Parthian Vengeance (22 page)

‘We could always strike for the Tigris,’ suggested Kronos. ‘It is only two or three days’ march from here.’

‘Without water the mules and oxen will quickly expire,’ said Marcus.

‘To say nothing of the wounded,’ added a grim-faced Alcaeus.

‘We cannot do that,’ I answered. ‘Even if we reach the river we will be nearer the enemy’s homeland and will face certain destruction, even if our thirst has been quenched.’

‘What, then?’ asked Domitus.

‘We attack the enemy. Tomorrow. At dawn. We will advance on the camp of Mithridates.’

Domitus rubbed his nose and looked into the distance.

‘You disapprove?’ I said.

‘The boys are tired and thirsty. If they form into a battle line and advance there is nothing to stop the enemy from hitting us behind and on our flanks.’

‘Ordinarily,’ I replied, ‘I would agree. But these are not ordinary circumstances. We are being ground down here. We cannot shake off the enemy and we will not be able to outrun them. They have time on their side; we do not. They won’t be expecting an attack.’

‘Well,’ said Kronos, ‘at least we won’t have to stand around being pelted with arrows and charged by horsemen.’

‘Very well, then,’ I said. ‘Organise your men. We attack south at dawn.’

The meeting broke up and the officers returned to their commands. I suddenly felt a sharp spasm of pain in my left leg and stopped until it eased. I rubbed my left thigh with my palm. Alcaeus spotted my pained expression and came over to me.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘No. It’s the old wound I picked up at Dura when the city was besieged.’

That was nearly four years ago, when Chosroes had brought his army to besiege my city and I had defeated him, suffering an arrow wound to my leg in the process.

‘Alas, there is little I can do. Being on your feet all day long has inflamed it. I would advise rest and keeping the weight off it but that hardly seems appropriate.’

‘I shall have to wait until we get back home.’

The air was suddenly filled with trumpet blasts and I knew that we were once again under attack. As tired legionaries reformed into their ranks and hoisted up their shields once more the enemy assaulted us on all four sides. The pain in my leg disappeared as excitement heightened my senses and the stamina of an immortal filled my being. I rushed over to the south side of the square, thinking that the enemy might be trying to break our line there once more. The other archers formed a long line behind the ranks of the cohorts as the clatter of metal against metal filled the air.

The light was beginning to fade as the level of noise rose but I could see no enemy horsemen. Most strange. Domitus ran back from his men to report. Behind him the rear two ranks of two cohorts hurled their javelins at the enemy.

‘It seems that they are throwing the dregs against us now. All foot soldiers, mostly ill armed and acting in small groups. Some have no weapons at all.’

Kronos reported the same thing. On all four sides of the square small groups of poorly armed men would charge us in an attempt to break our line. But they either died before they got within striking distance of the front ranks, felled by javelins, or were literally cut to pieces when they came within
gladius
range. They would fall back, reform then charge again, only to meet the same fate. As the sun set the desultory affair continued, the piles of enemy dead getting larger by the hour as dusk gave way to night. Some of the enemy wore only tunics, no armour or helmets. Their only weapons were stones that they hurled at legionaries in a vain attempt to split a skull encased in a helmet. Some had to be whipped forward by their own officers before they would fight, only to have their bellies sliced open by the waiting legionaries. After a while they stopped attacking and stood out of javelin range, hurling insults at us. So I moved the archers forward and stood with them beyond the front rank of the legionaries. And as the moon once again filled the night sky to illuminate the enemy in a ghostly glow, we shot at them. Legionaries ran back to the wagons to pick up bundles of enemy arrows that had been shot at us earlier. They had been meticulously collected by details of men under the command of Marcus. They were dumped at our feet as we shot arrow after arrow at the enemy.

At first we were content to stay close to the front ranks, especially when a group of the enemy made a half-hearted attempt to rush us. But after a while there was nothing left living in front of us, just heaps of dead that stretched left and right and into the distance. I rested the end of my bow on the ground. The fingers on my right hand hurt and my right shoulder ached. I had no idea how long I had been shooting at the enemy or how many arrows I had used.

