Parthian Vengeance

Chapter 17

The Susa Valley is lush and green, especially following the heavy rainfall it receives during the first three months of the year. Despite the heat of its summers the land between the Karkheh and Dez rivers is permanently green, partly because of the rainfall but also due to the extensive irrigation systems that exist north and south of Susa. Orodes told me that the valley was the breadbasket of Susiana, producing an abundance of wheat, corn, barley, lentils, flax, pistachios, lemons and dates, in addition to supporting the great herds of cattle that grazed on its rich grasslands. Farms cover around three-quarters of the flatlands between the rivers and their produce not only fills the bellies of the populace of Susiana itself but is also exported to adjacent kingdoms.

The city of Susa itself lies around twelve miles south of the bridge that we had used to cross the Karkheh and a mile inland of the river. The villagers and farmers who inhabited the valley had no doubt sought sanctuary inside the city, along with their livestock, for we entered a land seemingly devoid of life as we struck camp the morning after crossing the river and headed south towards the kingdom’s capital.

We had travelled but two miles when Byrd and Malik came galloping up to where I was riding with Gallia at the head of the Amazons. As usual they had left before dawn to scout ahead with their men as the camp was coming to life. Now they returned three hours later, the camp having been disassembled, the stakes for the palisade loaded onto the mule train and the tents packed on the wagons.

‘Enemy is pouring out of Susa,’ said Byrd blandly.

‘How many?’ I asked.

Malik looked concerned. ‘Thousands, Pacorus, tens of thousands.’

‘They fill the land in front of the city,’ added Byrd.

I ordered an immediate halt and sent couriers to the other kings to alert them that the enemy had at last shown his face. A sense of relief swept through me as I realised that finally, the deciding battle with Narses and Mithridates was about to begin. As the army halted and I sent Vagises ahead with a thousand horse archers to act as a forward screen, Domitus and Kronos trotted over to where Gallia and I were talking with Byrd and Malik.

‘We will not be marching to Persepolis, then,’ remarked Domitus casually.

‘By the end of this day,’ I said, ‘the crows will be feasting on the carcasses of Narses and Mithridates.’

I slid off Remus and slapped Domitus hard on the arm. ‘After all these years of bloodshed and toil, after all the deaths and misery that those two bastards have caused, now we finally have them cornered. Men will talk of this day for a long time.’

‘Have you heard of the phrase, pride before a fall,’ Pacorus?’ asked Gallia as she dismounted from Epona.

I held her flawless face in my hands and kissed her on the lips. ‘Not pride, my sweet, belief that I have the best soldiers led by the best officers in the empire. Today we extend the limits of glory.’

‘We have to beat them first,’ said Domitus dryly. ‘So what is the battle plan, assuming you have one? And don’t say to beat the enemy.’

‘Not beat them, Domitus,’ I replied. ‘Today we annihilate them.’

In response to my alerting the other monarchs, Orodes sent a rider requesting my and Gallia’s presence at a council of war, which took place in his hastily re-erected tent in the middle of the valley. Thousands of Babylonian spearmen were sitting on the ground behind the tent, their shields and spears stacked as they rested. Soldiers of Babylon’s royal guard stood sentry outside the tent and others held our horses’ reins as we went inside to join the kings. Outside the temperature was bearable thanks to the breeze that was coming from the Zagros Mountains to the east, but the air inside the tent was still and stifling as we acknowledged those who were arranged on stools in a circle. Gallia embraced Viper and then took her seat beside her fellow Amazon as I sat down next to her and opposite my father.

‘The enemy appears at last,’ said Orodes in a serious voice, ‘and intends to engage us.’

He nodded towards me. ‘The reports we have received thus far indicate that soldiers are leaving Susa and massing in the area immediately north of the city.’

‘Do we know their numbers?’ asked Atrax.

Orodes looked at me.

‘At least as many as us, probably more. We will know more when we get nearer to them. I have sent horsemen south to ensure they don’t sneak up on us unannounced.’

‘We will advance to meet them,’ announced Orodes.

‘I would advise staying close to the Karkheh,’ I said, ‘to anchor our right flank against the river as the enemy also appears to be keeping close to the city and the river.’

The valley was at least ten miles wide at the point we currently occupied, and though it narrowed to around seven miles at Susa itself if we maintained a continuous front from river to river our forces would be spread too thinly.

‘If we do not extend our forces from the Karkheh to the Dez,’ said my father, ‘then we invite the enemy to outflank us on our left wing.’

‘We have enough horsemen to be able to react to threats, father,’ I replied. ‘Besides, the enemy won’t be thinking about their flank when we are grinding their centre into dust.’

Surena and Atrax smiled and Gafarn rolled his eyes but my father did not protest and so an hour later the various contingents were repositioning themselves for the march south to engage the enemy. Byrd and Malik had departed with their scouts towards Susa once more and around mid-morning Vagises returned with a more accurate assessment of the enemy’s dispositions. Beginning on their left flank, which was anchored on the Karkheh, and extending inland from the river were two great bodies of spearmen, next to which, to their right, were formations of horse archers. Vagises estimated that the entire enemy army occupied a frontage of around four miles. They had halted two miles north of the city and showed no signs of advancing any further.

When we recommenced our march south the Duran Legion was on the end of the army’s right flank, moving parallel to the river, with the Exiles beside them and ten thousand Babylonian spearmen on Kronos’ left flank. Vistaspa argued most forcefully that all the horse archers should be grouped together on the left wing of the army, both to extend our line towards the Dez and to respond quickly to any threats that may materialise, and so I sent Vagises and his three thousand horse archers to serve under him. Dura’s contingent was the smallest, being outnumbered by Surena’s eight thousand horsemen, Media’s five thousand and positively dwarfed by Hatra’s ten thousand horse archers. There was a brief command crisis when Vistaspa discovered that Surena was leading his own horse archers and offered the King of Gordyene the leadership of the horsemen, but Surena declined out of respect for Vistaspa’s far greater experience.

Between the foot and the horse archers rode the cataphracts and the kings. It was now midday and very warm, the heat made worse because I was wearing my scale armour. The sky was devoid of any clouds and the sweat was running off my brow into my eyes. My legs and arms were also cooking in their tubular steel armour. Behind me in a long column were Dura’s heavy horsemen with their helmets pushed back on their heads and their lances resting on their shoulders. Gallia rode on my right and on my left was Orodes, behind him his bodyguard of two hundred and fifty men and Babylon’s royal guard. Beside Orodes rode Atrax leading his seven hundred cataphracts, and beyond him was my father in charge of Hatra’s fifteen hundred heavy cavalry. Twenty thousand foot and nearly thirty thousand horsemen were on the move, while seven thousand squires and thousands of civilian camel and wagon drivers brought up the rear.

I looked at Orodes whose face was a mask of steely determination.

