Companions (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Peter Darman

  ‘Congratulate me, King Pacorus, I have had a vision sent by Apollo.’

  This sounded ominous. ‘I congratulate you, lord king.’

  ‘One of my commanders, who was raised in one of the villages that litter this area, remembered an ancient trail that threads through the forest near here. This trail will allow us to take a shortcut to intercept the enemy.’

  ‘To what end, lord king?’

  He looked nonplussed. ‘To what end? So we can destroy the Romans, of course. If we overtake the enemy and place ourselves in their path then the Romans will be left with two choices: to attempt to seek an alternative route or surrender.’

  ‘Or go through you,’ said Domitus on his other side.

  ‘Nonsense,’ stated Akrosas firmly, ‘you yourself said that the Romans are at the end of their strength, general.’

  Akrosas smiled at me. ‘I would like you and King Decebal to take the horse and follow this trail to halt the Romans and give me time to arrive with the foot soldiers.’

  He turned and waved forward one of his men, a soldier in a brown leather cuirass, gilded helmet and armed with a sword.

  ‘Leon will be your guide.’

  ‘Are you certain of this, lord king?’ I asked.

  ‘Quite certain,’ replied Akrosas firmly. ‘Not only has Apollo sent this divine message it is well known that in war an attacker needs numerical superiority to overcome a defensive position, and we will have both a numerical superiority and a strong defensive position.’

  ‘Perhaps you should tell the Romans that,’ said Domitus.

  Akrosas ignored his barb as I turned my horse and rode back to the mounted warriors in the company of Decebal and Leon. I glanced back and raised a hand to Domitus who nodded in acknowledgement. As Akrosas issued his orders to the officers of his foot soldiers and sent messengers to the Maedi and Bastarnae who were shadowing the Romans, we rode to the horsemen and called together their commanders. Decebal told them in a flat voice of the journey to head off the Romans, which was greeted with universal approval. Afterwards seven hundred riders mounted their horses and followed Leon as he led us towards the thick forest situated on our left flank. One forest looked much the same as another to me but it was good to be out of the sun as we rode two abreast along a barely discernible path that snaked its way between oaks, lime and hornbeam. The forest was lush and verdant, at times dark as the canopy blotted out the light, horses slipping on the greasy ground that never saw the sun. Such stretches brought a welcome relief from the heat as cool air blew in our faces. We splashed through shallow streams filled with mossy boulders and came upon peaceful ash groves that looked as though they had been created at the dawn of time.

  After an hour of riding through a lush wilderness we entered an area of open grassland that narrowed at its midpoint to almost touch the forest opposite. Upon closer inspection the gap was actually around a hundred and fifty paces wide. I could see why Akrosas had been so tempted by this place: deploy soldiers in the gap so they formed a wall of leather and iron to face the Romans. What a pity that he had no soldiers, only ill-armed and poorly disciplined warriors.

  The horsemen dismounted on the orders of Decebal and stood facing the northeast in a line, shields locked together and spears facing towards where the enemy would come from. Men were detailed to take the horses back into the trees so they could enjoy the shade. I called Surena to me and pointed at the warriors filling the narrow gap.

  ‘The kings have decided to destroy the Romans here, Surena. We are the vanguard and hold this place until the foot soldiers arrive. The enemy will have to pass through this gap if they are to continue on their retreat. What is your appraisal of this position?’

  He looked around and at the warriors standing in a ragged line.

  ‘It is a good defensive position, lord, but it will take great determination to hold it against the Romans.’

  ‘I agree, Surena, and it is therefore regrettable that the warriors available to King Akrosas and his fellow kings are no match for the Romans. I fear that the legionaries will break through this position, weakened though they undoubtedly are.’

  ‘Why then do the Thracians and Dacians offer battle, lord?’

  ‘A mixture of pride and vanity,’ I replied. ‘Akrosas believes that this place was revealed to him by Apollo himself, and thus guarantees him victory. But Akrosas has also achieved what no other Greek commander has done in a long time. He has forced a Roman army to flee with its tail between its legs. That is a fine achievement. Now he seeks to destroy that army, which is pure vanity.’

