by Peter Darman
As we sat on our horses in a large circle the lords were all for finishing the Romans quickly.
‘Slaughter them all and then we can go home.’
‘Push them into the river and let them drown,’ said another.
Orodes’ blood was still up. ‘We can break them, Pacorus. They have been fighting for hours. One charge at one point with all our heavy horse and we surely break them.’ The others cheered him and he beamed in triumph.
I held up my hand. ‘I think I will ask them politely if they will lay down their arms.’
There was silence, then spontaneous laughter erupted, indicating that they all thought I was mad. Orodes looked very disappointed.
‘You do know who leads them,’ said Gallia.
‘That is why I think my idea will work.’
I gave orders for all arrow fire to cease as the lords and Nergal pulled back their men out of range of the Romans’ slingers and archers. We now formed a huge semi-circle around the Roman square, the men of Pontus next to the river, the Duran Legion on their right, now reinforced by the garrison, Nergal and his men next to them, and the lords and their horse archers deployed next in line extending all the way to the riverbank. An eerie silence descended over the battlefield. I sat on Remus next to Gallia, Orodes on my right. Malik and Byrd came through the ranks behind me.
‘Romani have taken their standards away on the river. A dozen boats,’ said Byrd.
‘They are five miles away now, Pacorus, maybe more,’ said Malik. ‘You want us to catch them?’
‘No, let them go. Our fight is here.’
I nudged Remus forward and walked him into the space between Parthians and Romans. I took off my helmet as I did so and halted about fifty paces from the line of locked Roman shields.
‘Men of Rome,’ I shouted. ‘I am the king of the land you now stand on. I salute your courage. You have done all that honour demands this day and more, but now is the time to listen to reason.’
I saw no movement from within their ranks.
‘I call upon your commander to come forward to discuss the terms of your surrender, for to continue fighting will surely condemn you all to death. I give you this promise. If you lay down your arms all of you will walk out of here unharmed. Come forth Lucius Furius.’
I rode back to my men and waited. Domitus strode up.
‘Perhaps he left on one of the boats.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘not Furius. His sense of Roman superiority will not let him flee in the face of barbarians.’
And sure enough, a few moments later, he rode out from the enemy ranks. I nudged Remus forward until I stood ten paces from Lucius Furius. He hadn’t changed; he still had red curly hair and an angry expression on his face.
‘Well, Lucius,’ I said, ‘we meet again.’
‘What do you want?’ he snapped, looking down his nose at me.
‘I want you to leave my kingdom and I want Rome to stop its wars of aggression against the Parthian Empire. Will those two requests suffice to satisfy you?’
He sneered at me. ‘Just like the rabble led by Spartacus perished, so will the Parthian Empire fall.’
I sighed. ‘Even now, with death staring you in the face, you still persist in issuing threats.’
He looked immensely smug. ‘Armies may fall, Parthian, but Rome is eternal. What is Parthia but a collection of desert nomads and horse stables devoid of culture and learning? It is Rome’s duty to bring civilisation to the world. That is why I am here.’
I sighed. ‘You are here because you, or more correctly your master, Crassus, wishes to have possession of the trade route into Egypt.’
‘Parthia has no jurisdiction west of the Euphrates. King Phraates has given Rome sovereignty over this land.’
This was staggering. ‘What?’
He smiled, delighting in my uncertainty. ‘It is true. Governor Lucullus has agreed to evacuate the province of Gordyene in exchange for control of all territory up to the west bank of the Euphrates. You see, Parthian, even your own king does not want you.’
I refused to believe that this was so. ‘Here are my terms, Furius. Your men are to lay down their weapons and you will become my hostage. Your master, Crassus, will have to pay a handsome price to get you back. We will see how much he values you, which is only fair as he puts a price on everything.’
‘I reject your terms.’
‘What?’
‘A Roman general never surrenders, especially in his own land.’
