anger.

‘Very well,’ my brother said, ‘so be it. You may ride west with Pacorus tomorrow and may the gods keep you safe.’

Spartacus grinned at me boyishly before kissing his mother and grandmother and bowing to his father prior to his exit.

‘I will keep an eye on him, have no fear,’ I said.

‘As will I,’ added Gallia.

‘All your fears may come to nought, Gafarn,’ said my mother. ‘There is no guarantee that he will take one of these eagles and then he will not marry Haytham’s daughter.’

A glum-faced Gafarn nodded at my mother and the rest of us sat in silence, as above us the gods roared their approval at the reckless daring of a young prince.

The next day we left Hatra to face Crassus.

Surena had given orders that his Sarmatians, rather than accompany Orodes, were to return to Gordyene to provide additional security for his kingdom, though I doubted whether his realm would be troubled by any Armenian incursions bearing in mind that its army had just been destroyed. In addition, Vanadzor and all his major towns had their own garrisons in addition to the standing army he had raised. Nevertheless he was not to be dissuaded and so they promptly left Hatra at the same time as their king rode west. He did not bother informing Orodes, which could have been interpreted as an insult, and I had the feeling that Surena was glad to be away from the company of kings, priests and nobles so he could continue fighting his own private war.

He liked few men and trusted even less. He viewed Atrax as a friend who had supported him in his successful efforts to liberate Gordyene and also trusted Silaces, though was apt to see him more as a subordinate rather than a fellow king. I think he also respected me for giving him the chance to become a soldier and then commander in Dura’s army and trusting him to lead an expedition into Gordyene, which had wildly surpassed my own expectations. But I realised that he viewed Orodes with disdain bordering on contempt and thought Gafarn and Aschek weak rulers. For the forthcoming campaign he had entrusted the command of his medium horsemen and foot soldiers to Silaces, who had once led them in Gordyene.

Now Surena led six thousand of his own horse archers west in the company of a thousand Duran cataphracts, two thousand squires, a thousand camels carrying spare arrows, three thousand of my own horse archers commanded by Vagises and Gallia’s Amazons. The four thousand camels controlled by the squires were loaded with waterskins as well as food as we would be travelling across the barren desert to get to Crassus as quickly as possible.

As usual Byrd, Malik and their scouts formed the vanguard of our force, disappearing before dawn and reappearing at the end of the day to report that they had seen no signs of the Romans. We did not know if Crassus had crossed the Euphrates but I felt sure that he had done so and would be either at the Hatran towns he had captured last year or perhaps had even begun his march along the river. After five days we reached the Khabur River, a tributary of the Euphrates, and let our animals drink from its cool waters as the squires refilled our waterskins. Because it was now summer the water level was low so we were able to ford the river with ease. We halted for a day at the river to allow Byrd and Malik to scout west and also southwest towards the Euphrates in search of our prey, but they reported seeing nothing except a few nomads wandering across the barren landscape. I was pleased: the further west we travelled without encountering Romans meant the less Parthian territory that Crassus occupied.

That night I invited Surena to dine with us, which actually meant nothing more than sitting round a campfire since we had brought with us the eight-man tents used by the legionaries rather than my command tent. And because we had no tools or stakes we dug no ditch or rampart to surround our camp, though every third man was always on guard duty to prevent us being surprised during the night. Parthians did not fight at night but Romans did.

‘I have always found that strange,’ remarked Surena as the fire in front of him crackled and spat. ‘Parthians prefer to fight during the day because it honours the Sun God, but if they kill the god’s enemies, regardless of whether it is at night or during the day, then surely he will not be offended. If he exists, that is.’

Vagises looked at him with horror. ‘You do not believe Shamash exists?’

‘I do not believe any gods exist, and if my words are blasphemy then let the gods strike me down.’ He looked up at the night sky and nothing happened.

‘You see,’ he continued, ‘nothing.’

Vagises looked at me and smiled. He had been a part of Dobbai’s ritual and had seen the strange events with his own eyes, plus the timely death of Tigranes afterwards and the unexpected withdrawal of Roman forces from Syria, and finally the great victory we had won before the walls of Hatra.

‘Perhaps the gods helped you defeat the Armenians in Gordyene and made you King of Gordyene,’ I suggested. ‘Have you thought of that?’

‘Why would they do that?’ he sniffed.

‘Perhaps because you are resourceful, brave and a great general,’ I replied.

He looked at the flames in the fire. ‘When men are desperate and at their wits end, when they are afraid and alone, then they will ask for the help of the gods. But only because they have no one else to turn to. They will beg and promise the gods anything to received an answer to their prayers. I know, I was such a person once.’

He was talking of the death of Viper, no doubt.

The corner of his mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘But the gods do not answer and in the cold light of day when the one thing you wanted to live has been snatched away, you realise that the skies and mountains are not filled with benevolent immortals but only clouds, mist, ice and snow.’

He looked at each of us in turn. ‘There are no gods.’

‘We all miss Viper,’ said Gallia, and Surena momentarily appeared as a lost boy, enraged with the world but alone and helpless, before his mask of steel returned.

He nodded at Gallia. ‘She loved you, lady, you and all the Amazons. I thank you for your kindness.’

It was a touching moment, the more so because Gallia had never liked Surena. But she loved her Amazons and that was one thing that, at least momentarily, had bridged their divide.