‘Not long now, my friend, and soon you will take possession of the capital of your homeland. And then we will have peace in the empire.’

He pursed his lips. ‘Let us hope so, Pacorus, let us hope so.’

After we had travelled five miles the enemy at last came into view — great blocks of black shapes stretching from the river eastwards. As we got nearer to them I could see the sun catching the whetted tips of the spearmen’s main weapon. In front of their army rode parties of horse archers, who halted to observe us before trotting back to make their reports. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost soporific, as we ambled towards the enemy, but any drowsiness was shattered by a mass of trumpet blasts that erupted from the ranks of the legions, followed by shouts as officers barked orders at their men. I nudged Remus forward and then wheeled him right to take me across the front of the Babylonian spearmen to reach the first-line cohorts of the Exiles, Vagharsh following with my banner, the men cheering and banging the shafts of their javelins on the insides of their shields as I passed. I raised my kontus in acknowledgement.

I found Domitus and Kronos with their cohort commanders standing slightly beyond the first line of the Durans, on their extreme left. Domitus was pointing at the massed ranks of the spearmen directly opposite. I also noticed that Marcus was present.

‘You see those trees, Pacorus?’

Domitus was alluding to a large grove of date palms that stood directly behind the enemy spearmen opposite us. The trees can grow up to seventy-feet high and these ones certainly seemed to be around that height at least, all planted in neat rows.

‘The date palms, what of them?’

‘Bit strange that they have so many men in front of them. If they are pushed back into the trees they will be become disorganised. They must be confident that they can stop us. They are Narses’ men, aren’t they?’

I looked at the mass of large wicker shields, helmets and yellow tunics showing between the walls of shields. Then I spotted a phalanx of spearmen with large yellow shields and wearing plumed bronze helmets — Narses’ royal spearmen.

‘Yes.’

Their frontage was very wide and encompassed the extent of both the Durans and Exiles combined. Beyond them, on their right flank, stood another huge mass of spearmen with white-painted shields — Mithridates’ soldiers — who were grouped opposite the Babylonian foot.

Domitus nodded at Marcus. ‘I thought we would let Marcus and his men practise using their smaller ballista, see if we can thin out the enemy’s numbers a bit.’

‘Wait for the order until you launch an attack,’ I told him. ‘I do not know what Orodes is planning yet.’

‘Of course,’ he replied, ‘but if that lot opposite begins to move I will have no option but to attack.’

At that moment the low rumble of kettledrums echoed across the battlefield and I knew that hostilities were about to commence. I bade them farewell and then rode back to where Orodes waited on his horse with the other kings, their banners fluttering behind them in the stiffening breeze. The headache-inducing din of the kettledrums coming from the enemy ranks was increasing and almost directly opposite us enemy cataphracts had begun to form up.

‘They have obviously seen our banners,’ commented my father, ‘and intend to assault our position.’

‘They intend to kill the kings in revolt against Mithridates,’ remarked Orodes.

I peered across no-man’s land at the heavy horsemen moving into position and thought it most odd. A dragon of cataphracts — a thousand men in three ranks — occupies a frontage of around a third of a mile, but the horsemen opposite filled a space equivalent to two-thirds of a mile, if that. That meant there must be at most around two thousand horsemen. There could have been more, of course, but a heavy cavalry charge was more devastating with a frontage as wide as possible. It made no sense to increase the number of ranks at the expense of narrowing the frontage because the riders in the rear ranks would not be able to use their lances in the initial clash.

I looked at Orodes and then my father and knew they were thinking the same. We had nearly three and half thousand cataphracts — more than enough to defeat the enemy horsemen opposite. Our minds were made up when we saw a rider in scale armour ride to the front of the enemy horsemen followed by another holding a great yellow banner showing a bird-god symbol — Narses. In his arrogance the King of Persis believed that he could destroy us with one charge of his heavy horsemen.

Horns blew frantically as our heavy horsemen walked their horses forward to deploy into line. The sound of the kettledrums increased as Narses raised his kontus and pointed it at our assembling ranks. I held my hand out to my father.

‘Good luck, father.’

He smiled and took it.

‘Shamash keep you safe, Pacorus.’

Then he rode off to take his position in the front rank of his bodyguard. Atrax also came over to me and wished me luck, as did Orodes, before both of them galloped off to be at the head of their own men.

‘Narses is mine,’ I called after them.

Despite my desire to get to grips with my mortal enemy it took at least twenty minutes before we were ready to attack, the enemy also requiring time to arrange their ranks. My thousand men, deployed in three ranks, formed the right wing of our formation of heavy horsemen, with the centre comprising Orodes and his two hundred and fifty men, Atrax and his seven hundred and my father and his five hundred-strong bodyguard. The left wing was made up of Hatra’s other thousand cataphracts. Horses shuffled nervously in the ranks as the two wings closed up on the centre to present an unbroken line of armoured horsemen that extended for over a mile.

I turned to Gallia.

‘Take your Amazons to the rear and link up with Babylon’s royal guard. They and you will be our reserve.’

She nudged Epona forward, her face enclosed by the fastened cheek guards of her helmet, her hair plaited behind her back.

‘Take care, Pacorus.’

I smiled and laid my hand on hers. ‘It is Narses who should take care. This will not take long. Tonight we feast in Susa.’

She nodded, wheeled Epona away and the Amazons followed. I rode through the ranks of my men with Vagharsh carrying my banner behind me. I halted Remus in front of the first rank and faced my men.

‘Soldiers of Dura,’ I shouted. ‘We have come a long way together these past few years, shared hardships and won many great victories. Now we must win one more battle to rid the world of Mithridates and Narses who stand but a short distance from us. Show the enemy no pity, no mercy, just as they have shown no mercy to you in the past. Remember those friends you have lost and remember Godarz. Above all remember that victory today will bring peace to the empire and unite it under Orodes, the rightful king of kings. Today we fight to liberate Parthia from tyranny. I know you will not fail me, my brothers. So let us fight for our friends, our families and for Parthia.

‘Death to Narses.’

They raised their lances and began cheering and chanting ‘death to Narses, death to Narses,’ and then across no-man’s land I heard massed horn blasts and turned to see that Narses was advancing.

Vagharsh retreated to the second rank as I took my position in the middle of the first line and then we also moved forward. We were around five hundred paces from Narses, perhaps more, the distance rapidly decreasing as both sides walked their horses forward and then broke into a trot. My men pulled their helmets down to cover their faces and then levelled their lances as the horses broke into a canter, the men maintaining their lines just as they had done a hundred times on the training fields.