Domitus came through the ranks of his men to join me. In his mail shirt, white tunic, greaves and helmet with its white crest he looked like a phantom in the moonlight.

‘What’s happening on the other sides of the square?’ I knew that there were no archers to support the legionaries on the other three sides of our formation.

‘They are holding the line with ease. Kronos sent a message that a load of unarmed slaves or such like attacked from the east. Most were cut down by javelins, the rest died easily enough on our swords.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

He looked up and down the line with a grim smile on his face.

‘I do. Narses and Mithridates are keeping us occupied while they go about their purpose.’

‘What purpose?’

‘They’re either scarpering or they will hit us again when it’s light and roll right over us.’

I suddenly felt very tired and every limb in my body ached with a fury as the awful realisation dawned on me that the last reserves of our strength had been used up on slaughtering the scrapings of the enemy army.

The men were spent. They had been fighting almost non-stop for over twenty-four hours. Dehydrated, tired, hungry and filthy, they had surpassed themselves in maintaining their discipline, morale and fighting spirit. But even men of Dura’s army now needed rest.

When the dawn came there were no longer any enemy soldiers attacking us, only heaps of dead and dying in front of the first rank of legionaries. These stood leaning on their battered shields like ghosts, staring blankly ahead at the twisted mounds of men that they had made dead flesh. There was no water left to slake their thirsts now. With parched mouths and fatigued limbs they remained silent and waited for the next enemy assault. The final assault that would destroy them. Except that there was no assault, and as the red and yellow rays of light lanced the eastern sky and Shamash returned day to the earth once more we realised that there was no enemy. Narses and Mithridates had gone and taken their army with them.

An hour after dawn had broken and as the sun began its accent in a cloudless sky, Kronos and Domitus joined me as I left the ranks and walked south. My left leg was screaming at me to stop and lie down. It was with difficulty I ignored the torment, enduring a stab of pain with every step. We halted a couple of hundred paces from our lines and stared at the empty space previously occupied by the enemy camp.

‘So, they’ve gone,’ mused Kronos.

‘All that fighting last night was to cover their retreat,’ said Domitus, smugly.

‘You were right,’ I replied. ‘But why? They had almost finished us off. One more day and we would have been meat for crows.’

‘Perhaps that god of yours took pity on us,’ suggested Domitus.

‘Well if he did,’ said Kronos, ‘he only did half a job because we still have no water.’

Our good fortune with regard to the enemy vanishing was forgotten as I gave orders for the army to continue its march northwest, if only to escape the stench of dead flesh that permeated that air. We broke up some wagons to make a pyre on which to burn our own dead, but the thousands of opposition slain and dozens of mules that had been killed by arrows we left to rot. In no time corpses were swarming with large black flies gorging themselves on decaying flesh. As the black smoke of the funeral pyres drifted upwards into the vivid blue sky those still living trudged from the scene of horror.

We maintained our hollow square formation but had not gone half a mile before trumpet calls signalled the alarm. Reflexes honed by countless hours on the training fields commanded tired bodies to once again close ranks, shields forming a wall and roof around our battered formation. I hobbled over to the northern side of the square to join Domitus and Kronos who were standing beyond the front rank peering into the distance.

‘What is it?’ I asked.

Domitus pointed his vine cane directly ahead. ‘Riders.’

My heart sank. ‘The enemy?’

‘Looks like,’ he replied.

I strained to identify the shimmering black shapes on the horizon that were getting larger, albeit agonisingly slowly.

‘Why are they approaching from the northwest?’ asked Kronos. ‘It makes no sense. They should be coming from the south or east.’

I did not care from which direction they were coming, only that once more the enemy was approaching. I knew that this time they would succeed in breaking our square, and after that… There would be no after that for us. With a macabre fascination I watched the figures grow larger as they approached. Oddly they did not fill the horizon in a line but seemed to be riding in a column. Black shapes on black horses. I could now make out spears, the sun catching the tips of the whetted points, presaging our slaughter.

The silence was unbearable as we watched, unable to take our eyes off the black demons approaching with the intent of sending us into the next life. There were a lot of them that much was certain, for they were kicking up a large dust cloud.