‘I believe in the gods,’ announced Spartacus, to everyone’s surprise. ‘I have asked them to help me capture an eagle.’

Surena looked at him. ‘An eagle?’

‘A Roman eagle,’ replied Spartacus.

‘That is the gift that our young prince here must take to Haytham to win the hand of his daughter,’ I said.

‘Princess Rasha,’ stated Spartacus with pride. Gallia smiled at him while Vagharsh shook his head.

‘I remember her,’ said Surena, ‘from my time at Dura. She used to visit the palace often. Viper was very fond of her.’

He looked at Spartacus. ‘And now she is a woman and you are to marry her. My congratulations.’

‘If he can take an eagle,’ I said.

‘The sacred symbol of every Roman legion,’ added Vagises, ‘and protected by five thousand heavily armed legionaries.’

Surena looked at Malik. ‘Your father does not mind his daughter marrying one who is not of her own kind, Prince Malik?’

Malik looked at Spartacus. ‘My sister will not lead our people so he indulges her dreams, believing that they will be unfulfilled.’

‘The son of Spartacus may surprise you yet,’ muttered Byrd.

The next day he and Malik were in the saddle before dawn as we journeyed west once more across a landscape of shallow valleys, rocky outcrops and hillocks. The midday heat was unbearable and so during the hottest hours we dismounted and walked beside our animals to conserve their reserves of strength. I remembered Strabo’s words about Remus not getting any younger and continually checked his body and head for signs of exhaustion, but he appeared to be as hearty and strong as ever. The Amazons took off their helmets and mail shirts and wore their floppy hats. Where we could we rested in the shade of rocks until the heat had abated before continuing our journey.

After journeying west from the Khabur River for three days, at the end of the third day, as the western horizon was filled with a giant yellow sun that turned the sky blood red, Byrd and Malik galloped into camp and slid off their sweat-lathered horses in front of me.

‘We see Roman scouts,’ reported Byrd, greedily drinking from a waterskin offered him by Gallia.

I handed another to Malik. ‘Where?’

‘Thirty miles to the west, near river,’ said Byrd.

‘Did they see you?’ I asked.

Malik nodded as Gallia took the waterskin from Byrd and held it to his horse’s mouth so it could slake its thirst.

‘Romani give chase but we outrun them,’ said Byrd.

During the next hour the rest of their scouts rode into camp and told their stories. Piecing together their reports it appeared that the Roman army was camped in the Plain of Carrhae, directly west of our position, on the western side of the Balikh River. The latter ran from north to south, almost parallel to the Khabur that we had crossed a few days before, and also emptied into the Euphrates.

The night was surprisingly cool as I sat with the senior officers of Dura and Gordyene to make our plans for the next day. We lit no fires so as not to betray our presence and sat on stools with our cloaks wrapped around us. The sky twinkled with stars and a full moon flooded the land with a ghostly pale light as I stood and addressed those assembled, the grunts and snorts of the animals in the camel park the only noises to disturb the quietness.

I had mentioned to Surena beforehand about speaking to his and my officers and he was quite happy for me to address them rather than him.

‘You are lord high general, lord, after all. Besides, when the King of Dura talks I listen.’

And so I emphasised to them all that we were not here to engage Crassus in battle.

‘That is what he will want: to draw us into an engagement. But we will remain beyond the range of his legionaries’ javelins and their ballista. We ambush their patrols, raid their column when we have chance and generally retard their progress. Above all we must not get embroiled in a battle. We are too few and they are too many.

‘If we force Crassus to form battle lines each day then we will drastically reduce his rate of march, which will give Orodes time to impose a peace favourable to Parthia on Armenia and then march back south to meet Crassus. We are here to buy Orodes time, nothing more.’

They all nodded in agreement, even Surena, giving me confidence that he and his men would adhere to the plan. The soldiers of Gordyene were all professionals and knew that ten thousand horsemen could not defeat an army of fifty thousand Romans, and so did their king.

‘When we begin our campaign of harassment against the enemy, lord,’ said Surena, ‘I assume that we will be making night attacks against their camp.’

I nodded. ‘That is correct. As soon as we lock horns with the enemy we cannot let go, and that means fighting at night, but that will entail nothing more than men on foot shooting at camp sentries from a distance in an effort to sow uncertainty and fear. I do not want Parthians impaled on Roman stakes or lying dead at the bottom of ditches.

‘Now get some food and sleep. You will need it.’

After the meeting I pulled Vagises to one side.

‘Your men have been issued with the new arrows?’

He nodded. ‘We will finally see if Arsam’s new weapons fulfil their promise.’

‘I have every faith in my chief armourer,’ I said.

‘It has been a while since we faced Romans in battle and twenty years since the last time we fought Crassus. I remember that day in the Silarus Valley.’

He looked at me. ‘Seems like yesterday all of a sudden. And now we ride into battle against Crassus once again, this time with the son of Spartacus by our side. Let us hope that it is a good omen and hope that his father is watching and grants us good fortune.’

I laid a hand on his arm. ‘I am sure he is, his mother too for that matter.’

‘What do you think he would have made of Surena?’

I laughed. ‘He would have liked him, I think, but would have kept him on a tight leash.’

‘His soldiers are well trained,’ he said, ‘but there is something wild about him. Dangerous. If his men get into difficulties tomorrow they are on their own. I will not sacrifice one of my horse archers to his rashness.’