In the charge the distance between the two sides closes alarming as both sides move into a gallop and then the final charge, riders screaming their war cries as they attempt to skewer an opponent with their lances. So it was now as both sides hit each other to produce a sickening scraping noise as kontus points were plunged into targets. When two lines of heavy cavalry charge each other both sides are equally matched in terms of momentum, armour protection, weaponry and length of lances, but the side that holds its nerve and is better trained will triumph. In such an armoured clash every Duran cataphract was taught to ride directly at the head of an enemy horse, and at the moment before impact to direct his horse to the right so the animal would pass by the right-hand side of the hostile rider, the opposite side on which an enemy soldier held his lance, at the same time raising his own lance to shoulder height before plunging it into the torso of the enemy horseman. In such a way Dura’s finest would spear their opponents while at the same time avoid being skewered themselves. Such a manoeuvre took many months for even an accomplished horseman to perfect, but Dura’s cataphracts were unequalled in the empire when it came to training, discipline and battle experience. Train hard, fight easy.

I directed Remus against a horseman, veered him right, brought up my kontus and then plunged it into the target, the long point easily piercing the man’s scale armour. Remus’ momentum meant the shaft continued to disappear into his chest half its length, swatting him from his saddle before I released. I grabbed my mace to swing it at a kontus that was being aimed at me by a rider in the enemy’s second rank. I managed to deflect the blow as the horseman passed me and I swung my mace at his helmet, but he ducked, released his lance and in one slick movement drew his sword and directed a backswing at me that glanced off my leg armour. Then I was behind the enemy lines, which appeared to have been two ranks only.

I wheeled Remus around and rejoined the mêlée — a frenzied maelstrom of mace, axe and sword blows. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the great yellow banner of Narses to my right and so I dug my knees into Remus who bolted forward. I raised my mace above my head as I closed on the figure of Narses who was finishing off a horseman with his sword, driving its point through the victim’s exposed neck. He whooped in delight as the man fell from his horse and had just enough time to turn to see me attack him, striking his armourless left arm with my mace. He yelped in pain as I passed him, brought Remus to a halt and wheeled him around. As I did I was surprised to see that Narses had followed and now swung his sword at me, the blade striking my arm armour and denting it. Then he was beside me and we were attacking each other with a superhuman rage, oblivious to what was happening around us. He moved his sword with the deftness of a juggler throwing a ball, one horizontal cut knocking the mace from my hand. I drew my sword and swung it at his head but missed. He kept his horse moving around Remus, aiming a series of downward swinging cuts with his sword at my neck and face, the only exposed parts of my body.

But by now the yellow sleeve of his left arm was soaked in blood and his movements were more laboured as I aimed a vertical cut at his helmet in an attempt to split it. He brought up his sword to stop the blow and then flicked his wrist to swing his blade horizontally at me. The point of his sword nicked my neck as it passed in front of me, but before he could aim another blow I instinctively thrust my sword forward and drove it through his neck. I yanked it free and he toppled onto the ground. Narses was dead!

‘Narses is dead, Narses is dead!’ I screamed, holding my sword aloft in triumph.

No one heard me as I looked around to see hundreds of men engaged in their own personal combat, hacking and stabbing at each other, trying to find weak spots in their opponent’s armour. As I sat on Remus panting and soaked in sweat I saw small groups of horsemen with yellow sleeves leaving the mêlée and falling back. The enemy was breaking; victory was ours.

Vagharsh came through the fighting with an escort of my men and rode up to me. I pointed at the dead body of Narses lying on the ground and spat at it.

‘Behold, the King of Persis and Parthia’s lord high general.’

More and more enemy horsemen were now fleeing and around us horns were sounding to reassemble the ranks.

‘Congratulations, lord,’ beamed Vagharsh, who also spat on the body of Narses.

Then Orodes appeared, his leg and arm armour looking as though it had been struck many times by a large hammer. He stared at my bleeding neck with alarm.

‘You are hurt, Pacorus.’

The elation of killing Narses had blocked out all other feelings, including pain, so I slid my sword into its scabbard and felt my neck. The wound was not deep and I felt nothing, though my neck was smeared with blood. It obviously looked worse than it was.

‘Just a scratch. Narses is dead, Orodes.’

He looked down at the corpse on the ground, slid off his horse and knelt beside it. He turned it over, ripped off its helmet and sighed.

He looked up at me. ‘It is not Narses, Pacorus; it is his eldest son, Nereus.’

The energy drained from me and suddenly my neck ached with a vengeance.

‘Are you sure?’ I said, but looking at the blood-smeared face I knew the answer before he spoke. Despite its fair hair, broad forehead and powerful frame I could see that it was the face of a young man.

He stood up and I helped him regain his saddle.

‘I’m afraid Narses is elsewhere on the battlefield,’ he said.

‘Perhaps with those,’ offered Vagharsh, who was looking south at a great mass of horsemen approaching our position. They were around six or seven hundred paces away and moving at a steady pace as the remnants of the enemy’s heavy cavalry passed through their ranks. We may have defeated the opposition’s heavy horsemen but now faced being assaulted by a great many more mounted spearmen. These riders were Mithridates’ men judging by the huge banners fluttering among their ranks showing an eagle clutching a snake in its talons. Carrying round, red-painted shields and protected by leather armour around their torsos and helmets on their heads, at close quarters they were no match for cataphracts. However, we had lost our lances in the charge, had suffered losses and they outnumbered us by at least two to one.

As the men reformed their ranks behind us in preparation for another charge my father appeared with his bodyguard, Atrax alongside him.

‘Greetings, father, it is good to see you safe.’

He noticed my wound. ‘You are hurt.’

‘It is nothing.’

He then pointed with his sword at the approaching spearmen.

‘We must advance to meet those horsemen otherwise they will infiltrate our centre.’

‘I agree,’ said Orodes.

The kings dispersed and took up our positions in the front ranks of our men once more. We began to move forward but then a great mass of horsemen appeared on our left flank, moving across our front towards the enemy. In front of them fluttered the banner of a silver lion on a red background — Surena. We called a halt as his archers began shooting arrows at Mithridates’ men. The latter may have been wearing protection on their heads and torsos but they were wearing green tunics and brown leggings and thus their arms and legs were completely exposed. Their horses were also unarmoured and within minutes men and animals were hit and falling as Surena’s riders unleashed an arrow storm against them. Each rider was shooting up to five arrows a minute and there appeared to be at least three thousand horsemen under Surena’s command: two hundred and fifty arrows a second were being shot at the enemy.

The missile deluge immediately halted the advance of the spearmen, the front ranks being thinned considerably before they about-faced and retreated out of arrow range. Surena’s companies kept their cohesion and also fell back to a position around four hundred paces in front of us. He galloped across to me and saluted. I laughed.

‘You don’t have to salute me. You really must get used to being a king, Surena, but your presence is most welcome.’

‘Thank you, lord.’

‘What is the situation on the left?’

‘Lord Vistaspa has the measure of the enemy. We have more men than they do so when we advance they retreat, and when we fall back to entice them into a trap they advance but do not take the bait. Lord Vistaspa sent me to support you when he saw the spearmen advance.’

