Cassius looked up for a moment and saw the edge of the cart bending once more. He could smell the familiar oily musk of the horses, hear them puffing and snorting as the Palmyrans forced them mercilessly on.
A stray elbow smacked against his helmet as one of the Syrians lost his footing. The second man couldn’t hold the shield alone and the last pole snapped, sending the shield straight into his legs. Cassius turned in time to see him tumble backwards, clutching at his shins. As Kabir dragged the injured man away, Cassius helped the other Syrian to his feet. Just as he got his hands back on the nearest plank, it snapped in two, one half spinning away above his head, the other hitting the ground between his boots.
He glimpsed glittering chain mail to his right as Bezda’s horse finally forced its way into the gap, pushing the cart a full two yards away from the wall. Bezda kept his lance horizontal, protecting the head of his steed. The smile etched on his face mask now appeared fittingly triumphant and to Cassius the unblinking eyes above now seemed lit by fire.
There were sixteen defenders trying to hold the cart in place but they were no match for the combined might of the cavalry horses. Bent low, Cassius watched his boots being pushed back in the dust.
The Palmyrans were cheering; a triumphant cry that rose in volume with every inch gained. Like the Romans, they knew that a large breach in the barricades would effectively end the battle.
Cassius glanced again to his right. Bezda switched his lance to his left hand and reached for his sword.
Cassius knew then that he had to move. All other thoughts had been forgotten in the struggle to defend the barricades, but that battle was lost. Strabo was nowhere to be seen. He had to leave before it was too late: round up the others, grab Minicius and sound the retreat.
He let go of the cart, stood up and turned round. What he saw stopped him cold.
Trotting towards the eastern wall, necks bobbing up and down, were the three camels. Close behind were Strabo, Statius and Antonius, all wielding flaming torches and intent on driving the animals towards the barricades. As they passed through what had been the Syrian encampment, Statius sprinted left to cut off the narrow gap between the carts and the corner of the houses.
The big female, perhaps disturbed by the noise of the battle or smelling the many horses ahead, veered to the right. Strabo was there in an instant, waving the torch at the animal’s face. With a flash of teeth, she swung her neck away, the others in tow as she cantered towards the eastern wall.
At first it seemed Strabo’s efforts had been for nothing. The camels slowed as they reached the wall, turned away from the carts and edged towards the corner.
Bezda hadn’t drawn his sword. Cassius saw that the Palmyran too was fixated on the bizarre scene in front of him. Though his horse was now halfway through the gap, his right leg was still stuck on the other side of the cart.
Strabo, Statius and Antonius formed a line and stalked towards the animals, torches held out in front of them.
‘Closer!’ Strabo shouted. ‘Push them left!’
Antonius cut off the path to the south-east corner. Now Strabo and Statius had the camels trapped against the wall.
‘Towards the horses!’
The men at the barricade realised what was going on. Heads came up, hands eased. There was a sudden jolt as the cart was prised further away from the wall.
‘Keep at it there!’ yelled Avso.
Bezda’s leg was now past the cart; he was finally free to attack the Romans.
His horse, however, had suddenly become still, nostrils flaring, ears twitching. The riders behind him slackened their reins and looked on.
The camels were now just five yards from the barricades. At the shoulder, the big female was a good foot taller than the cavalry horses. Swinging her head from side to side and scraping her hooves against the ground, the enraged beast bared her teeth and spat; some landed in the sand by Bezda’s horse.
‘Yah!’ shouted the Palmyran, kicking downward again, desperate to force his animal into action.
There was a curious moment of quiet. Then, with a shrill whinny, the horse jerked its head up and lurched suddenly to the left, smashing into the wall and knocking a sizeable dent in the clay. Bezda lowered the grip on his lance and brought it down hard against the horse’s side but it had no effect. Straining to turn its neck away, the animal dug its hooves in and began to back up.
Seeing a chance, two daring Syrians closed on the retreating beast, but Kabir called out and halted them mid-stride.
Bezda stifled a grunt of pain as the horse threw itself sideways again, this time to the right, slamming his leg against the cart.