‘I think we can trust Surena, Vagises. Remember he was trained at Dura.’

He nodded unconvincingly and walked off into the night. But I had every confidence that Surena’s men would be more than equal to the test set before them. Their king had been schooled at Dura, had been enrolled in the Sons of the Citadel and had risen through the ranks of Dura’s army. It was no coincidence that his army was organised and trained along Duran lines, right down to the type of horn and trumpet blasts used by his horsemen and foot soldiers. This would make cooperation on the battlefield between our two forces easy and seamless.

The new day dawned cold and misty. As usual I slept little before facing an enemy and Gallia slept among her women on the eve of battle, so I woke in the pre-dawn darkness cold and alone and exited my tent wrapped in my cloak. Squires were already feeding and watering their masters’ horses and sentries were returning from duty to grab a couple of hours’ sleep before their day in the saddle. I felt the stubble on my chin and desired to wash and shave but would have to forego that pleasure as water was scarce, the nearest supply being the Balikh River where the Roman army was camped.

‘You look like a beggar,’ joked Malik as he walked towards me leading his horse, Byrd beside him and their scouts behind them already mounted on their mangy beasts.

I embraced him and then Byrd. ‘You two take care of yourselves and don’t try any heroics.’

‘I too old for that,’ said Byrd.

‘I’m not,’ grinned Malik, who looked around. ‘This mist will soon clear. It is going to be a hot day.’

Byrd hoisted himself into his saddle. ‘For some their last. We will return, Pacorus.’

He raised a hand and then wheeled his horse away, followed by Malik and the other scouts, all of them disappearing into the grey mist as they rode west.

The camp became a hive of activity, squires serving their masters meals as they too took the opportunity to fill their bellies with cured meat, biscuits and dried dates, all washed down with tepid water. Each cataphract had two squires and after their meals one youth would saddle his master’s horse and fit it with the scale armour that covered its body, neck and head while the other would assist his master in putting on his scale armour and fixing his mace and axe on the front horns of his saddle. As well as these weapons each of my heavy horseman was armed with a sword made from the Indus steel, a dagger and the mighty kontus.

An hour after dawn, mist still clinging obstinately to the landscape, the companies of cataphracts and horse archers filed out of camp at a leisurely pace. Behind them came the beasts of the camel train loaded down with spare weapons and arrows and behind them the squires on their horses leading camels packed with tents, cooking utensils, tools, spare clothing and armour.

As it was still cool every horse archer and cataphract wore his white cloak, while the cloaks of the soldiers of Gordyene were grey. It was eerily quiet, which together with the mist made everyone nervous. Vagises threw out two companies of horse archers as an advance guard and two companies on each flank as we peered into the greyness. After half an hour of slow progress I called a halt to wait for the sun to burn away the vapour. Better that than horses and men falling into a wadi or other unseen natural feature.

Finally the sun, a pale yellow ball, burnt away the mist and we commenced our march, everyone still wearing their cloaks as it was still unusually cool, compounded by an easterly breeze that blew in our faces. The terrain around us was mostly flat save for a few isolated hillocks, giving excellent all-round views. The mood became more relaxed as we trotted west, secure in the knowledge that the enemy would not surprise us in this open ground. Everyone still had their cloaks wrapped round them as Vagises sent out half-companies ahead to search for our scouts who were beyond the horizon.

I rode between Gallia and Surena, Vagharsh and Surena’s standard bearer riding directly behind us, their flags encased in wax sleeves, and behind them the Amazons leading the cataphracts. Dura’s horse archers formed the head of the column and those of Gordyene behind them, with the camel train grouped in the rear, along with Dura’s squires. As the morning wore on the wind increased to kick up dust that enveloped the column. The temperature was rising but in an effort to keep out the dust the cataphracts put on their full-face helmets and everyone else wrapped scarves around their faces. No one discarded his or her cloaks.

Then, suddenly, the wind ceased and the dust abated as the sun beat down on us from a clear sky. We halted and shook the dirt from our cloaks and took the opportunity to drink from our water bottles. It was mid-morning now and I could at last feel the sun warming my body. I patted Remus on the neck. I had decided to wear my leather cuirass and not my scale armour today — there would be no mass charges against the Romans. The cataphracts were in their armour to protect the other horsemen from any attacks from Roman cavalry, nothing more.

We continued the march but had not advanced two miles when a dozen horse archers came galloping towards us with Byrd and Malik in tow. They careered to a stop in front of us as I gave the order for another halt.

Byrd raised his hand. ‘Romani horsemen approaching, five miles to west.’

‘How many?’ I asked.

‘About a hundred,’ replied Malik, ‘but there are other groups of Roman horsemen scouting to the north and south.’

‘We will continue our advance,’ I said.

Byrd and Malik fell in beside Gallia as I saw a dust cloud ahead and knew it presaged enemy horsemen. I gave the order for the cataphracts to deploy into line and called forward Vagises.

‘Bring in all your outriders,’ I told him, ‘we do not want to frighten off the Romans.’

As he rode away to send couriers forward to bring back his scouting parties more of Byrd’s men rejoined us. I sent word to the cataphract company commanders for their men to continue wearing their cloaks, which would hide their scale armour.

‘I do not understand,’ said Surena.