Once more the kings gathered around me to assess the situation. Dead horses and their riders lay around us as the order was given to fall back to our initial positions.

My father slammed his sword back in its scabbard. ‘Stalemate!’

He turned to me. ‘What is happening on the right wing?’

I had no idea, so after thanking Surena for his assistance I decided to ride over to where the legions and Babylonians were deployed to see for myself.

Judging by the sun’s position in the sky it was now late afternoon and in the centre and on our left wing the opposing armies remained in approximately the same position they had occupied before the fighting had begun. As I galloped across to the right wing I discovered a similar situation. The Durans and the Exiles were now each deployed in two lines, extending from the river inland, the Babylonians having withdrawn to take up position behind the Exiles. I could see arrows being shot from the ranks of the two huge blocks of enemy spearmen opposite the legions, the missiles arching into the sky before falling on the locked shields of the legionaries. And from within the ranks of the latter Marcus’ ballista were hard at work.

I found Domitus a hundred paces behind the second line of cohorts in conversation with Kronos, Marcus and a group of Babylonian officers, the latter trotting past me back to their men as I slid off Remus’ back in front of my senior commanders.

‘What is happening?’ I asked.

Domitus pointed at the Babylonians. ‘We had to pull their men back behind the Exiles when the enemy opposite began hurling arrows and sling shots at us. They took a fearful amount of punishment before we managed to rearrange our lines, though.’

‘The Babylonians have lost over a thousand men,’ added Kronos.

‘That many?’ I was amazed.

Domitus spat on the ground. ‘The enemy are no fools. They brought forward their archers and concentrated their arrows against the Babylonians, hardly gave us any attention at first. Just poured volley after volley at the Babylonians, knowing they would not be able to lock their shields as we do. Within minutes hundreds had been killed or wounded.’

‘We had to pull them back behind our lines and extend the front of the legions to prevent them being destroyed,’ added Kronos.

‘After that most of the enemy archers and slingers pulled back behind their own spearmen,’ said Domitus, ‘though as you can see a few are dispersed among the front ranks.’

I glanced over to where the cohorts stood in their ranks and saw arrows dropping onto their shields. The volume of arrows being discharged by the enemy was not intense but rather desultory.

‘Without the Babylonians we are spread a bit thin,’ continued Domitus.

‘Why don’t they attack?’ I asked.

‘They too have lost a lot of men,’ replied Kronos. ‘I doubt they have the will to get to grips with the legions.’

I was confused. ‘How so?’

Domitus nodded towards Marcus who had a self-satisfied grin on his face.

‘After their arrow storm and our reorganisation we brought forward Marcus’ machines and placed them in the front line and allocated them their own details of shield bearers for protection. They have been shooting for over an hour now.’

‘And doing very nicely,’ added Marcus.

His smaller ballista usually shot iron-tipped bolts that were three and half feet long or small stones and iron balls, but during the past few months Marcus and Arsam had been working on new missiles for the machines. This was the first campaign in which they had been used and the results were most promising. Marcus called them ‘shield piercers’, these eighteen-inch long arrow darts that were made from ash and had iron tips. Designed to punch through shields and armour, they had thinner fore shafts to aid penetration and short, stubby fins made from maple that were glued into grooves cut in the rear of the ash shaft. Light and compact, they had a range of around four hundred yards and their great velocity meant they could punch through wicker shields with ease. Each of Marcus’ dozen ballista could fire up to four darts a minute and thus far had fired nearly three thousand of them at the packed ranks of the enemy, though he had now reduced each ballista’s rate of fire to one bolt a minute to conserve ammunition.

‘And they are standing in their ranks and taking such punishment?’ I asked incredulously.

‘Narses does not care about the lives of his soldiers as you do,’ said Domitus. ‘The problem we have is that even with three thousands of them dead and wounded…’

‘Oh, they will be dead,’ interrupted Marcus.

Domitus tilted his head at him and continued. ‘Even with three thousand of them dead I reckon there are still a few thousand left, to say nothing of their slingers and archers.’

‘What about Duran losses?’ I asked.

‘Four wounded thus far,’ replied Kronos.

I was tempted to order an all-out attack by the legions against Narses’ spearmen but it was getting late and the men had been standing in their ranks for hours and would be fatigued. So I commanded Marcus to order his machines to halt their shooting to see what reaction it would have on the enemy. The result was that their archers and slingers also stopped their activity and so the legionaries were at last able to rest their shields on the ground as both sides observed each other warily across no man’s land. Parties were sent to the river to fill water bottles as the enemy spearmen inched back towards the date palm grove to increase the distance between them and Marcus’ killing machines.

Thus did a cessation of fighting take place across the whole battlefield. It had been a disappointing end to a day that had begun with so much promise.

Dura’s camp was sited some five hundred paces to the rear of the legions’ battle line. While archers and slingers were shooting at the legionaries the squires and civilian drivers had been busy digging a ditch and using the earth to erect a rampart immediately behind it. As the legions marched back to camp they were finishing driving stakes into the rampart to create the palisade. The legionaries erected their tents as Strabo oversaw the stabling of the horses and camels within the camp’s perimeter. The camp’s western entrance was located next to the river and so Strabo organised the watering of the animals while Marcus assigned parties of legionaries to fetch water for human consumption further upstream from where the animals were drinking, pissing and spreading their dung.

I sent couriers to the other kings inviting them to bring their own men into camp but they declined.

‘Probably for the best,’ remarked Marcus as he sat in a chair in my command tent. ‘It would be a very crowded camp with the forces of the other kings inside.’

After Alcaeus had bandaged my neck I had called a council of war to take stock of our situation after the day’s inconclusive fighting. At least the reports were heartening. Vagises and his horse archers had seen almost no fighting though much riding to and fro as Vistaspa sought to outmanoeuvre the enemy’s horse archers. The only casualties he suffered were a handful of men with broken legs as a result of being thrown from their horses. Gallia had, mercifully, spent the whole day immobile, sweating in her armour and helmet along with the unused reserve of her Amazons and Babylon’s five hundred royal guards. I already knew that casualties among the legions were insignificant and so the heaviest losses were among my cataphracts — fifteen dead and twenty wounded. Normally these figures would be a cause for celebration after a battle but all the faces round the table wore expressions of indifference, with the exception of Marcus, who was delighted with the success of his ‘shield piercers’.

‘Mithridates and Narses will be happier than we are,’ said Domitus, yawning. ‘They have essentially fought us to a standstill.’

‘But have lost most of their cataphracts in the process as well as Narses’ own son,’ I said.

‘They still have a lot of horsemen left,’ remarked Vagises.

‘The legions should attack first thing tomorrow, Pacorus,’ said Domitus. ‘That might stiffen the resolve of the Babylonians. I doubt they will be able to withstand another day of being pelted with arrows and stones, and we cannot protect them and fight the enemy at the same time.’

