Carrhae (70 page)

And what of Peroz and his horse archers? Like Gafarn his soldiers utilised the greater range of their bows to shoot down their opponents. The Armenian commander had deliberately sacrificed the horse archers on his right wing to enable his mounted spearmen to charge into our rear. What were a few thousand horse archers compared to victory? Except that there was no Armenian victory, and as Peroz and his men reappeared on the battlefield the fate of the enemy was sealed.

As Surena’s horse archers amused themselves butchering hapless enemy spearmen the King of Gordyene rode up to me as Domitus was organising the Durans and Exiles for an assault on the last remaining body of enemy troops that had not been routed: the swordsmen. Surena jumped from his horse, his standard bearer grabbing the reins as his senior officers halted their horses. He walked up to me and smiled, and then we embraced each other.

‘It is good to see you, Surena.’

‘You too, lord. Men will speak of this day and your name with awe and respect.’

I slapped him on the back. ‘They will tell the truth: that the King of Gordyene saved my arse.’

He grinned. ‘With the King of Elymais, lord.’

‘Where is Silaces?’

‘With my Sarmatians, lord, ensuring that the enemy do not escape our wrath,’ he replied.

So he had brought his Sarmatian jackals with him, mercenaries who delighted in killing and devastation. Still, nothing could diminish the extent of the Parthian victory that was unfolding or Surena’s part in it.

Sunset was creeping upon the world now, the sky filled with red and orange hues as Armenian swordsmen formed an all-round defence directly in front of the legions, once more formed into two lines with the Durans on the right and the Exiles on the left. Surena’s medium horsemen and horse archers, working in conjunction, were busy trawling the battlefield for pockets of Armenians, spearing any injured they came across and surrounding and then destroying any groups of enemy soldiers who tried to resist them. The Sarmatians, meanwhile, had taken up position behind the enemy swordsmen, while Silaces’ men were arrayed on the Armenian left flank and the returning Peroz lined up his men against the enemy right flank. Thus were the Armenians and their commander now completely surrounded.

The number of dead men and animals was not as great as the butcher’s bill of the dreadful battlefield of Susa but there were still tens of thousands of slain scattered across the ground, along with the corpses of hundreds of horses and camels.

An eerie quiet descended over this field of carrion as men thanked their gods for still being alive and drank greedily from water bottles, while the Armenians contemplated their fate. It was regarding the latter that I sent riders to the various contingents to gather the kings and commanders together to decide our next course of action.

I stood behind the second line of Durans with Gallia as the Amazons sat on the ground next to their tired horses. Domitus ambled over to us tapping his vine cane against his thigh, his sword back in its scabbard. Behind us Vagises, having returned with Vistaspa’s men, was organising his companies to take up position behind the legions, ready to move into the space between the first and second lines once more should we need to shoot at the Armenians, not that we had many arrows left.

Domitus, now relaxed and very happy, slapped me on the arm. ‘You are one lucky bastard. I never thought we would beat them.’

I winked at Gallia. ‘Now he tells me.’

Domitus took off his helmet and examined the dent near the crest holder.

‘You remember that ritual we took part in all those months ago?’ he said to me. ‘I thought it was all nonsense but, looking around today, I think that old witch knew what she was talking about.’

He smiled at me and amidst the carnage was genuinely happy, basking in the victory that the army that he had created had made possible. And died as the lead pellet struck the side of his head. He dropped like a stone as the slinger who stood no more than two hundred paces away reached into his pouch for another missile. Perhaps he meant to kill me, or Gallia, but he had no opportunity to loose another pellet before Gallia killed him with an arrow that struck him in the chest. Where he had come from I did not know. Perhaps he had been knocked unconscious and lay on the ground as fighting raged around him, or maybe he was very brave and wanted to kill a senior enemy commander before he himself was killed, or perhaps he was sent by the gods to exact payment for our victory. But whatever the explanation he had slain my friend and the man who had been my right arm.

I knelt beside the body of Lucius Domitus and felt his neck for a pulse. There was none. I heard hooves and saw Surena on his horse. He looked down at the body of my friend and then wheeled his horse away. Within minutes the slaughter had begun.

