by Peter Darman
He had confirmed what I believed, though I was determined to give Chosroes more than a good hiding.
We set off on an overcast morning, a slight drizzle in the air, marching south on the western side of the Euphrates. As the legions tramped out of their camp and Byrd and Malik rode at the head of a large party of Agraci scouts, I said goodbye to my daughter in the Citadel’s courtyard. Dobbai held her hand. She cried when she realised that her father and mother were leaving her. It was heartbreaking to see her in such a condition, and Gallia had tears in her eyes as she embraced her daughter. Rsan stood on the steps beside Godarz, his head bowed in reverence. Dobbai wore a resigned expression — she was still obviously perturbed by my course of action.
‘Take care of yourself, son of Hatra.’
I scooped up Claudia in my arms and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Have no fear, I will be back in no time. After all, the gods love me, do they not?’
I put Claudia down and she grabbed Dobbai’s hand. Behind me Surena was sitting in his saddle holding Remus’ reins. I nodded to Godarz who nodded back; then I vaulted onto Remus’ back and rode from the Citadel, followed by Gallia and her Amazons. It was just another busy day in Dura as the long line of legionaries, marching six abreast, snaked south towards Mesene. To their front and on their right flank hundreds of horsemen filled the horizon. We marched with nine thousand legionaries, a thousand Agraci cavalry, just over a thousand cataphracts, Kuban’s nine hundred horsemen, five hundred of Dura’s horse archers and another two thousand horsemen that the lords had mustered. It was more than enough to defeat the remnants of the army of Chosroes that had scurried back to Mesene. We also had the Roman engineers and their siege engines with which to batter the walls of Uruk.
The quickest route there was to head east from Dura and then march down the east bank of the Euphrates, but that would entail traversing Hatran and Babylonian territory and I did not wish to antagonise my father or take advantage of Vardan’s friendship, so we marched on the opposite bank. In former times this would have been suicidal with open war between Dura’s rulers and the Agraci, but now it was a pleasant enough journey. We maintained a brisk pace, covering twenty miles a day. Domitus insisted that we built a camp every night and that everyone slept within its ramparts. During the day those horsemen who were not undertaking scouting duties dismounted and walked their horses, not only to save their mounts but also to maintain their physical condition. Men sitting in saddles on long marches with nothing to do are apt to go to sleep, especially if in friendly territory, and this was certainly that. Nevertheless, we still maintained our standard marching order. Far ahead of the army were Byrd, Malik and his Agraci warriors, riding far and wide to ensure our safety and to collect any useful information. The tip of the army comprised small parties of horse archers. If they came into contact with the enemy they were to instantly disengage and ride back to the army to pass on their information. Next came a vanguard of a hundred fully armoured cataphracts followed by the senior commanders of the army and their standards. The Amazons also rode with this assembly. Behind this group came the rest of the cataphracts and their camels carrying their armour and supplies and then mules and carts pulled by oxen carrying the battering rams and other siege equipment of the Roman engineers. Behind them came the colour party of the Duran Legion with its gold griffin and guards. The trumpeters followed them and then came the cohorts of legionaries divided into their centuries. The men marched six abreast and were accompanied by centurions with their trusty vine canes. The Pontic Legion, the Exiles, followed the Durans. It now had its own standard, a silver lion representing the revered beast of Pontus that had also been the standard of Balas. It had been cast from the silver taken from the armour and helmets of the dead Mesenian soldiers recently slain before the walls of Dura. The tents, spare weapons, armour and other supplies for the two legions came after them, carried by hundreds of mules and dozens of wagons. The lords and their followers trailed after the legions, with a body of Duran horse archers forming the rearguard and more horse archers acting as flank guards and scouts. As the day wore on the drizzle ceased as the sun burnt away the clouds, warming the earth. Soon the thousands of feet and hooves tramping across the baked ground had produced a dust cloud hanging over the whole army, stretching for ten miles.
