Authors: Peter Darman
I halted my horsemen and the two cohorts from the garrison. Domitus would not be able to break their centre now, not with another legion hitting his flank while his men battled the one in front of them.
I turned to Orodes. ‘We must aid Domitus.’
I rode over to Gallia. ‘You and your women will come with me.’
‘We will not charge them?’
‘Have patience, there is still time to dip your arrowheads in blood.’
I galloped back to Orodes with Gallia and the Amazons following. I left orders for the lords to continue their harassing fire, and then I took the heavy horsemen and female horse archers back around the Roman left flank to find Domitus and his legion. Dust was everywhere. It got in our eyes and down our throats, while the sun beat down mercilessly on our backs. Sweat stung my eyes and my limbs ached but I knew there was still much fighting left to do this day.
We had to take a circuitous route to Dura’s legion, as the lords and their men hovered around the Romans like flies on a dead carcass. They would have run out of arrows long before had it not have been for the camels that were ridden from camp by squires, each one laden with spare quivers, from which the horse archers could replenish their ammunition.
I found Domitus standing with the legion’s colour party grouped around the griffin, just behind the front line. He was having his right arm bandaged by Alcaeus. He looked pale and exhausted as he took a swig from a water bottle and raised his arm in acknowledgement. I halted Remus in front of him and glanced around. The corpses of Roman dead and some Durans lay on the ground.
‘We nearly broke them,’ he said, ‘but then the ones
you
were supposed to keep occupied hit us on our right flank, so I pulled the boys back. The enemy is shifting left, towards the river. What’s happening?’
‘We scattered their horsemen easily enough and then mauled the legion next to them, and I thought we had them. We are behind them and I was about to launch an assault on their centre when they started moving.’
As we spoke I could see the Romans slowly moving towards the river, still retaining their ranks and discipline, but as they did so they made no attempt to attack our own foot. Alcaeus finished bandaging Domitus’ arm.
‘Is it serious?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he seemed more annoyed than hurt.
‘I have other wounded to tend to,’ remarked Alcaeus, who then sprinted away to where he was needed.
Nergal rode up.
‘The men of Pontus have taken heavy casualties, Pacorus. We have been assisting them but the Romans have pushed them back.’
‘How far?’
‘Not far, two, three hundred paces perhaps, but it is unlikely that they will be able to launch another attack.’
If the Romans next to the river advanced and then swung left, they would hit Domitus in his left flank. I would have to take my horsemen to reinforce our left wing, which was now threatened with collapse.
‘Are the Romans still advancing?’ I asked.
Nergal shook his head. ‘No. They pushed back the men of Pontus, advanced a short distance and then stopped. Most odd.’
‘They’re saving their eagles,’ said Domitus.
‘What?’
‘They are saving their eagles.’
‘You are mistaken,’ I said. ‘There is no way across the river at this point.’
Domitus thought for a second. ‘Any boats?’
‘Of course not.’
He looked up at me. ‘You sure about that?’
I was wrong. As the Romans redeployed what was left of their forces to form a hollow square with one side open at the riverbank, small boats powered by oarsmen were ferrying the prized eagles to safety upriver. We had been outwitted, but there were not enough boats to evacuate their entire army. And as a continuous arrow fire was maintained against the three sides of the Roman square, I gathered the lords and officers of the army to decide our next course of action. The ground was littered with dead and dying horses and men, while our wounded were being ferried back to camp to be treated. It was then that I saw Surena at the head of a score of horsemen charging the enemy. He galloped up to the Roman front rank, shooting arrows as he did so, then wheeled sharply away as those following him took turns to shoot their bows. He rode well, but I would have words with him afterwards about disobeying my orders.
As we sat on our horses in a large circle the lords were all for finishing the Romans quickly.
‘Slaughter them all and then we can go home.’
‘Push them into the river and let them drown,’ said another.
Orodes’ blood was still up. ‘We can break them, Pacorus. They have been fighting for hours. One charge at one point with all our heavy horse and we surely break them.’ The others cheered him and he beamed in triumph.
I held up my hand. ‘I think I will ask them politely if they will lay down their arms.’
