Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 11

It was spring once more and the days were bright but not hot, a slight northerly wind being enough to make the march comfortable and dispel the clouds of dust that always hung over our great column of iron-shod hooves and hobnailed leather sandals. Though we were in friendly territory the army assumed the usual marching order it adopted for every campaign. Far ahead of the army, in front and on the flanks, rode Byrd, Malik and their scouts — fifty hand-picked men who were answerable to those two alone and who were the eyes and ears of the army, their task to inform me of the enemy army’s whereabouts and its movements. Sometimes we didn’t see them for days but it comforted us all to know that they were riding far and wide to provide early warning of any threats. Most of them were Agraci like Malik though there were a few Parthians among their ranks. They dressed like desert nomads and like their horses were scrawny and unprepossessing individuals, but they could ride all day and all night and move like ghosts over any terrain and I thanked Shamash that they served me.

The advance guard of the army comprised five hundred widely dispersed horse archers who kept a lookout for any possible ambush sites on route, such as fords across rivers, woodland, canyons and the like. If they suffered any attacks they were to immediately break contact and fall back to the army where a plan could be formulated.

Next came the pioneers, a small contingent of surveyors and workmen who determined where the army would camp for the night and once at the site would mark out where the tents would be pitched, the stables sited and the ditches dug. These men were under the command of Marcus, as was the unit of engineers that came next in the order of march, whose task was to repair the roads and bridges along which the army was travelling.

The wagons and mules carrying the army’s supplies and food came next, plus the oxen pulling Marcus’ siege engines (though for this campaign they had been left behind at Dura) and the thousand camels and their civilian drivers of the ammunition train carrying spare arrows. This was the slowest part of the army and also the most vulnerable — any successful assault on the baggage train would destroy the food supplies and seriously damage the army’s ability to continue the campaign. It was thus protected by two dragons of horse archers — two thousand riders.

Next came the senior officers of the army, which should have included Domitus and Kronos, but they always insisted on walking at the head of their legions and so the only company I had was Orodes and Gallia when she accompanied the army. Surena should have been attending me but he always found an excuse to ride with the advance guard. On this march I asked Silaces to ride with me as the banner of Elymais was carried behind us, alongside those of Susiana and Dura, though all three flags were wrapped round their poles and covered with waxed sleeves. As we were marching through Hatran territory I thought it impolite to fly the flags of other kingdoms in my father’s lands.

Behind us rode the cataphracts, their heavy scale armour and lances carried on the camels led behind them by their squires. On the march the cataphracts acted as horse archers, though they insisted that they were actually the king’s bodyguard because they rode immediately behind me. Then came the legions, the men in their centuries and cohorts marching six abreast at a steady pace that allowed them to cover twenty miles a day.

Behind the legions I had placed Silaces’ eight thousand horse archers and behind them the rear guard made up of the remaining Duran horse archers — five hundred men.

We marched inland from the Euphrates, away from villages and cultivated land as a thousand cataphracts, two thousand squires, eleven thousand horse archers and ten thousand legionaries can cause much damage tramping over fields and irrigation ditches. In addition to the horses and men there were the cataphracts’ two thousand camels, a further thousand camels carrying spare arrows, two thousand wagons and three and a half thousand mules that accompanied the two legions. As with the camels carrying spare arrows, the drivers of the wagons were all civilians under Marcus’ command.

It was only when the army was fully assembled did I realise what a massive organisation it was, and how much wealth was required to keep each part of it armed and provisioned.

We marched for four days north parallel to the Euphrates and then headed inland in a northeasterly direction towards Nisibus. It took a further five days before we made camp ten miles south of the city near the River Mygdonius, which ran through the city further north. During our march the country had changed from desert to steppe and finally to fertile plains as we neared the great Taurus Mountains that separated Hatra from Armenia.

The camp was its usual square shape, each side measuring twelve hundred yards comprising an outer ditch and earth rampart with wooden stakes planted on top. I decided that this spot would be our base until we returned home. We were near water and the area around the city itself would be crowded with tents containing soldiers from Media and Atropaiene and others from the garrison. My father’s entourage filled Nisibus itself. After the evening meal I assembled the senior officers in my tent and briefed them on the course of action for the following days. Byrd and Malik had returned to us and sat at the table with Alcaeus, Domitus, Kronos, Surena, Orodes, Silaces and myself. The mood was relaxed, confident.

‘We will stay here,’ I announced, ‘as we are near water and the city and the surrounding area will be thronged with soldiers and people. I see no reason to add to the multitude.’

‘The more people there are in a confined space,’ said Alcaeus, ‘the more likelihood of pestilence. I’ve seen armies reduced to nothing when sickness sweeps through them.’

‘I have sent word to Vata, the commander in these parts, that we are here,’ I continued, ‘and will await my father’s summons.’

‘When do we fight the Armenians?’ asked Surena with relish.

I gave him a disapproving look. ‘We don’t, unless they provoke us. We are here to impress them, to awe them, Surena, not to fight them.’

‘I’ve always found that grinding an enemy into the ground impresses them,’ sniffed Domitus, to which Kronos, Malik and Surena banged the hilts of their daggers on the table. I held up my hands to still the hubbub.

‘We are here to support my father, and he prefers to try the route of negotiation first.’

‘And if that doesn’t work?’ pressed Domitus.

‘Then, my friend,’ I answered, ‘we will do things your way.’

The others cheered, even the normally reserved Orodes, and I smiled. Their morale and that of the army was excellent and I knew that the legions wanted to avenge the near defeat they had experienced not far from the Tigris last year. The fact that their discomfort was not at the hands of the Armenians was irrelevant. They sensed an opportunity to wash away the bitter taste of defeat by dipping their swords in Armenian blood.

There were sounds of horses’ hooves and voices outside and the tent flap opened. One of the sentries entered and saluted.

‘Lord Vata is here to see you, majesty.’

I was delighted. ‘Vata, here? Have him shown in and have more wine sent to us.’

He saluted and then held the flap open to let my childhood friend enter. I hardly recognised the squat, round-face individual who strode across the carpet to embrace me. The son of Bozan had always been shorter and stockier than me, but his big round face had always worn a smile to reflect his happy-go-lucky nature, but now his countenance was severe, pitiless and also haggard. He looked more than his forty years of age; perhaps I appeared the same to him.

‘Welcome, my old friend,’ I said, ‘take the weight off your feet.’

I poured him a cup of wine and introduced my officers to him as he drained the cup and helped himself to another. I noticed that he looked at Malik disparagingly.

‘Your father and the other kings are in Nisibus and their forces are camped outside,’ he looked at me with dark-ringed eyes. ‘In two days’ time Tigranes the Great, so called, will grace us with his presence.’

‘Who is Tigranes?’ asked Surena.

Vata cracked a smile. ‘The king of the Armenians and the bastard who, for the last few years, has been sending raiding parties through the Taurus Mountains and lately from Gordyene into northern Hatra.

‘Every caravan that passes through these parts I have to furnish with an escort to see it reaches Antioch safely. They already pay duties to travel through Hatra so we cannot charge them any more. So the king, the father of Pacorus, has to pay for the additional troops that garrison this region out of his own treasury.’

‘You say the caravans are protected,’ said Orodes.

‘That is correct, lord prince.’

‘Then surely they are safe from raiders.’