‘In this sun the light will reflect off the steel on scale armour,’ I replied, ‘thereby alerting our Roman friends that we have heavy horsemen. That might deter them from assaulting us, which we do not want. With any luck Crassus might be tempted to send his horsemen against us, which we can then destroy.’

But as Vagises’ men returned to the ranks and we continued to trot west the dust cloud in front of us disappeared as the Roman horsemen returned to their commander. After an hour Byrd and Malik once again took their men ahead to discern the Romans’ movements.

‘It looks like there will be no fighting today,’ I announced. ‘The Romans will withdraw back to camp and Crassus will ponder his next move. But at least we know where he is and can shadow him from now on.’

It was getting very warm and so I gave the order that the heavy horsemen could take off their cloaks and also reform into column. They did so and also removed their helmets but they still sweated in their scale armour. The pace was no quicker than a slow walk to save the horses and I was considering ordering a halt when Byrd and Malik returned, their horses sweating and breathing heavily.

‘Crassus approaches,’ said Byrd, his face partly covered by a headscarf.

‘He has crossed the Balikh River,’ continued Malik.

‘Crassus is leading his horsemen?’ I asked with disbelief. Perhaps they were referring to his son, Publius.

Byrd shook his head. ‘Whole Romani army come, spread across plain in a long line.’

‘Horsemen on the wings and the foot in the centre,’ said Malik.

‘The Romans will not fight today, Byrd,’ said Gallia, ‘Pacorus has assured us all they will not, thus kindly go and ask them to return to camp.’

Surena burst out laughing and Vagises smiled.

‘Very humorous,’ I said.

‘What do you want to do?’ asked Vagises.

It was now midday and the sun was at its height roasting everything below. But the men were fully armed and in the saddle and the enemy were only a few miles distant.

‘We might entice their horsemen away from the main body yet,’ I said, ‘where they can be whittled down by our horse archers. We advance.’

But first we halted as officers once again deployed the cataphracts in a long line of two ranks and the horse archers took up position behind them. Surena rode off to take command of his men while Vagises rode at the head of his troops, the drivers of the camel train marshalling their beasts to stay close to their designated companies of horse archers. In total there were ninety one-hundred-man companies of these, each one served by twelve camels loaded with full quivers of arrows. We had an abundance of the latter but I gave orders that the archers were not to be wasteful in their shooting — we might be battling Crassus for many days and would therefore require every missile.

‘And that goes for the Amazons,’ I told Gallia who was securing the straps of her helmet’s cheekguards under her chin.

‘You are becoming very bossy in your old age,’ she said. ‘In any case my women always hit what they aim at.’

‘That may be, but you and they will remain with me today.’

She turned to Zenobia. ‘He’s frightened that all those hairy arsed Roman soldiers will rape him.’

Vagharsh laughed aloud.

‘Is there any hope that you might one day respect your king and lord high general of the empire?’ I remarked sarcastically.

‘Not much,’ he replied.

With the squires trailing well to the rear our outnumbered forces trotted towards the enemy who now filled the horizon: a great line of black shapes slowly getting larger as the range between the two sides decreased. As Gallia and I rode forward the cataphracts put on their helmets to present an inhuman visage of steel to the enemy and then brought down their lances to grip them with both hands lest the Roman horsemen suddenly charged us.

For a third time Byrd and Malik left us to gallop ahead as Vagharsh unfurled my banner and the red griffin spread its wings. I felt a sense of elation sweep through me as I turned to look left and right to see a thousand of the empire’s finest horsemen break into a canter as we closed to within half a mile of the Romans.

I drew my spatha and peered ahead and saw that the Roman line was shortening. What trickery was this?

‘They are forming square,’ shouted Gallia, reading my thoughts.

I could discern trumpet blasts now and see Roman soldiers running back towards their centre as the horsemen on the flanks disappeared. I was tempted to order a halt and then a withdrawal as we would not be able to break the Roman square and at this very moment the enemy might be setting up their ballista to shoot at our horsemen. But then Surena appeared by my side. He too could see that the Romans had formed a square.

‘Let my archers attack them, lord,’ he begged, his eyes aflame with excitement.

‘They may have ballista,’ I cautioned.

‘If they do then we will withdraw, but they are stationary and we are mobile and should take advantage of the enemy’s mistake.’

He was right, of course. ‘Very well, Surena, may Shamash go with you.’

He smiled and peeled away as we continued to canter towards what was now a huge hollow square of locked Roman shields. As we neared the enemy I noticed a hillock on the right and gave the order for the cataphracts to make for it. I heard a succession of horn blasts behind me and the heavy horsemen slowed and then changed direction to head for the hillock, while six thousand of Surena’s men spread into line and prepared to engulf the Roman square.

We rode to the hillock where the horsemen thrust the butt spikes of their lances into the earth, shoved back their helmets on the top of their heads and watched the spectacle unfolding before them. Vagises arrayed his dragons of archers into three groups to the north, east and south of the square, well out of the range of any ballista bolts. He then rode with a company to join me on the hillock as Surena’s horsemen swarmed round the square like angry hornets. The air was filled with a constant hissing noise as if a giant snake was above us as Gordyene’s men shot at the enemy.

‘I don’t see many saddles being emptied,’ he remarked.

‘Perhaps they have no ballista or have left them in camp,’ I said.

