by Peter Darman
‘Do you wish me to bring you your armour, Pacorus?’
‘No, I will fight as I am.’ In truth I found scale armour heavy and burdensome, preferring my Roman cuirass and helmet. ‘Get back with the squires. Your knife won’t be much use in a battle.’
He rode off. At least that was one less thing to worry about.
I rode out in front of the thousands of men who were deploying for battle to get a better look at what was coming from the north. I could see them, now — horsemen kicking up a vast cloud of dust. Whoever they were they were moving at speed. They obviously wanted to get to us very quickly. Had Furius got wind of our approach and requested reinforcements? I thought it unlikely. Any Roman soldiers in Syria would have to have wings to get here this fast. I was wondering whether it was possible to defeat this new enemy and then fight those in front of Dura, when I caught sight of Byrd galloping towards me ahead of his pursuers. I reached behind me for my bow, pulled it from its case and then strung an arrow. Whoever was chasing him would be felled before they got near him. He was frantically waving his right arm at me and shouting at the same time. I strained to hear his words. I thought he said ‘fiends’. Marvellous, we were about to be attacked by devils! But as he came closer I realised that he was actually shouting ‘friends’.
He arrived panting and covered in dirt. ‘Friends, Pacorus. Orodes and horsemen from Susiana.’
I relayed the news to the army and soon men were standing, cheering and patting each other on the back. The atmosphere, previously tense and uncertain, was now one of elation and relief. Byrd halted beside me and then Nergal and Orodes arrived, and behind them a column of cataphracts in their scale armour. They slowed and formed into a line of two ranks, then halted behind their prince.
Orodes took off his helmet, his sweat-soaked hair matted to his skull, and beamed at me. ‘Hail, Pacorus. Hope we haven’t missed the fun.’
I nudged Remus forward and shook his hand.
‘Welcome, my friend, it is indeed good to see you.’
He looked behind him. ‘Five hundred heavy cavalry, my personal bodyguard. All I could bring, I regret to say. My dear brother ensured that my father prohibited any more of Susiana’s army coming to your aid. But only I command my bodyguard, and where I go, it follows.’
I smiled at him. I raised my voice so his men would hear. ‘I welcome the men of Susiana, and when the enemy learns of their arrival they will tremble, so great is the terror that the warriors of Susa spread before them.’ They raised their long lances and gave a mighty cheer. At that moment a panting Domitus arrived, rivulets of sweat running down his face.
‘Domitus,’ I said. ‘Prince Orodes has brought reinforcements. Behold, the finest men in Susiana.’
Domitus took of his helmet and wiped his face with a cloth, then replaced his white-crested headgear. He pointed at Orodes.
‘It would have helped if you had sent couriers ahead to warn us of your approach, to save us having to piss around changing direction and formation under this bloody hot sun.’
With that he turned and ran back to his officers.
‘My apologies, Orodes, Domitus can be a little brusque.’
‘Nonsense, he’s right. I’m just glad that he’s on our side.’
It took an hour before the army was ready to commence its march south once more, during which time the horsemen from Susiana rested and took off their scale armour, also stripping their horses of the cumbersome protection. Then it was loaded onto the backs of the thousand camels that Orodes had brought with him, ill-tempered, spitting beasts that carried tents, thousands of arrows, spare weapons and armour, food and medical supplies. There were also a thousand squires, each one riding a horse and armed with a bow, quiver and sword. It was actually a small army that Orodes had brought. In temperament he was much like Nergal, being carefree, cheerful and trusting, in fact everything his step-brother was not. You liked Orodes on sight, and when you got to know him better you realised that your initial impression of him was correct. He was also one of life’s optimists, which made him popular among his men and people. And, in stark contrast to Mithridates, he was fair-minded and absolutely trustworthy.
Once the army had recommenced its journey south, Orodes rode beside me with Nergal on my other side.
‘I heard about your demotion,’ he said, ‘and then word reached me that you had been killed.’