Vata drank another cup of wine and I noticed a nasty scar on his right hand. ‘I don’t have enough men, lord prince, to protect all the caravans and all the towns and villages in this area. If I provide protection to all the caravans then the villages and farms are raided and crops and livestock plundered. If I station troops in the villages then the caravans are vulnerable. So you see, lord prince, I face a dilemma.’

‘One that will now be resolved,’ I reassured him.

His mouth broke into a weak smile. ‘Let us hope so, my friend, for the stakes are high.’

They were indeed. Northern Hatra was the richest part of the kingdom, a fertile area containing countless springs and brooks that irrigated land that produced grapes, rice, grain, olives, figs, pomegranates, apples, pears, apricots and dates. The estates of the lords who lived in the area possessed great herds of horses that supplied my father’s army with mounts, while the royal estates here also raised camels and mules. The great number of villages provided troops for the army and farmers to work the land. If these resources were lost Hatra would lose a great source of wealth, in addition to endangering the Silk Road that ran from the city of Hatra north to Nisibus and then west to Antioch.

‘Still,’ said Vata, ‘now the army of Dura is here I think Tigranes will think twice before continuing provocations.’

I looked at the others. ‘I would speak to Lord Vata alone.’

They saluted Vata and filed from the tent back to their commands, my friend nodding to each of them as they left.

‘You’ve collected a strange bunch, Pacorus. The one with the face tattoos, he’s Agraci, isn’t he?’

‘An Agraci prince,’ I corrected him.

His eyes were wide with surprise. ‘And he fights for you?’

‘Of course, he is a good friend.’

Vata shook his head. ‘I heard about the scrape you got yourself in last year. When your father came back he was far from happy, as were a lot of people, that ten thousand Agraci had crossed the Euphrates.’

I refilled my cup with wine. ‘Well, the Agraci helped save my neck and for that I am in their debt.’

He suddenly looked alarmed. ‘You didn’t bring any Agraci with you, did you?’

I laid a hand on his arm. ‘Only Malik and a handful of his men, Vata.’

‘Your father does not want a war,’ he said gravely.

‘He sent you to tell me that?’

‘No,’ he replied, ‘but I know he is worried that a full-scale war will erupt between Hatra and the Armenians. He can’t afford two wars.’

‘Two wars?’

He smiled. ‘How long have we known each other, Pacorus? I know you will march again against Mithridates, it is only a matter of time. And when you do Hatra will be forced to fight beside you.’

‘I ask no one to fight beside me,’ I said casually.

‘You are wrong. You have already asked Hatra, Babylon and Mesene to fight for you, either that or meekly submit as Mithridates subdues them. I can read maps too.’

‘There are debts that must be repaid,’ I said slowly.

He laughed and slapped my arm. ‘Same old Pacorus. Well, I must get back to the city. Your father sent me to request your presence at the palace tomorrow at midday.’

‘I can’t wait,’ I said dryly.

He stood and drained his cup. ‘It is good to see you, my friend.’

I stood and we embraced. ‘You too, Vata.’

‘I like your camp. Do you always construct it thus?’

‘Always. It allows all those inside to sleep sounder at night.’

I stood at the tent’s entrance and watched him ride down the camp’s central avenue with his escort of spearmen around him. The wind coming from the north was cool and carried with it a light drizzle. I shivered and gathered my cloak around me as Vata and his men disappeared in the distance.

The next day I ordered hunting parties to be sent out to collect some fresh food that could be cooked in the evening. I had hunted in these parts as a boy with my father, Bozan and Vata and knew they were rich in lions, hyenas, jackals, wolves, wild boar and antelopes. Surena organised a competition between fifty hunting parties, each one made up of twenty horse archers, whereby the winning party would be the one that killed the most edible game and would be rewarded with a bonus of a week’s pay. Marcus added a proviso that they must collect any arrows they shot that missed the target and extract any others from the animals they killed. The thought of thirty thousand arrows being wasted on a hunting trip did not improve his humour. Before they left camp Surena promised instant promotion to anyone who brought back a dead Armenian. I also reminded them not to damage any farms or property, or indeed frighten the locals who might mistake them for raiders.

I took Orodes with me to the meeting of the kings, the two hundred and fifty men of his bodyguard in their scale armour riding behind us. Nisibus stands beside the Mygdonius that flows south through a huge plain located below Mount Masius, one of the mountains in the Taurus chain. The lower slopes of the mountain are covered in deciduous and conifer forests, while the arrival of spring had covered the plain of Nisibus in white roses. I took this to be a good omen signalling that the white horse of Hatra and the white tunics of Dura would overcome their foes.

It had been over five years since I had last seen the kings of Media and Atropaiene and in that time they had aged considerably.

They were waiting in the main hall of Nisibus’ palace; a squat stone building that was entirely functional and largely devoid of rich furnishings. The palace was in the centre of a walled compound that also contained storerooms, stables, armouries and barracks. At this time it was crowded with horses, soldiers and the retinues of lords that waited as their masters gathered in the main hall.

Orodes and I left our horses at the entrance to the palace and walked through the reception hall. Guards stood at every pillar and a host of petitioners waited outside the closed oak doors at the entrance to the hall. We pushed our way through the throng and the guards at the entrance opened the doors to allow us to enter. They were closed behind us. The hall had plain white-washed walls and grey stone slabs covering the floor. We made our way to where my father was sitting at the head of a massive rectangular oak table positioned in the middle of the chamber. Beyond it stood a stone dais over which hung Hatran banners depicting a white horse on a red background, and around the dais, behind my father, stood the lords of northern Hatra dressed in their war gear.

My father nodded to me and then Orodes as we took our seats at the table. Beside my father, as always, was Vistaspa, his elbows resting on the table and his hands clasped together under his chin. I could tell from his demeanour that the meeting would be serious. On my father’s other side was the world-weary Vata who managed a thin smile. Across the table from me sat King Farhad of Media, a lean, severe individual with dark eyes. Next to him was his son, Prince Atrax, a man I liked enormously for his courage, amiable nature and sense of honour. Unfortunately for me he was married to my sister Aliyeh, who had taken against me when Atrax had received a severe leg wound as a consequence of fighting the Romans. Aliyeh had blamed me for intoxicating Atrax with notions of glory and encouraging him to seek battle, which was untrue. Anyhow Atrax had nearly died and now walked with a permanent limp as a consequence of his wound and Aliyeh never forgave me. She also disliked me for having, as she put it, lured Atrax away from her side to fight beside me during my ill-fated campaign in Gordyene, during which we had all nearly died. That was years ago but her anger towards me had not diminished. Since then Aliyeh had born two sons, the future rulers of Media. I had heard that Atrax had wanted to name his firstborn Pacorus but Aliyeh had forbidden it. The rumour was that my sister ruled both her husband and father-in-law and thus the whole of Media.

Atrax’s angular face broke into a grin and I smiled back. Behind the king and his son stood Media’s senior commanders, all dressed in blue tunics, grey leggings, armour and helmets. At the other end of the table sat the King of Atropaiene, Aschek. He had thick, wavy black hair and a hooked nose. Either side of him were his two sons who had inherited their father’s nose and behind them were grouped Atropaiene’s generals.

‘These are dangerous times,’ began my father, ‘when all of our kingdoms face external threats. For too long now our borders have been assaulted by raiders from Armenia.’

‘It is as you say, Varaz,’ said Farhad. ‘Ever since Balas was killed and Gordyene lost to the Romans we have had nothing but trouble.’

‘Only last week,’ added Aschek, ‘a large party of the enemy attacked my lands from Gordyene and did a great deal of damage. It is intolerable.’