The companies of horsemen from Gordyene continue to rake the sides of the Roman square with arrows, loosing some at the locked shields but most over the heads of the legionaries, hoping to hit unprotected heads and torsos of Syrian auxiliaries taking cover behind them. Judging by the size of our own squares that we had formed in training and on the battlefield I estimated that each side the square in front of me was made up of twelve cohorts — around six thousand men — which meant that inside the square were a further twenty-eight thousand men, including horsemen.

A group of horsemen galloped towards us, the silver lion banner of Gordyene fluttering behind its king. Surena brought his horse to a halt and raised his hand in salute.

‘No ballista, lord,’ he grinned. ‘The Romans are standing there like dumb animals.’

Vagises pointed past him. ‘Not all of them.’

Surena turned in the saddle as the cohorts on the north side of the Roman square parted and hundreds of horsemen and foot soldiers flooded onto the plain.

‘Syrian auxiliaries,’ I said.

Crassus was no fool and knew that his legionaries could not get to grips with our light horsemen, but his similarly armed and equipped Syrian horse archers were ideal for dispersing the hundreds of enemy horsemen who were loosing missiles at his square. And so the legionaries moved aside to allow his Syrians to attack Surena’s men. The horse archers thundered out of the square shooting their bows and immediately emptied dozens of saddles as their arrows hit both men and horses, the latter rearing up in pain before collapsing on the ground and writhing around in agony. And behind the Syrian horsemen came foot archers in light brown tunics, red leggings and wearing helmets, who sprinted in all directions, shooting more arrows at Surena’s horsemen. Accompanying them were spearmen on foot who wore white tunics, white leggings and carried large, round wooden shields along with their short stabbing spears. Groups of spearmen followed the foot archers as the Syrians on horseback chased after Surena’s men.

But the soldiers of Gordyene were well trained to deal with enemy attacks and they instinctively retreated out of the way of the Syrians, galloping away from the square and shooting arrows over the hind quarters of their horses at their adversaries as they did so. The Syrians, having seen how their charge had easily scattered the Parthians, gave chase in expectation of hunting down and slaying their prey. But they knew little of Parthian tactics.

The Syrian archers galloped directly north straight into a hail of arrows shot by the dragon of Duran horse archers that was positioned in front of them. Discovering this large body of horsemen the Syrians came to a halt, to be attacked on both flanks and in the rear by Surena’s returning soldiers. Having a short time before been pursuing a seemingly defeated enemy, the Syrians now found themselves under a deluge of arrows as Surena’s soldiers shot the densely packed Syrian block of horsemen to pieces. Having far outpaced their supporting foot soldiers, the Syrians had no answer to the rapid, accurate shooting that Surena’s men subjected them to and soon individuals were fleeing for their lives, attempting to escape from the trap they had unwittingly galloped into. The majority failed to do so.

The Syrian soldiers on foot, having been deserted by their horsemen, attempted to run back to the safety of the square. But their initial charge had carried them at least five hundred paces from the locked Roman shields and now there were companies of horse archers galloping to head them off as they turned tail and ran. All semblance of order and discipline disappeared as individuals moved as fast as their legs could carry them towards the long line of Roman shields. Discarding their weapons and shields to lighten their load, many Syrians tripped and stumbled, twisting ankles and breaking legs. Horse archers rode parallel to groups of fleeing soldiers, loosing arrows at them as they did so, some drawing their swords to cut men down, while others galloped after them, shooting arrows into their backs as they closed to within touching distance of their foes. Perhaps a quarter of the Syrian foot made it back to the square alive but most of the horse archers were killed and none made it back to their Roman allies. At a stroke Crassus had lost most of his Syrian auxiliaries.

‘Your men did well,’ I said to Surena.

‘They and I had a good teacher,’ he beamed.

Gallia smiled at Surena in acknowledgement of his compliment. Perhaps she was warming to him at last.

A temporary lull descended over the battlefield as the horse archers of Gordyene were withdrawn in companies to replenish their ammunition and take a well-earned rest. As they did so Vagises moved his dragons closer to the edges of the square, though well out of arrow and javelin range. He also deployed five hundred men to cover the western side of the square to fully surround the Roman Army.

‘What now, lord?’ asked Surena.

It was a good question.

We had mauled the enemy’s Syrian auxiliaries and had subjected the Roman square to a prolonged period of arrow volleys, but the Romans remained in their ranks and though they had undoubtedly suffered some casualties they retained a great superiority in numbers. It was now late afternoon; the enemy had only to remain in their ranks and we would have to retire from the field, to resume our tactic of harassment tomorrow. But I comforted myself with the knowledge that Crassus would not be able to march far with us hanging on his flanks.

With my permission Surena sent word for the camel train to be brought forward so the horse archers could replenish their quivers more quickly.

‘We have time to subject them to more volleys before dusk falls, lord,’ he said.

‘You are right,’ I agreed, ‘the enemy will not make any further movements today so the more Romans we kill now the less we will have to face tomorrow. Vagises, it is time to discover whether all that money lavished on Arsam’s new arrows has been well spent.’

‘You think the Romans are just going to stand there and let you shoot them down?’ asked a sceptical Gallia.

I laid a hand on her arm to reassure her. ‘Believe me, I know the Romans better than myself. They will remain rooted to the spot until darkness falls. They will gladly trade a few casualties for time.’

