Parthian Dawn

by Peter Darman

  The elephants were certainly magnificent beasts, their foreheads protected by large polished bronze plates and their tusks encased in gleaming steel armour. On their backs, secured in place by ropes that ran under their bellies, were wooden boxes holding three archers, with a driver sitting on the elephant’s neck immediately in front of the firing platform. The elephants seemed unconcerned by the deafening noise, unlike our horses that were beginning to get panicky by the commotion and the sight of the elephants. Remus grunted and began to shift uneasily beneath me, requiring me to constantly reassure him. Eventually the elephants were in position in a long line facing the frontline cohorts at a distance of around five hundred paces. Directly opposite my banner was the standard of Porus, a great yellow flag with braided gold cord hanging on a wooden dowel and attached to a long pole. It carried the image of an elephant’s head, the symbol of Sakastan.

  After the enemy had finally moved into their positions, I ordered Byrd to ride to where Porus was mounted on his horse amidst a great gathering of his commanders. I told him to convey a message to the king that I requested a parley. So Byrd tied a white cloth around his wrist and held his arm aloft as he trotted across no-man’s land towards the king. When he reached the mid-spot between the two armies a rider came from Porus to meet him and the two halted but feet apart. I saw Byrd gesturing with his hands, nod and then turn around to return to me.

  Moments later Porus, escorted by a retinue of a dozen lords, emerged from the front ranks of his horsemen. I signalled to Byrd and Nergal to follow me as I urged Remus forward. Both parties slowed as we approached each other, halting to leave a gap of ten paces between us. I recognised Porus from the Council of Kings, a dark-skinned, handsome man with a neatly trimmed moustache but no beard. In his mid-forties, he had dark brown eyes and a slightly bent nose. He looked magnificent dressed in his cuirass of overlapping square silver scales, open-faced helmet, bright yellow silk shirt, red leather gloves inlaid with silver, yellow leggings and red leather boots. A sword with an elaborate silver cross guard hung from his belt, encased in a red leather scabbard with gold leaf decoration. His horse was an immaculately groomed black stallion, its coat shimmering in the sunlight.

  I held my hand up to him.

  ‘Hail, King Porus.’ He raised his hand in return but said nothing.

  I continued. ‘You are a long way from Sakastan. This is Hatran territory, therefore I request that you turn your army around and take it home, for it has no business here.’

  ‘Where are your father and his army, King Pacorus?’ His tone was sharp, mocking. ‘Is he hiding behind his high walls in fear, and sends his son to do his business?’

  ‘The affairs of Hatra are my business,’ I replied, ‘so I say again, turn your army around and take it back to Sakastan.’

  He said nothing but peered past me to my cavalry deployed behind me, then looked south at the legion standing silently in its ranks. Then he looked directly at me.

  ‘I do not think that you are in any position to dictate terms, boy. Have you not seen my army and how it dwarfs yours?’

  ‘It makes a loud noise, I’ll grant you that,’ I sniffed. ‘But this is as far as it goes.’

  ‘Brave words for a whelp,’ he said. ‘If you prostrate yourself at my feet I will let you live, otherwise we will sweep you aside, just like we did Phraates and his rabble.’

  ‘Phraates is the rightful King of Kings,’ I reminded him. ‘And all those who take up arms against him are traitors and deserve a traitor’s death.’

  His eyes flashed with rage. ‘You dare insult me, boy?’

  I laughed at him. ‘I dare. I see that you are not going to surrender after all.’

  An evil grin crept over his face. ‘Is she here?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your wife, of course, the one who fights like a man? Or is she skulking back in Dura?’

  Now it was my turn to be angry. ‘Where my wife is concerns you not, though she has killed better men than you.’

  He pointed at me. ‘When your head adorns my city walls, I will make her one of my harem. Or perhaps I will give her to my men as a plaything tonight.

  ‘The time of Phraates is over. The Parthian Empire has a new leader now. The new age has dawned. I am but the vanguard of Narses, the rightful King of Kings.’

  I laughed in his face. ‘He and you are traitors, and will live to regret your insurrection. We are done talking, Porus.’

  ‘So be it, boy. Tell your woman to be ready to warm my bed tonight.’

  He then wheeled his horse away and galloped back to the safety of his army. I did the same, and just as I had taken my lance from Vagharsh the accursed trumpets and drums of the army of Porus echoed across the battlefield. And as the noise increased in volume his elephants, magnificent and terrifying, began to advance towards the locked shields of the legion.

  It was the shortest battle that I ever fought in.

  The drivers of the elephants kept their beasts under tight control until they were within three hundred paces of the frontline cohorts, and then Domitus sprang his trick. He had distributed the pigs among the centuries of the first line, immediately behind which stood braziers cooking tar. When the elephants approached each pig had its back covered in hot tar, and was then prodded with javelin tips towards the tusked behemoths. Terrified and enraged, the pigs ran towards the elephants squealing loudly as they did so. The elephants immediately stopped and roared with terror as the pigs approached them. Some reared up on their back legs and tipped the drivers and archers on their backs onto the ground, others swerved violently aside and crashed into the elephant next to them, while others turned around and charged headlong into the mass of swordsmen formed up behind. Within minutes those swordsmen were fleeing hither and thither for their lives as all semblance of order and discipline among their ranks evaporated. Then the legion’s trumpets blasted to signal the advance and ten cohorts marched forward. As they did so I turned in the saddle and shouted at my cataphracts.

