by Peter Darman
The camp was purposely spread over a large area and guards were posted beyond its perimeter in every direction. Around the perimeter itself we dug pits and placed sharpened stakes inside them, then covered them with foliage, which was changed on a daily basis. There was only one entry route into the camp and one route by which riders could leave — I was determined that we would not be surprised. Each day the forest was filled with the sounds of chopping as men felled trees and hacked at their branches. I was worried that the smoke from the myriad of fires would give our position away, but we were deep in the forest and in any case the autumn skies were filled with mist and rain.
‘The men have to eat, Pacorus,’ said Orodes, ‘and they need warm food in their bellies this time of year. So we have to light fires.’
Everyone practised entering and exiting the camp, both on foot and horseback, and getting to know the area intimately. We set up shooting ranges to maintain our archery skills, though I also organised hunting parties to track down and kill bears, wild goats, boar and deer. Approaching wild animals stealthily was good training for what was to come. I emphasised that there was to be no wastage of arrows. We were a long way from home and would not be able to replenish our stocks easily.
‘I thought we had come here to fight,’ whispered Surena as we inched our way towards a magnificent Caspian red deer that was grazing at the edge of a clearing in the trees.
‘We are,’ I replied.
The deer suddenly stopped chewing the grass and looked up. We froze. Had he seen us? We stood like statues for what seemed like an eternity, our hearts thumping in our chests. He slowly turned his head to stare in our direction, displaying his massive antlers. He must have weighed five hundred pounds, perhaps more. He flicked his ears and then continued with his meal.
‘Think you can take him?’ I asked.
The distance between us was around three hundred feet.
‘Yes,’ replied Surena.
I strung an arrow as he did the same and raised his bow. He pulled back the bowstring until the arrow’s feathers were against his right ear. I too pulled back my bowstring, just in case he missed. He released the string and the arrow flew through the air, slicing into the animal’s neck. I shot my arrow, which went into the stag’s chest. The animal jerked in surprise, attempted to turn and flee with the two missiles lodged in its body, then collapsed on to the ground as its strength gave way. We both sprinted forward, Surena throwing himself on top of the jerking beast as its life ebbed away. He pulled his dagger and slit its throat, blood gushing from the wound into the earth. It jerked no more.
‘You should have shot him through the chest, to hit the heart,’ I said.
Surena smiled. ‘Too easy.’
‘I used to be cocky like you. It almost got me killed. A big Roman centurion nearly cut me in two. Dig the arrows out; we don’t want to waste any.’
Surena screwed up his face, but then shrugged and began using his dagger to work the arrows free from the deer’s flesh. Soon his hands and the arms of his tunic were covered in blood. He eventually yanked the arrows free and handed me mine. I wiped the three-winged arrowhead on the damp grass and slid it back into my quiver.
‘Why are we skulking around the forest? I thought we were here to fight Romans.’
‘You are skulking around because those are my orders. That should suffice. However, as you are my squire and I am in a generous mood, I will answer. But first, let me ask you a question.’
He too wiped his arrow clean before sitting on the dead deer.
‘When you were fighting the soldiers of Chosroes, why didn’t you meet them in open battle?’
He laughed. ‘They would have cut us to pieces. We only had knives and a few bows and spears. And we were too few.’
‘Exactly, Surena. Now go and fetch the horses so we can haul this magnificent feast back to camp.’
We had been in camp for ten days when one of the sentries came running to my tent. I was sitting on the ground sharpening my sword with a stone, while Surena was grooming his horse. Orodes was replacing the feathers on one of his arrows.
‘One of the out-riders reports two men approaching the forest, majesty.’
Orodes and Surena stopped what they were doing. I rose to my feet.
‘Good, we will go to meet them.’
I pointed at Surena. ‘Saddle your horse.’
Orodes had already thrown the saddle on the back of his mount as I walked over to Remus and did the same. Minutes later we were riding out of camp heading west. I told the officer on duty that we would return shortly.
‘Do you require an escort, majesty?’
‘That won’t be necessary.’
We followed the path out of the camp as the out-rider met us at the perimeter. I ordered him to show me the two strangers approaching and so we rode through the trees. Eventually we came to the edge of the forest and rode on to a wide mountain steppe. A chill wind was blowing from the north as I peered ahead and saw the two riders ambling towards us, now no more than a mile away.
‘Who are they?’ asked Orodes, leaning forward in his saddle.
‘Friends,’ I answered, then dug my knees into Remus.
We galloped across the grassland until we reached the mystery riders. I pulled up Remus and halted before the two now stationary men.
‘You found us, then,’ I said.
Byrd looked as unconcerned as ever. ‘Of course, you told me of your plans before we left Dura.’
‘Even so, this is a foreign land.’
‘Simple enough,’ replied Byrd. ‘Get to Vanadzor, then look for hiding place large enough to conceal a thousand men and their horses, not too far from the city. You getting predictable.’
‘Not too predictable, I hope.’ I looked at Malik. ‘Hail, prince. I trust your father is well.’
‘And in your debt,’ he replied. ‘He is most appreciative of your generosity.’