A noise sounding like a dull scraping interrupted our conversation and from our vantage point on the hillock I saw movement among the Roman cohorts deployed on the northern side of the square, and then suddenly hundreds of horsemen poured from the enemy formation.

‘It would appear that the Romans know you better than you know them,’ remarked Gallia caustically, for behind the horsemen came rank upon rank of legionaries, accompanied by what appeared to be Syrian foot archers.

‘Are they attempting a breakout?’ said Vagises.

The Roman horsemen momentarily halted to dress their lines and then I heard trumpet blasts coming from their ranks, followed by fresh movement as what appeared to be well over a thousand enemy horsemen, plus at least four times as many legionaries in addition to a few hundred archers, veered right and began to head in our direction.

‘They mean to kill the Parthian commanders,’ remarked Gallia, who turned to Zenobia and ordered her to form the Amazons into line.

I looked at Surena and realised that just as we had been observing the Romans, so had Crassus been watching us. The banners of Dura and Gordyene had revealed our position to him and now he had sent a force to kill us.

‘Form line!’ I shouted to the officers of the cataphracts behind me. Seconds later horns were sounding and men were plucking their lances from the ground and pulling helmets down over their faces as the Romans trotted towards us. My eye was drawn to the centre of the line, to where a figure in what appeared to be white armour was riding ahead of the first line — Publius Crassus!

‘We will meet the Romans head on,’ I announced. ‘Gallia, throw your Amazons in front as a screen and shoot arrows at the Romans to impede their advance. Vagises, return to your dragon positioned to the north of the square and divert them to assault the legionaries and archers accompanying the Roman horsemen.’

‘What do you require of me, lord?’ asked Surena as Gallia trotted away with Zenobia to organise the Amazons’ attack.

‘Bring one of your dragons to support Vagises. Once we have dealt with their horsemen we cannot let the Roman legionaries return to their square. The chance of destroying all their horse and a good portion of their foot is too good to let slip.’

He nodded and then galloped away with his bodyguard company with him. Vagises loitered for a few moments as the cataphracts began forming into a long line on the hillock and either side of it.

‘Are you certain you do not wish my horse archers to soften them up first, Pacorus?’ he asked.

‘The finest heavy Parthian horsemen against the best Rome has to offer,’ I replied. ‘Let us see which side the gods favour.’

He smiled. ‘May they be with you, my friend.’

He raised his hand and then wheeled his horse away to gallop behind the forming cataphracts to reach his companies of horse archers. The widely spaced Amazons were by now cantering across the half mile of ground that separated the two sets of horsemen. They would close to within four hundred paces of the Romans to loose half a dozen arrows, before retreating in a leisurely fashion, shooting missiles as they did so. Their arrows would not empty many saddles but might goad the Romans into charging prematurely.

The Roman horsemen occupied a frontage of around seven hundred and thirty paces. The thousand riders were organised into what was called an ala, which was made up of thirty-two units called turmae, each one comprised of just over thirty troopers. And now the turmae trotted towards us in one long line, each one three ranks deep. I also saw a few Syrian horsemen on the flanks that overlapped our own — the remnants of the auxiliary horsemen we had defeated earlier.

Gallia and the Amazons had no success in provoking the Romans even though they emptied a few saddles, and so fell back through the three ranks of the cataphracts to replenish their arrows from the camel train. I drew my spatha and pointed it forward to signal the charge as horns relayed my order along the line. The horses broke into a slow gallop as every kontus was lowered and grasped with both hands as the gap between the two sides rapidly diminished. From within full-face helmets came muffled war cries as horses broke into a fast gallop and the two sides collided with an ear-splitting bang that reverberated across the battlefield.

The Romans carried spears and held large oval shields on their left sides but in a head-on clash they were at a gross disadvantage. Their lances were nearly half the length of a kontus and the shields provided an excellent target for my cataphracts, who literally skewered most of the ala’s front rank, knocking riders from saddles as kontus points went straight through shields, mail shirts, torsos underneath and out through the backs of enemy horsemen. Around five hundred Romans died or were hideously wounded in that initial clash.

I had steered Remus straight at the rider in the white cuirass in an effort to kill Publius Crassus, demoralise his men and shatter the enemy’s mounted arm. He had seen me too and I now became oblivious to the hundreds of armoured riders either side of me and to the Romans to my front as I raised my sword to crush the enemy commander’s helmet as Remus strained every one of his mighty muscles to outrun the horses of the other cataphracts. I screamed as I was suddenly directly in front of Publius Crassus and brought my blade down, and completely missed as he ducked to the side and carried out a perfect back slash with his sword as I passed that cut deep into the rear of my cuirass.

I pulled Remus up but his momentum had carried me straight into the Roman second rank, and now the enemy’s discipline and professionalism came to the fore as the battle changed from one of a headlong charge into a grim mêlée. The cataphracts in the second and third ranks instinctively slowed before moving into the developing maelstrom of swinging sword blades, spear thrusts and terrified bolting and limping horses that had been caused by the initial impact.

I had no time to look for Crassus the younger as a Roman lunged at me with his spear that I only avoided by grabbing one of my saddle horns with my left hand and collapsing down Remus’ right side, before hauling myself up once the rider had passed me by. Other cataphracts closed around me, hacking at Romans with their swords, maces and axes to great effect. I saw one of my horsemen clash swords with an opponent and sever his blade before thrusting his sword point into the man’s face.