It made sense. In terms of equipment, training and tactics the Babylonian foot were second rate compared to the legions.

‘How many enemy spearmen did you face today?’ I asked Domitus.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Thirty, forty thousand.’

I was surprised. ‘That many?’

‘Plus archers and slingers,’ added Kronos.

‘After we get to grips with them at close quarters numbers won’t matter,’ said Domitus. ‘But what we don’t want is another day standing around under a hail of arrows and stones.’

Kronos nodded in agreement and Marcus looked disappointed, no doubt eager to unleash his new invention against the enemy once more.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow we attack.’

Two hours later I received an invitation from Orodes to attend a meeting of the kings in his camp. It must have been nearly midnight when I left my tent to ride to the Babylonian camp located next to Dura’s army, a vast, disorganised sprawl of tents, corrals, wagons and temporary stables that stretched into the distance. And beyond the Babylonians were the tents of Hatra, Media and finally Gordyene, the latter encompassed within a square earth rampart like my own. To the south the campfires of the enemy dotted the landscape to resemble a multitude of stars that had fallen to earth. It was clear that the enemy was also determined to fight on the morrow.

When I arrived at Orodes’ tent I found the other kings already there. Atrax nodded to me as he filled a cup with wine and then limped back to his chair. My father looked angry and Surena tired as I greeted them. Orodes held out a full cup for me to take. He appeared to be his usual unruffled self. We sat in a circle as Vistaspa, who appeared remarkably fresh considering his age, recounted the day’s events. His horse archers on the left wing had achieved little save stopping the enemy horse archers directly opposite influencing the battle. Surena’s intervention had halted the charge of the enemy’s mounted spearmen against our cataphracts, who had engaged and destroyed the enemy’s heavy horsemen, the son of Narses having been killed in that particular engagement. Vistaspa smiled at me as he relayed this news. To complete the debriefing I informed them that my legions had initially been subjected to an enemy missile storm that had proved ineffective.

‘Though at a cost of over a thousand Babylonian dead, I am sorry to say,’ reported Orodes.

Fortunately the other kings reported minor losses among their contingents, which meant that hostilities could be continued with the coming of the new dawn.

‘We must attack the enemy along the whole line tomorrow,’ I stated.

‘I agree,’ said my father. ‘We must finish this once and for all.’

‘Then my suggestion,’ I continued, ‘is for the legions to attack on the right to shatter the enemy’s left wing. After Narses’ foot soldiers have been destroyed my men will advance on Susa.’

‘The cataphracts will drive through the enemy’s centre,’ added my father, ‘with Vistaspa once again deployed on the left with the horse archers.’

‘With their left and centre destroyed,’ I continued, ‘the enemy’s horse archers will either have to intervene or flee.’

‘It is strange that the enemy remained on the defensive despite their superiority in numbers,’ mused Surena.

‘Narses is obviously not the great general he thought he was,’ was my father’s only comment.

By the time I had ridden back to camp, unsaddled Remus and walked to my tent there were only four hours of the night left. The tents were filled with sleeping men and it was ominously quiet. I slipped into my tent’s bedchamber and lay beside a sleeping Gallia, then stared at the ceiling and heard Surena’s voice. Why had the enemy remained on the defensive? I dismissed them from my mind.

When the dawn came the armies once more marched out to take up their battle positions, the legions deploying in two lines to extend their frontage, their right flank again anchored on the river and the Babylonians once more massed on their left. It took two hours before the latter were in their positions, during which time the two great masses of enemy spearmen once again filtered through the neat rows of the great date palm grove to face the Durans, Exiles and Babylonians. In the centre armoured riders gathered around the kings once more, while on the left Vistaspa gathered his contingents of horse archers.

The day was again dry and sunny, though there was no wind and the temperature was already rapidly rising despite the early hour. The area presented a grisly spectacle as the dead from yesterday’s fighting still lay on the ground where they had fallen, the deployment of the two armies at first scattering the hordes of crows, buzzards and vultures that had been having a feast for breakfast, who then returned to their meal as both sides halted and dressed their lines. The birds pecked at the skulls of fallen soldiers and tore at the flesh of slain horses as they gorged themselves on the dead flesh in no man’s land.

Once more I sweated in my scale armour as Gallia and I joined the other monarchs. In the centre of the battle line I could see small groups of enemy cataphracts directly opposite, perhaps five hundred in total, in between the mounted spearmen who now made up the bulk of the enemy’s centre. And once again the opposition’s horse archers flooded the valley to face Vistaspa’s horsemen on our left wing.

Again the infernal din of kettledrums began to fill the air as the enemy spearmen opposite the legions began cheering and banging their spear shafts against their wicker shields.

‘They attempt to intimidate your foot soldiers, Pacorus,’ remarked my father.

‘It will take more than a bit of noise to frighten them, father.’

‘They outnumber your men, Pacorus,’ said Atrax with concern.

He was right. More and more spearmen were gathering in front of the Durans and Exiles and the purple ranks of the Babylonians grouped on their left. Most of the enemy spearmen were wearing the yellow of Narses, the soldiers who faced the Babylonians carrying white shields and wearing black uniforms — the troops of Mithridates.

I smiled at Atrax. ‘It is not the size of the gladiator in a fight, Atrax, but the size of the fight in the gladiator.’

Gallia laughed and Atrax looked confused. My father shook his head.

‘You are certain your foot soldiers can defeat the enemy’s?’ he asked.

‘Quite certain, father.’

‘They have done so on many occasions,’ added Orodes.

My father tilted his head at Orodes in recognition of his high status. It was now the turn of the king of kings to speak.

‘When Domitus begins to push them back, Pacorus, we will shatter their centre. With their left wing and centre destroyed the enemy will be forced to withdraw back to Susa.’

He looked at Gallia and smiled.

‘I would ask you again to lead the reserve this day, Gallia.’

She smiled at him and nodded, and then came a great cheer came from the right and I was astonished to see the enemy spearmen advancing to attack the legions, their great wicker shields presenting a long wall of yellow and white as they marched at a steady pace towards my men.

‘Looks like the enemy has a death wish,’ remarked Gafarn casually as we all watched transfixed by the great drama that was about to take place on the right flank.

Trumpet blasts sounded from the ranks of the legions and then the whole of the first line — ten cohorts of Durans and Exiles — ran forward, the first five ranks hurling their javelins at the oncoming spearmen. The latter also charged and seconds later a sound like the splintering of wood reached our ears as both sides collided. From our viewpoint it appeared as if time had frozen as the great press of soldiers suddenly became immobile, but the sounds of cheers and screams revealed that in the centre of the great mass slaughter was being done. The wicker shields of the enemy were large and thick, capable of withstanding an arrow and spear strike, but they were unwieldy in the mêlée and became more so when a javelin was lodged in them, further adding to their weight. And the legionaries could use their shield bosses to barge aside enemy spears to stab at enemy faces and necks with their short shorts.