‘Well, one of those rumours was true, and if Narses and Chosroes had had their way my head would be adorning one of the gates into Uruk by now.’
Orodes shook his head. ‘I cannot believe that Chosroes has betrayed us.’
‘I can,’ I replied. ‘Narses is clever. He has promised Chosroes great wealth and power in return for his aid, and Chosroes, being eaten away by jealousy and greed, most probably did not take much persuading.’
‘Narses must know that he has no chance.’
‘I’m afraid, my friend, that he has every chance. The Roman incursions into Hatra and Dura must have seemed like a gift from the gods to him, especially as Media and Atropaiene lie weakened and unable to assist us. What news of Media?’
‘The Romans have made no attempt to lay siege to Irbil, but Farhad and Aschek lack the will and soldiers to trouble them. Events in Hatra and Dura will decide Media’s fate, I fear.’
I did not look at Orodes when I asked him the next question. ‘And what of Mithridates?’
Orodes spat on the ground. ‘He and my step-mother control my father, and thus control Ctesiphon and Susiana. No aid will be sent to you or your father, or for that matter to Vardan.’
‘So Babylon still defies Narses?’ I asked.
‘For the moment, yes, but if no aid arrives then Narses will starve it into surrender.’
After that we rode on in silence, but we all knew that Mithridates was still an ally of Narses. He was playing the long game, waiting to see how events would unravel. I had no doubt that he was behind my attempted murder, but the fact that I still lived did not necessarily negate his plans. He knew that I had to defeat the Romans before I could aid Hatra or Media, and that my father was occupied with dealing with the Roman invasion of his own kingdom. I would not put it past Mithridates to have been in communication with the Romans, perhaps even Crassus himself. It all seemed very convenient, too convenient. I should have killed him as well as Narses. At that moment the world seemed full of people that I should have killed but who were still in arms against me. Useless thoughts. I dismissed them from my mind. One battle at a time.
The night was clear and warm, and Domitus had sited his camp near the river so men and animals could quench their thirsts. It had been a hard day’s march, and everyone was glad to have the opportunity to rest at the end of it. Malik and Byrd rode into camp late in the evening and reported to my command tent. Domitus was stretched out on the floor, his eyes closed, his gladius beside him. I was sitting in a chair opposite Orodes, whose men and animals were camped two miles to the north. We were now approximately ten miles from Dura.
More of Malik’s warriors had arrived during the past two days and he had used them to aid the cavalry screen Nergal had established in front of the army, both to report on the enemy’s movements and to keep Roman eyes away from Dura’s army. Byrd, true to form, kept his own counsel and went where he wanted, though he always returned with valuable intelligence.
‘Romani getting ready to fight you,’ he said, filling a cup with water from a jug on the table. ‘Much activity in their camp. Romani soldiers not happy.’
I was surprised at this. ‘How do you know that they are unhappy?’
He looked at me as if I had asked a ridiculous question. ‘I speak to them, of course.’
This aroused the interest of Domitus, who opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. ‘You spoke to them?’
‘Of course. They grumble like old women.’
‘You rode into their camp?’ Orodes was amazed.
Byrd frowned at him. ‘No, I take cart and mule and load it with
fruit, then drive it into their camp. I say I Agraci and they no question me further. I not look like soldier.’
He was right there, with his ragged, dirty Agraci robe, wild hair and unshaven face. If only the Romans had known that they had been buying fruit from the finest scout in the Parthian Empire.
‘They not like Dura, say it is too tough a nut to crack. They were promised an easy victory but have suffered big losses. Say it is insult to their manhood to be held at bay by a woman. They grumble of witchcraft.’
‘Witchcraft?’ asked Orodes.
‘Romani soldiers have been pierced by poisoned arrows shot from Dura’s towers. They believed they were at safe distance but arrows found them anyway. Arrows smeared with poison. Romani soldiers who were hit lost use of legs, went blind, then went mad before they died in agony.’
‘Well, she never ceases to amaze me,’ said Domitus.