There was silence, then spontaneous laughter erupted, indicating that they all thought I was mad. Orodes looked very disappointed.
‘You do know who leads them,’ said Gallia.
‘That is why I think my idea will work.’
I gave orders for all arrow fire to cease as the lords and Nergal pulled back their men out of range of the Romans’ slingers and archers. We now formed a huge semi-circle around the Roman square, the men of Pontus next to the river, the Duran Legion on their right, now reinforced by the garrison, Nergal and his men next to them, and the lords and their horse archers deployed next in line extending all the way to the riverbank. An eerie silence descended over the battlefield. I sat on Remus next to Gallia, Orodes on my right. Malik and Byrd came through the ranks behind me.
‘Romani have taken their standards away on the river. A dozen boats,’ said Byrd.
‘They are five miles away now, Pacorus, maybe more,’ said Malik. ‘You want us to catch them?’
‘No, let them go. Our fight is here.’
I nudged Remus forward and walked him into the space between Parthians and Romans. I took off my helmet as I did so and halted about fifty paces from the line of locked Roman shields.
‘Men of Rome,’ I shouted. ‘I am the king of the land you now stand on. I salute your courage. You have done all that honour demands this day and more, but now is the time to listen to reason.’
I saw no movement from within their ranks.
‘I call upon your commander to come forward to discuss the terms of your surrender, for to continue fighting will surely condemn you all to death. I give you this promise. If you lay down your arms all of you will walk out of here unharmed. Come forth Lucius Furius.’
I rode back to my men and waited. Domitus strode up.
‘Perhaps he left on one of the boats.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘not Furius. His sense of Roman superiority will not let him flee in the face of barbarians.’
And sure enough, a few moments later, he rode out from the enemy ranks. I nudged Remus forward until I stood ten paces from Lucius Furius. He hadn’t changed; he still had red curly hair and an angry expression on his face.
‘Well, Lucius,’ I said, ‘we meet again.’
‘What do you want?’ he snapped, looking down his nose at me.
‘I want you to leave my kingdom and I want Rome to stop its wars of aggression against the Parthian Empire. Will those two requests suffice to satisfy you?’
He sneered at me. ‘Just like the rabble led by Spartacus perished, so will the Parthian Empire fall.’
I sighed. ‘Even now, with death staring you in the face, you still persist in issuing threats.’
He looked immensely smug. ‘Armies may fall, Parthian, but Rome is eternal. What is Parthia but a collection of desert nomads and horse stables devoid of culture and learning? It is Rome’s duty to bring civilisation to the world. That is why I am here.’
I sighed. ‘You are here because you, or more correctly your master, Crassus, wishes to have possession of the trade route into Egypt.’
‘Parthia has no jurisdiction west of the Euphrates. King Phraates has given Rome sovereignty over this land.’
This was staggering. ‘What?’
He smiled, delighting in my uncertainty. ‘It is true. Governor Lucullus has agreed to evacuate the province of Gordyene in exchange for control of all territory up to the west bank of the Euphrates. You see, Parthian, even your own king does not want you.’
I refused to believe that this was so. ‘Here are my terms, Furius. Your men are to lay down their weapons and you will become my hostage. Your master, Crassus, will have to pay a handsome price to get you back. We will see how much he values you, which is only fair as he puts a price on everything.’
‘I reject your terms.’
‘What?’
‘A Roman general never surrenders, especially in his own land.’
‘You are an idiot,’ I replied. ‘To continue fighting will result in your certain death.’
‘All death is certain.’
A most philosophical answer, I had to admit.
‘I give you one last chance to surrender.’
‘I reject your offer, Parthian. I do not bargain with slaves.’
I shook my head, pulled on Remus’ reins and turned my back on Lucius Furius. I heard a jangling noise behind me followed by a hissing sound. I turned to see Furius directly behind me, sword in hand. He was slumped in his saddle, an arrow lodged in his chest. I looked back at my men and saw Gallia with a bow in her hand. The sword slipped from Furius’ hand and then he fell from his saddle. He hit the ground and rolled onto his back. He glazed eyes told me that he was dead.