I had no interest in the aftermath of the battle as I organised a party of Durans to take Domitus to one of the wagons for transfer to Hatra, but Surena thought otherwise. Word quickly spread through the ranks of the Durans and Exiles that their commander was dead, and then among Dura’s horse archers and the soldiers of Hatra, Gordyene and Elymais. Soon the remnants of the Armenian Army were surrounded by soldiers who had vengeance on their minds, a sentiment encouraged by Surena who rode up and down the lines exhorting them to slay the enemy.

Then the horse archers began shooting, not rapid volleys but rather aimed shots that found their mark. Thousands of arrows were loosed at the Armenians from all four sides and soon there were heaps of dead on the ground in the half-light. No quarter was asked for or given as archers methodically moved their horses nearer the rapidly shrinking square of Armenians. Finally the archers ran out of arrows and the dreadful hissing that had enveloped the square died down as the shooting ceased, to be replaced by groans, whimpers and cries of wounded and dying men. And then the legions attacked.

Gripped by a cold fury over the loss of their commander, the officers and centurions had had difficulty in holding their men back. But now, as the horsemen who had been deployed in front of them retreated, the Durans and Exiles marched forward. They did not forget their training and retained their ranks as they stepped on and over dead and dying men on the ground in front of them to get at those still living.

There were perhaps six or seven thousand Armenian soldiers still standing, though many of those were wounded and a few had no weapons. As the Durans and Exiles advanced against the pitiful remains of the enemy square, the cataphracts lined up on one side, Surena’s medium horsemen opposite them and the Sarmatians sealing the square. The Armenians were caught in a giant trap as the legionaries threw their few remaining javelins and then charged with swords drawn uttering blood-curdling screams.

There was no battle as such, just a methodical slaughter as the legionaries stabbed and hacked men to pieces. Some Armenians threw down their shields and weapons and ran, only to be cut down by horsemen with spears, axes, maces and swords. Some fell on their knees and begged for mercy but they found none, only death meted out by Parthian weapons, or at the hands of Surena’s Sarmatians. It was dark by the time the killing stopped, the foul stench of blood and gore filling the air and our nostrils and infusing our clothes. It was perhaps the greatest victory that the Parthian Empire had ever enjoyed over its enemies but I would have gladly swapped it for the life of my dead friend.

As the last remaining Armenians had their throats slit I stood with Gallia by the wagon that held the body of Domitus. We were joined by Gafarn, Vistaspa, Peroz and Silaces. Guards held torches to cast our faces in a red glow as Gafarn lifted the cloak that had been placed over the body and laid a hand on Domitus’ shoulder.

‘Farewell, my friend. He was the best of us.’

I had nothing to say to any of them and they stood in an awkward silence until I saw the figure of Alcaeus approaching leading four legionaries carrying a stretcher. My chief medical officer looked downcast and dragged his feet as he ordered the men to load the body they were carrying on the wagon.

‘Wait,’ I ordered.

‘It is the body of Thumelicus,’ said Alcaeus, ‘he would want to make this final journey with his friend.’

Gallia walked over to the stretcher and kissed Thumelicus on the forehead, then ordered the men to place the body next to Domitus.

‘I heard he charged headlong into the enemy ranks,’ said Alcaeus, ‘wanted to avenge the death of Domitus all on his own. By the time his men reached him he had been cut down, though they say he killed many before he fell. I will miss him.’

‘I too. How many others have we lost, Alcaeus?’

He stretched his back. ‘Not as many as I thought we would. Just over four hundred dead at the last count and six hundred wounded among the legions; I do not know what losses the horsemen have suffered.’

The lights of Hatra on the horizon were our guide as we made our way back to the city – a bedraggled column of exhausted men leading tired horses with their heads down, mules pulling wagons and camel drivers urging on their beasts. The Durans and Exiles marched in stoic silence, the golden griffin and silver lion both covered as a mark of respect for the loss of their general. Behind us we left a patch of ground covered with tens of thousands of dead men. I walked with Gallia, Gafarn, Vistaspa, Silaces and Peroz but not Surena, who decided to camp near the battlefield rather than just outside the city.

‘He will send his Sarmatians to scour the land for Armenian stragglers,’ said Silaces. ‘They like to take scalps.’

‘Scalps?’ said Gallia.

‘Yes, majesty,’ he replied, forgetting that he too was now a king. ‘Sarmatian warriors like to take the scalps of men they have killed so they can hang them from their saddles.’

