Companions (The Parthian Chronicles) (64 page)

He saw the
spatha
at her hip, the dagger tucked into the top of her boot, the bow case and quivers hanging from her saddle and over her shoulder.

‘So I see.’

‘Let’s be away,’ said Radu impatiently, ‘otherwise the Romans will be here before you can impress us with your tactics, King Pacorus.’

He shouted at his horse to move forward, the horsemen of the Maedi following. Decebal turned and gestured to his signallers to blow their horns, the mournful blasts of their instruments startling many of the horses. We turned our beasts and followed them, a great column of warriors armed with javelins, spears, axes, the deadly
xiphos
, a few long swords and even fewer bows, many men with their round or hexagonal shields slung on their backs. The Dacians carried dragon windsocks that fluttered above them, the red, white, green and brown tunics and leggings giving the column a very colourful appearance. But at that moment I would have swapped my whole kingdom for a dragon of Parthian horse archers and half as many cataphracts.

Chapter 15

We rode at speed, heading southwest, the direction from where the Romans were approaching. The immediate area around the city was largely flat and devoid of trees, but after an hour the fields and neatly arranged vineyards disappeared and we began to skirt copses, then woods and finally found ourselves riding through a strip of grassland in a forest of oak and ash. It was as though a god had laid his sword on the earth to create the sliver of open land we rode through, ahead of us the ears of hares popping up in the long grass before they bolted away. Overhead I saw the occasional magpie and crow but aside from wildlife the land was quiet.

Radu had brought along one of his scouts who rode ahead with a party of Dacian horsemen to provide prior warning of any Roman patrols. They reported back to their lords in the early evening that the enemy had not been spotted. After covering forty miles we made camp among the trees near a small stream where the horses could drink. The oaks were widely spaced and the ground was carpeted with wild grasses, mosses and fern. This was an ancient forest.

Guards were posted and horses unsaddled, though Radu and Decebal prohibited the lighting of any fires in case the Romans spotted them when darkness fell. Thus we drank cool water from the stream and ate fruit and cheese given to us by Histria’s quartermasters. After we had eaten the tribal kings requested my presence at a council of war, which was held under an old oak with a broad and spreading crown and sturdy branches beneath. Radu sat with his back against the thick trunk while Decebal sat on a blanket opposite him, both of them devouring large chunks of cheese.

‘So, Parthian,’ said Radu stiffly, ‘tomorrow most likely we will run into the Romans. How do you propose to put into action your plan?’

Decebal threw a spare blanket on the ground beside him. I unravelled it and sat cross-legged on it.

‘First of all we have to draw their horsemen away from the main army so we can lure them into an ambush. That will slow down the main army, which will allow your own foot soldiers to catch us up.’

‘So they can engage the enemy,’ said Radu, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

‘So we can set more ambushes for them, yes,’ I replied. ‘Above all we must avoid any pitched battle with the Romans.’

‘Why do you fear the Romans?’ asked Decebal.

‘I do not fear them,’ I riposted, ‘but I respect their fighting abilities. You offer them battle and they will wipe you out.’

I looked at Radu. ‘Just as they did with your army.’

Radu bristled. ‘Careful, Parthian, your words may get your tongue cut out and your head stuck on the end of a spear.’

‘That will not alter the facts, Radu,’ I replied, ‘which are that the Romans will easily beat anything you send against them in battle.’

Decebal appeared curious. ‘What is it about these Romans that make them so formidable? Are they gods?’

‘They are not gods,’ I answered quietly, ‘but their soldiers possess three things that give them supreme advantage on the battlefield.’

‘Which are?’ demanded Radu.

‘Organisation, training and superior equipment,’ I said. ‘Your warriors fight in groups around their chiefs and village elders, their only thought being to close with the enemy as quickly as possible.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ sniffed Radu.

‘Because it plays into the Romans’ hands,’ I answered. ‘As my general explained at the feast, the Romans like nothing more than to be able to deploy their scorpions, archers and slingers against densely packed groups of warriors. Then, when the warriors are goaded into charging they run into a javelin storm that kills the momentum of their attack. So before the hand-to-hand fighting even begins your warriors have suffered heavy casualties. And in the mêlée they find that they cannot make any impression on the disciplined ranks of the Roman legionaries.’

Radu looked away, knowing that I was right but annoyed anyway. