Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles)

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Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 10

by Darman, Peter


  ‘Very well,’ I said, ‘this is the plan. I intend to finish Mithridates and his army once and for all. Therefore our tactics today will be hammer and anvil.’

  Orodes raised an eyebrow but said nothing while Domitus was nodding his head in agreement. Marcus was confused, as he did not understand what it meant. Domitus enlightened him.

  ‘What the king means Marcus, is that my two legions will act as an anvil and the army’s horsemen will be the hammer. In between the two will be the enemy, battered into fragments by a series of hammer blows.’

  I continued. ‘The foot will deploy behind a screen of horse archers who will advance and goad the enemy into launching an attack. Once they do the horse archers will fall back through the ranks of the legionaries.’

  ‘What about your cataphracts, lord?’ asked Surena.

  ‘Pacorus was coming to them,’ said Orodes.

  ‘They are the hammer,’ replied Domitus.

  ‘Hammer?’ Marcus was still confused.

  ‘The cataphracts will be divided into two bodies,’ I said, ‘one deployed on the right and the other on the left. Each body will be positioned directly behind the two legions, so that when the enemy horsemen chasing our horse archers run into the locked shields of the Durans and Exiles, the heavy horsemen will advance forward to envelop the flanks and rear of the enemy.’

  Marcus nodded in admiration. ‘A most ambitious plan, sir. And the enemy will be willing participants in their own slaughter?’

  ‘He has a point,’ said Domitus.

  ‘All we have to do is draw them in,’ I replied, ‘and when I dangle the bait in front of their noses they will fall into our laps easy enough.’

  Orodes frowned. ‘Bait?’

  I smiled at him. ‘Me, of course.’

  Orodes looked most alarmed. ‘You?’

  ‘Of course. Domitus is always saying that everyone in the empire knows me on my white horse with a white crest in my helmet. Well then, it will be easy enough to lure the army of Mithridates into our trap if his soldiers see me riding in front of them. I will command the horse archers.’

  Domitus had drawn his dagger and began toying with it. ‘The plan has merits.’

  ‘Prince Orodes will command the heavy horsemen deployed on the right, together with his own bodyguard.’

  Orodes nodded solemnly. He would have seven hundred and fifty men under his command on the right, which left five hundred cataphracts on the left wing. I pointed at Surena.

  ‘And you, Surena, will command the cavalry on the left wing.’

  Surena stopped eating his porridge, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and beamed at me.

  ‘Yes, lord, it will be an honour.’

  Orodes looked at Domitus in alarm while Byrd and Malik seemed disinterested. It was Domitus who put into words Orodes’ concern.

  ‘That is a big responsibility for a junior officer.’

  Surena shot my general a disdainful glance. Domitus respected Surena for his bravery and loyalty but thought him headstrong and reckless, and far too young to lead half a dragon of cataphracts. But I saw great promise in Surena.

  ‘It is true that Surena is young for such responsibility, but his shoulders are broad and I believe that he will rise to the task.’

  Surena stood up and bowed his head to me. ‘I will not let you down, majesty.’

  ‘Just make sure you don’t. Now go and prepare your men.’

  He beamed at me once more, bowed his head and then turned smartly and tripped over a chair leg to sprawl onto the floor. Blushing, he quickly jumped to his feet and raced from the tent. Domitus raised his eyes to the heavens.

  ‘I hope you know what you are doing,’ he said to me.

  ‘Have faith, Domitus. You know he is a brave young man and a good officer.’

  Domitus turned his dagger in his hand and examined the edges of the blade. ‘I don’t doubt that, but don’t blame me if he tries to win the battle by himself and charges straight at Mithridates, leading half your heavy horse to their destruction.’

  ‘What of me, sir?’ enquired Marcus.

  I walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘You, my friend, will stay and protect the camp. I will place all the squires under your command, just in case some of the opposition attempts to storm the camp while we are occupied on the battlefield.’

  It was doubtful that the enemy would detach a part of their army to attack the camp, though as it was led by Mithridates I would not put any underhand stratagem past him.