My father nodded while Vistaspa continued to look down at the table. ‘Intolerable, I agree, which is why I have demanded this meeting with Tigranes.’

‘It was better for us,’ said Farhad, ‘when Tigranes was fighting the Romans. Now he is their ally he turns his spears against us.’

‘He is their client,’ I corrected him.

Farhad held out his hands. ‘Client, ally, what does it matter?’

‘It matters a great deal, lord,’ I answered. ‘Armenia is a client state of Rome and Tigranes is what is called amicus populi Romani, “a friend of the Roman people”, which means he is under Rome’s thumb. He does nothing without the agreement of his Roman overlords.’

‘And you think that Rome believes there is advantage to be gained in provoking us?’ asked Aschek.

‘Yes lord,’ I answered.

‘And what is that, Pacorus?’ queried my father.

‘What Rome has always desired, father. Control of the Silk Road.’ I looked at Vata. ‘These raiders that attack Hatra’s villages and the trade caravans, do they include Romans?’

He shook his head. ‘There are no Romans in these parts any more, Pacorus.’

I was surprised. ‘Are you sure? I remember when I was last in Gordyene,’ I nodded at Atrax, ‘there were plenty of Romans there at that time.’

‘There might be some in Armenia itself,’ replied Vata, ‘but there are none in Gordyene and no Romans raid our frontier.’

‘They get others to do their dirty work,’ complained Atrax.

‘Gordyene is a refuge for thieves, murderers and bandits,’ said Aschek, ‘and a base from which our three kingdoms can be attacked.’

‘Which is why I have demanded this meeting with Tigranes,’ answered my father. ‘It is within his power to stop these raids against us and restore peace between Armenia and Parthia. I have asked you all here so that he may see that our desire for peace is made from a position of strength.’

‘What if he rejects our overtures, Varaz,’ asked Farhad, ‘what then?’

My father smiled at him. ‘I have every reason to believe that he will not.’

‘And what does the king of kings say on this matter, father?’ I asked. ‘For is it not his empire that is under threat from the Armenians and not just your kingdom, Media and Atropaiene?’

My father gave me a withering look. ‘Mithridates wrote to me stating that he had every faith that Hatra could resolve the present difficulties with Armenia both amicably and peacefully.’

I laughed. ‘The man is an ass. It is he who should be meeting with the Armenians tomorrow to demand they cease their hostilities.’

Farhad and Aschek looked at each other and then at my father, who sighed. ‘I do not wish to discuss Mithridates, except to say that he would not travel to these parts knowing that the army of Dura would be camped at Nisibus and knowing that the safety of his royal person could not be guaranteed.’

‘He is right about that,’ I said, prompting Atrax to laugh.

My father pointed at me. ‘I do not want a war with Armenia, Pacorus. You will keep your army in check.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Farhad. ‘No war, most definitely not.’

‘Do not worry,’ I told them, ‘the army of Dura is also under tight control. It only does what I desire it to do.’

‘That is what I am afraid of,’ said my father.

The next day dawned overcast and drizzly as the legions marched north out of camp, escorted by the cataphracts in their scale armour and the horse archers. Because of the cold the legionaries, cataphracts and horse archers had their white cloaks around their shoulders and the legionaries had also been issued with leggings. I had no idea how long or short the meeting with Tigranes would be and I did not want the men to be standing for hours on end in a cold plain getting lashed by rain. The army marched along the east bank of the Mygdonius and then swung east to avoid Nisibus and the vast array of tents and animal parks that had sprung up around it since the arrival of the other kings.

A mile northeast of the city I was met by Vistaspa and a company of my father’s bodyguard, while around half a mile behind him a long line of Hatra’s horsemen were filing out of the city. A slight northerly breeze had picked up to make the morning even cooler. Vistaspa bowed his head.

‘Good morning, majesty. The designated meeting spot is five miles north of the city. An Armenian delegation has already arrived to ensure protocol is observed. Your father would like your foot to be positioned in the centre of the line and your horsemen to their right.’

‘When do our guests arrive?’

‘There is no sign of Tigranes yet, though the delegation has sent word that he will be arriving before midday. In the meantime, your father wishes for all our forces to be arrayed before he appears.’

I nodded. ‘Very well. Convey my greetings to my father.’

I dug my knees into Remus’ flanks and rode to where Domitus was marching at the head of the Durans.

‘The Durans and Exiles will deploy to the right of my father’s horsemen, Domitus.’

He fell out and stood in front of me as his men filed past.

He looked towards the brooding shape of Mount Masius in the distance, its upper slopes wreathed in mist.

‘Shitty day for a battle.’

‘We are not here to fight a battle,’ I told him.

He grinned savagely. ‘If the enemy attacks I assume I have your permission to fight back.’

I frowned. ‘They won’t attack. They will take one look at our numbers and agree to peace.’

‘Course they will.’

He raised his vine cane in salute and re-joined his men, barking orders for them to keep in step and not to talk in the ranks. He seemed happy enough.

It took two hours for the army to assemble, the Durans and Exiles arrayed in their standard battlefield formation of three lines. In the first line stood four cohorts, with three in the second and three in the third. Immediately to the right of the legions stood the cataphracts — five companies in the first line, each one two ranks deep, and five companies in the second. Deployed on their right were Dura’s three thousand horse archers and beyond them Silaces and his eight thousand men.

The left flank of the army consisted of my father’s fifteen hundred cataphracts and five thousand horse archers, Farhad’s seven hundred cataphracts and five thousand horse archers and Aschek’s one thousand cataphracts and three thousand horse archers. Immediately to the rear of the Hatran contingent were a further ten thousand horsemen that the region’s lords had raised. This gave the army an impressive combined strength of just over forty-eight thousand men. In addition to this there were the five thousand men that Vata commanded to defend the region, but though he was here with my father his men were scattered far and wide providing protection for villages and the caravans on the Silk Road, garrisoning Nisibus and patrolling the borders.

When the army was finally in its positions I rode with Orodes to where my father waited on his horse at the head of his bodyguard. The breeze had picked up and his white horse head banner fluttered behind him, and was soon joined by Farhad’s white dragon and Aschek’s shahbaz. The red griffin of Dura and the eagle clutching a snake of Susiana completed the array of standards.

‘A most impressive sight, father,’ I said, looking left and right at the assembled troops.

‘Let us hope the Armenians think so,’ he replied sternly.

They appeared less than half an hour later as the clouds in the sky got blacker and blacker, a seething mass of horse and foot spewing from the tree-covered lower slopes of Mount Masius. Slowly and inexorably they filled the plain in front of us, a huge body of foot taking up position directly in front of the legions.

I sat for a full hour as the enemy host deployed into position, presenting a dazzling display of brightly coloured uniforms and hundreds of standards depicting the symbols of Armenia: the six-pointed star, eagle, lion, bull and the rosette, the eternal flower that signifies life everlasting. In front of the Durans and Exiles the Armenians placed their levy spearmen, individuals who had been raised from among the civilian population for the duration of this campaign. Like most civilians pretending to be soldiers they were poorly armed with only a spear and perhaps a dagger and a round wicker shield for protection. As far as I could tell they wore no armour and only linen caps on their heads. These spearmen were deployed in a single huge block that must have numbered at least twenty thousand men.

In front of the spearmen were positioned heavy swordsmen. These were professionals who wore mail shirts, helmets and carried oval shields faced with iron or bronze. Each man was armed with a long sword and two spears and their task was to hack through the ranks of the enemy foot standing opposite to create gaps through which the levy spearmen could sweep through like a raging torrent of floodwater. I estimated their number to be five thousand.