  ‘Did you tell him that?’ enquired Gallia.

  ‘Not in so many words.’

  ‘Which means no,’ she said disapprovingly.

  ‘This is his kingdom, my sweet, not mine.’

  An hour later the rest of the army arrived, Getea warriors wearing woollen leggings tied at the ankles and belted at the waist, their linen tunics drenched in sweat. None wore helmets though a good majority were wearing leather caps, though they would not stop a gladius blow. Their weapons comprised short spears, axes and daggers, their shields a mixture of round and hexagonal shapes. They cheered the soldiers of the king’s bodyguard as their commanders herded them into position. Akrosas insisted that his soldiers should stand in the centre of the battle line as he rode with Domitus to behind the rapidly forming mass. We nudged our horses forward as the Thracian and Dacian horsemen walked back to the trees to collect their mounts. There was a tangible feeling of tension in the air as the Bastarnae, Maedi and Dacian foot arrived and shuffled into position.

  It took a surprisingly little amount of time to fill the gap with the foot. In the middle stood the Getea, two thousand eight hundred of them. On their left stood Radu’s fourteen hundred Bastarnae and on their immediate right were deployed Decebal’s fearsome falxmen, now numbering fifteen hundred men. Next to them, on the army’s right flank, were grouped Draco’s eleven hundred Maedi, all attired in red tunics. The Maedi were also equipped with javelins that comprised the army’s only missile troops.

  When the foot had been deployed Akrosas called the kings together to explain to them the tactics that would be employed.

  ‘The Romans will attack, and like a wave will lap against our breakwater of warriors,’ he declared. ‘All the horsemen will deploy immediately behind the foot, ready to charge the retreating Romans after they have been rudely handled by our foot.’

  Seven and a half thousand men stood in close order in seven or eight ramshackle ranks, the horsemen grouped according to their tribal allegiances. Domitus had ordered Drenis and Arminius to attend him on horseback and now they both sat awkwardly on their mounts behind him as Radu, Draco and Decebal returned to their men, all of them walking to stand in the front rank of their warriors.

  ‘I am glad to see you two,’ I said to Drenis and Arminius.

  ‘I would prefer to be on my own two feet,’ complained Drenis.

  ‘You will obey orders,’ growled Domitus. ‘This has the making of a bloody mess and the king doesn’t want you two among it.’

  Akrosas, sitting on his horse a few paces in front, turned.

  ‘Did you say something, General Domitus?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Akrosas turned his grey stallion. ‘I would consider it an honour, King Pacorus, if you would share joint command of the horsemen with me so that we may enjoy the fruits of victory together.’

  I bowed my head to him. ‘It would be an honour, lord king.’

  There was a sudden ripple of excited chatter among the foot and the clatter of shields and spears being picked up. I looked beyond the battle line to see the sun reflecting off hundreds of helmets and javelin points that spread from left to right to fill the horizon between the trees. Akrosas drew his sword as the warriors on foot began to bang the shafts of their spears against their shields and sing their war songs as they girded themselves for the coming clash. And in the distance the Romans continued their remorseless advance.

  Ch
apter 16

  The Romans called it cuneus, meaning ‘wedge’, a tactic that employed triangular-shaped legionary formations to create or exploit gaps in an enemy battle line. But in the oppressive heat in this verdant part of the Kingdom of the Getea there was no wedge. Instead, Antonius Hybrida launched two cohorts in column formation at converging angles against Akrosas’ men, so that they would both hit his warriors at the same time. The Romans had changed formation with a tremendous thunder of trumpets that spooked our horses and caused a few to bolt from the ranks. To their credit the Thracians and Dacians responded in kind, hollering at the enemy at the tops of their voices as the two great columns, legionaries trotting towards them six abreast, advanced like two hideous giant serpents.

  ‘This is going to end badly,’ I heard Domitus say as the enemy closed to within two hundred paces of the Getea.

  Then, with horror, I saw individuals between the converging columns manhandling scorpions forward, frantically positioning the machines and loading them with ammunition. Hybrida had managed to salvage his scorpions but had abandoned his siege engines in the retreat. There was a succession of sharp cracks followed by ear-piercing screams as bolts skewered the densely packed Getea. Some bolts went through one man and lodged in a warrior standing behind him, and within seconds the Thracian line was wavering as at least a score of scorpions unleashed two volleys against the Getea. And then the cuneus hit them.

