Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Darman, Peter

  In the weeks preceding the campaign Orodes had given orders that fifty rafts were to be stockpiled well to the north of the city on the western bank of the river, guarded by soldiers that he had sent from Babylon. Now these rafts were each loaded with fifty legionaries and ten dismounted archers as two a half thousand men from the Duran Legion and five hundred bowmen prepared to float downstream and assault the city from the river.

  I stood on the leading raft beside Domitus as the oarsman at the rear indicated to the Babylonians to push the raft into the river. Despite being loaded down with fifty fully equipped legionaries and ten archers it moved effortlessly into midstream and then began to move downriver. The water was calm and the current mild as we floated towards our destination, the other rafts following in a long line behind. The men carried no javelins, only their swords, daggers and shields, the archers each carrying three full quivers.

  Domitus looked up at a full moon in the cloudless sky.

  ‘Unless every sentry is asleep they will spot us before we reach the city,’ he complained.

  ‘Have faith, my friend,’ I replied in a hushed tone. ‘They will not be looking for the unexpected.’

  ‘Let’s hope that they don’t have the harbour area lined with archers by the time we get there.’

  ‘I’m sure your god Mars approves of our plan and will aid us in our endeavour. Time for the signal, I think.’

  Domitus turned to one of his men holding a small box of tinder and took it from him. Kneeling on the planks of the raft, he took a palm-sized piece of flint from the legionary and held it in his left hand with the sharp edge angled upwards and then hit it fast with a steel striker to produce hot sparks, striking the flint again and again until the tinder in the box was aflame. The legionary then held the wick of an oil lamp to the flames until it was alight. Domitus stood up and took the lamp, faced the western riverbank and moved it from side to side. The six Agraci scouts saw the prearranged signal and galloped off inland. So far, so good.

  Domitus extinguished the flames, paced to the edge of the raft and glanced upstream. He came back to my side.

  ‘Everything in order?’ I asked.

  ‘Seems so,’ he replied, his hand gripping the hilt of his gladius.

  We were around two miles from the city, though I could not make out its shape in the moonlight. Despite the fact that there were three thousand men moving downstream it was eerily quiet, as though the world was holding its breath before the storm. The rafts were travelling at a speed of around three miles an hour, which meant that we would reach the city in around forty minutes. The time passed agonisingly slowly and it seemed as though we had been on the water for hours before the city gradually loomed into view. Ahead I could now make out the arches of the bridge across the river that linked Seleucia with Ctesiphon. Thus far our presence had been undetected. The raft inched its way slowly towards the city’s northern wall. I strained to see any activity either on the battlements or on the round tower that stood in the water and marked the spot where the walls ended, but could see nothing.

  Suddenly, in the distance, we heard thuds and crumps and saw the occasional red glow. I smiled. The scouts had reached their destination and now Marcus’ siege engines were commencing their attack on the city. The larger ballistae were shooting huge lighted clay pots filled with sulphur, pitch, charcoal, tow and naphtha that ignited upon impact. They were being shot against the city gates and were intended to cause a lot of noise and fire. Then we heard the cheers of thousands of men – the remainder of the Durans plus the Exiles who were arrayed either side of the engines. They had been instructed to begin shouting, blowing their trumpets and whistles and cheering when the shooting commenced as a diversion. The noise rose in volume as we drifted past the tower towards the city’s harbour.

  The archers nocked arrows as our raft glided past the tower and then along the walls of the palace and still we had not been spotted. I was beginning to think that my plan was flawless when an alarm bell suddenly sounded in the tower and then we heard shouts of alarm from within the palace.