Dura’s territory extended south of the city for a distance of a hundred miles and after that came the empty vastness of the Arabian desert; an endless wilderness of sand that the Agraci called the Rub’al-Khali, the Empty Quarter; yet it was far from empty. It was home to the Agraci and the striped hyena, jackal, honey badger, sand gazelle and white oryx. Within Dura’s borders the land next to the Euphrates was fully irrigated and cultivated, but as we marched beyond my kingdom’s southern border the land turned into a red sand wasteland with great sandstone plateaus in the distance. It was as if we had entered a land devoid of life. On the fifth day, however, a group of Agraci riders joined us; black-clad figures mounted on camels armed with long spears. They were led by the hulking figure of Yasser, one of Haytham’s chiefs I had met when the king had brought his army to face Pompey. The day was waning when he and his men appeared and so we invited him to stay with us for the night.
Gallia and I entertained him in my command tent, along with Byrd, Malik, Orodes, Nergal and Domitus. Gallia sat next to Yasser flattering and teasing the grizzled old warrior. His previous suspicion of us seemed to have evaporated, though he saw no reason for our fortified camp.
‘Haytham rules all this land, there is no enemy here.’
‘We have our procedures, Yasser,’ I said, ‘we stick to what is tried and tested.’
‘You march to make war on Mesene?’ he winked at Gallia.
‘You are well informed,’ I replied.
He smiled. ‘We knew that you would strike at Mesene as soon as you had defeated its army.’
‘You approve of my course of action?’
‘Of course, you cannot allow Chosroes to live after such base treachery.’
‘We do not go to kill Chosroes, Yasser,’ said Gallia, ‘we go to show him that Dura is not a toy to be played with.’
I said nothing but Yasser caught my eye and smiled knowingly. I also saw Domitus smile to himself.
Yasser accompanied us south to the ford across the Euphrates some fifty miles from Uruk. Of the enemy we saw nothing, though Yasser told me that after his losses at Dura Chosroes would have few soldiers left.
‘Prince Malik told us of the great fires that were used to turn the dead Mesenians into ashes.’
‘My men counted near nine thousand enemy dead,’ I said.
‘I doubt that there are any soldiers left in Uruk,’ was Yasser’s approving comment.
The next day I summoned Surena to my tent.
‘I want you to ride south to your people and spread the word that the time of Chosroes is over,’ I told him. ‘Take a company of horse archers and recruit any who can carry a weapon. You can start by enlisting that little group of bandits that you belonged to. Bring any that join you north to link up with the army at Uruk.’
Surena was shocked. ‘They will be slaughtered, lord. My people have no weapons aside from what they have taken from the enemy.’
‘I know this, Surena. But it is not my intention to get your people killed.’
‘I do not understand, lord.’
‘Neither do I,’ added Domitus, who was seated nearby.
‘It is quite simple,’ I said. ‘If Chosroes learns that the marsh people are in revolt, he will send troops to crush them. But we will intercept them before they reach your people, Surena. Yasser is wrong when he states that Chosroes has no troops left, so I want to entice some of them out of Uruk where they can be dealt with in the open.’
When Surena had left I called together Nergal and Orodes and worked out how we would spring our trap. I sent Byrd and Malik ahead to scout the land and ensure that there were no enemy forces approaching our location, which was still on the west bank of the Euphrates. We had
actually marched south of the Mesenian capital to reach the ford.
At night we set no fires, which meant the men grumbled, wrapped their cloaks around them and chewed on cold food. Their moaning was a small price to pay for our veil of secrecy. For the fires of twenty thousand men would be seen for miles, even by the sentries on the high walls of Uruk. Five days after Surena had left, Byrd and Malik returned to inform me that a large group of marsh people had left the safety of their watery domain and were heading north as requested.
‘They have a collection of old shields, spears, a few swords and long knives,’ said Malik with disdain.
‘They no soldiers,’ added Byrd.
‘That is our job,’ I said.
I told them to return to Surena and inform him that he would be receiving reinforcements shortly, but that he must keep heading in the direction of Uruk. I then ordered Domitus to send two cohorts to support Surena. Domitus was most unhappy.