‘Surena should not have brought these savages into Hatra,’ complained Gafarn.

‘Surena saved us, brother,’ I said, ‘we owe him a debt of gratitude for he has turned you into the vanquisher of Armenia. You will find that Artavasdes will be more eager to enter into negotiations now you have destroyed his army.’

‘And killed his brother,’ added Silaces.

‘His brother?’ queried Gafarn.

‘Artashes,’ continued Silaces. ‘It was he who commanded the Armenian Army. That is why Surena was eager to get here. He and Artashes have been conducting their own private war for many months. Surena left his foot at Assur to await the arrival of Atrax’s army when he learned that Artashes was nearing Hatra. Surena will be making sure he does not escape.’

Dura’s army returned to its camp outside the city while Hatra’s soldiers trudged back to their barracks inside the royal quarter. I stayed with Gallia in the command tent with the body of my friend and did not sleep as I sat in silence at the table with my wife sipping at wine. How many times had I sat with my friend at this very same table and joked and planned the future? And now he was gone; gone like Thumelicus, Drenis and Kronos.

‘There are only three of us left,’ I said.

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Gallia.

‘The night of Dobbai’s ritual. Of those who took part there are only three left: myself, Vagises and Vagharsh. The others are dead, as is she. She said there would be a price to pay.’

I heard horse hooves outside and then one of the entrance flaps was swept aside by a sentry.

‘Prince Spartacus, majesty.’

‘Let him in.’

Dressed in a simple white tunic and brown leggings, Spartacus appeared remarkably fresh-faced as he walked over to Gallia and embraced her, then nodded to me.

‘I am glad to see you unharmed,’ I told him, indicating that he should sit with us. I walked over to another table holding wine, poured a cup and handed it to him.

He held it up to me. ‘To you, uncle, and the glory of the empire.’

Gallia rolled her eyes but I smiled at him. He was young, a prince of this city and had just taken part in a battle that had crushed Armenia’s might. He had every reason to feel proud.

He suddenly looked melancholic. ‘I heard about Lucius Domitus. I grieve with you. He was a great soldier.’

‘And a greater friend,’ added Gallia with a cheerless voice.

‘You go now to fight the Romans, uncle?’ he asked.

‘After we have recovered our strength and been reinforced by our allies, yes. I had wanted to deal with Crassus first but the gods dictated otherwise.’

‘I would ask a favour of you,’ he said.

‘What favour can I grant the triumphant Prince of Hatra?’ I teased him. ‘A boy no longer but a valiant member of your city’s Royal Bodyguard.’

‘I wish to come with you when you march against the Romans,’ he said.

I drank some wine. ‘That will be for your father to decide, Spartacus. You are no longer my squire.’

Gallia laid a hand on his arm. ‘Pacorus will ensure that you are beside him when he faces Crassus, Spartacus, have no fear.’

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You have always been and will ever remain my favourite aunt.’

He gulped down his wine, bowed his head to me and then asked if he could take his leave. I stood and shook his hand and he embraced Gallia and then sauntered from our presence.

‘What did you say that for?’ I asked.

She shook her head. ‘You think he has forgotten about the quest that Haytham set him? You think he has forgotten about the woman whose strand of hair hangs around his neck?’

I sighed deeply. ‘That nonsense again. I had forgotten.’

‘Just make sure you take him with you.’

I laughed. ‘The chances of him taking a Roman eagle are infinitesimal, they really are.’

‘You took one,’ she shot back.

‘That was different.’

‘How?’

‘It just was.’

She pointed a finger at me. ‘You promised Claudia that you would take care of her son.’

Sometimes the female mind baffled me. ‘What?’

‘If you deprive him of the chance of marrying Rasha he will be deeply unhappy. You do not want that, do you?’

I gave up. ‘Apparently not. Very well, I will ask Gafarn if his son can accompany me.’

Once more the sentry disturbed us to announce that my senior officers were outside. I ordered him to let them in and also to fetch more wine as they entered and slumped into the chairs around the table. They all looked dead on their feet, their faces showing stubble and their clothes dirty and torn. I emptied the wine jug and then half of the fresh one brought in by a sentry to provide them with refreshment as they made their reports.