Whether it was the sight and smell of the camels, or the reaction of Bezda’s mount, fear spread quickly through the closely packed horses. Suddenly, all the riders in the front rank were fighting for control. Any horse that sensed space behind or beside it retreated or turned. The animal directly behind Bezda’s began to buck uncontrollably. Its rider was thrown against the wall. He fell, then screamed as he was trampled by his own steed.
Bezda pulled down hard on his reins, trying to keep his horse facing forward. He lashed out again with the lance, desperate to keep the breach open.
Braving the wrath of the camel, Strabo lunged forward and waved the torch close to the horse’s head. The flaming branches passed within inches of the animal’s mouth. Rearing wildly and letting loose a high, almost human screech, the horse drove itself backward. Bezda just managed to hang on and somehow threw his lance one-handed at Strabo. He was off balance, however, and the weapon missed completely, landing harmlessly in the dust.
‘Now! Push it back!’ bellowed Strabo, galvanising the watching defenders. With almost no pressure from the other side, the cart was easily shunted back into place. Iucundus, recovered enough to stand, shoved one of the broken staves back into the wall.
Cassius felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘Grab that! We must be quick!’
Avso, his hair hanging down over his eyes, nodded at a box of caltrops. He already had his hands on another box, which he dragged away towards the northern barricade.
Cassius squeezed between two legionaries and grabbed the edge of the second box; he found he needed both hands to shift it. As he hauled it past Crispus’ men, Strabo threw his torch aside and took command at the barricades once more.
The female camel took her chance and charged for open space, towards where the Syrian camp had been. As the other two followed, Antonius sensibly sought the safety of the southern wall. Statius, however, got caught in the middle of the onrushing beasts. Despite the torch still in his hand, the female bolted straight at him. He dived to one side but a bony knee caught him on the flank, sending him spinning to the ground. Lucky not to be caught by the hooves of the other animals, the resilient legionary dusted himself down and got to his feet.
Cassius reached Avso’s section. He dragged his box a few more yards, then let go.
‘Over the top!’ shouted Avso.
With little regard for his hands, the Thracian took handfuls of the caltrops and threw them over the cart into the midst of the Palmyrans. Others, Cassius included, were slower, picking out one at a time.
‘Quicker, damn you!’ yelled Avso. ‘Quicker!’ He ran towards the cart.
As the legionaries crowded round the box, Cassius crouched down in front of a damaged plank and looked out. At its widest point, the killing area was just forty-five feet across. While the horses were under control, this lack of space hadn’t been a problem. But now, with so many animals acting on instinct and completely unbiddable, there was now almost no room to manoeuvre. A few of those who had seen the danger early had been able to drive their horses out of the gate. Those animals close to the only route of escape were now crushed together, desperate to squeeze their way through the narrow space.
Fear created panic. Some of the disorientated cavalrymen found their horses charging for the barriers, believing the few small gaps might offer a way out. Others were thrown to the ground and left somehow to escape the deadly crush.
Seeing a slight gap, one riderless animal launched itself between another and the gatehouse wall. Its shoulder went clean through the clay surround and straight into one of the vertical supporting timbers. Both horses became stuck.
Avso had clambered up on to the cart again.
‘Here!’ he cried. ‘Pass me the boxes!’
The athletic Crispus appeared and was up beside him in a flash, soon helping to haul both boxes on to the side of the cart. Squatting so as to maintain their balance, they flung caltrops with both hands. Over to the left, Serenus had every man of the fourth section hurling the deadly contraptions over the barricade.
They soon took effect. The formidable coats of armour could do nothing to protect the horses from this danger and within moments a number had been lamed. The sharpened nails drove up into the hooves and stuck there, doubling the agony when the animals took another step. A few of the injured animals limped on or simply stopped. Many were approaching exhaustion.
Panic created chaos. The defenders watched the first horse topple over. It had been backing towards the northern barricade when both of its back legs were impaled. The animal’s rear collapsed and it dropped heavily to the ground, the coat of mail splayed out around it. The rider dropped his lance and dismounted, spinning round to face any attacker.
