Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (52 page)

‘Your what?’

‘My men are organised according to the ancient hoplite custom, King Pacorus, and in honour of the gods.’

Apparently the smallest unit in his makeshift army was a file of eight men. Four files made up an
enomotia
commanded by an
enomotarchos
, and four
enomtiai
were combined to create what was called a
pentekostia
, a unit of one hundred and twenty-eight men. A
lochos
comprised four
pentekostiai
, which numbered just over five hundred men.

‘Five hundred men is a small army to take and hold a city this size, Cleon.’

But he was supremely confident. ‘More are joining us by the hour and soon the temple guards will be flocking to our side when they see that we have seized the sacred flame.’

He was also hopelessly naïve and I was about to tell him so when a man wearing a similar cuirass to Cleon appeared in the doorway.

‘
Lochagos
, Roman soldiers are approaching the
prytaneion
from the south.’

Cleon picked up the Roman helmet on the table and smiled.

‘The gods send us a sacrifice so that we may honour them, Nicias. Muster the men.’

I looked at Gallia and rolled my eyes. We had managed to escape death in the arena only to face our end among a deluded band of Greek freedom fighters.

Chapter 12

The screams and cries outside the hall heralded the arrival of the Romans as the crowd around the courtyard began to panic.

‘You had better let them enter the hall,’ I said to Cleon as we followed him outside, ‘unless you want the Romans to kill them.’

He scowled at me. ‘The Romans would not dare to kill innocent civilians.’

Domitus began laughing. ‘Where did you get him from?’

The men who had been sitting in the courtyard were now forming into units as their commanders bellowed orders at them. They appeared to have a modicum of organisation and discipline, though their paucity of weapons and equipment made me fear for them.

The others crowded round as Cleon placed his helmet on his head and gave orders that the women and children were to be moved into the hall.

‘Any capable of carrying weapons will stay and fight,’ he said to his subordinate, who ran to the perimeter.

‘Well,’ said Domitus, ‘we will leave you to be slaughtered while we take our leave.’

Cleon drew his
xiphos
and held the point at Domitus’ neck. Drenis and Arminius moved towards the Greek, swords in their hands. I waved them back.

‘Perhaps it is you who will be slaughtered, Roman,’ hissed Cleon.

Hippo was looking decidedly nervous. The quiet protocol of the life of a high priestess was in stark contrast to the rapidly approaching outbreak of bloodshed she would be a part of.

‘I would ask you to spare the commander of my army, Cleon,’ I said. ‘I need him.’

Cleon dropped his weapon. ‘This man commands your army? A Roman?’

‘It’s a long story,’ I told him as the sound of Roman trumpets and horns filled the air, ‘one that I fear I do not have the time to tell.’

As women and children ran from the courtyard into the hall, Cleon’s
lochos
had formed up, awaiting his orders.

‘Stay or leave,’ he said dismissively, ‘it is of no concern to me.’

‘Keep your eye on her,’ I said to Gallia as Cleon marched off to place himself at the head of his army of liberators, leaving Hippo alone and even more nervous. Anca tried to comfort her. Acco moved to the side of Gallia, his swords resting on his shoulders.

I ordered Domitus, Surena, Drenis and Arminius to stay with me and asked Burebista to remain with the women.

‘There are many women and children who are going to be butchered here today,’ Alcaeus called after me as we ran to the marble columns opposite the hall’s entrance. Behind us Cleon was giving a rousing speech to his men, telling them that the temple guards were on their way to reinforce them and in the meantime they would easily deal with the Romans who were filing into the square that surrounded the
prytaneion
. He reassured them that Artemis would not abandon them and finished by shouting ‘freedom’. His men responded in kind.

‘How many men have died in the name of that word?’ said Domitus.

We crouched beside a column and watched the Romans deploy undisturbed. They had marched up the main street in column from the
agora
and were now deploying to attack.

‘Four centuries,’ said Domitus, counting the number of
signum
standards.

Surena turned to look back at the Greeks mustering in the courtyard.

‘Just over three hundred against…’

He tried to count quickly in his head as he scanned the Greek ranks.

‘Just over five hundred,’ I told him.

‘Good odds, lord.’

Drenis grabbed my arm. ‘The odds just got longer.’

Between the centuries that were in close order eight ranks deep, two-man teams were siting scorpion ballistae. I had first encountered these deadly machines in Italy and we had them in Dura’s army, having captured them from the enemy. I counted ten, each one capable of shooting iron-tipped bolts with deadly accuracy. The design was simple: two wooden arms inserted into two vertical and tightly wound skeins of leather, sinew or hemp or combinations of these materials contained in a rectangular wooden frame structure that formed the main part of the weapon. The arms were attached to a thick bowstring that was drawn rearwards to further twist the skeins and increase the torsion. The bolt was placed in the groove in the weapon’s stock, the bowstring being pulled rearwards by means of a winch fitted to the weapon. It was held in place by a locking shaft at the back of the scorpion and released by a trigger. The bolt had a range of over three hundred paces and at short ranges could go through two men with ease.

We kept low, knowing what these murderous machines could do, though the Romans appeared to be quite prepared to let Cleon initiate proceedings. Domitus pointed to two individuals wearing black muscled cuirasses and plumed helmets accompanied by a group of centurions.

‘The governor and his tribune.’

‘I wonder where Kallias and his temple guards are?’

‘Waiting to see which way the wind blows,’ replied Domitus.

There was a great cheer behind us and we turned to see the Greeks march from the courtyard. The Romans were around fifty paces from the columns where we crouched. I saw Surena nock an arrow in his bowstring but Domitus tapped him on the arm.

‘Save your ammunition, you will need it.’

‘I have a clear shot of the governor,’ he hissed.