Mayhem then broke out as horsemen and foot soldiers charged the Romans. Horns and trumpets blasted as thousands of men attacked the wavering shield wall, while the air was thick with missiles as horse archers loosed their bows and Roman slingers and archers replied in kind. Horsemen surged past me led by Orodes, his sword held aloft, while on their flank Domitus and his men hoisted their shields and marched towards the Romans. Around a hundred paces from the enemy they charged, the front ranks racing at the enemy with swords drawn as the ranks immediately behind then hurled their javelins over the heads of their comrades against the enemy. I heard a loud thud as the Durans smashed into the stationary Romans, thrusting their swords upwards into any gaps between the shields. The Roman line buckled and then began to fall back as the impetus of the Duran charge cut its way into the enemy.
The horse archers did not attempt to charge the Romans but merely continued with their harassing fire, pouring volley after volley of arrows into the enemy. Occasionally an arrowhead hit flesh, but mostly it forced the Romans to take shelter behind their shields, but in doing so it prevented them from reinforcing the threatened sections of their line. Orodes and the cataphracts, now wielding swords or maces, rode up to the Roman lines and tried to batter their way through the enemy. But the ranks of the enemy were too dense and they failed. But Domitus did not fail.
Both armies had been manoeuvring and fighting under a hot sun for hours now. The Romans had seen their cavalry scattered, their eagles spirited away and their commander killed, and now they were penned in like sheep against the river. Assaulted once more, their cohesion began to crack as they continued to endure arrow fire from thousands of horse archers, a fire that seemingly never ceased, unlike their own slingers and archers, who soon ran out of ammunition. So Domitus and his men cut their way into the enemy, creating a gap through which Orodes and I led our weary heavy horsemen. The sight of enemy horsemen behind them once again was too much for the weary legionaries. Most of their senior officers, the legates and tribunes who rode on horseback, were now dead, felled by arrows. Soon groups of Romans were throwing down their weapons and giving themselves up. Fighting began to peter out as exhausted soldiers and horsemen disengaged from the Romans and merely watched their opponents submit to them. It was a strange scene — shortly before the Romans had been a tenacious foe, now they were beaten men meekly submitting to their fate. The battle was over.
Chapter 16
T
he aftermath of battle is never pleasant and this day was no different. As far as the eye could see the ground was covered with the dead and the dying. Injured horses, their bodies gashed open and their limbs shattered, thrashed around in agony. Men whimpered and screamed as the rush of frenzy within them quickly faded and feelings returned to their pierced bodies. Bodies cut open by sword and spear blades, bones crushed underfoot by men and horses during melees, and flesh pierced by arrows and slingshots. And then the stench hit me. In the white heat of battle all sense of smell disappears, but afterwards, when the slaughter has ceased and men’s bodies are drained of energy, a rancid aroma hangs over the battlefield. The stench of blood, vomit, human and animal dung and urine, the disgusting combination of men fouling themselves, puking as they saw their friends reduced to offal before their eyes, and the spilling of blood and guts during combat. It is this smell that enters your nostrils, infuses your hair and skin and stays there for days. No amount of water will wash it away. Today it was the same, perhaps even worse than before. Men had difficulty controlling their skittish horses as they dismounted and led the beasts towards the river, for both they and their riders were suddenly possessed by a raging thirst.
I too dismounted and watched Domitus and his men move forward to stand guard over the Roman captives. There was no resistance. Where just a short time before they had been highly trained enemy soldiers operating in formation, seemingly invincible, now they were beaten men, glad to be offered the chance to rest. Glad to be alive.
Domitus ambled over as the legion’s colour party escorted the golden griffin back to the city. I raised my sword in salute as it and its escort marched past me. The cataphracts around did the same.
‘Another victory, Pacorus. Well done.’
‘Yes, another victory.’ But it did not feel like victory, not with the words of Furius still in my ears. Had Phraates really handed Dura to the Romans? I dismissed the idea. And yet…
A line of Nergal’s horse archers were standing watch as the Romans were ordered to stack their shields, mail shirts, helmets, belts and swords in great piles before being herded under armed guard towards the camp — my camp — they had occupied during the siege of my city. It would now be their temporary prison until their fate was decided.