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘Your old witch, of course. A few weeks ago she came to me and said she wanted some of my men to go hunting, said it was essential for the security of the city.’
Domitus told us how Dobbai had persuaded him to send a century to hunt down as many Arabian cobras as they could find. They came back with two score of the deadly reptiles. Dobbai had them milked of their poison, then killed and skinned them. The snake poison and flesh were mixed with dung and left to putrefy, after which the Amazons smeared their arrows with the poisonous substance.
‘That’s what she told me,’ concluded Domitus, ‘seems to have worked a treat.’
I smiled to myself. Perhaps I should leave these Romans to Gallia, she seemed to be coping very well.
‘So Dura still stands, Byrd?’ I asked.
He drained his cup and smiled at me. ‘No Romani army will take that city.’
After a final council of war, during the course of which I had again explained the tactics that we would use the next day, the lords went back to their men. I had insisted that they and their followers, plus all of Nergal’s horsemen and my own cataphracts, should sleep behind the earth rampart of the legion’s camp. This made for a crowded camp, as the men of Pontus were also accommodated within its circuit, but I did not trust the Romans not to attempt a nighttimes’ assault and I did not want to give them the opportunity for an easy victory Malik and Byrd assured me that their Agraci scouts had the Romans under close watch, but I insisted, and I even requested that Orodes bring in his men as well. He acquiesced, more from not wishing to appear discourteous than because of any sense of danger. Domitus approved.
‘Just because we are home doesn’t mean we get sloppy.’
It was the first time that I had heard him call Dura home and I was pleased. I always worried that he missed his own people, but if he did he never said so and now I was reassured that he felt one of us. I knew that he was immensely proud of his legion, and had every right to be, and also that he was held in great respect by his men.
That night I wrote a letter to my father and mother, explaining that I would be giving battle tomorrow and that afterwards, Shamash willing, I would march to Hatra’s aid. Later I went outside to stretch my legs. I never slept much before a battle, two or three hours at most, but I was seldom tired on the day of action itself. Rather, it was as if my senses were heightened by the prospect of slaughter. My mind raced with ideas, my reflexes were faster than usual and I could almost feel my blood coursing through my body. I put this down to my upbringing, when I had first been introduced to the tools of war as a small boy. By the time I was eight I could shoot a bow from the saddle, wield a small sword, throw a spear with some accuracy and fight with a mace and shield. When I became a teenager I had mastered the use of all these weapons and had learned how to fight as part of hundred-man mounted company, then as a member of a dragon. I had fought my first battle at the age of twenty-two and now, six years later, I stood on the eve of another one. I stared south and saw the black shape of Dura’s walls and its Citadel framed against the clear night sky. No lights flickered in Dura. I smiled. Gallia had all the windows barred with shutters and no lamps burned in the city’s streets. She knew that a sentry or careless individual framed by light made an easy target for an enemy archer or slinger.
Tomorrow I would be with my love once more.
Surena appeared and offered me a cup of water.
‘You should get some sleep,’ I told him, taking the cup and emptying it.
‘I’ve tried, but as soon as I shut my eyes a thousand images fill my mind. I will sleep after the battle.’
I hoped that it would not be the sleep of death. He still had his knife tucked in his belt and wore sandals on his feet.
‘Come with me,’ I said.
We walked among the rows of tents holding sleeping legionaries until we came to the southeast corner of the camp where Nergal and his horsemen were located. The comforting smell of horses, and the not-so welcoming smell of their dung, met my nostrils as I found my cavalry commander sitting on the ground playing dice with his officers.
‘I did not know you were a gambler, Nergal.’
They all saw me and made to stand up. I indicated for them to stay where they were.
‘I’m not really, lord, but I feel lucky and wanted to take advantage.’
I tilted my head at Surena. ‘I came to find this one a sword and some boots.’
Nergal looked at Surena. ‘Pity he can’t wait until tomorrow. There will be many Roman ones lying on the ground.’
This brought laughter and smiles from his officers.