The front ranks of the enemy spearmen had been thinned by the storm of javelins in the first charge, the survivors subsequently being cut to pieces by gladius blades. Soon the legionaries were stepping over the bodies of dead spearmen to get at those behind as the enemy started to crumple. We sat on our horses like members of the audience in the best seats at a play as the tragedy of the enemy’s spearmen was enacted. And above the grim sounds of battle could be heard a rhythmic chant, one that I had heard many times before but which never failed to set my pulse racing. We heard ‘Dura, Dura’ as the legionaries herded the enemy back, back towards the date palm as they chopped the wicker shields in front of them to pieces. The enemy was faltering now, and then I heard fresh trumpet blasts and the first line of the Durans began to wheel left as the cohorts in the second line behind began to form into columns. The Exiles halted their advance as the Duran front line continued to turn like a great door swinging open towards the river, and into the gap created by this turning movement flooded the columns of the second line. Only the best-trained soldiers in the world could attempt such a manoeuvre in battle as the front-line cohorts shoved the spearmen before them towards the water. Around a quarter of the enemy spearmen were being forced into the deep waters of the Karkheh.

Hundreds drowned as they were pushed into the river, unable to flee because of the dense press of men around them. Groups of spearmen in the rear ranks began to run away as the enemy’s cohesion began to crumble, but for those in front of the Durans there was no escape as they were either cut down by swords or pushed into the river and drowned. It was marvellous to behold.

We all cheered and my father turned and gave the signal to his horsemen deployed a hundred paces behind us, who began to walk their horses forward. Behind them the Duran and Median heavy horsemen also began to advance preparatory to the charge while Orodes’ bodyguard closed around him. I also gave the signal to my men to move forward. All that remained was for the enemy horsemen opposite to be scattered and the day would be ours.

And then the Babylonians broke.

Having lost a thousand men the day before the morale of Babylon’s foot soldiers was shaky at best. I had hoped that the guaranteed success of the legions deployed on their right wing would stiffen their resolve but I was wrong. In the initial clash they again suffered heavy casualties and began to falter, then were forced back as the Exiles next to them advanced. Within no time they were fighting their own private battle and losing it, made worse by the deluge of arrows and stones that was being directed at them by enemy archers and slingers whose commanders, learning from the previous day, realised that the missiles of their men would be more effective against the Babylonians rather than the legions. Then enemy spearmen began to envelop them to attack their flanks and so they broke and fled to the rear. Fortunately Kronos had been alert to the danger and had turned the cohort on the extreme left of his second line through ninety degrees to provide protection for his now exposed flank. Frantic trumpet commands and whistles brought the Exiles to a halt, which were reciprocated among the ranks of the Durans as Domitus also realised that something was awry. The advance stopped and then the legions disengaged and began to inch backwards.

‘Gallia,’ I said, ‘you and your reserve are with me. We must assist the Babylonians.’

Small groups of the latter were attempting to make a stand but were being methodically surrounded and cut down by enemy spearmen who, I had to admit, were maintaining their discipline. Nevertheless there were around five thousand enemy troops advancing towards our rear where our camps and all their supplies were located.

‘Do you need your cataphracts, Pacorus?’ asked Orodes, pained by the plight of his foot soldiers giving way.

I shook my head. ‘No, I can stabilise the situation long enough for Domitus to seal the gap in the line.’

‘There is little point in assaulting their centre now,’ said my father.

He was right: the enemy’s left wing was still intact albeit sorely depleted. Archers had now come forward to pepper the withdrawing legions with arrows, though they inflicted few casualties. As Dura’s foot soldiers fell back they revealed a ground that was literally carpeted in dead. How many soldiers did Narses have?

I pulled my sword from its scabbard just as Byrd and Malik brought their horses to a halt behind the kings.

‘Second army come,’ announced Byrd.

My father turned in his saddle. ‘What did you say?’

‘It is true, lord,’ said Malik. ‘Another army is approaching from the northern end of the valley. Horse archers leading a great number of tribesmen.’

‘How many?’ asked Orodes.

Byrd looked at him. ‘Tens of thousands.’

The valleys of the Zagros Mountains were dotted with villages and smaller settlements that had existed since before the empire. Ruled by tribal chieftains, these villages owed allegiance to no king in a faraway city and their inhabitants spent most of their time raiding other villages and settling blood feuds. The Persians and then the Greeks had tried to subdue them and failed, and it had been the same with the Parthians. However, all these races had discovered that the hill tribes could be enlisted as allies easily enough if they had enough gold to pay them. Mithridates had obviously used some of the gold he had shipped from Ctesiphon to recruit these wild people to his cause. Armed with an assortment of axes, spears, clubs and knives they usually wore no armour or head protection, their only defence being a small shield.

‘The Babylonians still need our assistance,’ I said.

‘Hatra’s horsemen will deal with the hill men,’ stated my father.

‘You do not know how many there are, father.’

He smiled. ‘As you yourself said, Pacorus, it is size of the fight in the man that counts.’

The next few minutes were organised chaos as a rider was sent to Vistaspa ordering that Dura’s and Hatra’s horse archers to redeploy north of the campsites to form up with my father’s armoured riders to assault the approaching enemy. Meanwhile Orodes would lead the rest of the cataphracts against the horsemen in the enemy’s centre and Gallia and I would assault the spearmen who had routed the Babylonians. Surena and Media’s archers remained on the left wing to contain the enemy’s horse archers. I reached over and shook my father’s hand and then Gafarn’s as the Amazons and Babylon’s royal guard began trotting towards our right wing.

Gallia rode beside me, the Amazons in a long line behind together with Vagharsh carrying my banner, as we broke into a gallop and headed towards the phalanx of enemy spearmen that was advancing towards the Babylonian camp. Most of the Babylonian spearmen had either been killed or had sought refuge in Dura’s camp, whose ramparts were at least guarded by squires and their bows.

The enemy spearmen had spotted the body of horsemen coming towards them and had halted to assume an all-round defensive posture — shields rested on the ground and spears pointed at us at an angle of forty-five degrees. The Babylonian horsemen slowed and then halted as the Amazons deployed into five widely spaced columns that galloped to within a hundred paces of the densely packed square of spearmen, before each rider shot her bow before wheeling sharply right and right again to ride to the rear of the column. In this way a steady volley of arrows was unleashed against the spearmen, the arrows arching into the sky before falling among the spearmen. It was useless to strike the shields because the wicker and leather facing was too thick, and so the arrows were shot upwards to fall out of the sky and hopefully strike necks and faces. A hundred archers did not have enough arrows to cause many casualties among so many spearmen but they were numerous enough to bring them to a halt.