  ‘I would join you with the archers, Pacorus,’ said Malik.

  ‘I would be glad of your company, my friend,’ I replied.

  Byrd was free to do as he wanted. He could not use a bow and carried no weapons aside from a long knife tucked into his belt. In all the years that I had known him I had never seen him fight, though I was mightily glad that he was part of this army for his abilities as a scout. Daylight was spreading across the desert as we made our way outside to take command of our men. The sky was blue and cloudless and the air windless, though still surprisingly cool.

  I walked with Orodes to his tent where he would don his scale armour. Already columns of legionaries were marching out of the camp to head east to face the enemy, and around us squires were assisting their masters into their scale armour and encasing their horses in their armour protection. I would not be wearing my scale armour today, my Roman cuirass and helmet sufficing to lead the horse archers. We embraced each other and I left him to organise his men.

  I strode to the stable area to collect Remus. When I arrived he appeared unconcerned by the frenetic level of activity surrounding him – he was always more calm living outdoors as opposed to being cooped up in the palace stables. He was now a veteran of many battles and campaigns and had seen it all before. He could still be feisty and stubborn but in battle he was brave and steady, a perfect Parthian mount despite his Roman heritage. He stood still as I threw the saddlecloth on his back and then strapped on his saddle and bridle. Around me some horses, sensing the nervousness of their riders, became skittish and had to be calmed, but Remus merely flicked his tail and waited for me to finish. I slid my bow into its hide case and fastened it to one of the rear horns of the saddle. I placed my helmet on my head, the large cheekguards protecting each side of my face. A farrier handed me my quiver whose strap I threw over my right shoulder so the arrows hung on my left side. Then I rode from the stables to where the senior officers of the horse archers were waiting on their horses.

  ‘Well, gentlemen, today we will be the bait that hopefully entices the enemy into our trap. Prince Orodes has explained what your mission is?’

  They all nodded their heads.

  ‘Good, then may Shamash protect you all, and good luck.’

  They bowed their heads and then wheeled their horses around to ride in a single file down the side of the camp’s central avenue, which was now filled with legionaries marching six abreast to their battle positions. Marcus stood watching them go.

  ‘I feel useless,’ he muttered, clearly unhappy at being left behind to guard the camp. He had a gladius in a scabbard strapped to his belt and a helmet on his head.

  ‘You are far from useless,’ I replied. ‘Just make sure the camp is secure. You and your engines will be needed when we reach Ctesiphon.’

  He was far from convinced. ‘If you kill Mithridates today then there will be no need to breach Ctesiphon’s defences.’

  I had not thought of that and it brought a smile to my lips.

  ‘If we kill Mithridates today, then afterwards we will march on Persepolis. Then you can batter the walls of Narses’ capital, I promise.’ I raised my hand at him and he bowed his head in return, then I cantered from the camp to join the horse archers.

  We were around twenty miles from the Tigris, too far away to be battling on cultivated land. The stretch of ground we would fight on today was hard, flat, featureless and arid – ideal cavalry country. Normally in such terrain it was customary for the horsemen to be placed
on each wing with the foot in the middle but today would be different. In front of the foot would be the screen of horse archers, while behind the foot, on the extreme edges of their right and left flanks respectively, would be the cataphracts. There would no reserve. If everything unfolded according to plan there would be no need for one. If all went according to plan!

  It took two hours for the legions to assemble in their battle positions, all the time the horse archers in front of them keeping a watchful eye for the enemy, and beyond them rode Byrd, Malik and the scouts. Domitus placed the Duran Legion on the right, the place of honour, and the Exiles on the left. Many Parthians derided Dura and its ‘foreign’ army made up of former slaves, exiles from foreign lands and what they saw as the scrapings of humanity. But Domitus had forged his two legions into fearsome weapons and they were as yet undefeated in battle. Many kings in the empire could raise larger armies than Dura’s it was true, but they were comprised mostly of civilians, farmers in the main, who spent their lives growing crops and tending animals. All my men were full-time soldiers who spent every day on the training fields perfecting their skills. The Romans had taught me that discipline, endless training and the right equipment were the keys to victory, and I liked to think that Dura’s army had all three in abundance. Above all, drill and discipline were worth far more than thousands of ill-trained levies. That was the reason I did not bring along the lords and their retinues. Fearless they might be but they were also a law unto themselves and uncontrollable once the fighting began.