‘I thought we were here to take Uruk.’
‘And so we are, Domitus.’
‘Then why are we wasting two cohorts of good men playing nursemaid to a bunch of vagrants?’
‘I too do not understand,’ said Orodes.
‘Listen, my friends,’ I replied. ‘Chosroes hates the marsh people, so when he learns that they are marching on his capital he will send troops to destroy them. Only when he does, they will be running into a trap.’
‘If he’s got wind that we are here,’ replied Domitus, ‘he’ll barricade himself inside his city and won’t take the bait.’
Domitus, as ever, saw everything in purely military terms, and he was right. Having lost the majority of his army in a recent battle no commander would further weaken his forces on dispersing a band of marsh people. But I knew that Chosroes despised the Ma’adan and would relish the opportunity to slaughter them. In any case, as far Chosroes was concerned Dura’s army was still in its homeland. My gamble paid off, for Byrd and Malik brought news that a body of horsemen had indeed left Uruk and were riding south to intercept Surena. Chosroes had no system of forts such as existed in Hatra, to pass on information to neighbouring strongholds or watchtowers. Sitting in his capital he was effectively blind.
Mesene is mostly flat, with a highly cultivated strip on the eastern side of the Euphrates, extending inland for a distance of around two miles. As in Hatra there is also another belt of rich agricultural land on the other side of the kingdom, along the River Tigris. Byrd and Malik had reported that there was little activity on the opposite side of the river, no doubt because many of the farmers who had worked the land had been killed at Dura. Their families must have taken refuge in Uruk. It was now time for us to cross the river.
As the Euphrates begins the final leg of its long journey before it enters the Persian Gulf, the depth of the river lessens and there are many fords that will allow an army to cross. Nevertheless, it took two days to transport the men and beasts and the hundreds of wagons over to the other side. Nergal sent parties of horsemen many miles ahead of the crossing to ensure that we were not surprised, but there were no hostile moves against us. When everything and everyone was across the river, Domitus made camp and I rode with Orodes at the head of five hundred cataphracts and their squires to intercept and destroy the Mesenians who had been sent from Uruk. We rode across cultivated land and then arid, featureless desert as we headed south. At midday on the second day of our journey we saw a great dust cloud on the horizon — we had found the enemy.
Byrd and Malik joined us as we were equipping our horses with scale armour from the camel train that accompanied us. It was mercilessly hot and I knew that horse and rider would not be able to spend many hours encased in steel armour, thick hide and iron scales. Byrd told me that the enemy was five miles south of our position.
‘They made camp hereabouts last night and wait for their prey.’
‘Where are Surena and his men?’ I asked.
‘Ten miles south of the Mesenians,’ said Malik. ‘Your foot soldiers are also with them.’
‘Did you count the Mesenians, Byrd?’
He squinted in the sunlight. ‘Not more than a thousand, mostly spearmen and horse archers. No problem for your horsemen.’
We left the camels under a guard of squires and then began our journey. My plan was hardly subtle. We would ride south in two lines and strike the enemy while they were attacking the marsh people. I thanked Shamash that the cohorts had linked up with Surena. I was unconcerned about the legionaries, they could handle cavalry easily enough, but if the marsh people had been intercepted before my men had linked up with them, then the desert would be littered with their corpses by now.
On we rode, the dust cloud filling the horizon where men were fighting and dying. At around two miles from our target we broke into a canter, my kontus resting on my right shoulder. The sounds of battle were pulling me, making my heart race as the lure of combat made my blood race through my body. Remus strained at the leash to break into a gallop, for he too knew the sounds of battle. Not yet, my friend, have patience. On we rode, now less than half a mile from the bloody maelstrom. I could see figures ahead, men on horseback riding parallel to a line of shields — Duran shields!
I brought down my kontus and grabbed it with both hands on the right side of Remus.