‘They are Agraci.’

All three of us turned to stare at the legionary behind us whose eyes were obviously keener than ours. In his relief and joy he momentarily forgot that he was speaking to his king and general as he smiled at me and said the words again.

‘They are Agraci. It is Prince Malik.’

We snapped our heads back to the front once more to see with our own eyes the miracle that was unfolding. Ahead, swathed in black robes and riding a black horse, was the son of King Haytham, my friend and Dura’s ally. But he was not alone. Beside him, galloping towards me on her faithful mare, rode Gallia, her face covered by the cheekguards of her helmet. Behind her came Vagharsh carrying my griffin banner and behind him rode the Amazons, while on Gallia’s other side was Orodes.

As the low rumble of horses’ hooves filled the air the ranks behind me were silent. Then they erupted into wild cheering, the sound reverberating along each side of the square as the word was passed that our salvation had arrived. Domitus slapped me hard on the arm and Kronos locked me in an iron bear hug. With difficulty I fought back the tears as I fell to my knees and bowed my head in thanks to Shamash, who had surely woven this miracle.

Domitus helped me to my feet as Malik, Gallia and Orodes pulled up their horses in front of us and my wife leapt from her saddle and wrapped herself around me. Both of us sprawled in the dirt. This brought whistles and hoots from the men behind as Gallia stood up, untied the straps on her helmet and threw it on the ground. I hauled myself onto my feet once more and she grabbed my face and kissed me long on the lips.

‘I came as fast as I could,’ she said, running a finger tenderly down the scar on my left cheek. ‘I would ride into hell if need be to save you.’

My eyes misted as I looked at her flawless face and blue eyes.

‘Orodes must have ridden like the wind to reach Dura in so short a time.’

She reached down to hold both my hands. ‘No, my love. We left Dura before Orodes had time to reach the city.’

She smiled her most beautiful smile as Orodes came up and embraced me. He stood back seeing my haggard appearance, my torn and filthy tunic, my battered cuirass and unshaven face.

‘You look terrible.’

He, as ever, looked immaculate in his scale armour cuirass, well-groomed hair and clean-shaven face.

‘I have been entertaining Mithridates and Narses these past few days. Alas, I have had no time to wash and change.’

Malik, face adorned with the black tattoos that were the hallmark of Agraci men folk, embraced me warmly.

‘It is good to see you, my friend,’ he beamed.

‘You too, Malik. Never has a Parthian king been so glad to see an Agraci prince.’

There followed a series of happy reunions as Malik’s warriors, who must have numbered over a thousand, flanked the square and rode south and east to ensure that we were not surprised by a returning foe.

‘There is little chance of that,’ said Orodes as we all retired to my command tent that had been hastily assembled in the centre of the square. ‘Their scouts will have reported that a great number of horsemen are riding to your relief.’

I was surprised. ‘Really?’

‘Of course,’ added Gallia. ‘Your father brings the army of Hatra to your aid.’

‘Your horsemen are accompanying your father, Pacorus,’ said Orodes.

‘And with him rides my father and ten thousand of his warriors,’ added Malik.

‘King Haytham?’ I could scarcely believe it.

‘Of course,’ continued Malik. ‘When Queen Gallia issues a summons, men obey.’

This was most excellent news and I had difficulty in maintaining my composure. I embraced Gallia once more and then Orodes. But then I noticed that someone was missing.

‘Where is Surena?’

‘I sent him east with a thousand horse archers,’ replied Gallia.

I stared at her, unsure whether my hearing had been damaged during the fighting. I smiled.

‘Very droll. I assume he is with the rest of my horsemen.’

‘It is true, Pacorus,’ said Orodes. ‘He was sent to the Tigris with a thousand riders and ordered to ride south.’

I looked at him and then Gallia.

‘What madness is this?’

‘No madness,’ replied Gallia. ‘Dobbai told me that Surena would reap a rich harvest east of the Tigris so that’s where he is heading.’

I was so relieved and tired in equal measure that I asked no more questions about Surena. But I felt certain that he and a thousand of my horse archers were riding to their deaths.