Either side of the heavy swordsmen were professional spearmen — men equipped with large, leather-faced wicker shields nearly the height of a man and armed with long spears. They wore leather armour and had helmets on their heads and their task was to stop the horsemen they faced. There were at least twenty thousand of these men extending left and right to oppose our cavalry. And behind them were their missile support — archers ready to release their arrows over their heads into the ranks of an attacker. Dotted all along the line were small groups of slingers, no doubt recruited from the lands that bordered the Black Sea.

Either side of this huge mass of foot were the Armenian horsemen: mounted archers carrying light axes, daggers and short swords in addition to their bows; spearmen in scale armour cuirasses, helmets and carrying round shields; and heavy cavalry riding partially armoured horses and armed with lances and swords. Impressive though they were, the Armenian horse numbered fewer than twenty thousand men.

Then the royal party appeared surrounded by two thousand fully armoured cataphracts. The horsemen in their glittering armour halted immediately opposite where we were positioned and a lone rider came from their ranks towards us. My father nodded to Vistaspa who likewise rode from our ranks to meet the Armenian representative halfway between the armies. An ominous stillness descended over the plain as around one hundred and twenty thousand men stared at each other.

After a few minutes Vistaspa returned to report to my father.

‘Tigranes and his son will meet with the you and the other kings, majesty.’

‘His son?’ I said.

‘Prince Artavasdes,’ said Vata without enthusiasm. ‘A treacherous snake.’

‘Thank you, Vata,’ my father rebuked him, ‘kindly keep your thoughts to yourself.’

I rode with my father, Farhad and Aschek across the wet turf to meet the Armenian king, the first time that I encountered the man who had earned the title ‘great’. At one time he had ruled this plain and Syria, but that was many years ago and since then Armenia’s power had waned. As we approached and slowed our horses I saw that there were no Romans in Tigranes’ party. My spirits rose in expectation of an agreeable meeting. I was wrong.

Tigranes himself was mounted on a large brown stallion with a red saddle and a great purple saddlecloth. He wore no armour but was dressed in a rich tunic striped in white and purple and a great purple cloak around his shoulders. He sat tall in the saddle, his height accentuated by a high hat adorned with diamonds and pearls. I knew he was nearly eighty years of age now and though his eyes were still sharp his face betrayed his great age, his skin wrinkled and his cheeks sunken.

Next to him, similarly adorned in rich purple robes, rode the man I assumed to be Prince Artavasdes. He had inherited his father’s height though not his stature, appearing slightly diminished next to him. Artavasdes had a narrow face and a long nose that he held in the air to give him a haughty aspect. He had obviously been spending too much time among Romans!

Behind Tigranes rode two hulking cataphracts in short-sleeved scale armour and leg armour. They wore helmets and chainmail veils obscured their faces. They carried great maces in their hands but they were not here to intimidate, merely to even the numbers as four Armenians faced four Parthians. My father raised his hand to Tigranes.

‘Hail Tigranes, great king of Armenia.’

Tigranes raised his hand in return as the drizzle started to turn to light rain.

‘I came to this place, Varaz, because I know that you were a friend of Balas, late ruler of Gordyene, a man who I also held dear.’ His voice was deep and commanding. ‘Out of respect for his memory I decided to leave my warm palace to meet with you on this cold plain.’

‘I am in your debt,’ said my father, ‘and hope that we may settle our differences today to the mutual benefit of all.’

Tigranes smiled at my father. ‘Do Armenia and Hatra have differences? And I see the banners of Media and Atropaiene beside your own and recognise Farhad and Aschek before me. Do I take it that there are differences between Armenia and Media and Atropaiene also?’

‘Media has suffered wrongs at the hands of Armenia’s soldiers,’ replied Farhad.

‘As has Atropaiene,’ added Aschek.

‘My villages are attacked, the trade caravans are threatened,’ said my father with force, ‘and my people are murdered.’

‘And Armenia is responsible for these depravations?’ asked Tigranes.

‘Raiders come though the mountain passes and from Gordyene,’ continued my father. ‘These regions are controlled by Armenia.’

‘These are grave charges you levy against me,’ said Tigranes, his eyes flashing menace. ‘A king might take offence at such words.’

I saw Farhad and Aschek shift uneasily in their saddles. I knew that Aschek in particular did not want war with the Armenians, and ever since Media’s defeat at the hands of the Romans and Prince Atrax’s near fatal wounding, Farhad had also been reluctant to embroil his kingdom in further conflict.

‘It is we who are offended,’ I said, causing Tigranes and his son to look at me.

‘And you are?’ queried Tigranes.

‘Pacorus, King of Dura Europos,’ I answered.

Tigranes nodded and smiled ever so slightly. ‘So you are the famed King Pacorus, the slayer of kings and the confidant of witches.’

‘And the friend of slaves,’ added Artavasdes, his voice mocking and slightly high pitched.

‘Better than being the friend of Romans,’ I answered, ‘or their lackeys.’

Artavasdes bared his teeth at me and was about to rise to the bait but was stopped by a hand raised by his father.

‘Tell me, King Pacorus,’ said Tigranes, ‘your domain lies far to the south of here. Why then would you concern yourself with matters in these parts?’

‘Dura is an ally of Hatra,’ I answered. ‘Its problems are my problems and its wars are my wars.’

‘But there is no war,’ said Tigranes.

I fixed him with my eyes. ‘Not yet.’

‘Enough, Pacorus,’ snapped my father. ‘Hatra does not desire war, Tigranes, but conflict will break out if raids against my kingdom continue. This is my warning to you.’

Tigranes appeared unruffled by the threat, looking at Farhad and Aschek in turn. ‘And Media and Atropaiene stand with Hatra in this?’

Farhad nodded and Aschek did likewise, though without conviction. Artavasdes saw their lack of belief and gloated.

‘Dura also stands with Hatra,’ I announced.

‘Oh, I can see that,’ said Tigranes, ‘perhaps you wish for things to be settled here, today, King of Dura Europos?’

‘Why not?’ I replied indifferently.

‘We did not come here to shed blood,’ said my father, ‘Pacorus forgets himself. But you can see with your eyes, Tigranes, that my words can be backed up with force if need be.’

Tigranes peered past us to where our combined forces were drawn up and smiled. ‘You also have eyes, Varaz. Do they not see the multitude that I have brought with me?’

‘They are but a fraction of the host that Armenia can put into the field,’ boasted Artavasdes.

Perhaps Farhad and Aschek were intimidated by such threats but I had learned long ago that it was not numbers that counted in battle but training and discipline. I yawned.

‘You are impertinent,’ Tigranes said to me.

‘And you are an old man, once called great but now a Roman puppet. Let us settle things now, on this ground, for I grow tired of hearing your words and the empty boasts of your preening son.’

Aschek sat on his horse with his mouth open and Farhad was looking in alarm at my father, who now spoke.

‘You will leave us, Pacorus, so that wiser heads can resolve this problem.’

Artavasdes pointed at me. ‘Do not start a war with us.’

‘Or a conversation, it seems,’ I retorted.

‘Pacorus!’ shouted my father, ‘you will retire.’

I grabbed Remus’ reins and turned him. ‘You are wasting your time, father.’ I dug my knees into Remus’ sides and trotted back to where Orodes, Atrax, Aschek’s sons and Vata waited.