The men of the fifth section had done a good job of throwing caltrops into the main mass of cavalrymen close to the gate. When animals began to fall there, any remaining chance of recovery evaporated. Two, three, then four horses were seen to falter, then tumble over. Their flailing legs caught other animals and riders were sent crashing to the ground in all directions.
‘Remove the planks there!’ shouted Avso to his men. ‘Gather staves! And somebody find the Sicilian!’
Another rider came close to the northern barricade. In trying to keep his horse away from the deadly crush of struggling animals and men, he had inadvertently guided it into the worst of the caltrops. Seeing his mistake too late, he jerked back on the reins just as one of the horse’s front legs gave out.
The Palmyran was thrown violently forward, somersaulting through the air before landing on his back. As his horse writhed on the ground beside him, the rider sat up. He raised a hand, only to find it heavier than usual: it had been spiked clean through by two thick nails.
Recoiling in disgust and feeling the now familiar bitterness rising in his throat, Cassius backed away from the carts. It seemed incredible that the tide of the battle had turned so quickly, but again he felt anxious that he couldn’t see the main body of Palmyran troops. With the gatehouse blocked and the Romans occupied, it seemed likely that they might try to strike elsewhere.
‘Crispus! What do you see beyond the gate?’
With both boxes empty, Crispus and Avso now observed the suffering and destruction they had wrought. Another stricken horse tripped and crashed into the cart, almost knocking them from their perch.
The young legionary had heard Cassius though. He stood up and covered his eyes as he looked east, then quickly squatted down again. Avso dropped back down behind the barricade. Crispus quickly followed.
‘Infantry and bowmen, sir. All just standing there!’
‘At last,’ said Avso as Strabo arrived, panting and covered in sweat, though he still had sufficient energy to smack Cassius on the shoulder.
‘That was clever thinking. Sorry I delayed.’
Avso chucked one of the heavy staves to Strabo. The Sicilian caught it one-handed.
‘The gate is blocked,’ said the Thracian. ‘We have to take out as many as we can now, while they’re on the ground. We won’t get another chance.’
Already assembled around them were the six men Avso had previously assigned a stave. They included Vestinus, Statius and Iucundus, who now seemed back to full strength. All had abandoned their shields.
‘Let’s get to it then!’ said the Sicilian, thumping the stave against his free hand.
‘Wait a moment.’
Serenus approached the group. Even though he had taken little active part himself, the battle had clearly taken its toll. He was using his pilum to hold himself up and his lips had turned almost white.
‘Those men are still armoured. And some are still on their steeds.’
‘We won’t see cavalry off a second time,’ said Avso firmly, already moving towards the cart.
‘If we can tear the heart out of that lot it will shatter the spirits of the others,’ added Strabo. ‘It’s worth the risk.’
Serenus accepted this with a weary nod. The legionaries had by now removed several planks, leaving a two-yard gap for Strabo and the others. Avso led the way.
‘Let’s get them down and finish them off. We stay together. Clear?’
‘Clear!’
Strabo was at the rear, waiting for Statius and Iucundus to follow the others into the killing area.
‘Watch yourself,’ said Cassius.
Strabo grinned.
‘Fortuna’s friend, remember?’
XXXIV
None of the Palmyrans gathered outside the fort knew what had caused the chaos they now observed. Razir had ordered the front ranks back but all had seen the crush at the gatehouse, the frenzied horses unseating their riders and falling to the ground. Even the five cavalrymen who had managed to escape were either injured or still struggling to control their mounts.
Azaf had no idea why the reverse had been so sudden and dramatic, but the result was precisely what he’d feared. Pacing up and down beside the archers, he forced himself to look away and block out the noise of stricken horses and men. He had to clear his mind; decide how to regain the initiative.
Any common soldier knew that cavalry were most effective when used sparingly against a vulnerable flank or running down scattered infantry. He cursed himself for allowing himself to be persuaded that they might be effective against solid defences with so little room for manoeuvre.