The second and third ranks entered the fray, Romans lunging at armoured horses and riders with their spears and cataphracts thrusting their long lances into exposed horseflesh. Horses writhed in agony as kontus points were thrust into their guts, fell to the ground and threw their riders. One man, face-down on the ground, had the butt spike of a kontus thrust into his back that shattered his spine before he could rise. Dismounted Romans tried to get near our horses to stab them under their scale armour, their riders keeping them away with lance thrusts. I saw a Roman with a kontus embedded in his belly, gripping the lance with one hand as he thrust his spear into the scale armour of his opponent. Incredible bravery!

I heard hisses and a whooshing noise and knew that Vagises’ horse archers were now assaulting the legionaries who had accompanied the horsemen. The ranks of the latter were gradually being whittled down as Dura’s new swords were cutting through steel and iron with ease. Half a company was now grouped around me and I felt totally useless, being unable to fight anyone. Some cataphracts had discarded their lances and armed themselves with a sword in one hand and an axe in the other, using the pointed end of the later to embed them in Roman shields and then yanking the owner towards them before splitting his helmet with a downward sword strike.

The initial charge had destroyed the Romans’ first rank, the mêlée had inflicted further losses on the enemy and our numbers were beginning to tell. I did not see any Syrian horsemen and suspected most had fled after the first clash, and the archers were also nowhere to be seen. A horseman came to my side, his sword and mace smeared with blood. He pushed his helmet back on his head to uncover his face.

‘We are scattering them, uncle,’ said Spartacus, his breathing heavy from the exertion of battle.

Suddenly arrows began falling from the sky, hitting horses and men but fortunately not piercing our scale armour.

‘Put your helmet back on,’ I commanded him, before giving the order to sound recall.

I saw Romans still in their saddles jerk in pain as arrows hit their backs, legs and pierced their horses as we disengaged and hurriedly pulled back. In the confusion of the mêlée our whole line had rotated so that we actually rode to the north. As the companies reformed around their commanders I saw that Vagises’ archers were snapping at the heels of the leavings of the Roman horsemen and the locked shields of the legionaries, herding them towards the hillock that we had originally occupied.

‘Pacorus.’

I turned to see Vagharsh wilt in the saddle, two arrows stuck in him, and then fall to the ground. I jumped down as he tried to rise, clutching the banner and using it as a prop. He fell back down as I knelt beside him and Spartacus leaned down and grabbed the banner to hoist it aloft once more.

I cradled Vagharsh’s head as blood oozed from the wounds to his chest and belly. He looked up and smiled.

‘I never would have thought that I would die at the hands of Parthian arrows.’

His face blurred as my eyes filled with tears. ‘Hold on, my friend, hold on.’

He smiled once again as teardrops fell on his face. ‘We will meet again, my friend, but for the moment I must depart from your side. It has been an honour.’

Gallia jumped down from Epona and knelt down, her face full of despair, as Vagharsh looked at her, smiled ever so faintly, sighed and then closed his eyes. I closed my eyes and growled through gritted teeth as another Companion left this life.

I ordered a company to guard his body as I mounted Remus and assessed the current situation. I ordered all the company commanders to report to me after a roll call had been taken as Vagises’ horse archers lapped round the Romans who had now taken possession of the hillock. Crassus’ square remained in the same position, for the moment undisturbed by our horse archers, but now the son of Crassus and several thousand of his soldiers had been separated from the main body and were isolated on the hillock. A decisive moment in the battle had been reached.

Vagises and Surena, his lion banner fluttering behind him, rode to where Spartacus held aloft my standard as cataphract commanders reported their losses, which were remarkably light: twenty men killed and fifty-three others wounded, none seriously. I saw a look of horror on Vagises’ face as he halted his horse and stared at the body of Vagharsh on the ground, four dismounted cataphracts standing guard over it.

‘Bastard Romans,’ he hissed, not realising that it was arrows shot by his own men who had killed him. I saw no reason to reveal the truth.

‘We have a battle to win before we can grieve,’ I told him. ‘It is time to unleash a hailstorm against the Roman square lest Crassus is tempted to rescue his son.

I turned to Surena. ‘I would be eternally grateful if you would destroy those Romans occupying my hillock.’

A devilish smile crept over his face and he slammed his knees into his horse’s sides, causing the beast to rear up on its hind legs, and then he bolted forward back to his waiting companies. Vagises followed him and then veered away to his waiting dragons of horse archers. Within minutes horn blasts echoed across the gloomy battlefield and horse archers once more began loosing arrows at all four sides of the square. To my left the Romans on the hillock faced the full wrath of two thousand horse archers as Surena’s men shot what was left of the command of Publius Crassus to pieces.

Having destroyed the Romans’ Syrian archers — those few still alive being confined to the hillock — our horse archers could now ride closer to the front ranks of the enemy square on the plain, riding parallel to the locked shields, each rider loosing around five arrows a minute before peeling away to reform in his company. The horsemen stayed out of javelin range but shooting at a distance of around fifty paces they ensured that every arrow struck its target. And the pace of their horses was a quick canter — there was no need to gallop — further aiding accuracy. Seven thousand horse archers were assaulting Crassus’ square, shooting an average of twenty-eight thousand arrows every minute at his men.