Orodes smiled at them both. ‘Good to see you again, Byrd, and you too, Malik.’
The spirits of the men rose when they saw the new arrivals. Byrd had become something of a legend among us, the man who travelled like a ghost among the enemy. His status was enhanced by his remoteness; he gave his time only to those who had been with him in Italy, or those few others he liked. Everyone else he largely ignored. Malik was liked because he was a fearless warrior who had served Dura of his own volition. No one gave his race a second thought; he was one of us now. That night we skinned the deer, cooked it over a great fire and then Surena cut strips of meat from it for us to eat.
After we had filled our bellies we sat round the fire as it slowly died, Byrd speaking as he stared into the red glow. He and Malik had journeyed to Vanadzor and I wanted to know about its garrison.
‘Garrison was stripped for campaign in Hatra, but still strong.’
‘How many men?’ I asked.
Byrd shrugged. ‘There is a legion camp outside its walls, though many empty spaces where tents should be, plus whatever within.’
‘They have horsemen as well, Pacorus,’ said Malik, tossing a rib into the fire, ‘we saw a few dozen while we were there.’
I shook my head. So much for the Romans giving up Gordyene. They had duped Phraates and had had no intention of yielding any territory. The only question remaining was how long would it take for those soldiers who had invaded my father’s kingdom to return to Gordyene. If they were in Syria, then hopefully they would stay there for the winter.
‘Not easy to move around city,’ said Byrd.
‘You are usually able to blend into your surroundings,’ I told him.
‘City half empty,’ he replied.
‘The plague?’ asked Orodes.
Byrd’s eyes narrowed and he smiled. ‘No. Romani take away half as slaves.’
I should have guessed. Any land unfortunate enough to fall into Rome’s lap is punished for its temerity in resisting, and the slave markets of Italy had an insatiable demand for new merchandise. I was going to say something p
hilosophical about how we are fighting for freedom, but then I remembered that I was not in Italy serving under Spartacus. In any case, I had given the Romans we had taken at Dura to Haytham to share the profits when they were sold as slaves. At that moment I suddenly realised that I too was a slave trader. I hated the Romans even more for reducing me to their level. But then, I did not have to sell the Romans, I could have let them go. So that they could get new weapons and return to kill more of my people? I had made the right decision. I said nothing in response to Byrd’s news, merely avoided anyone’s gaze and stared into the fire.
The next day I called the officers together and told them of my plans. They were quite simple. I intended to ride up to the city walls and insult the Romans, who would hopefully send out a cavalry patrol to apprehend me. I would take Surena and Vagharsh with me, no one else, and would show my banner to the enemy to let them know who was paying them a visit. The rest of the day was spent checking horse harnesses, saddles, bows and swords. We wore no armour aside from our helmets, just two layers of long-sleeved tunics with silk shirts next to our skin. The winters of Gordyene are generally mild, but each man had brought a thick woollen cloak treated with lanolin oil to keep out the cold. My cataphracts did not have their scale armour or the kontus, but they kept their full-face helmets, while the men from Susa had open-faced models. Surena did not have a helmet so he wore a padded felt cap on his head, complete with ear and neck flaps.
It was a three-hour ride from the camp to the capital, a journey across empty steppe land, past fast-flowing streams and through steep-sided valleys covered in trees. Eventually we reached Vanadzor itself, nestled in a narrow valley and straddling the river of the same name. Atrax had told me that the city had originally been a small settlement on the west bank of the river, no more than a collection of wooden huts protected by a stake fence, but in time the wood had been replaced by stone as trade with Armenia and its southern neighbours had brought a degree of prosperity to the kingdom. That had been over a hundred years ago. Now the city looked sad and forlorn, with crumbling walls and no King Balas to sit in its palace. After his defeat and death the Romans had just walked into the city and occupied it without a fight.
On the plain there were some travellers on the wide track that followed the course of the river north to the city gates, two hauling a small cart loaded with animal pelts, another bowed down with a large sack on his back. Two squat towers flanked the gates. We halted to take stock under some trees by the side of the track where the valley narrowed, around a mile from the city itself. The air was damp and the sky grey, with the tops of the hills wreathed in mist. Balas’ old capital looked a miserable place indeed.
We followed the track that hugged the eastern riverbank and then crossed a wooden bridge over the river itself. The waterway was not wide at this point, around forty feet or so, but the water was dark and fast flowing. Then we headed towards the city’s main entrance, once again following the course of the river. The gates were open, though aside from two guards standing sentry I saw no other signs of life. Then I spotted two helmets on the walls either side of the gates, then more as legionaries came out of the towers to peer at the three mystery horsemen approaching. We trotted on until we were around three hundred paces from the gates, the walls above now crowded with around a score of Roman soldiers all staring at us. I nudged Remus forward a few paces and then stopped. I spread out my arms.
‘Romans,’ I shouted at the top of my voice. ‘My name is Pacorus, King of Dura, and I order you to leave the city you now occupy and return to Italy.’
Nothing happened, aside from a few legionaries looking at each other in bewilderment. The two sentries turned to face us and instinctively lifted their shields to protect their left sides. I drummed my fingers on my saddle. After a few moments a burly centurion appeared at the gates, instantly recognisable by the transverse crest on his helmet, and began to stride towards us. The sentries followed him.