‘I wish to have a sword now,’ said Surena sternly, ‘so I can kill the enemies of Pacorus.’
Nergal stood up and tugged at Surena’s tunic, indicating that he should follow him. ‘That’s King Pacorus to you, boy.’
Surena mumbled something under his breath and followed Nergal. Two minutes later we were in a fenced-off area containing two- and four-wheeled wagons, the whole park being guarded by a ring of sentries positioned every ten paces. Mules were tethered together in another adjacent area, and further away, though judging by the smell not too far away, was the camel park. Nergal nodded to the guards and we walked up to a small hide-skin tent pitched near one of the wagons. Nergal stood in front of the tent.
‘Strabo. Come out, your king has need of you.’
Seconds later I heard a rustling noise and then a large man with long dark hair and a round face shuffled out on all fours.
‘Can’t a man get a few hours’ sleep without being troubled?’ He sniffed and then turned his head to me. He obviously knew who I was because he quickly got to his feet and dusted himself down. He wore a simple white shirt and dark leggings. His feet were bare. He squinted at me with piggy eyes.
‘Well. Apologies, your majesty, but I didn’t know you were coming. No one ever tells me anything, it’s always Strabo do this, Strabo do that. Well, one day we will have a proper set of procedures for dealing with things.’
‘Enough, Strabo. The king needs your assistance.’
‘Well, I will be happy to oblige if I can, though all my assistants are asleep. It’s late. Well, you are lucky that I was just closing my eyes.’
‘The sooner we can have what we came for,’ I said, ‘the sooner you will be able to return to your slumbers. I need a sword and a pair of boots for my squire here.’
He wiped his nose on a sleeve as he studied Surena. Then he ambled over to one of the carts, mumbling to himself as he did so.
‘Like all quartermasters, he is reluctant to part with his supplies. Isn’t that right, Strabo?’ Nergal called after him.
Strabo ignored the jibe as he lifted the canvas cover on the cart and rummaged underneath. He returned with a pair of boots and threw them at Surena.
‘They should fit you nicely. Nice and worn in, they are. Came off a dead one of that lot who fought with Porus last year.’
Surena held them with distaste.
‘Now don’t you get high and mighty,’ said Strabo, ‘they’re fine boots and the previous owner no lo
nger has a use for them.’
‘He’s right,’ I added.
Strabo scuttled off and began rifling through another cart, then reappeared with a sword in a scabbard. He handed it to Surena, who this time was beaming with delight. He drew it slowly from its scabbard. It was a Roman spatha, exactly like the one I carried, though mine had been a gift from Spartacus himself. The blade was long and straight and finished in a point. Both edges were razor sharp and its hilt was made of dark-stained walnut. It was a beautiful piece.
‘Where did you obtain it from?’ I asked.
‘Malik and his Agraci brought in a load of captured weapons after they had butchered a few Roman horsemen on the road north of here. Seeing as you’ve got one, I thought it appropriate that your squire should have one as well.’
‘A fine sword, Surena,’ remarked Nergal, whose own spatha hung from his belt, ‘make sure your conduct is worthy of such a blade.’
‘My conduct?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Will you use it to further your honour or as a tool to butcher innocents? Will you wield it to defend your family and homeland, or to spread death and misery in furtherance of your own selfish goals?’
He looked at me with a blank expression on his face.
‘Well,’ I continued, ‘these things are for the future. But remember that a man’s sword is not just a lump of metal; it is an extension of him. However, it is late and we have troubled Strabo enough for one night.’
‘You’re not wrong there.’
Nergal froze him with an iron stare so Strabo bowed his head to me and scurried away. I told Surena to go back to the command tent and ready my armour and weapons for the morning, leaving me alone with Nergal.
‘Another battle tomorrow, Nergal.’
He grinned. ‘Another defeat for the Romans.’
There would be little time tomorrow for idle chatter, so I welcomed the chance to talk to my friend and trusted commander.
‘After we deal with this lot we will have to march north to aid Hatra, and after that Media. It seems there remains much fighting left to do.’