‘And those scorpions will have a clear shot of you,’ replied Domitus. ‘This is not our fight.’

Ever the realist, he was right. But it grieved me that we were mere bystanders to the drama and not active participants. But my thoughts were rendered irrelevant when Cleon led his men through the columns towards the waiting Romans. I noticed that many of them were bare foot as they broke into a charge at the moment the scorpions began shooting.

With a well-trained crew each machine could shoot up to four bolts a minute and these crews were very good. In thirty seconds they had unleashed a total of twenty bolts that cut down more than that number of Greeks. And then the legionaries charged. I had never been this close to combat without taking part and it was macabrely fascinating as each side fulfilled its role. The Greeks filled with passion and bloodlust against the iron discipline of the Romans.

There was a blast of trumpets and guttural war cries of Roman legionaries, followed by a volley of javelins and a series of groans and high-pitched screams as the iron heads hit flesh. The first two ranks in each century had already drawn their swords as they plunged into the Greeks, stabbing and using their shields to barge adversaries to the ground. Then the square was filled with the frantic clatter of swords striking swords as Cleon’s fighters tried to stem the Roman flood. To no avail.

The volleys of scorpion bolts had taken the sting out of the Greek assault and the charge of the centuries had killed it stone dead. Now the Romans executed what they did best: grinding an enemy down in a remorseless close-quarter mêlée where their short swords could be used to maximum effect. To their credit the Greeks did not break, but their numbers were soon diminishing alarmingly as the swords of the legionaries found unprotected torsos, necks and faces. Cleon’s men had no armour, only a few had helmets and a large percentage had only spears for weapons.

Within minutes the area in front of the columns was covered with dead and dying Greeks as centurions blew whistles to order those behind the front ranks to step forward and relieve their comrades. There was a brief lull and then the fighting began again, preceded by another volley of javelins thrown by the rear four ranks in each century.

‘These Romans are good,’ remarked Domitus admiringly. ‘Almost as good as Dura’s legionaries; almost.’

‘Fall back,’ I ordered.

The Romans were almost at the columns now, Cleon’s men at last giving ground as their ranks were whittled down. I could not see him in the mêlée. He was already dead, most likely, cut down in the initial clash. The Romans were not in a hurry. They knew that they had won the battle and all that remained was to keep on killing until there were no rebels left.

We ran back to the hall and found Gallia and the others near the sacred flame, which was surrounded by women and children. I went over to the high priestess.

‘Is there another way out of this building?’

She nodded. ‘At the rear.’

‘You have to get these people out now. Tell them to seek sanctuary at the temple outside the city. They will be safe there.’

‘What of Cleon?’ she asked as heads began to turn in response to the noise of battle outside growing louder.

‘I do not know.’

Her eyes misted but I grabbed her arms.

‘The Romans will kill everyone inside this building. Get them out now, Hippo.’

She raised her arms and, in a faltering voice, announced to the crowd that the goddess wanted them to worship Her at the temple outside the city and that they should depart immediately. I thought they might object but they eagerly rose to their feet and headed for the door at the rear of the hall. Mothers scooped up small children in their arms and departed as the screams of men dying outside filled their ears.

‘I shall stay here,’ Hippo said to me. ‘I do not wish to live without my beloved.’

‘The Romans are in the courtyard,’ Surena shouted from the doors.

I ran over to him and saw that small groups of Greeks were frantically battling Roman soldiers in the courtyard, being forced to give ground as companions on either side were cut down. I was amazed to see Cleon, helmetless and bleeding but still alive, directly ahead, wielding his sword like a man possessed.

‘Gallia,’ I shouted.

She rushed over, bow in hand. I nocked an arrow in my bowstring and called to Cleon. Behind us the women and children were still fleeing the hall.

‘Cleon, it is over,’ I shouted, ‘save yourself and your men.’

He did not hear me as the men either side of him died under a deluge of
gladius
strikes.

‘We must leave, Pacorus,’ said Domitus behind me.

‘Cover him,’ I said to Gallia and Surena as Cleon killed the legionary in front of him before stepping back as two more came at him. He tripped over a dead Greek and fell on his back as the Romans grinned to each other and raised their swords, to be shot dead by Surena and Gallia. Cleon jumped up and turned to see us in the doorway.

‘Cover me,’ I said as I raced forward to get near him.

‘It’s over, Cleon,’ I repeated ‘Get your men into the hall and out the back before you are all killed.’

I shot a centurion a few paces away in the face.

I grabbed Cleon’s tunic but he wrenched his arm away.

‘Stay, then,’ I said. ‘After they have killed you they will rape Hippo and nail her to a cross.’

Two more Romans came at me but were felled by arrows shot by Gallia and Surena.

‘Pacorus,’ shouted Domitus who ran forward and opened the belly of a Roman with his sword, ‘get your arse in here.’

The Romans were nearly at the hall’s entrance now, most of the Greeks being either dead or trapped in small pockets that were being systematically wiped out. I looked at Cleon and then ran back to the doors. Whether my mention of Hippo changed his mind or he saw with his own eyes how lost the situation was I do not know, but he suddenly called on those Greeks nearby to follow him.

The nearest century was closing on the doors as Cleon halted at the entrance and shouted at his men to get inside. A legionary lunged at him with his
gladius
and Cleon parried the blow with his shield, slashing his
xiphos
at the man’s neck. The legionary caught the blow on his shield as the Roman beside him attacked Cleon from the side. Before the Greek had a chance to respond Acco rushed forward and stabbed the Roman in the neck, stooped low to slice open another legionary’s kneecap and split the nose of a third with a flurry of sword strikes. He then leaped back, grabbed Cleon by the scruff of the neck and literally threw him inside the hall.