As the Amazons amused themselves with target practice, the Babylonian horsemen deployed around my wife’s fighters acting as a guard, I rode across the field to where the legions had pulled back to their original positions. I had to take a wide detour to reach them as the phalanx of enemy spearmen was actually behind the left wing of the Exiles.

I saw a cohort of the Durans running back to camp as I rode up to Domitus who was speaking to Kronos. They raised their hands when they saw me.

Domitus pointed over to where the block of enemy spearmen stood.

‘You stopped them, then?’

‘Gallia and the Amazons are keeping them entertained.’

‘I’ve sent to men to fetch Marcus and his machines,’ said Domitus. ‘They can finish them off.’

‘There has been an unfortunate development, my friends,’ I told them. ‘Another enemy army is approaching from the north.’

Kronos and Domitus looked at each other.

‘My father’s takes his army to deal with it,’ I reassured them. ‘In the meantime remain on the defensive here.’

I looked to where the legions had battled the spearmen. Not only was the ground blanketed with bodies but there also were enemy dead floating in the river.

I nodded towards the grim harvest. ‘Excellent work.’

‘We would have been in Susa by now if the Babylonians had not collapsed,’ remarked Kronos bitterly.

‘Can’t help that,’ I replied. ‘We may still win the day.’

I saw wagons leaving the camp and heading towards us — Marcus and his ballista.

‘Make sure none escape,’ I ordered. ‘The more enemy we kill today the less we have to face tomorrow.’

Kronos was shocked. ‘You think the battle will extend into a third day?’

‘I’m sure of it. The enemy seems to have an inexhaustible supply of soldiers.’

‘Whereas we do not,’ said Domitus grimly.

I did not bother to ask about the size of our losses as I raised a hand to them and rode back to Gallia whose women had ceased their shooting.

‘We are out of arrows,’ she said frustratingly.

I looked at the phalanx of spearmen that were now rooted to the spot.

I smiled at her. ‘Do not worry. Marcus brings his ballista to thin their ranks. You have done what was required.’

I heard horn blasts and the low rumble of thousands of hooves churning up the ground and turned to see Orodes and the cataphracts smashing into the enemy’s centre, followed by a loud crunching noise as the heavy horsemen struck.

I smiled. The day may still be ours.

With the Babylonian guards we rode back to where the camel trains holding spare ammunition were located to the rear of our left wing. When Orodes had charged Surena had launched the horse archers against those on the enemy’s right wing, inflicting many casualties but his men also suffered significant losses. Now he too rode to the camels with his men to acquire fresh quivers. Meanwhile, to the north of our camps, my father and Vistaspa led over eleven thousand horsemen against the Zagros hordes.

Surena’s lion banner fluttered behind him as he rode over to Gallia and me, his men being handed full quivers by the camel drivers whose beasts were sitting on the ground.

‘The Medians holds the line while we restock our quivers, lord. The enemy has suffered many losses and falls back.’

‘What losses have you suffered?’ I asked him.

He looked pensive. ‘We also have many empty saddles, lord. Atrax’s men charged most valiantly and suffered the most.’

Gallia and the Amazons received fresh quivers from Dura’s camel train as a lull descended over our left wing. After we had replenished our stocks of arrows she and I rode with Surena to where Media’s horse archers were deployed in their companies in a long line that extended for at least half a mile eastwards. In front of them stretching south the ground was littered with dead men and horses, many of the corpses resembling pin cushions so many arrows did they have in them. In the distance, well out of bow range, enemy horse archers were being attacked by Orodes’ companies who were wheeling left to strike the enemy horsemen’s right flank.

I nodded. ‘Orodes has destroyed the enemy’s centre.’

Now it was time to send forward Surena and his horse archers to support Orodes to complete the rout of the enemy’s centre and right wing. After that the legions could attack once more to finally destroy the enemy foot soldiers in front of the date palm grove. We finally had victory within our grasp.

‘Can you hear that?’

I looked at Gallia who was sitting up in her saddle trying to look over the heads of the Amazons behind her. Then I heard the sound, an ominous rumble of thousands of cheering voices. Remus stirred nervously and I also became aware that the ground was shaking. Surena looked at me with concern and I knew that the battle was about to take another twist.

All thoughts of reinforcing Orodes disappeared as Surena, Gallia and I led Gordyene’s horse archers through the camel train to where my father’s men were battling the hill men. What I saw took my breath away.

As we halted and the horse archers formed into their companies behind us the land to the north of our position was filled with hill men being led by groups of horse archers. Directly ahead of us my father’s horsemen had driven deep into the enemy ranks and were now scything down the hill men around them. My father and Gafarn led over eleven thousand men against these heathens, but were vastly outnumbered by an enemy that now seemed certain to overwhelm them. Looking left and right I estimated that each formation of enemy horsemen numbered around a thousand men, and behind them came more than that number of hill men on foot.

Either side of my father’s army I counted ten such groups of horsemen — twenty thousand horse archers — not counting the ones that the Hatrans were fighting. If each one was accompanied by three times that number of hill men then there were at least eighty thousand enemy troops heading our way!

I turned to Surena. ‘We must aid my father else he will be surrounded.’

‘Yes, lord.’

He gave the command to his officers to prepare to charge as I passed word to the Babylonians to move forward as my father’s horsemen disappeared among an ocean of hill men. The enemy now surrounded them. Something caught my eye on the right and I saw two enemy groups peeling off to head towards Surena’s camp.

‘Surena,’ I called, pointing towards his camp, ‘who is still in your camp?’

‘Farriers, grooms, veterinaries, the wounded; four hundred or so.’

The enemy, who would butcher all those inside, would soon overrun his camp. Surena’s camel train and its drivers were located behind us, along with the camels of Hatra and Dura. The only chance of saving those inside the camp was to evacuate them via the western entrance and get them inside Dura’s camp, whose ramparts were manned by squires armed with bows.

‘Send a thousand of your men to intercept those soldiers heading for your camp,’ I ordered him, forgetting he was a king, ‘otherwise they will be slaughtered.’

He nodded and called forward one of his officers who then rode back to his men. Within minutes a thousand riders were galloping to intercept the enemy before they reached the camp.

‘Gallia,’ I shouted, ‘get the camel trains back to our camp. Take the Babylonians with you.’

She pointed her bow ahead. ‘I would rather fight that horde.’

‘Do as you are told,’ I shouted. ‘The battle hangs in the balance and I don’t have time to argue with you.’

She did not respond but tugged savagely on Epona’s reins to wheel her away, followed by the Amazons. I nodded at Surena who dug his knees into his horse to urge it forward. Behind us seven thousand horse archers from Gordyene galloped forward to save my father.