‘Surena,’ I said. ‘Do you think you can drop the big fellow in front with the fancy crest?’
He gave no answer, but seconds later I heard a twang and saw the arrow fly through the air, to hit the centurion in the centre of his chest. He immediately doubled over and fell to the ground. I pulled my bow from its case, strung an arrow and released the bowstring. One of the sentries had dropped his javelin and was bending down, trying to assist the centurion. My arrow went into his shoulder and he crumpled onto the ground. Surena shot another arrow that hit the remaining sentry in the thigh, who screamed and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his wound. I rode forward and shot three more arrows at the men standing on the walls, my arrows clattering off the stone, then I heard a great clamour as they raised the alarm. More Roman soldiers ran from the city and formed a line of locked shields in front of us, those behind using their shields to form a roof as protection against falling arrows.
I turned in the saddle. ‘Vagharsh, time for you to leave.’
He nodded and then wheeled away, galloping back towards the bridge, my griffin banner fluttering beside him. Surena came to my side.
‘Should not we be leaving, too?’
‘Not yet. It’s time to see if you have been keeping up with your training rather than pestering young Viper.’
He was indignant. ‘I wasn’t pestering her. She likes me.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘I was wondering if you could put in a word for me.’
I transferred my eyes from the Roman testudo to Surena. ‘What?’
‘She is in the queen’s bodyguard.’
‘What of it?’
‘Well, you must know her personally.’
I shook my head. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, Surena, but I do not know every person who is in Dura’s army. Even if I did know her, it is not my task in life to provide you with young girls.’
I heard a blast of horns and seconds later horsemen thundered out from the city, a column of Roman spearmen in two files heading straight for us.
We turned tail and galloped back towards the bridge with the Romans hard on our heels, then raced across the aged wooden beams onto the eastern side of the river. Moments later the enemy thundered across the bridge and then swung right to catch us. I leaned forward and urged Remus on, Surena beside me. There was no bravado on his face now as he continually glanced behind him at the enemy horsemen straining every fibre to catch us. We galloped along the track, the edge of the forest a green blur as we made our escape. There were trees on either side of us as we followed the course of the river south through the valley. The Romans were still chasing us as we rounded a bend in the track and came to a fork in the road, taking the track that veered to the left that led away from the river. We headed into the forest, the Romans at the head of their column screaming at us to halt. Then I heard another sound, a series of whooshing noises followed by screams and the shrieks of wounded and rearing horses. I slowed Remus and looked behind, to see a heap of riders and their horses on the track. My men had positioned themselves at the edge of the tree line, giving them an uninterrupted field of fire. They loosed their arrows as soon as the Romans came within range, pouring a devastating volley at the head of the column. There was no need to shoot at the middle or rear of the group — disable the head and the body will crumble. As arrows hit the first files, horses lost their footing and fell to the ground and those following collided into them. Those further back tried to veer left and right or halt, but their momentum was such that though their horses came to a sudden stop the riders were catapulted forward from their saddles. The rear of the column managed to slow their horses and avoid the mounds of men and horses to their front, but as they slowed they came under a withering arrow fire from my men in the trees. Arrow after arrow came from the forest, each one finding a fleshy target. Some of the Romans tried to turn and flee, but my men lined the track for half a mile and there was no escape. And then, where there had been shrieks, squeals and shouts, the only sounds were the low moans of the wounded.
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Riderless horses scattered as my men walked their mounts out of the trees. Romans that had been thrown from their horses staggered to the feet, dazed and confused, only to be felled by one or more arrows. Some raised their arms and endeavoured to give themselves up but there was no pity shown to the enemy this day. When all had been dropped, I pointed at Surena.
‘Make yourself useful.’
He nodded, jumped from his horse and went among the enemy. Others of my men did the same, all the time covered by the bows of their comrades. Slitting the throats of a disabled adversary is not a pleasant business, but wounded men can recover to fight another day. A handful of Romans had feigned death, hoping that they would go unnoticed. But not today. While this necessary measure was being carried out Orodes and Atrax rode over to me.
‘That was easy enough,’ said Orodes.
‘The next part will take longer,’ I replied.
‘You ride back to the city?’ enquired Atrax.
‘I do indeed, brother. This time perhaps you two would like to accompany me.’
And so the three of us rode back to the gates of Vanadzor, this time with a hundred riders behind us. We did so at a gentle pace; there was no point in tiring the horses unnecessarily. This time the banner of Susa fluttered beside my own. Atrax has wanted to fly Media’s standard in Gordyene but his father had forbidden him to do so. Farhad clearly feared the Romans, but I did not tell his son this. We arrived once more at the gates, which were now slammed shut. I told the others to keep well out of bow range as I once more goaded the enemy.
‘Romans,’ I hollered. ‘Were those horsemen the best you could offer? Their blood now fertilises the earth. Surrender now and save your skins, for to fight further is to invite death.’
I saw no movement on the towers or walls, and so after a few minutes waiting I returned to the men.