  Normally each legion was drawn up in three lines for battle but today Domitus had arranged them in two lines, five cohorts in the first line and five in the second. This was to extend the frontage of the army and also hide the presence of the cataphracts from the enemy, when the enemy appeared that is. Each cohort was made up of six centuries deployed side by side, each one composed of eight ranks, each rank made up of ten men. Each century had its own commander – a centurion – who stood in the front rank while his two second-in-commands were located at the rear. There was very little space between each century in the cohort but there was a gap equating to the frontage of a cohort between the cohorts in the first line. The cohorts of the second line were arranged in such a way that each one could march forward and fill the gaps in the first line, after which the legion would have a frontage of ten cohorts in a single line.

  On the left flank the Exiles were arrayed so that the cohort on the extreme left of the second line extended to the left of the furthest left-flank cohort in the first line. This was done to allow it to deploy left to form a flank defence against any sudden enemy attack. With the Duran Legion it was the reverse, with the second line extending right to offer flank protection against an enemy assaulting that wing. It had taken years to perfect the drills that the legions would perform today, but I had every confidence that they would carry them out effortlessly, even in the white heat of combat.

  The legionaries presented a magnificent sight as the sun began its ascent in the eastern sky and glinted off helmets and javelin points. Each legionary was dressed and equipped exactly the same as his comrades – helmet with cheekguards, neck guard, forehead cross-brace to deflect sword blows from men in the saddle, white tunic, leather vest over the tunic and mail shirt over the vest. On his feet he wore hobnailed sandals. His weapons were a gladius in a scabbard on his right hip, dagger on his left hip and javelin. Though the curved, oval shield is a defensive piece of equipment, comprising strips of planed wood laminated in three layers, faced with leather painted white and sporting red griffin wings and edged with brass, in battle it could also be used offensively. Held by the horizontal metal grip spanning the hole in the middle of the shield, over which is a round, bulging metal boss, a legionary could barge the shield into opponents and use the boss to unbalance or topple them. The clothing and equipment of the legions were sturdy and functional, though I did allow one indulgence in that every man had a white plume fastened to the top of his helmet. Domitus scoffed at such displays but it added to the impressive sight that the legions made on parade and in battle. It also made the legionaries feel that they were not the poor relations of the cataphracts.

  Once in position the legionaries grounded their shields, took off their helmets and laid their javelins on the ground to conserve their strength. It might be hours before they would be fighting. If they fought at all for the enemy was conspicuous by their absence!

  Mounted on Remus I was behind the Duran Legion with Vagharsh behind me as more horse archers cantered past us to take up position in front of the legion. I saw Byrd and Malik riding in the opposite direction, both of them careering to a halt in front of me.

  ‘Enemy come,’ said Byrd. ‘They five miles to east.’

  ‘How many?’

  Byrd looked round at the foot drawn up, the horse archers riding into position and the cataphracts making their way to their battle stations.

  ‘Twice as many as you, maybe more.’

  ‘All horsemen, Pacorus,’ added Malik, ‘we did not see any foot.’

  ‘And did you see Mithridates?’ I asked.

  ‘Did not see him,’ replied Byrd.

  Domitus had strolled over to us. He nodded at Byrd and Malik.

  ‘I assume that Mithridates is approaching.’

  ‘His army is,’ I said, ‘but whether he is with it remains to be seen.’

  ‘How long before our guests arrive?’ asked Domitus.

  ‘Half an hour,’ said Byrd.

  Orodes rode up dressed in his scale armour and helmet, behind him his bodyguard of two hundred and fifty men from Susiana and behind them five hundred Durans. Orodes’ banner of an eagle holding a snake in its talons was carried behind him.