The air was thick with arrows as we charged among the enemy masses. The enemy horse archers broke left and right to avoid our arrowhead formation but the hill men were not so lucky. As we galloped forward the front ranks shot arrows in quick succession at those men on foot before us. The hill men had little discipline and fought as part of a rabble, relying on weight of numbers to overwhelm an opponent. Against disciplined soldiers in formation they were easy meat. Most tried to get out of our way, scattering left and right, though others attempted to make a stand and formed a ragged shield wall in front of our charge. Loosing up to seven arrows a minute we shot their flimsy defences to pieces before we reached them, and then we were through them to reach the Hatrans.

Surena rode off to order his men to deploy left and right behind my father’s troops to create a corridor of horsemen along which the Hatrans could withdraw.

I rode forward past companies of Hatran horse archers who were darting at the hill men with their swords drawn, obviously out of arrows. The enemy horse archers deployed behind the seething mass of hill men still had ammunition, however, and were thinning Hatran numbers with their accurate shooting. Fortunately this ceased abruptly when Surena’s companies began to shoot back at them, forcing them to retire.

I rode on to where a group of my father’s bodyguard was standing, my father’s banner being held by a dismounted cataphract next to them. I felt a knot in my stomach and knew something was terribly wrong. Other members of my father’s bodyguard faced outwards on their horses to form a cordon around this group, and beyond them the rest of my father’s heavy horsemen were keeping the enemy at bay with their swords, maces and axes, launching short, disciplined charges against the hill men, riding among them to split heads and pierce unarmoured bodies, before withdrawing to reform.

I rode up to the group of men on foot and slid off Remus’ back. They recognised me and parted, bowing their heads as they stepped aside, and then my knees nearly gave way. Lying on the ground in front of me, being cradled by Gafarn, was the bloodstained body of my father. I fell to my knees beside him and looked in despair at the ashen-faced Gafarn.

‘He was pulled from his horse and injured,’ my brother said quietly.

I looked at the blood seeping through the bandages near his left shoulder and realised that his attacker must have delivered the strike under the arm.

My father opened his eyes. ‘Ah, Pacorus.’

His voice was very weak.

I held his right hand, the tears coming to my eyes.

‘I am here, father.’

‘You are king now, my son.’

I felt grief grip my insides. ‘Nonsense. We will get you back to camp, father, to tend to your wound.’

He smiled faintly. ‘Take care of your mother and tell her that I have loved her always and will wait for her.’

He looked at Gafarn, who stared unblinking at our father. ‘You must take care of your brother, my son, for he is apt to get himself into trouble.’

‘I shall, father,’ Gafarn replied, tears running down his cheeks.

‘All will be well,’ my father’s voice was very faint, ‘Shamash be with you.’

My father’s eyes remained open but they were lifeless as they stared into the blue sky. As tears blurred my sight I closed his eyes with my hand and kissed his forehead. I had been unaware of Vistaspa’s presence but now I saw him standing at my father’s feet holding his head in his hands, sobbing like a small child. Thus died Varaz, King of Hatra, and son of Sames. The others around us stood with their heads bowed in stunned silence as Gafarn gently laid my father on the ground and covered his body with his cloak.

With difficulty I rose to my feet and took a few paces to be by Gafarn’s side. I took his arm and raised it aloft.

‘The king is dead. Long live the king, Gafarn, King of Hatra.’

As one they shouted. ‘Hail King Gafarn.’

Gafarn looked at me with tears still coursing down his cheeks. ‘What madness is this?’

‘No madness, brother. I relinquish my claim to Hatra’s throne. You are now its king. Rule long and wisely.’

An arrow slammed into the ground at our feet and I became aware once more of the sounds of battles raging all around us.

‘Our grief will have to wait, Gafarn. We must get out of this death trap.’

Hatra’s cataphracts, largely immune from the enemy’s arrows, were tiring under the relentless onslaught of the hill men, their dead piled high around the ring of Hatran steel. A stretcher was fashioned from lengths of broken kontus shafts and then four of my father’s bodyguard carried their king’s body back to my camp. His heavy cavalry formed a rear guard as Surena’s horse archers poured withering volleys into the enemy mass. Mercifully the enemy horse archers had stopped their shooting, having expended their own supply of arrows, thus enabling us to escape relatively unscathed.

I rode in the rear guard alongside Vistaspa, who in his grief seemed determined to get himself killed. As companies of heavy horsemen formed into arrowhead formation and charged at groups of hill men, riding among them, slashing at them with swords and maces, moving at all times to prevent the exposed legs of their horses being cut by enemy blades, before turning and withdrawing, Vistaspa rode at an enemy group on his own.

There were a dozen of them, great hairy brutes stripped to the waist and carrying two-handed axes that they swung as though they were feathers. He rode straight at them, initially scattering them and then splitting one of their skulls with a back slash of his sword as he passed. But they chased after him and when he attempted to turn around when another group barred his way, a heathen in the first group grabbed the reins of his horse. Vistaspa severed the man’s hand with a downward cut of his sword but another axe man swung his weapon into his leg armour, denting the metal and causing Vistaspa to scream in agony and drop his sword. At that moment Surena released his bowstring and shot the man who had tried to sever Vistaspa’s leg, then killed another standing beside him and kept on shooting arrows at his assailants as I rode towards him.

Half of them were dead by the time I reached his side.

‘Lord Vistaspa, I order you to fall back.’ I looked at his dented leg armour that was now covered in blood.

‘Move!’

He nodded and rode away as a crazed hill man, all hair and muscles, ran at me with his giant axe held over his head. I charged and swung my sword at him, lopping off his head with a single stroke. As half a dozen cataphracts rode in front to give me cover, my would-be killer’s headless body lay twitching on the ground.

The enemy halted their attacks and withdrew sharply when Orodes appeared with his companies, having ridden to assist us when word reached him about what had happened. The fighting ceased abruptly as a great column of his men rode north to form a screen to allow the battered soldiers of Hatra to escort their dead king in peace. I dismounted and walked beside his body as it was carried back to camp, Gafarn beside me but saying nothing as we trudged disconsolately along. We were joined by Orodes who was likewise grief stricken.

We walked across ground that was strewn with dead: men, horses and camels, their bodies either ripped open by metal blades or pierced by arrows. Orodes answered the questions that were going through my mind.

‘The hill men sacked Surena’s camp after those inside had been evacuated. Gallia also managed to get many of the camels carrying spare arrows back to your camp, Pacorus, but not all. I am afraid to say that the Hatran, Median and Babylonian camps were also overrun before we forced the enemy back.’

‘There is room in my camp for everyone,’ I said without emotion.

As the long column of horsemen and their exhausted mounts walked to the eastern entrance to the Duran camp the sun began to set in the west, a great yellow ball of fire set against an orange background. I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash that He would welcome my father into heaven and that he would be granted a place of honour at His table, for such a great and wise king deserved it. I opened my eyes as the sound of kettledrums once more sounded in the south.