Carrhae (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Peter Darman

  ‘We might,’ I answered, ‘if we take horse archers only.’

  All this time Aaron had been standing near Rsan observing the proceedings and probably wondering why he had been summoned. But now I turned to him.

  ‘Aaron, what news have you heard from Alexander and his Jewish fighters?’

  Dura had been instrumental in providing weapons to Jewish fighters in Roman-occupied Judea, for which we had been paid handsomely in gold. They were led by a prince named Alexander Maccabeus, a man who dreamed of freeing his homeland from Roman oppression but who had been heavily defeated last year and his men scattered. He himself still lived, though, and while he did so the flame of rebellion still burned in Judea.

  ‘I heard from him three months ago, majesty,’ said Aaron. ‘He is holding out in the hills of eastern Judea.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, ‘please write to him again today, asking that he attack the Romans in Judea with all the strength he has. Anything to divert Roman eyes from Palmyra.’

  After resting and taking refreshments Byrd rode back to Palmyra on a fresh horse and I sat down with Gallia, Domitus and Kronos to work out a plan. Despite their protests I decided to take Vagises and his horse archers, who could ride at a moment’s notice. Gallia wanted to accompany me but I told her to muster the lords and their men and to follow me to Haytham’s capital after she had done so. The legions and cataphracts would remain at Dura. Taking the horse archers would enable us to cover thirty miles a day at least, meaning we would reach Palmyra in five days.

  I set off the next day with two and a half thousand horse archers and a thousand camels carrying spare arrows. Gallia sent a summons to all the lords to attend her at the Citadel with every horse archer they could raise. In this way I hoped to muster an additional twenty thousand riders to support Haytham. In addition to spare quivers the camels carried waterskins, food and fodder for the horses, the humped beasts themselves being quite able to subsist on their bodies’ reserves until we reached Palmyra.

  We rode over thirty miles the first day and nearly forty on the second, camping at night under the stars with only our cloaks to sleep in. It felt strange not resting for the night behind a ditch and rampart surmounted by stakes as was the custom in Dura’s army, but we posted guards every ten paces and at any one time half the men were standing to arms, being relieved every two hours. The days were hot and dry, particularly on the third morning when we broke camp before dawn and rode for five hours before resting the horses for three hours, then commencing our journey once again for another three hours. As we neared Palmyra I noticed the reduced amount of traffic on the road, a sure sign that conflict was imminent. The trade caravans of the Silk Road had a sixth sense when it came to discerning trouble and acted accordingly. Thus the number of caravans travelling through Dura on their way to Palmyra and then on to Syria and Egypt would diminish to nothing until after hostilities had ceased. They would travel north to Hatra instead, though as that kingdom was soon to be embroiled in war traffic might cease altogether.

  On the fifth morning we spotted the Jabal Abu Rujmayn, the imposing mountain range located due north of Palmyra, and two hours later ran into an Agraci patrol five miles east of the great oasis settlement. It comprised half a dozen elderly men wrapped in black robes, their black face tattoos faded on their leather-like tanned skin. Their commander, a tall, gangly individual with piercing hazel eyes, bowed his head to me.

  ‘Greetings, lord. We were expecting you.’

  Byrd had obviously arrived before us. ‘Where is your king?’

  ‘He has taken a great host of warriors west, lord, to fight the invaders.’

  I closed my eyes. We had arrived too late. I prayed to Shamash that Haytham would not engage the Romans until we reached him. Perhaps there was still time.

  ‘Prince Malik accompanies his father?’

  He smiled to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. ‘Yes, lord. He hopes to slaughter his father’s enemies.’

  Hopefully Malik would temper his father’s eagerness to immediately attack the Romans.

  ‘We are to escort you to the governor’s tent, lord.’

  ‘The governor?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, lord, the king left Byrd as chief of Palmyra in his absence.’

  Vagises took the companies to one of Palmyra’s great watering holes that were filled by springs bringing the precious liquid from deep in the earth, making the surrounding desert bloom. I accompanied the grizzled old Agraci warrior to the middle of the settlement where Byrd’s tent was pitched, riding through a multitude of canopies and a site that was seething with activity. At least Haytham had not ordered the evacuation of Palmyra. Not yet.

  My escort left me at the entrance to Byrd’s tent where a servant took Remus, my stallion, from me and another escorted me inside the expansive goat hair structure. I waited for my presence to be announced and then Noora, Byrd’s wife, appeared, embracing me and welcoming me to her ‘modest’ home, which in truth was grander than Haytham’s own tent.

  ‘Byrd is most unhappy, lord,’ she said to me in hushed tones as we entered the main compartment where my friend was seated on a heap of cushions on the carpeted floor. ‘He wanted to go with Haytham and Malik but the king insisted that he stay here to rule Palmyra in his absence.’

  He rose and we embraced.

  ‘It is a great honour that Haytham has bestowed on you,’ I said.

  ‘I no governor,’ he sniffed, ‘I should be with him and Malik.’

  While the small army of servants that he and Noora had amassed served us refreshments Byrd told me that Haytham had departed with his warriors two days ago, intent on stopping the Romans at the border.

  ‘I told him that you were coming but he would not wait. Yasser and Vehrka said it was dishonourable to remain idle in face of enemy invasion.’

  Yasser and Vehrka were two of Haytham’s lords and the latter was Malik’s father-in-law.

  ‘I can understand that,’ I replied, ‘especially as it is Vehrka’s lands that the Romans are marching across.’

  ‘Not only Romani,’ said Byrd.

  ‘Who else?’ I asked in alarm.

  ‘King Sampsiceramus of Emesa.’

  He may have had a ridiculously long name but Sampsiceramus ruled a prosperous kingdom, made rich by the profits of the Silk Road. When Pompey had conquered Syria and Judea the ruler of Emesa had thrown in his lot with the Romans, becoming their client king. Located on the eastern bank of the River Orontes and close to the Mediterranean coast, the city of Emesa was around a hundred miles west of where I was sitting and the destination of the trade caravans once they had passed through Palmyra. From there they travelled either north to Roman Syria or south to Egypt.

  ‘He provides slingers, archers and spearmen for Romani,’ continued Byrd. ‘Haytham should have waited for your archers,’ he finished glumly.

  If Haytham engaged the Romans and their allies before I reached him then he would be at a great disadvantage when it came to missile power for the Agraci horsemen had few archers and no slingers.

  ‘Who else is with the Romans?’ I asked, hoping the answer would be Mithridates.

  Byrd knew what I was alluding to and smiled. ‘He and his mother still at Antioch, so my spies tell me.’

  I heard horses’ hooves outside and moments later Rasha burst into our company. She was now on the verge of womanhood and her body had become more curvy and her face more attractive. Gone was the young girl I had first encountered when I arrived at Dura. In her place was a raven-haired beauty. I stood and was nearly toppled over as she threw her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.

  ‘Greetings little princess,’ I said, though she was nearly as tall as me now and in a couple of years would no doubt surpass my height.

  ‘Where’s Gallia?’ she asked, looking around before kissing Noora and then Byrd.

  ‘She will be here soon.’

  ‘And then we will go and fight the enemy,’ she beamed.

  ‘And then you will
stay here,’ commanded Byrd. ‘Your father has enough to worry about without his daughter getting into trouble.’

  Rasha stuck her tongue out at him and Noora laughed. How great was Byrd’s influence among the Agraci that Haytham himself would trust him with the life of his daughter and the safekeeping of his city.

  The next day Rasha was thrilled when Gallia rode into Palmyra at the head of the Amazons and twenty thousand horse archers. As usual the latter were led by the old brawler Spandarat, who was itching for a fight. Byrd wanted to give a great feast to celebrate the arrival of Gallia and my lords but I declined the offer. For one thing I did not want Spandarat and his fellow nobles getting roaring drunk and being unfit for duty the next day. So he went to bed an unhappy man but at least woke without a hangover and was in the saddle before dawn to ride alongside Gallia, Vagises and me as we headed west into the desert across the rock and gravel steppe. It was already hot and everyone was wearing either floppy hats or head cloths, their helmets dangling from the horns of their saddles.

  Five hours after leaving Palmyra I saw a great dust cloud on the horizon and ordered a halt.

  ‘Is it a sandstorm?’ asked Vagises.

  I shook my head. I had seen many sandstorms during my life, had observed the terrifying orange-brown wall of sand come out of the desert, the bottom of which appeared to contain millions of desert flies. The wall of sand could be up to a mile high and swallow whole towns and cities in its path. The storms could last for hours, days or even weeks but this was not one. This dust cloud was too sparse and immobile: the particles were being kicked up by thousands of horses and men. We had found Haytham and the Romans.

  I gave the order to deploy into battle formation: a thousand of Dura’s archers on the left wing, another thousand on the right and the remainder in the centre with the Amazons. The lords were deployed behind the centre – twenty blocks of horsemen numbering a thousand riders each. And behind them were the camels carrying spare arrows. Vagises sent a score of horsemen to scout ahead while we advanced at a trot towards the battle on the horizon.

  They returned to report that the Romans and their allies were advancing towards us in a long line, having apparently routed the Agraci. The latter were still launching attacks against the enemy but their efforts were uncoordinated and haphazard. I turned to Vagharsh and told him to unfurl the standard, then ordered a general advance.

  Ahead I could see a mass of black riders – Haytham’s warriors – and could hear shouts and screams as men fought and killed each other. We broke into a canter as we headed towards the battle and then I saw a party of Agraci galloping towards me. I ordered a halt as Malik and fifty of his men pulled up their horses. The prince looked tired and angry.

  He nodded at me. ‘Greetings, Pacorus, you are a sight for sore eyes.’

  He noticed Gallia and bowed his head at her.

  ‘I am glad to see that you are unhurt, Malik,’ she said.

  He glanced back at the battle raging around a thousand paces in front of us. ‘The same cannot be said for many of my people.’

  ‘What happened?’ I asked.

  ‘The Romans and their treacherous allies from Emesa appeared two hours after dawn and my father ordered an immediate assault on them. I have ridden with you too long, my friend, not to know that our horsemen would not be able to break their formation but he would have none of it. So we attacked and their archers and slingers positioned among the legionaries cut down many of our riders before they could get close to their ranks.’

  ‘They deployed into a square?’ I asked.

  He nodded. ‘A great hollow square that we attacked on all sides and inside it they hid their horsemen, and when our losses mounted and we tired they formed into line and then their horsemen attacked us.’

  ‘Where is your father now, Malik?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Desperately trying to halt the Romans.’ He turned to me. ‘He needs your help, Pacorus.’

  ‘We will halt the enemy’s advance, my friend,’ I replied. ‘But the first thing you must do is to ride to your father and convince him to pull his warriors back, to disengage from the enemy.’

  Malik shook his head. ‘He will never agree to that.’

  I leaned over and grabbed his arm. ‘You must convince him to do so, otherwise the Romans will be in Palmyra this time tomorrow.’

  He turned from me and made to kick his horse forward then swung in his saddle.

  ‘Lord Vehrka is dead.’

  I was shocked. ‘How?’

  ‘Killed by the Roman horsemen. They are very good, Pacorus, well led.’

  He urged his horse forward and then he and his escort were galloping back to the battle line.

  The Agraci did not fight as part of an organised army but as individuals grouped round their lords, much like the retainers of my own lords, and though brave and fearless were no match for the discipline and fighting skills of the Roman Army. Now they fell back in dispirited and angry groups, passing through my men as Haytham and his son rode up to where Gallia and I waited on our horses. With them were Yasser and a dozen other Agraci lords. Haytham wore a livid expression. He bowed his head to Gallia and nodded at me.

  ‘I thank you on behalf of the Agraci people for coming to our aid, Pacorus. Byrd exceeds his authority, I think.’

  ‘We are happy to help our friends and allies, lord king,’ said Gallia.

  ‘We are glad to fight alongside you, lord,’ I said.