‘You are an idiot,’ I replied. ‘To continue fighting will result in your certain death.’
‘All death is certain.’
A most philosophical answer, I had to admit.
‘I give you one last chance to surrender.’
‘I reject your offer, Parthian. I do not bargain with slaves.’
I shook my head, pulled on Remus’ reins and turned my back on Lucius Furius. I heard a jangling noise behind me followed by a hissing sound. I turned to see Furius directly behind me, sword in hand. He was slumped in his saddle, an arrow lodged in his chest. I looked back at my men and saw Gallia with a bow in her hand. The sword slipped from Furius’ hand and then he fell from his saddle. He hit the ground and rolled onto his back. He glazed eyes told me that he was dead.
Mayhem then broke out as horsemen and foot soldiers charged the Romans. Horns and trumpets blasted as thousands of men attacked the wavering shield wall, while the air was thick with missiles as horse archers loosed their bows and Roman slingers and archers replied in kind. Horsemen surged past me led by Orodes, his sword held aloft, while on their flank Domitus and his men hoisted their shields and marched towards the Romans. Around a hundred paces from the enemy they charged, the front ranks racing at the enemy with swords drawn as the ranks immediately behind then hurled their javelins over the heads of their comrades against the enemy. I heard a loud thud as the Durans smashed into the stationary Romans, thrusting their swords upwards into any gaps between the shields. The Roman line buckled and then began to fall back as the impetus of the Duran charge cut its way into the enemy.
The horse archers did not attempt to charge the Romans but merely continued with their harassing fire, pouring volley after volley of arrows into the enemy. Occasionally an arrowhead hit flesh, but mostly it forced the Romans to take shelter behind their shields, but in doing so it prevented them from reinforcing the threatened sections of their line. Orodes and the cataphracts, now wielding swords or maces, rode up to the Roman lines and tried to batter their way through the enemy. But the ranks of the enemy were too dense and they failed. But Domitus did not fail.
Both armies had been manoeuvring and fighting under a hot sun for hours now. The Romans had seen their cavalry scattered, their eagles spirited away and their commander killed, and now they were penned in like sheep against the river. Assaulted once more, their cohesion began to crack as they continued to endure arrow fire from thousands of horse archers, a fire that seemingly never ceased, unlike their own slingers and archers, who soon ran out of ammunition. So Domitus and his men cut their way into the enemy, creating a gap through which Orodes and I led our weary heavy horsemen. The sight of enemy horsemen behind them once again was too much for the weary legionaries. Most of their senior officers, the legates and tribunes who rode on horseback, were now dead, felled by arrows. Soon groups of Romans were throwing down their weapons and giving themselves up. Fighting began to peter out as exhausted soldiers and horsemen disengaged from the Romans and merely watched their opponents submit to them. It was a strange scene — shortly before the Romans had been a tenacious foe, now they were beaten men meekly submitting to their fate. The battle was over.
Chapter 16
The aftermath of battle is never pleasant and this day was no different. As far as the eye could see the ground was covered with the dead and the dying. Injured horses, their bodies gashed open and their limbs shattered, thrashed around in agony. Men whimpered and screamed as the rush of frenzy within them quickly faded and fee
lings returned to their pierced bodies. Bodies cut open by sword and spear blades, bones crushed underfoot by men and horses during melees, and flesh pierced by arrows and slingshots. And then the stench hit me. In the white heat of battle all sense of smell disappears, but afterwards, when the slaughter has ceased and men’s bodies are drained of energy, a rancid aroma hangs over the battlefield. The stench of blood, vomit, human and animal dung and urine, the disgusting combination of men fouling themselves, puking as they saw their friends reduced to offal before their eyes, and the spilling of blood and guts during combat. It is this smell that enters your nostrils, infuses your hair and skin and stays there for days. No amount of water will wash it away. Today it was the same, perhaps even worse than before. Men had difficulty controlling their skittish horses as they dismounted and led the beasts towards the river, for both they and their riders were suddenly possessed by a raging thirst.