I heard the sound of cheers resounding across the plain and realised that Surena had destroyed the Romans on the hillock. Groups of horse archers began redeploying to take part in the assault against the main Roman Army as others began herding a long line of Roman prisoners away from the battlefield. And all the time Crassus and his men were easy targets for our archers.

‘Here comes the conquering hero,’ remarked Gallia as Surena came galloping towards us, holding what appeared to be a spear in his hand.

As he and his bodyguard got closer I realised that there was a severed head on the end of the shaft he was holding, blood covering the wood and his hand.

‘Behold, lord, I give you Publius Crassus,’ he shouted at the top of his voice so my officers grouped behind me could hear, ‘son of Marcus Licinius Crassus, who unwisely brought an invading army into Parthia.’

I stared at the lifeless eyes of the man I had liked. ‘You should have accepted his surrender, Surena.’

‘Unfortunately, lord, he took his own life but some five hundred of his men did give themselves up. Do you want me to kill them?’

‘We will decide what to do with them after the battle is over.’

‘Take it away,’ Gallia said to Surena, ‘it’s disgusting.’

Surena grinned. ‘Your wish is my command, lady. I shall go and show Crassus what has happened to his son.’

He gave a whoop of victory and then turned his horse around and galloped away with his men following.

As dusk was fast approaching Vagises began withdrawing his men plus those of Gordyene. The Roman Army still existed but it had been severely battered and had there been but two more hours of light left we might have shot it to pieces, just as we had done with the troops of Publius Crassus. As it was we withdrew from the field, taking as many of our dead as we could, leaving behind only those who were within javelin range of the enemy.

Byrd and Malik and their scouts stayed on the field until well after darkness had enveloped the land to ensure that the Romans did not send out any parties of horsemen to raid us, but they returned after we had made camp three miles to the east with news that the enemy remained immobile in their square. The last of our number to leave the battlefield was Surena and his bodyguard, the King of Gordyene riding up and down in front of the Romans, taunting them with the head of Publius Crassus and shouting insults at them, demanding that they send a champion from their ranks to fight him in single combat. He shouted for Crassus himself to come forward to avenge his son’s death but the Romans remained stationary and silent in their ranks and eventually Surena tired of their lack of response and left them to endure a night without shelter, food and water. It had been a day that had exceeded all expectations and I was forced to rethink my strategy.

‘Crassus is finished,’ said Surena, sitting on a stool after having planted the spear on which the head of Crassus’ son was impaled next to his tent before joining us round a fire.

‘I am apt to agree with Surena,’ said Vagises, chewing on a piece of cured meat.

The squires, who had taken no part in the battle, now stood sentry over the camp as the horse archers of Dura and Gordyene and my cataphracts rested their weary bodies under the stars.

‘You have won a great victory, lord,’ continued Surena.

‘I have won nothing,’ I contradicted him. ‘The Roman Army still exists and tomorrow will attempt to reach the safety of the walls of Carrhae, ten miles to the north. Only after we have prevented it from doing so can we claim victory.’

Surena would have none of it. ‘You did not see the damage inflicted on the Romans by our arrows. Men were being shot down where they stood and pulled back into the square, and on all four sides bodies were being pierced with ease.’

‘I have to agree,’ added Vagises. ‘Arsam’s arrows proved their worth today.’

‘And do not forget the Romans that were killed on the hillock, lord, and at the hands of your own cataphracts,’ continued Surena.

‘We must have killed upwards of six or seven thousand,’ suggested Vagises, ‘plus the ones killed or wounded in the square.’

‘That still leaves over forty thousand men to our less than ten,’ I reminded them. ‘We will wait until the morning before becoming too triumphant.’

I spent most of the night walking around the camp, talking to those who also could not sleep and congratulating them on their conduct during the battle. The morale of the men was high, especially among the cataphracts who had defeated their Roman opponents, and everyone was talking about the new swords and how their blades had sliced through Roman steel with ease. I also took the opportunity to view the five hundred Roman prisoners who had been corralled in a small gully near the camp. They had been given dates to eat but no water since we could spare none. They would have to wait for the dawn when they would be escorted to the Balikh to slake their thirsts. They looked tired, demoralised and frightened by their predicament, and many carried battle wounds. Two companies of bowmen guarded them but I doubted any would attempt to escape, unlike their comrades to the west on the Plain of Carrhae.

The only person who was not happy, and appeared close to despair, was Spartacus. When I returned to my tent I found him pacing up and down and muttering to himself.

‘They say that talking to oneself is either a sign of madness or proof that one who does so has the ear of the gods,’ I said.

He stopped pacing and muttering and looked at me, his unhappy face cast in a red glow by the fire nearby.

‘I certainly do not have the ear of the gods,’ he fumed.

I pointed to a stool and sat on another.

‘Sit down, you will wear out your boots with all that pacing.’

He sat beside me, mumbling under his breath.

‘What’s the matter?’

He suddenly looked totally forlorn. ‘I will never be with Rasha now.’

‘Ah, I see. You think that your chance of taking an eagle has eluded you?’

‘Yes.’

‘The battle is not over, Spartacus, far from it. Tomorrow is another day. You must have faith.’

I was beginning to sound like Dobbai, much to my consternation.

‘Surena says that that Romans are finished and will flee back to Carrhae.’

‘He is right that they will make for Carrhae,’ I said, ‘but they are far from finished. They are only ten miles from safety. This battle is not over.’