The enemy spotted us as we broke into a fast gallop, hurtling across the iron-hard earth towards them. They desperately tried to form a line as we closed on them, riders lowering their spears and then moving toward us. But we had the momentum and when we hit them their thin line disintegrated. My kontus felt as light as a feather as I clutched it hard, drove it into the chest of a horsemen then let it go. I drew my sword and slashed left and right at figures as I thundered through the enemy formation and then wheeled Remus around and went back to the melee. A figure lunged at me with his spear but the point glanced off the metal rings protecting my arm. I brought my sword down and hacked at his shoulder as he rode past me, the blade cutting into flesh. These riders had shields and helmets but wore no armour protection over their torsos. Many had been speared in our first charge and now my horsemen went to work with their swords and maces. The enemy could find no way through our scale armour and metal leg and arm protection. A figure dressed in an ornate helmet and scale cuirass came at me with his sword, driving the point towards my face. I parried his blow and then swung at him with my spatha but he deflected my blade. He used his sword with great dexterity, thrusting and then withdrawing it, always looking for a gap in my defences. I raised my blade above my head and brought it down against his neck but he blocked the blow and then drove his sword point into my arm. The metal rings fortunately deflected the blow. We fought for what seemed like an eternity and I forgot about what was happening around me. Once more he raised his sword above his head, and then an arrow slammed into the side of his chest. He froze, looked down at the feathered shaft protruding from his flesh and then slowly lowered his sword. Another arrow hit him in the back and he pitched forward in the saddle, dropping his sword. I looked past him and saw Surena on his horse with a bow in his hand. He nocked another arrow and then shot my opponent in the back once more. The man gently slid out of his saddle and fell to the ground. Surena rode up to me.
He spat at the dying figure beneath us. ‘That is Chosran, the eldest son of Chosroes who has persecuted my people for many years.’
The son of Chosroes lay on the ground face-up, blood oozing from his mouth as he tried to gasp for air. Around us the last remnants of the Mesenian horsemen were being killed, while their horse archers, who had been trying to break the square of legionaries, turned tail and ran. I gave orders to let them go — most likely they would flee to Uruk and we would have another chance to kill them soon enough.
Surena strung another arrow in his bowstring to shoot at the prostrate figure of Chosran.
‘No,’ I ordered, ‘slit his throat and have done with it.’
But Surena merely sniffed, spat on the ground once more, replaced his arrow in his quiver
and wheeled his horse away. I slid off Remus’ back and knelt beside Chosran. He was already more than half dead, his eyes wide and vacant and his breathing very shallow. I pulled my dagger from its sheath and drew it swiftly across his throat to send him into the next life.
‘Know that it was your father’s treachery that led you to this place.’
Orodes rode up as I began to take off my arm and leg armour and dump it on the ground. Others were doing likewise, for the heat was intolerable.
‘That was easy enough, Pacorus.’
‘How many did we kill?’
Orodes looked around. ‘Difficult to say at this juncture, but our first charge must have cut most of them down.’ He looked at the dead figure at my feet. ‘Who is that?’
‘One of Chosroes’ sons. I’m hoping that when he learns of his death Chosroes himself will march out to exact vengeance on me.’
‘I doubt that,’ mused Orodes.
In the battle’s aftermath the squires brought us water and helped us take off the horses’ scale armour. It may have saved them from missiles and blades in combat but it caused them to sweat horrendously. Our own losses amounted to five dead and a similar number wounded, while we counted over three hundred enemy bodies. Not as many as I would have liked, but it was three hundred less men who would be defending the walls of Uruk.
We burnt our own dead and left the Mesenians to rot. The cohorts that I had sent to link up with the marsh people were commanded by a grizzled Thracian named Drenis, a man who had not only served under Spartacus in Italy but had also been a gladiator in the same ludus in Capua. How long ago that time seemed now.
‘They tried to charge through us at first. They must have thought we were just a bunch of ill-armed savages. So we formed into line and then emptied many saddles with our javelins. They were a bit more wary of us after that.’
‘Did you lose many men?’
‘No, about ten or twelve wounded, none killed. Our main problem was keeping these people,’ he jerked his head towards the great crowd of Ma’adan, ‘from trying to run after the enemy horsemen when they fell back to reform.’