‘What is happening?’ asked a concerned Orodes.

‘Nothing,’ I answered. ‘Tigranes mocks us and we do nothing.’

I looked at Vata. ‘You were right about his son. When he gains the throne things will get a lot worse for you.’

The rain got heavier as I pulled my cloak about me and waited for my father and the other two kings to return. When they did my father had a face like thunder.

‘Well?’ I asked.

‘You made things worse, Pacorus,’ he said wearily.

‘Tigranes refuses to even acknowledge that his men are raiding our kingdoms,’ added Farhad.

‘We will just have to increase our security,’ said Aschek, ‘there is nothing else we can do.’

Cold, wet and drained, the three of them suddenly resembled old men. I thought of the smug expression on Artavasdes’ face and the sardonic words of his father.

‘There is something we can do,’ I said, ‘we can destroy Tigranes and his army.’

I pointed to where my legions faced the swordsmen and huge block of levy spearmen behind them.

‘You see where their foot stands. If my legions attack they will shatter that screen of heavy swordsmen in front of the spearmen easily enough. Those spearmen behind may look impressive but they are just farmers and the like armed with sticks. My men can slaughter them without breaking sweat. With their centre shattered the Armenians will crumble.’

‘He is right, father,’ said Atrax to Farhad, his eyes alight at the prospect of glory.

I stoked his enthusiasm. ‘We greatly outnumber them in cataphracts. One battle, that will settle it, and then there will be no more Armenian problem.’

‘It would be good to lop that arrogant head off Artavasdes’ shoulders,’ remarked Vata.

Aschek peered at the Armenian host, now partly shrouded by the rain that was pouring from low-hanging black clouds.

‘They outnumber us greatly, Pacorus.’

‘Numbers are irrelevant,’ I said. ‘Farmers with sticks cannot withstand my legions, and my horsemen are well schooled in war, they live for battle.’

‘And therein lies the problem, Pacorus,’ said my father calmly. ‘War is your constant companion. You have built your kingdom to nourish your army.’

I grinned at Atrax. ‘What is wrong with that?’

‘Wars are easy to start, Pacorus,’ my father replied, ‘but less easy to finish. You are currently at war with Mithridates and Narses, to say nothing of the armed peace you have with the Romans, and yet you seek another war here.’

‘Better to die on your feet than live on your knees, father.’

Atrax whooped and Vata laughed but my father was not amused.

‘If the Armenians attack we will defend ourselves. But I will not instigate hostilities.’

And so, as the rain coursed off my helmet, ran down my face and soaked my arms and legs, we watched as the Armenians, their banners now hanging soaked and limp from their flag staffs, began to slowly retreat from the field. The foot withdrew first, the damp and shivering hordes of spearmen, archers and slingers trudging back to the tree line to retrace their route back to Armenia. Then the heavy swordsmen followed them protected by the mounted spearmen. The royal party must have been the first to depart for I saw no sign of the Armenian cataphracts. Last to leave were the horse archers who formed a rear guard as the soldiers of four Parthian kingdoms stood immobile and watched them go.

It took two hours of standing before a burning brazier before the feeling returned to my soaking, cold feet and hands. As well as feeling like a drowned rat I also felt cheated. Cheated of the chance to do my father a great service.

‘He doesn’t see it like that,’ said Domitus, holding his hands out to the red coals.

We were standing in front of my tent holding cups of warm wine that had been brought from the field kitchens. The dark and dank night was illuminated by the red glow from dozens of braziers, around which were clustered groups of men trying to warm themselves and dry their sodden clothing. There would be much rust to be removed from mail shirts in the morning.

‘You start a war and he has to deal with it.’

I wasn’t listening to him. ‘We could have broken them easily. Did you see their foot? Most of them would have turned tail and run at the first opportunity.’

He rubbed his hands together. ‘No point in agonising over what might have been. What will you do now?’

‘Go back to Dura. What a complete waste of time this has been.’

‘Pity we can’t go via Gordyene,’ said Domitus. ‘At least we could try to destroy some of the bases the Armenians are using to launch raids from.’

‘The one born in the land of water must be given his own army,’ I found myself saying.

‘What did you say?’

I smiled at him and slapped him on the arm. ‘Of course, it makes perfect sense.’

He looked at me as though I was mad. ‘It does?’

‘My friend, you would not believe me if I told you.’

He eyed me warily. ‘You sure you haven’t caught some sort of fever?’

I went to bed happier than I believed I would and woke to discover that the rain had stopped and the sun was shining down from a sky largely devoid of clouds. It was a beautiful spring day laced with the scent of cyclamen, hyacinth, lavender and narcissus. As the men hung clothing and saddlecloths out to dry and the ground slowly warmed under the sun’s rays, I sent a rider to Nisibus to invite Vata and Atrax to attend me, ostensibly to inspect the camp.

Atrax appeared at midday escorted by a hundred Median horse archers. Vata rode into camp an hour later accompanying a hundred wagons piled high with wine, fresh meat, bread and fodder for the horses.

‘I thought it was the least I could do after your wasted trip, Pacorus.’

I embraced him. ‘Not wasted, my friend. Come inside and take refreshment.’

After we had shared a jug of wine between us I escorted Atrax and Vata round the camp. It was the first time either of them had seen Dura’s legionaries at close quarters.

‘You have made good use of all those men from Pontus I sent south to you,’ remarked Vata as a column of Exiles marched past to undertake two hours’ drill outside the camp.

‘They have made good soldiers,’ I agreed.

‘And the rest are all slaves?’ asked Atrax.

‘Some are former slaves,’ I replied, ‘some are free men who left their homelands because they were occupied or there was no work for them. In Dura’s army they have good food and are paid regularly.’

‘What will you do with them when there is no one left to fight?’ asked Vata mischievously.

‘There is always someone to fight, Vata, which brings me to the reason I invited you both here. I am considering a campaign in Gordyene.’

They both halted and looked at me.

‘Gordyene is occupied by the Armenians,’ said Vata dejectedly.

‘But its people are Parthian,’ I said. ‘Do they not deserve to be liberated from their oppressors?’

Atrax let his head drop. ‘My father would never agree to support such a campaign.’

‘Neither would your father, Pacorus,’ added Vata.

‘I do not need their support,’ I said, ‘merely yours.’

They both looked at me in confusion as I led them back towards my tent. I explained to them both about the eight thousand men from Elymais who had sought refuge at Dura and who had marched north with the army.

‘Gordyene lies on Hatra’s eastern border and to the north of Media,’ I said. ‘You two could easily supply friendly forces from your respective territories. In this way the Armenians in Gordyene would be preoccupied with fighting Parthian troops instead of raiding Hatra and Media, and Atropaiene for that matter.’

Atrax was warming to the idea. ‘In theory it is a good plan, Pacorus, but you know what happened the last time Parthians rode into Gordyene, they were defeated and nearly destroyed. I know, I was one of them, as were you.’

‘I know that,’ I agreed, ‘but then we numbered but a thousand men. Eight thousand is a different matter, especially if they are regularly supplied with provisions and weapons.’ I smiled at him. ‘And reinforcements.’

‘Waging war in enemy territory requires sound leadership,’ said Vata, still far from convinced. ‘Whoever commands your men must know what he is doing.’

We had returned to my tent and I gestured for them both to go into its interior.

‘Fortunately I have just the man.’

I had commanded that Surena and Silaces attend us in my tent and now they both stood as we entered. After an orderly had served us wine I told everyone to sit at the table, after which I revealed my plan to Surena and Silaces.