I too dismounted and watched Domitus and his men move forward to stand guard over the Roman captives. There was no resistance. Where just a short time before they had been highly trained enemy soldiers operating in formation, seemingly invincible, now they were beaten men, glad to be offered the chance to rest. Glad to be alive.
Domitus ambled over as the legion’s colour party escorted the golden griffin back to the city. I raised my sword in salute as it and its escort marched past me. The cataphracts around did the same.
‘Another victory, Pacorus. Well done.’
‘Yes, another victory.’ But it did not feel like victory, not with the words of Furius still in my ears. Had Phraates really handed Dura to the Romans? I dismissed the idea. And yet…
A line of Nergal’s horse archers were standing watch as the Romans were ordered to stack their shields, mail shirts, helmets, belts and swords in great piles before being herded under armed guard towards the camp — my camp — they had occupied during the siege of my city. It would now be their temporary prison until their fate was decided.
‘If any engineers still live,’ I said to Domitus, ‘they are to be separated from the rest. I will have need of them and their siege engines.’
‘They may not wish to serve you.’
‘Better that than death,’ I snapped. ‘Now go.’
He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, merely saluting and striding away.
Orodes walked up, leading his sweat-lathered horse behind him. ‘I salute you, Pacorus, you have won a fine victory.’
I looked around at the broken bodies littering the earth, and heard the pitiful cries of the wounded and dying and the moans of injured animals. ‘At this moment, my friend, it is hard to tell the difference between the victors and the vanquished.’
Behind me the cataphracts began to dismount and take off their heavy scale armour, dumping the suits on the ground then relieving their horses of their armoured protection. The squires began arriving from camp to attend their masters, riding on horses and pulling camels behind them. As one squire led his master’s horse to the river to drink, the other loaded the scale armour for horse and man on to the camel. Tonight they would be sewing plates of armour back onto the thick hide coats, sharpening blunted swords and maces and knocking dents out of helmets. Others would be building funeral pyres for their lords, for we too had lost men this day.
Surena appeared before me on his horse, his face flush with victory, streaked with sweat and dirt, and his tunic torn.
I took off my helmet and armour and dumped them on the ground.
‘Help me with Remus’ armour,’ I said to him.
He jumped from his horse and began unbuckling the straps that held the armour in place.
‘I ordered you to stay in camp,’ I said.
‘I could not stand idly by while you were fighting.’
‘If you had been killed, I would have no squire,’ I rebuked him.
‘But, surely, you wish for me to learn about war.’
Despite his dirty appearance there was not a scratch on him, and he seemed to be oblivious to the horror around him. ‘You cannot learn anything if you are dead.’
‘Let the boy be, Pacorus,’ said Orodes, who was being assisted by his own squires, ‘let us be thankful that we are all still alive.’
I pointed at him. ‘I’ve got a little task for you, Surena.’
He flashed a smile. ‘Yes, lord.’
‘Go and find the body of the Roman general that the queen killed, then cut off its head and bring it back to me, but not before you have crucified the body.’
He looked perplexed. ‘How am I going to crucify the body?’
‘You will have to ask General Domitus if you can borrow some of his men to prepare a cross and acquire some ropes and nails. And tell him that you are carrying out my orders.’
I pointed towards the river. ‘Erect the cross near the water’s edge. Now go, and don’t forget to bring me back the head.’
He nodded his head and scurried off to find Domitus.
Orodes looked at me but said nothing. Domitus, however, had plenty to say when he stormed back with a sheepish Surena in tow. He jerked his thumb at my squire. ‘This little whelp has just tried to order me to give him some of my men, said he had a very important task to perform for the king, and that he could not waste time explaining to me what it is.’
I shook my head in despair. Surena had a talent amounting to genius for annoying people. I held up my hands to Domitus.