  ‘Look lively,’ shouted Domitus as the oarsman steered the raft past the palace towards the harbour, which comprised a long wharf in front of which were berths where shallow-draft riverboats were moored. Set back from the wharf were sheds and warehouses and immediately south was the bridge. As our raft neared the first berth Domitus leapt onto it and ran towards the quay. I followed him as the others also jumped from the raft and ran to form up beside Domitus on the quay. The other rafts were gliding into the harbour as arrows shot from the palace walls splashed into the water. Around ten rafts had made it into the harbour area unscathed but the rest would have to run the gauntlet of arrows that was now being directed at them. The centurion on each raft shouted his commands and the men instantly formed a testudo on each vessel, locking shields on all sides and above, ensuring that the archers and oarsman were also under the scutums.

  On the quay centurions bellowed orders at their men to assemble in their ranks as the archers ran past them to form a defensive screen at the northern end of the quay while the centuries formed up. I stood in the centre of the line of archers as the first enemy soldiers rushed us. These men were no doubt from the palace as most of the garrison would be lining the walls in response to the attack by Marcus’ siege engines. They carried large wicker shields and wore leather cuirasses with linen caps on their heads. They levelled their long spears as they charged us in a disorganised mob and we shot half of them down before they got within fifty paces. The rest stopped and then withdrew as we loosed another volley of arrows and then another and another, this time killing less of them as they formed a shield wall and continued to fall back. More of their comrades appeared behind them and then the shouts of their angry officers made them halt and reform their ranks.

  Fortunately there appeared to be no archers with them as they shuffled forward warily and into our arrow storm as we emptied one quiver and then fell back ourselves. The leather-faced wicker shields could stop arrows easily enough but our volleys had allowed the rest of the rafts to disgorge their men without interruption, and now a thousand legionaries were rushing to the bridge as the other fifteen hundred marched forward to engage the upwards of four hundred enemy spearmen who faced them at the northern end of the quay.

  The quay was wide enough to allow three centuries to stand in line – a front rank of thirty men – as the centurions blew their whistles and their men charged the enemy. There was a loud bang as the Durans slammed into their opponents and went to work with their short swords. The long spears of the enemy were brushed aside by the front ranks and then the shafts were grasped by those behind, preventing their owners thrusting them into the guts of the legionaries, as the front rank of the Durans stabbed the point of their swords at enemy flesh and herded the spearmen back.

  While this was going on Thumelicus was leading the other centuries to the bridge where the sentries were quickly killed and both sides of the aged span were secured.

  Arrows then hit several men at the rear of the column fighting the spearmen as the palace archers finally arrived on the scene. The cry of ‘shields, shields’ rang out as the Durans hoisted their shields above their heads for protection as the front ranks continued to grind their way forward.

  My archers were grouped around me and I ordered them to shoot at the enemy archers, who were at least three hundred paces away. Thus began a desultory archery contest in the moonlight as men tried to identify targets. Domitus came running over to me.

  ‘Thumelicus has taken the bridge,’ he said. ‘We are herding the others back despite the archers. It won’t be long now.’

  An archer near to us collapsed to the ground with an arrow in his shoulder.

  ‘Keep shooting,’ I shouted at the others. ‘Keep their heads down.’

  The column of Durans was steadily pushing the spearmen back, hacking their ranks to pieces as they did so. Then enemy arrows stopped falling nearby as the opposition archers directed th
eir volleys at the Duran front ranks to allow the surviving spearmen to disengage and fall back towards the palace.

  The wounded were helped to the bridge where they could be cared for while Domitus reorganised his men. He allocated three centuries to shadow the retreating spearmen and left two others on the quay as a reserve for Thumelicus holding the bridge. The rest followed the archers and me as we moved into the city.

  Seleucia’s inhabitants were hiding indoors as we moved from the harbour along the main street west towards the city’s main gates that were being assaulted by Marcus. We did not see a soul as a thousand legionaries and five hundred archers moved quietly through a seemingly deserted city. Ahead the cheers and shouts of my men outside the city walls continued, accompanied by the thud of missiles hitting the gates. And as we approached the latter the night sky was illuminated by a red glow – the gates were on fire.