‘I would like you to be the commander of the expedition,’ I told Surena, ‘and you to be his second-in-command, Silaces.’

Surena clenched his fist in triumph. ‘It would be an honour, lord.’

‘This man was your squire, was he not?’ asked Atrax, which earned him a sneer from Surena.

I laid my hand on Surena’s shoulder. ‘Squire, cataphract, company commander and now the man who leads my horse archers.’

I looked at Silaces. ‘Before I authorise this expedition, I ask for your opinion on this matter for there is no guarantee that it will succeed or that you and your men will live to see its conclusion.’

‘But lord,’ interrupted Surena. I held up a hand to still him.

Silaces looked at me and then the other faces that were staring at him.

‘We are the last remnants of King Gotarzes’ army, majesty, and were it not for you we would no longer be a body of soldiers and he would not be remembered. You have given us back our pride and belief and kept the memory of our king alive. We are honoured to serve you in whatever capacity we can.’

Two days later Surena led eight thousand horsemen towards Gordyene, the whole army drawn up on parade to watch them depart. I sat on Remus with Orodes beside me as the men from Elymais carried the banner of the four-pointed star into Gordyene. Byrd and Malik had left the day before with their scouts to ensure they did not run straight into any large Armenian forces that had remained this side of the Taurus Mountains following our unsuccessful meeting with Tigranes. I told them they were to report back to me immediately after Surena had established a base in Gordyene.

He rode up to us as his new army trotted east, each man carrying three full quivers of arrows and leading a mule loaded with food and fodder for the horses. After they had exhausted their supplies they would receive fresh provisions from Atrax and Vata.

‘Remember, Surena, resist the temptation to take anything from the local population. You have to win them over, not alienate them.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, lord.’

He bit his lip, the first time that I had seen any nervousness in him. But then, this was a great leap he was taking. The responsibility for the lives of eight thousand men must be weighing heavily upon him.

I reached over and laid a hand on his forearm.

‘Above all, remember all the things you have been taught these past few years. And if you believe that your presence in Gordyene is unsustainable then withdraw. There is no shame in retreat, only in refusing to see the blindingly obvious.’

He nodded, bowed his head and then moved forward to join his men.

‘And Surena,’ I called after him.

He stopped and turned in the saddle. ‘Yes, lord?’

‘Good luck.’

He smiled and then galloped away to lead his riders. Thus did Surena’s campaign in Gordyene begin.

As the rear guard of the column disappeared into the distance Domitus ambled over to me.

‘That’s the last we’ll see of them,’ he mused.

‘I think you underestimate Surena,’ I replied. ‘A friend told me that he would be very successful.’

He looked up at me quizzically.

‘It’s a long story, Domitus.’

I had kept any knowledge of Surena’s expedition into Gordyene from my father, as I knew he would have disapproved. He took his own army back to Hatra the day after, visiting me in camp as his cataphracts and horse archers wound their way south with their accompanying squires, mules and camels. Domitus took Vistaspa on an inspection of the camp as I entertained him in my tent.

‘When do you leave for Dura?’

‘In a week or two,’ I replied.

‘Why so long?’

‘I will spend some time with Vata. I have hardly seen him these past few years.

‘No, he has been fully occupied.’

‘You think the Armenians will continue with their raids.’

He looked at me with black-ringed eyes. ‘Undoubtedly.’

‘Then why did you not fight them when you had the chance?’

‘I do not wish to go over that again, Pacorus. I do not seek war with the Armenians. If we had defeated them and perhaps killed Tigranes, what then?’

‘Then you would have had a peaceful northern frontier.’

He shook his head. ‘Then I would have had a Roman army on Hatra’s northern border.’

‘The Romans are preoccupied with their internal squabbles,’ I reassured him.

‘For the moment, yes, but once they have settled their differences they will turn their gaze towards Parthia once more.’

I smiled at him as I thought of the weapons I was supplying to Alexander in Judea. ‘They might have other things to occupy themselves with other than Parthia, father.’

‘You are spending too much time with that sorceress of yours, son, for you speak in riddles. How is the old witch?’

‘Er, old,’ I replied. ‘Gallia likes her company and Claudia adores her, too much I think. How is young Spartacus?’

‘He is growing big and strong and will make a fine warrior. You should come to Hatra and visit him. Your mother, Gafarn and Diana are always complaining that they do not see enough of you.’

‘They are right. I will try not to be so remiss.’

It was an amicable parting between father and son as he left me to rejoin his men on their trek south back to Hatra. Later that day I rode with Orodes to Nisibus to bid farewell to Farhad and Aschek as they too took their armies home. When we arrived at the palace the courtyard was filled with hundreds of horsemen, each one armed with a spear and round, leather-faced wooden shield carrying the emblem of the white horse’s head — Hatra’s symbol. Each man was also armed with a bow and quiver.

A servant took our horses from us at the foot of the palace steps and we went inside the building. In the main hall we encountered Farhad, Atrax, Vata, Aschek and his sons. Vata was bidding them farewell while behind him a large knot of his officers stood in a group waiting for orders. The atmosphere was dripping with anxiety. I gripped Vata’s arm.

‘Problems?’

He ran a hand through his hair.

‘As soon as the kings depart I have a caravan to protect. Four hundred camels loaded with spices, silk and ivory bound for Edessa and then Zeugma. You saw their escort in the courtyard.’

‘Does not the caravan have its own guards?’

He smiled wryly. ‘To keep away a few bandits and thieves, yes, but not enough to fend off an Armenian raiding party.’

He walked over to where Farhad and Aschek stood and bowed his head to them. I followed him and embraced them, then Atrax and Aschek’s sons. Orodes, ever the diplomat, walked with them from the chamber. Atrax told his father he would catch him up as he pulled Vata and me aside.

‘As soon as I get back to Media I will alert the outposts on our northern border to keep watch for Surena’s men.’

‘I will do likewise,’ said Vata. ‘I can send supplies and arrows but no men. I have my hands full as it is.’

I could see that he was agitated by the way his fingers fidgeted by his sides.

‘Are you expecting the caravan to be attacked?’ I asked him.

‘Caravan?’ enquired Atrax.

‘Vata has a large caravan leaving Nisibus and fears it may be attacked.’

‘I have no doubt the Armenians will try something,’ he said, ‘especially after the inconclusive meeting between the king and Tigranes.’

‘How many men are you assigning to its protection?’ I asked.

‘A thousand.’

Atrax was stunned. ‘That many?’

‘I have no choice,’ Vata replied. ‘Any less and it will be too tempting a target.’ He looked at me.

‘I could ask my father to provide you with horsemen,’ offered Atrax.

‘Or perhaps we could entice the Armenians into a trap?’ I suggested.

Vata was perplexed. ‘Trap?’

‘What would happen,’ I continued, ‘if the caravan had few guards?’

Vata laughed. ‘We might as well take the goods it is carrying and leave them on the road for the Armenians to collect at their leisure.’

‘What are you thinking?’ Atrax asked me.

‘Let the Armenians attack the caravan, except that it will not be a caravan, it will be a trap. Time to give the Armenians a bloody nose.’

Atrax grinned mischievously. ‘Count me in.’

The headman in charge of the caravan was informed that his camels would not be able to commence their journey on account of a landslide on the road fifty miles from the city. Vata told him that he would have to remain in Nisibus for another seven days while the debris was cleared from the route.