  ‘Kill Porus!’

  I screamed at Remus and he sprang forward. I held my kontus with both hands on my right side as the four horns of the saddle held me firmly in place, the lance tip aimed at Porus directly opposite. My cataphracts charged, forming into an arrowhead formation, and behind them Gallia’s Amazons followed, loosing volleys of arrows over our heads and into the enemy’s cavalry. Porus, seeing his elephants and then his foot routing, lost his nerve and decided to flee the battlefield. Around him his men, now being hit by arrow fire and seeing their lord turn tail, were in a state of indecision as we hit them. I plunged my lance into a rider attempting to turn his horse around and skewered him on my kontus. Leaving the shaft in his body, I drew my spatha and swung it at the head of a horseman attempting to spear me in turn. But his lance was on his right side and I was on his left, and my sword swing cut into his neck before he had chance to spear me. Then we were hacking at the backs of fleeing riders, chasing them south as they desperately tried to outrun us. Weighted down as our horses were by scale armour and carrying riders similarly protected, many of the enemy cavalry were able to outrun us, but then came Nergal leading two thousand horse archers who overtook my cataphracts and galloped on to hunt down the enemy.

  ‘Keep after them, don’t let them reform,’ I shouted to him as he passed me.

  I halted as hundreds of horse archers streamed past. The other cataphracts also slowed and then halted — there was no use in wasting the stamina of our horses. Gallia’s Amazons, retaining perfect discipline, also halted and dressed their ranks. I rode over to her.

  ‘Everything is well?’

  She unfastened her cheekguards and pushed the steel plates part. ‘All is well.’

  The cataphracts formed two lines once more with the Amazons behind them. We rode south to where the legion was following in the wake of the rampaging elephants. Here the battle was also over, as the foot soldiers of Porus were following their mounted companions and fleeing as fast as possible. In front of the adv
ancing cohorts the ground was littered with abandoned weapons, shields and standards. Dead elephants lay scattered among the detritus of battle, while others, horribly wounded, lay on their sides and groaned in agony. No part of Porus’ army made any attempt to rally and fight, and aside from killing a few unfortunates who were wounded and unable to flee, Domitus’ men had not washed their swords in the enemy’s blood.

  I found him at the head of the centre cohort in the first line, giving orders to signal a halt to the advance. I dismounted and we clasped arms.

  ‘How did you know about the pigs?’ I asked, slapping him on the back.

  He took off his helmet and took a swig from his water bottle, as legionaries were detached from the ranks to run to the river and fetch fresh water. ‘Old Roman trick that we picked up in the Punic Wars.’

  ‘Punic Wars?’

  He spat on the ground and handed me his water bottle. ‘The last one was over seventy years ago when Rome finally subdued the Carthaginians, a people who lived in a place called Africa. Anyway, the Carthaginians had elephants but the Romans soon learned that they don’t like the squeals of pigs, panics them.’

  ‘So I saw.’

  Around us my cataphracts dismounted and legionaries rested on their shields, joking and chatting with their comrades. Domitus looked round approvingly.

  ‘Just what my boys needed, an easy victory.’

  ‘All down to you, my friend,’ I said.

  I walked with him back to camp with Gallia beside me. Her Amazons formed a rearguard as the legion formed into a long column and marched at a steady pace behind us. Her face and hair were covered in sweat and she looked deathly white, but I put it down to the stress of combat. When we reached camp Domitus ordered a roll call to determine his losses — they totalled five killed and sixty wounded. I had lost two cataphracts killed and three wounded, while Gallia’s Amazons had suffered no losses. Three hours later an exhausted Nergal rode into camp at the head of the lords and their men. He reported to me immediately in my command tent as the lords filed in behind him, all of them in good spirits.

  ‘We rode them down and killed them until we ran out of arrows.’

  ‘Then we used our swords until our blades were blunt,’ added one of the lords.

  Nergal pointed to one. ‘Show him.’

  The lord threw a bundle of cloth at my feet. ‘A gift to celebrate your victory, lord.’

  I picked it up, unfolded it and saw the elephant banner of King Porus. There was a mighty cheer as I held it aloft for all to see. Beside me Gallia’s eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed to the floor. I fell to my knees and cradled her in my arms, desperately searching her body for any sign of a wound. I saw none.

  ‘Get a doctor!’ I screamed as I held her head to my chest. ‘Gallia, Gallia.’ I got no response and my heart started to beat wildly in my chest. I began to panic as I held my face next to hers, while around me men just stood open-mouthed. Where there had been joy and cheering there was now concern and silence. Moments later Alcaeus, the wiry, black-haired Greek who had been a doctor in the army of Spartacus, was at my side, examining Gallia.