  Discipline and organisation.

  For some strange reason those two words appeared in my mind as the Roman columns converged on the Getea and pushed straight through them. There was the customary volley of javelins from the first three ranks of legionaries in each column, followed by another volley as their comrades behind them also hurled their missiles at the Thracians, but there was no vicious close-quarter battle when the front ranks of each side clashed. The Thracians, having been raked by scorpion missiles, buckled under the hail of javelins and then crumpled when assaulted by the short swords of the legionaries. The Romans were better organised and disciplined than the Thracians but they were also desperate to get back to Macedonia and so they fought with a controlled frenzy as they stabbed at unarmoured Thracian torsos and heads.

  Within minutes our battle line had been split in two as the two Roman columns converged into a great blunt instrument of iron, wood and leather that pushed on remorselessly. Then it suddenly stopped, a blast of trumpets piercing the air.

  ‘The Romans have been halted,’ announced Akrosas triumphantly as what was left of the Getea, Dacians, Maedi and Bastarnae began a furious battle against the flanks of the two Roman columns that now slowly began to push outward towards the trees on either flank.

  ‘They are attempting to form a corridor through which their mules and remaining supplies can escape,’ shouted Domitus as the air resounded with another succession of trumpet commands and volleys of javelins were hurled at the warriors battling the Roman flanks.

  The Bastarnae were fighting magnificently, their fearsome rhomphaia hacking into the front ranks of the Romans and inflicting many casualties as they severed calves, hamstrings and even lopped a few Roman heads clean off. But Radu’s warriors had only small shields and no body armour, and even though they sported helmets they were terribly vulnerable to the javelins that arched over the battling front ranks to land among those behind. Almost every missile found its mark and within minutes scores of Bastarnae lay in heaps on the ground.

  A vicious mêlée has also erupted on the right wing where the remnants of the Getea plus the Dacians and Maedi assaulted the Roman left flank. The Maedi warriors had javelins that they threw at the packed ranks of legionaries, the latter adopting testudo formation as soon as their centurions realised that the enemy also possessed javelins. This not only negated the Romans’ own missiles but allowed the Dacians and Thracians to engaged in a close-quarter fight with the legionaries without the threat of being decimated by enemy spears. Soon the falxmen were slowly whittling down the Romans, though not without suffering casualties themselves in a battle of attrition.

  Akrosas, his eyes bulging in excitement and trepidation, looked left and right as the battle unfolded in front of him. The Romans had smashed through his Getea to divide the army’s foot warriors. On the left the Bastarnae were suffering heavy casualties and being forced back towards the trees. On the right the Dacians and Thracians were more than holding their own; perhaps they were winning. Directly ahead was a slowly expanding line of red shields as the width of the Roman corridor increased, though there appeared to be no movement on its right side as we looked at it. A few Getea had reformed and attacked the Roman centuries that faced us but were speedily dealt with. Soon groups of bedraggled and wounded warriors were falling back towards where the horsemen were deployed, their heads down, tunics shredded and arms and bodies showing gladius cuts. I saw Akrosas’ head stop turning and stare directly ahead. I knew what he was thinking: behind him were seven hundred horsemen; in front of him what must have seemed a thin Roman line, a very tempting line.

  He drew his sword. ‘King Pacorus, will you join me in delivering the blow that destroys the enemy?’

  Domitus looked at him and me in alarm. ‘You will not break them, sir, they are disciplined soldiers…’

  ‘No, general,’ said Akrosas sharply, ‘this is the moment when I finally rid Thrace of these barbarian invaders.’

  He turned and ordered his officers to signal the attack.

  ‘Domitus, Drenis and Arminius,’ I shouted as behind us horns were blown and hundreds of spears were levelled, ‘you will all retire to the trees as none of you can ride a horse with any skill.’

  I pulled an arrow from my quiver. ‘Protect Akrosas,’ I said to Gallia and Surena.