The road to Edessa heads north from Nisibus and then west along the base of the foothills of the Taurus Mountains, running parallel to the forests that blanket their slopes. The Armenians usually established their camps deep in these forests, from which they launched attacks against the caravans. Vata often sent large parties of troops into the trees to track down and destroy these camps but it was a time-consuming business and he did not have the resources to establish outposts all along the road. I hoped that such a large caravan would attract a substantial number of Armenians.

For our trap we used four hundred of Dura’s camels and strapped empty wooden chests from Nisibus on their backs. Each camel would have two attendants who would actually be a pair of Duran horse archers, their bows and quivers secured to the camels and hidden by canvas covers.

The fifty covered wagons would not be transporting highly prized items from the east but rather hand-picked legionaries, each wagon carrying eight men and their weapons and equipment. It would be a tedious journey for these men, cooped up under oilskin covers made to resemble a wagon piled high with goods. But at least they could take it in turns to be drivers. Only when the Armenians took the bait would they be able to spring into action. But then war is mostly long stretches of tedium and routine interrupted by brief periods of terror.

We left Nisibus three days later, four hundred legionaries hidden in the wagons and eight hundred horse archers disguised as camel attendants. I walked at the head of the column with my second-in-command camel herder — Orodes — while Atrax and a hundred of his Median horse archers provided the illusion of an escort. The weather was warm and mild and Mount Masius in the distance looked tall and imposing. The day after we left Vata and his thousand riders would follow us at a distance. This was to deceive the Armenian spies whom he knew operated in Nisibus and who provided Tigranes with exact details of the movements of caravans. He and his horsemen would be able to close the distance between them and our caravan easily enough.

The first two days were uneventful, a pleasant enough stroll through a country seemingly at peace. We saw hares observing us warily from the long grass and antelopes peering at us from the safety of the trees that began around a quarter of mile to our right. The forest was a blanket of green, a vast covering of oak, sycamore, wild olive trees, pine, juniper, fir and cedar.

On the third day, having covered around fifty miles in total, my leg was beginning to ache from the walking and I began to develop a slight limp. Atrax, who was riding beside us, saw my discomfort.

‘Ride for a while on my horse, Pacorus.’

‘No, thank you,’ I replied. ‘For one thing your own limp will make a prolonged period of walking most uncomfortable for you, and for another it will look highly suspicious if the commander of the escort gives up his horse to a camel herder.’

‘You think we are being watched?’ asked Orodes, looking like a vagabond in his long beige robe and head cloth.

‘Undoubtedly,’ I answered.

Atrax turned and peered at the trees.

‘Perhaps we could move off the road and onto the plain, to increase the distance between us and the trees.’

‘I think not, my eager friend,’ I said. ‘We want them to take the bait. Just you make sure that you and your men desert us when they attack.’

He was most unhappy. ‘I should not leave my friends to fight alone, it is dishonourable.’

Orodes said nothing but I knew he was thinking the same.

‘Listen,’ I said. ‘The whole aim of this little expedition is to entice the Armenians from their forest abode into the open where they can be destroyed. When they appear, Atrax, you and your men will run, thereby convincing them that we are defenceless. Remember the plan.’

‘I hope your foot soldiers know what they are doing,’ said Atrax with concern.

I smiled at him. ‘Don’t you worry about them. They are led by a burly German named Thumelicus who knows what he is doing.’

‘What’s a German?’ he asked.

‘An inhabitant of a land called Germania, a great distance from these parts.’ I tilted my head towards the trees. ‘I have never been there, but the Germans in my army tell me that it is mostly forests filled with wild beasts and even wilder people. Even the Romans fear and respect them.’

Atrax looked at the forest and then behind us to the road where the wagons ambled along in two sections, each one of twenty-five wagons, one of which contained Thumelicus.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said to him, ‘we will still be here when you return with reinforcements.’

The rest of the day and the morning of the next passed without incident and I was beginning to think that we might have wasted our time. Perhaps my father’s words and our show of strength had intimidated Tigranes into issuing orders that there were to be no more attacks on the Silk Road caravans. I looked up at the puffy white clouds that filled the sky and the blue in between them and smelled the pleasing aroma of mint and lavender. Atrax had fashioned me a walking stick from a branch that he had cut and now I held it in my left hand while Orodes walking beside me on my left led the camel, an evil beast with a nasty bite and a vindictive nature.

‘I’m going to ask her to be my wife,’ he announced suddenly. ‘Even though I am only a prince and she is a queen.’

‘Marry? What are you talking about?’

Orodes suddenly stopped to face me.

‘Axsen, Queen Axsen. I am going to ask her to marry me.’

He wore a look of a man who had just been told he had minutes to live instead of one gripped by joy. I burst out laughing. Only Orodes could tinge such a happy announcement with severity.

‘You think I have no chance, that I offend protocol by thinking a prince, a landless prince, could ask for the hand of a queen in marriage?’

I laughed even louder, which caused his face to darken even more.

I laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘My friend, I think that she would be both honoured and flattered to receive such a proposal. I think the gods will smile on your union.’

He now wore the look of a man who had been reprieved moments before his execution.

‘You really think so?’

‘Axsen is possessed of a kind heart and noble nature. She has been looking for her prince for many years and now she has found him. I am truly happy for you.’

He grinned. ‘And you and Gallia will come to the wedding, if she accepts my proposal, that is?’

‘She will accept and yes, we will come to the wedding. Nothing will stop us.’

His grin disappeared as he looked past me. ‘They might.’

I turned to see a great mass of men emerging from the trees, hundreds of them. So, they had come at last.

I dropped my stick and threw off my robe, then with Orodes loosened the straps that held the waxed canvas cover in place on the camel’s back. We pulled our bows from their cases and then slung a quiver strap over our right shoulders so we could pull arrows from our quivers with our right hands. I glanced down the road and saw that the other archers were doing the same, each one taking up position behind the front and rear of their camels. Atrax galloped towards me.

‘Go, go,’ I shouted at him.

He halted, turned and then galloped back down the road with his riders thundering after him. So far, so good.

Like Orodes I wore only a shirt, leggings and boots under my robe, which I now discarded, though I also had my silk vest under my shirt. My sword and dagger were hanging from my hips. I scanned the tree line, in front of which was a great black mass of advancing men carrying what looked like round shields and spears. They were walking towards our now stationary column, the men inside the wagons still hidden from view and our ‘escort’ having fled for their lives. I also saw horsemen coming from the trees, no doubt tribal chiefs and their personal bodyguards — men in helmets wielding swords and carrying round, brightly painted shields. These men rode to the head of the warriors on foot and began to gallop up and down the line, waving their swords in the air as they did so. No doubt they were encouraging them with promises of loot after they had slaughtered us.

There must have been at least three thousand foot and two hundred horsemen coming at us, at first walking and then breaking into a gentle trot as they got within five hundred paces of our position. The men on horseback were trotting a few paces beyond their front ranks, shouting behind them to encourage those following. The foot soldiers were widely spaced and I could see that in addition to their spears many had axes tucked into their belts. But they wore no armour and most had nothing on their heads.

‘Someone is going to get a nasty surprise in a minute,’ said Orodes, nocking an arrow in his bowstring and aiming it at the oncoming mass.

When they had advanced to within four hundred paces we began shooting. In the saddle a horse archer can lose around five to six arrows a minute, but now, standing and with spare quivers, we shot one every six seconds to create an arrow storm into which the Armenians ran. We did not bother to aim but rather shot and then strung another arrow, one after another, filling the air with deadly raindrops as the arrows arched into the air and then pelted the enemy.