  As Domitus sent parties ahead to reconnoitre the city we halted on the main road that bisected the city and ran east across the Tigris. North of this thoroughfare stood the palace, temples and official buildings, south of it the area where the citizens’ tiny homes were crammed.

  ‘Most of the garrison will be lining the walls watching Marcus’ engines knocking holes in the gatehouse,’ I said to Domitus. ‘The rest are now cooped up in the palace. But we must assault the men lining the walls so our men outside the city can get in without loss.’

  ‘Best thing, then, is to split the boys into their centuries and allocate archers to each one. We don’t have enough men to clear all the walls.

  I shook my head. ‘There is no need. We just need to clear the walls either side of the main gates.’

  It took a matter of minutes to organise the twelve centuries and assign each one forty archers for the assault on the walls. The scouting parties returned to inform us that there were no signs of any enemy soldiers between our position and the gatehouse and so we began to move forward once more, three centuries abreast. There were no whistles or commands just the dull crump of hobnailed sandals on the stone-paved street. I could see the main gatehouse now, which was wreathed in flames, both the gates and the large square towers either side of them alight. The flames were illuminating the surrounding area and I could see that the walls either side of the gatehouse were lined with archers, who were standing well away from the heat and flames. There was also a large body of spearmen formed up in a phalanx around a hundred paces back from the burning gatehouse, ready to repel any assault once the flames had died down.

  Domitus beside me cursed. ‘That’s the plan wrecked. We will have to deal with those spearmen first.’

  I nodded. ‘Hit them hard. The archers will still try to clear the walls. Good luck.’

  I held my bow aloft and then ran to the right as enemy horn blasts signalled that we had been spotted. On our left flank the homes of the city’s citizens went right up to the walls, but on our right flank the ground behind the walls was more open as this was the temple district. I squatted with the officers of the archers around me as ahead the commanders of the spearmen were frantically reorganising their men to assault the legionaries that had suddenly appeared behind them.

  ‘Two companies will clear the walls south of the gatehouse,’ I ordered. ‘The rest will sweep the walls to the north.’

  They nodded and stood up just as Domitus’ men hit the spearmen. They did not have their javelins and a few were felled by the archers on the walls as they charged to reached the spearmen, but their initial impact was still devastating and buckled the enemy’s formation. There was no space to manoeuvre on the left flank that was crowded with houses, but the open space to the north allowed the rear centuries to sweep around the right flank of those in front and then wheel left to hit the spearmen’s right flank. Within minutes high-pitched screams were drowning out the roaring of the flames as the legionaries scythed into the enemy.

  The archers on the walls tried to shoot legionaries in the rear of their centuries as those in the front ranks were too close to their own spearmen in the mêlée. They stood on the walkway on top of the walls with the battlements behind them. But from the city side they were totally exposed as they stood shooting their bows. There must have been at least a hundred archers either side of the gatehouse loosing arrows.

  I released my bowstring and saw the arrow strike my target in his stomach as he went to retrieve an arrow from his quiver. He dropped his bow and then fell from the walkway onto the ground below as my men swept the walls with arrows. It took less than two minutes to clear the walls either side of the gatehouse, most of the enemy being felled by arrows. Just a handful escaped into the two towers that flanked the gatehouse, while below the spearmen’s ranks dissolved.

  Assaulted in the front and on the flank and with an inferno behind them, the rear ranks tried to flee as their comrades in front were cut down. Having no helmets or armour they were easy targets for gladius points and their thin wicker shields were next to useless in the close-quarters fight. As their ranks disintegrated I walked back to the main street to find Domitus. The flames from the gatehouse were gradually dying down as he left two of his centurions and ambled over to me.

  ‘That was easy enough,’ he reported with satisfaction.

  Suddenly there was loud crash and a large piece of masonry was dislodged from the top of the wall to our right, showering debris over dead archers on the walkway.

  ‘Looks like Marcus is having fun with his engines,’ remarked Domitus as a missile shattered another chunk of wall.

  ‘Get the men back before the gatehouse collapses,’ I ordered.

  But the gatehouse did not collapse and as dawn approached the fires died down and the walls of the charred gatehouse still stood. Domitus sent out patrols to ensure we were not surprised but they reported no signs of any enemy. And all the while Marcus’ great ballista threw stone and iron at the walls and towers. Legionaries were sent back to Thumelicus at the bridge to keep him abreast of developments as the majority of the men fell back to a safe distance from the walls and sat down by the side of the street to rest. It had been a long night and as muscles began to ease, arms, legs and shoulders started to ache. I received a report from those men guarding the palace that the garrison was hiding behind the shut gates. Those men still manning the walls further along the perimeter would have no idea what was happening at the gatehouse, but it would be only a matter of time before their officers tried to make contact with either them or the garrison commander, so I ordered Domitus to send a party forward to signal to the army that the city was ours, and then after the ballistae had ceased shooting to clear the smouldering debris at the gatehouse to allow our forces to enter.

  Another chunk of masonry was splintered from the walls by a ballista missile.

  ‘At least Marcus is keeping the citizens cowering in their homes,’ remarked Domitus as a hundred of his men trotted forward to clear the city entrance.

  ‘I had forgotten about them,’ I admitted.

  ‘Better rouse them to let them know they have a new governor.’

  ‘Tell your men to keep their swords in their scabbards. Use a minimum of force.’

  He smiled grimly. ‘You know my boys; gentle as lambs.’

  I decided to leave the priests in their temple compounds alone while Domitus despatched half our number to bang on doors to assemble the citizenry on the great square located just south of the main street. Very soon the early morning was filled with the shrieks and wails of frightened women and children as the inhabitants were herded into the square, and then I heard a more familiar sound – a blast of trumpets. I turned to the gatehouse to see the figure of Kronos marching at the head of the Exiles as they entered the city to the cheers of the Durans who stood up to welcome their comrades. He stopped when he reached where Domitus and I were standing and clasped our forearms, his men continuing their march towards the bridge.

  ‘Good to see you Kronos,’ I said to him.

  ‘Best get your boys to the bridge and secure it,’ added Do
mitus. ‘When the rest of the Durans enter I can use them to secure the city.’

  ‘Is the garrison destroyed?’ asked Kronos, looking back at the corpses in front of the gatehouse.

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘Half of it has shut itself in the palace and the rest is still manning the walls or in the towers. They will surrender once they realise the city has fallen.’

  A part of a tower on the wall behind us suddenly collapsed in a great cloud of dust as a result of it being battered by the ballistae.

  ‘Not anyone in that tower,’ commented Kronos.

  The Exiles pushed on to secure the bridge and relieve Thumelicus’ men, who fell back to our location, while the rest of the Durans filed into the city to assist in the roundup of the citizens and reinforce the men guarding the palace. I was sitting on the stone pavement propped up against the wall of a bakery, whose owner had been ‘persuaded’ to make us some fresh bread, when the kings rode into the city. Domitus sat himself down beside me and rested his helmet on the ground. I handed him a chunk of freshly baked bread. The baker, a short fat man with oversized arms and his family, his wife who had scars on her arms from years working near the brick ovens and a teenage girl and younger boy, worked frantically to provide a constant supply of loaves. The father snapped at his wife and children to toil harder, no doubt fearing that he and his family would be killed if they invoked our displeasure.

  As we lounged by the entrance to the bakery a company of the Babylonian royal guard trotted past us, their dragon-skin armour glistening in the early morning sunlight. Then came another company and another, and then Orodes appeared on his brown mare in the company of my father, Gafarn, Gallia who had Remus in tow, Atrax, Surena and Viper. Behind them were grouped Vistaspa and my father’s bodyguard, and behind them the purple ranks of Babylon’s spearmen.