  ‘I was beginning to think that you were going to miss the battle,’ Domitus said to him. ‘Then all that fancy armour and ironmongery would be wasted.’

  ‘Very droll, Domitus.’ Orodes never had much of a sense of humour on the eve of battle. In his eyes slaughter was far too serious for levity.

  I pointed to the two legions drawn up in front of us. ‘When you see the horse archers coming through their ranks, Orodes, that will be your signal to advance and attack.’

  ‘And you had better be quick,’ smiled Domitus, ‘because my lads will have likely killed most of them by the time your horse boys arrive.’

  Orodes frowned. ‘I am fully briefed as to the battle plan.’ He looked at me. ‘I am concerned about Surena, Pacorus. Are you quite sure he is up to the task you have given him? If he fails you lose half your cataphracts.’

  ‘He will not fail, my friend,’ I reassured him.

  ‘Well, then,’ said Domitus, ‘we had better get ready. The gods protect you all.’

  He shook hands with all of us and then walked back to where a knot of his senior officers was waiting for him a couple of hundred yards away. I offered my hand to Orodes.

  ‘Shamash be with you.’

  He took my hand. ‘You also, my friend.’

  ‘I will go and impress upon Surena the importance of obeying orders, Orodes, to assuage your concern.’

  Accompanied by Byrd and Malik I rode over to the left flank to where Surena and the rest of my heavy cavalry were waiting on their horses. Surena was surrounded by his five company commanders and like him their helmets were shoved back on top of their heads to save their brains being roasted. He was gesticulating to them with his arms. He stopped when we approached.

  ‘Hail, lord,’ he said.

  ‘Greetings, Surena. Is everything in order?’

  ‘Yes, lord,’ he beamed, no doubt excited by the imminent promise of glory.

  I turned in the saddle and pointed at the legions. ‘When you see the horse archers withdrawing through their ranks, that is your signal to advance past the foot and swing right to take the enemy in the rear.’

  ‘Right up their arses,’ said Surena, producing grins from his officers, all of them in their twenties like him.

  ‘Just keep your heads and keep y
our men under tight control,’ I said sternly.

  Actually I was being unfair, since most of them had fought for me against Mithridates and Narses before, as well as against the Romans. They were officers because they were good leaders and their men respected them. I indicated for them to go back to their companies. They bowed their heads and did so. I turned to Malik and Byrd.

  ‘If you would give us a moment, please.’

  They nodded and rode back to Orodes, leaving only Vagharsh, Surena and myself.

  ‘Now remember, Surena, victory depends on you and Orodes fulfilling your roles.’

  His smile disappeared. ‘I will not let you down, lord.’

  ‘I know that. I will see you after the battle. Stay safe.’

  He saluted and then looked ahead as horn blasts came from the horse archers deployed in front of the foot. The army of Mithridates was here at last.

  I rode forward to the first-line cohorts of the Exiles. Trumpet blasts alerted the men to the enemy’s presence and thousands of men hoisted up their shields and javelins and dressed their lines as centurions and officers barked orders and ensured that their formations were ready. In the distance the men of the Duran Legion did the same.

  Train hard, fight easy. That is what my old tutor and former head of Hatra’s army, Bozan, had taught me. Train hard so that in battle every drill becomes instinctive, performed without thinking. Train hard so that drills are bloodless battles and battles are bloody drills, nothing more. Train hard so that the hordes of enemy soldiers charging you, yelling blood-curdling screams, do not cause you to turn tail and run for your life; rather, you wait until they are within fifty paces before hurling your javelin into their densely packed ranks. Then you go to work with your sword as the enemy steps over the dead and dying javelin-pierced front ranks to get at you. Train hard so that it becomes easy, almost pleasurable to stab your short sword into enemy bellies and thighs, to thrust the sword point over the top rim of your shield into an enemy’s face. To stab and stab without thinking, knowing that your blade will find the right targets as if by magic. But it is not magic; it is hours, days, months and years spent on the training fields to perfect your skills, to hone them to such a degree that your weapons become a part of you, living, breathing instruments that obey your will instantly and without question.

 

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