  ‘These Romans are like cockroaches, difficult to kill,’ he spat.

  I looked beyond Haytham to see long lines of red shields advancing towards us with horsemen on their flanks.

  ‘There are slingers and archers interspersed among those legionaries,’ warned Malik.

  ‘If your men form up behind my own,’ I said to Haytham, ‘then we will first bring the enemy to a halt.’

  By now the vast majority of the Agraci had passed through the gaps between the lords and their men in the centre and Vagises’ horse archers on the wings. The latter now moved to position themselves directly opposite the Roman horsemen on the flanks of the legion and a phalanx of Emesian spearmen that were moving forward at a steady pace. I turned in the saddle and waved Spandarat forward.

  I pointed at the enemy troops approaching. ‘Spandarat, we must halt those troops opposite. Therefore if you and the other lords would assault them I would be eternally grateful.’

  He rubbed his hands together and grinned. ‘Lovely.’

  He withdrew to where his fellow noblemen waited on their horses and imparted my wishes to them. Moments later they were galloping to take up position in front of their men and then led them forward.

  Within minutes twenty thousand horse archers were unleashed against the ranks of the enemy. They charged in twenty great columns, each one grouped behind their lord and began shooting their arrows at a range of seven hundred paces from their foes. The missiles arched high into the sky and then fell onto the heads of the Romans and their Emesian allies, the latter in their great phalanx were not able to lock their shields above their heads like the men of the Tiber. The slingers and archers interspersed among the Romans suffered the most casualties, being struck by dozens of arrows that suddenly fell among them.

  My lords may not have led the most disciplined or well-equipped soldiers in the world but they knew how to conduct themselves in battle. They knew that if they moved at speed and kept out of range of the enemy they would improve their effectiveness and reduce their own casualties. And so at a distance of four hundred paces from the front ranks of the enemy their men wheeled their horses right and right again to ride back to their starting position, twisting in the saddle to shoot a parting arrow at the opposition over the hindquarters of their horses as they did so.

  While the enemy’s centre was being subjected to this arrow storm Vagises’ horse archers on either wing held their positions, while behind where I watched the drama beside Gallia, Haytham and his warriors reformed and strained to be unleashed once more. To our f
ront the lords’ men were shooting around five arrows a minute, meaning their would empty their quivers in six minutes, but in that short space of time they managed to halt the advance of the enemy. As the lords led their men to the rear to replenish their quivers from the camel train a dust-covered Spandarat rode up to me with a big grin on his face.

  ‘Soon as we’ve stocked up on arrows we’ll go back and finish them off.’

  I peered past him at the wall of locked Roman shields.

  ‘You have halted them, well done,’ I said. ‘But for the moment we wait to see what the enemy will do.’

  His grin disappeared.

  ‘Time to finish them off, otherwise they will crawl back to Emesa.’

  ‘That is for Haytham to decide,’ I reminded him.

  The attack by Dura’s lords had taken the enemy by surprise. Believing that Haytham’s warriors were assaulting them, they had once more prepared to fend them off with slingers and archers. Instead they had been subjected to a missile storm that had felled many of their own missile troops, who carried no shields and wore no body armour. Their own bows had a shorter range than our own recurve models and though their slings could shoot as far, our initial volley had been such a surprise that they had failed to shoot any missiles in return.

  Malik and Haytham now rode forward to join out little group as silence descended over the battlefield and the choking dust that had hung over it mercifully began to slowly dissipate.

  ‘They have been halted, lord king,’ I said to Haytham.

  ‘But they still stand on my land,’ he growled.

  I knew he would launch another general attack that would achieve little apart from reaping another harvest of Agraci dead, but it was not my place to tell him what to do in his own kingdom. Nevertheless, I felt honour bound to point out that it would be rash to launch a frontal assault and was just about to say so when Malik spoke.

  ‘Their horsemen are advancing.’

  We all looked to where he was pointing at the enemy’s right wing, from where a group of horsemen were advancing against Dura’s horse archers.

  ‘Roman horsemen,’ he sneered, ‘the same ones who inflicted many losses on us earlier.’