‘I apologise, Domitus. I asked him to ask you for your help, not to order you.’
Domitus fixed Surena with his stare, who stared insolently back. I held my head in my hands for I knew what was coming next. Domitus smiled at Surena.
‘You know the disadvantage with having long hair?’
Surena looked bemused. ‘No.’
As quick as a striking snake Domitus grabbed Surena’s hair with his right hand and yanked the boy down onto his knees. He moved his face to within a few inches of Surena’s.
‘All those pretty flowing locks are easy to get hold off.’
Surena’s face was contorted in pain. ‘Let go of me, barbarian,’ he squealed.
Domitus let go of his hair and stepped back. ‘Barbarian, am I? You need a lesson in manners.’
Surena jumped to his feet and drew his spatha. Aghast, I stepped between them.
‘Surena put away your sword. Now!’
He looked at Domitus standing before him with only his cane in his hand, then at me, and then reluctantly replaced his sword in its scabbard. I then smiled at Domitus, who was far from amused.
‘Whatever you wanted me to do,’ he said to me, ‘you can attend to it yourself. I’m not some slave to be ordered about by some young dung shoveller.’ He then pointed at Surena. ‘You stay out of my way, boy, if you know what’s good for you.’
He turned and strode back to his legion.
‘You had a lucky escape, Surena,’ remarked Orodes.
‘Come with me,’ I said, ‘and don’t say anything to anyone.’
With Surena trailing behind me I organised a group of my cataphracts to find the body of Lucius Furius and drag it by horse to the edge of the river. Surena decapitated it with an axe and the carcass was then nailed to a cross at the edge of the River Euphrates. I led Remus downstream so he could quench his thirst and gave orders that the head was to be taken back to the city and preserved in salt.
Gallia and her Amazons arrived as I threw my tunic on the ground and stood in my silk vest drenched in sweat, leggings and boots. She vaulted from Epona, took off her helmet and then kissed me on the lips.
‘You smell like a bullock,’ she whispered.
‘A handsome bullock, I hope.’
Gallia untied her plait and shook her long hair free. Praxima and the other women also took off their helmets and Surena’s eyes lit up as he beheld the mounted women warriors before him.
‘You have won a great victory, lord,’ shouted Praxima, to which the others cheered and raised their bows.
‘I am glad you are all safe,’ I re
plied, my arm around Gallia’s waist.
Surena had probably never seen a blonde, blue-eyed woman before; certainly not one like Gallia and certainly not this close up. He walked up to her and smiled.
‘I am Surena of the Ma’adan. I have heard tales of your beauty and they have not been exaggerated.’
Gallia eyed him coolly and then looked at me.
‘He is my squire. It’s a long story. I will tell you later.’
The arrival of Nergal signalled a touching reunion between husband and wife as he and Praxima embraced each other. I smiled. For a brief moment we were back in Italy. As we chatted and gave thanks for our survival, Surena reached out and touched Gallia’s locks. She spun round instantly and held her dagger to his throat.
‘Do you not know that it is death to touch the person of your queen, boy?’
For the first time this day Surena looked alarmed, especially as Praxima hissed and drew her sword to protect her friend. I placed my hand on Gallia’s dagger.
‘He meant no offence, my love. He is from the marshlands many miles from here and his manners require polishing.’
‘He is an arrogant puppy,’ growled Gallia.
‘Perhaps so, but you would not rob my of a good squire, would you?’
Her eyes darted between me and Surena, and then she sneered at him and put her dagger back in her boot. Praxima sheathed her sword.
Gallia vaulted onto the back of Epona.
‘We ride back to the city.’ She pointed at Surena. ‘Teach that one some manners.’
Then she and the Amazons were gone.
‘That’s the second time you have come close to death today,’ I said, ‘and whereas for most of us it is the enemy who presents the greatest danger, you appear intent on being killed by your own side.’
‘Do you really think that I am a good squire?’ asked Surena.