Within a minute eight thousand arrows had been loosed at those ragged ranks, the bronze arrowheads hissing in anger as they struck wicker shields, flesh and bone. At first the Armenians did what all soldiers do when they encountered the unexpected in battle — they halted. It was an added bonus for us that these were not soldiers but hill men, warriors used to fighting as individuals around their chiefs rather than as part of a disciplined unit. So they halted as arrows dropped from the sky to thin their ranks, and when they did so more arrows fell on them to inflict further casualties. A few arrows struck eye sockets as the stupid ones looked into the sky; these men died instantly. Others struck necks and even hearts to kill their victims but most lodged themselves in arms, feet, legs and thighs to wound and disable.

I had emptied two quivers when I heard the shrill sound of whistles being blown and took a few steps back to see legionaries pouring from the wagons.

‘Time to go, Orodes,’ I shouted, picking up another two quivers.

The other archers shooting from behind their camels left their beasts and similarly sprinted towards where the legionaries were forming up by the side of the column of wagons and camels. The plan was for them to deploy in five centuries, each one made up of four ranks of twenty men. They had no javelins as the archers that were now running as fast as they could to take up position behind the centuries would provide missile support. I arrived sweating and panting at the left flank of our makeshift battle line, while in front of us the chiefs were screaming and cursing at their men to move forward to attack us.

The Armenians had spread out to envelop the whole of the caravan to ensure nothing escaped their greedy clutches, but now they had to compress themselves into a tight mass to attack our force that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. As they did so I saw that the grass to left and right was littered with dead and wounded men, some of the latter crawling and limping back towards the tree line.

I heard a deep voice ahead bellowing orders.

‘Keep tight, keep tight. Wait for the order to attack.’

I recognised Thumelicus’ voice.

‘I will be back,’ I said to Orodes and then pushed my way through the century that stood on the far left of the line to see the Armenian throng around three hundred paces away. I ran over to where Thumelicus was standing a few paces beyond his front rank, gladius in hand. He was so big and bulky that his helmet always looked too small for his head and his shield, which normally covered three-quarters of the body, appeared inadequate to protect his great frame.

He acknowledged me and then went back to staring at one of the Armenian chiefs directly ahead, a huge man draped in a black bearskin cloak and armed with a great sword who was jabbing it at Thumelicus and shouting something, no doubt promising to send him to the afterlife.

‘He’s making a lot of noise,’ he said calmly.

‘Too much,’ I agreed, then pulled an arrow from my quiver and nocked it in my bowstring.

The chief was pulling on his horse’s reins to turn the beast so he could scream at his men behind, then he dug his knees into its sides to move him along his line of warriors. Then he faced front again to point his sword at Thumelicus to hurl more abuse.

‘Do you think he is asking me to marry one of his daughters?’ asked Thumelicus.

‘I doubt it,’ I replied, then released my bowstring.

It took the arrow around four seconds to strike the chief, hitting him in his right shoulder and causing him to wilt in the saddle and drop his sword.

Thumelicus beamed with delight. ‘Nice shot.’

Behind us the legionaries cheered and whistled with delight.

‘That will stir them up,’ I said. ‘Stay alive, Thumelicus.’

‘You too, Pacorus.’

I left him to return to Orodes as a great roar came from the Armenian ranks. And then they charged. It was not a disciplined advance but a wild rush of enraged, feral men with axes and spears seeking only to get to grips with those they faced as quickly as possible to exact revenge for their friends who had been felled by arrows, and now their chief who had been wounded.

At a range of two hundred paces from Thumelicus’ front ranks the arrows began striking them again, shot by the men standing behind the centuries. We loosed four volleys before the two lines clashed, at the last moment the front ranks of legionaries charging at the oncoming Armenians rather than waiting to be hit by the wall of axe-wielding savages hurtling towards them.

A brutal mêlée began as the Armenians hacked with their weapons at the tightly packed ranks in front of them, as more and more of their comrades behind them pressed forward and forced those in front against the Duran shields. And from below and above the latter came gladius thrusts, like hundreds of hornet stings, stabbing into groins, thighs, guts and through shields. I heard terrible screams as Armenian bellies were sliced open, eyes were put out and genitals were reduced to bloody messes.

I smiled when, above the horrible cries, I heard the chant ‘Dura, Dura’ as Thumelicus and his men turned the front ranks of the enemy into a heap of dead flesh. The enemy dead, held upright by the Duran shields to the front and the press of Armenians from behind, now formed a barrier between the two sides. The Armenians resorted to throwing their axes at the heads of the legionaries, but the ranks behind the first had hoisted their shields above their heads to form a roof of leather and wood to defeat missiles.

Some groups of Armenians, seeking to take advantage of their greater numbers, attempted to sweep around our flanks but were spotted and felled by arrows. After dozens of them were shot in a matter of minutes the rest fell back. And then, above the screams, curses, shouts and moans, I heard a new sound and then felt the ground rumble. To my right I heard horns being blown and knew that Vata had come.

The Hatran horsemen had actually been trailing the caravan on a parallel route some five miles to the south. Any Armenian scouts in the forest would have confirmed that the caravan was not being followed but would not have seen Vata’s men at such a distance — and the latter were under orders to light no fires at night — thus the surprise was complete.

The horsemen swept round our flanks, one group led by Vata the other by Atrax. They did not shoot their bows but instead first used their spears to kill the Armenians. Each wing wheeled inwards to trap the Armenians and went to work with their swords, hacking left and right at men trying to escape back to the tree line. But they were too far away from the safety of the forest and were being hunted by men on horseback, and so soon the plain was covered with more dead as Vata’s men, working in their companies, charged, reformed and then charged again to cut down the enemy.

The legionaries leaned on their shields and the archers unstrung their bows as the horsemen finished their slaughter at the tree line.

Not all the enemy warriors were killed, a few escaped into the forest to tell the tale of their defeat to their tribes, while those who had been wounded by arrows at the beginning of the engagement had managed to hobble into the trees. Whether those men would live depended on how quickly they reached their villages and the skill of their healers.

A quick roll call revealed that our own casualties were ten dead and fifteen wounded. Most of the camels had taken themselves off to avoid the battle and so Vata sent out patrols to get them back. It had been a very satisfactory ambush.

We burned our own dead, left the Armenian corpses to the vultures and retraced our steps back to Nisibus. That night we celebrated our victory and toasted the forthcoming marriage of Orodes and Axsen.

‘But she has not accepted,’ he protested as we stood round a raging fire, ‘she does not even know that I am going to ask for her hand in marriage.’

I slapped him on the shoulder. ‘She will know soon enough and will accept, I promise you.’

Word had spread of his intentions and soon a great crowd had gathered behind us and began chanting ‘Orodes, Orodes’ as the Prince of Susiana grinned sheepishly and a drunken Thumelicus nearly crushed the life out of him when he locked him in a bear hug. Atrax, having spent the whole afternoon hunting down and slaughtering Armenian stragglers to ‘atone’ for his having deserted us earlier in the day, was the happiest I had seen him, and even Vata resembled my old carefree friend once more. It had been a good day for them and for Hatra, and I felt satisfied that I had given the Armenians a bloody nose. Perhaps Tigranes would now think twice before antagonising Hatra.

The next morning we made our way back to Nisibus in high spirits. But our mood soon darkened when we received news that the Armenians were the least of our problems.