  ‘Put her on a bed so I can examine her properly, and get these oafs to leave, all of them. The air is foul in here.’

  Domitus ushered everyone out while I carried Gallia to a cot in the corner. I gently laid her down and Alcaeus waved me away.

  ‘What’s wrong with her?’ I asked feebly.

  ‘If you give me some room and stop asking stupid questions, I will try to find out. Wait outside.’

  I obeyed his command and stood for what seemed like an eternity outside the tent. A grim-faced Domitus and Nergal looked at the ground while the lords looked at each other and then me, concern etched on their hard faces. Word spread of what had happened and within no time a great crowd had gathered around us — cataphracts, Amazons and legionaries, all standing in silence and unsure what to do.

  Then the tent flap opened and Alcaeus walked out into the light. He pointed at me.

  ‘You can go in and see her now. Only you mind.’

  ‘Will she be all right, doctor?’ I asked.

  He looked at me and screwed up his face. ‘Yes, if you get her back to Dura. She should never have left. What were you thinking?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Really? Then let me spell it out for you. Bringing your pregnant wife on campaign is the height of idiocy. For a great warlord Pacorus, sometimes you have the intellect of a mule.’

  With that he stalked off, pushing his way through the throng. Domitus slapped me hard on the back, while Nergal clasped my forearm. Praxima threw her arms round me and kissed me on the cheek, while the others started cheering. I was going to be a father. Alcaeus stormed back and ordered me to disperse the crowd of well-wishers as they were disturbing Gallia. I did so and then crept into the tent. She was sitting up in the cot with cushions supporting her, some colour having at last returned to her cheeks.

  I held her hand and kissed it. ‘Why did you not tell me?’

  ‘I suspected but was not certain. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Nonsense, I am truly happy.’ I handed her cup of water from the small table beside the cot. ‘Alcaeus is angry with me for bringing you on campaign.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, I wanted to be by your side.’

  I knelt over and kissed her on the lips. ‘I know, but it’s back to Dura for you now.’

  She was going to protest, but her condition and present exhaustion made her think twice and so she said nothing and fell asleep with me sitting on the side of the cot, gently brushing her forehead with my fingers.

  The next day I summoned Praxima to my tent and told her that she and Gallia would be riding back to Dura forthwith, and that I would brook no argument. After changing and eating a hearty breakfast of fruit, salted pork and biscuit, Gallia stepped out into the morning light. Domitus embraced her and showed her a colour party of his legionaries, all washed and arrayed in their finest white tunics and shiny helmets. Nergal gave her the captured elephant standard of Porus as a gift, which she said she would take back to Dura to hang in the throne room. When word spread that she was leaving the army, each of the lords asked permission to escort her back to the city. Had I accepted I would have lost all my cavalry, so I had them draw lots to choose the winner, who turned out to be a one-eyed rascal named Spandarat. He was squat, barrel-chested and had arms as thick as tree trunks and hands the size of a bear’s paws.

  ‘Don’t you worry, majesty,’ he told me as he stood at the head of his two hundred men, ‘I’ll get her back to the city all right, and be back before you’ve had chance to slit any more throats.’

  ‘Thank you, Spandarat, I look forward to fighting by your side once more.’

  He leaned forward in his saddle and stroked the neck of his horse, an old warrior like him, but as hard as tempered steel. ‘I had my doubts about you, especially after we had to put up with that other arrogant young bastard Mithridates, but I have to tell you that I was wrong. Never seen elephants panic like that. Your man, there,’ he pointed at Domitus, ‘knows what he’s doing.’

  ‘Yes he does,’ I said.

  Gallia was mounted on Epona at the head of her Amazons, Praxima beside her. Nergal kissed his wife and bade her a safe journey, and I walked over and stood next to Gallia. ‘Now, when you get back to Dura make sure you have plenty of rest and food. You are eating for two now.’

  ‘Yes, father,’ she replied.

  I waved her forward with my hand. She bent down and I kissed her on the lips.

  ‘I love you.’

  She smiled that most beautiful smile of hers. ‘I love you too, and take care of yourself. Don’t do anything idiotic.’

  ‘A charm,’ I said, ‘I need a charm.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I need a lock of your hair.’

  She took her dagger from the top of her boot and grabbed her long, thick plait that hung down her back, then cut off some strands of her hair and
handed them to me. Then she took her helmet from Praxima, put it and tied the cheekguards shut. She commanded Epona to walk forward and then led the column of three hundred riders down the camp’s main avenue and then north to Dura. I stood watching them until they were tiny specs on the horizon and then disappeared altogether. It was the first time Gallia had left my side in over three years. Yet I had no time to dwell on my loss, for that same afternoon Malik and Byrd returned to camp bringing a most unexpected gift. They were both dirty and unshaven and their horses needed a good groom. They halted in front of my tent and Malik dumped the body of a dead man at my feet.