  The horsemen never reached the Roman line. They began trotting towards the enemy, dragon windsocks barely stirring in the still air as groups of horsemen brandished their spears and urged their beasts on. They broke into a canter around two hundred paces from the locked shields of the Romans that suddenly parted to reveal a row of scorpions. Perhaps two score of the infernal machines unleashed volley after volley of deadly metal balls. They were only small but they slammed into horses to inflict horrific injuries, two, three score of animals collapsing to the ground and throwing their riders. The scorpion crews worked like men possessed to load and shoot their machines, which discharged their iron balls of death and mayhem like a cobra spits poison. Riders went down to my left, right and behind me as I shot my bow at the scorpion crews, feverishly pulling arrows from my quiver and shooting them until it was empty. Akrosas, visibly shaken by the death being meted out by the scorpions, sat stationary in his saddle as he stared in horror at the face of one his officers, which was turned into an awful circle of gore when an iron shot struck it. I pulled on my reins, grabbed his reins and yanked viciously on my mare’s bit to turn her quickly.

  ‘Fall back,’ I shouted at Gallia and Surena as other horsemen retreated rapidly.

  Akrosas made no protest as I screamed at my horse and dug my knees into her flanks to make her gallop faster. Gallia and Surena were beside me as we raced away from the scorpions.

  ‘Into the trees,’ I shouted at them and anyone within earshot.

  We diverted our horses left to take them, and us, into the trees where we pulled up our mounts. I released Akrosas’ reins and apologised to him. But he was in a daze and barely acknowledged me. Other horsemen flooded into the forest, including Domitus, Drenis and Arminius. Domitus had a thunderous look on his face and nudged his horse forward when he spotted Akrosas surrounded by the surviving officers of his bodyguard. He was obviously going to give the king a piece of his mind but I called him back.

  ‘He has learned his lesson.’

  And so had the other leaders. The short, bloody battle with the Romans had resulted in hundreds of Thracian and Dacian dead. With the defeat of the horsemen the other leaders had ordered their men to seek the sanctuary of the forests, the warriors melting into the trees, leaving the Romans free
to recommence their march back to Macedonia. I rode back to the treeline with Domitus to watch them pass, the legionaries adopting a ragged square formation, in the centre the legionary eagle, the commanders on horses and mules pulling carts loaded with wounded I assumed. The Romans left no injured on the battlefield.

  ‘We inflicted substantial losses on them,’ said Domitus. ‘I see no horsemen, no auxiliaries and no scouts. Their pace is also slow. They are tired and thirsty, I’ll warrant.’

  ‘So are we, my friend, so are we.’

  After the Roman column had departed only the moaning of the injured and the pitiful cries of wounded horses disturbed the quiet. Akrosas, plunged into deep despair, sat on the ground with his head in his hands; the soldiers of his bodyguard stood around, uncertain what to do. I examined my mare to ensure she had no wounds and rode her back into the grass. Gallia and the others accompanied me. Other groups were walking from the trees to search for lost comrades, kill those too grievously wounded and retrieve those still alive who were capable of walking.

  ‘All this was unnecessary,’ grumbled Domitus, looking around at the scene of carnage.

  ‘The most important thing is that we are all unhurt,’ said Gallia harshly.

  ‘What do you think the odds of that happening after all that we have been through?’ asked Drenis.

  ‘As Dobbai said,’ Gallia answered, ‘as long as we are seven then we will all return to Dura.’

  But there were hundreds of others who would never return to their homes. As the hours passed it emerged that over fifteen hundred warriors had been killed. Draco had lost two hundred killed, Radu three hundred slain. Decebal’s foot soldiers had lost three hundred dead but the heaviest losses were among the Getea that had borne the brunt of the Roman assault. Akrosas had fancied himself as a new Alexander of Macedon but his men had been woefully deficient in weapons, armour and training and had suffered accordingly: no less than seven hundred of them had perished. Surprisingly our horsemen had lost only seventy killed, though the enemy’s scorpions had slaughtered and wounded three times that number of horses. I was deliriously happy when I discovered that Cleon and Burebista had survived the carnage, though the last of Cleon’s followers were dead.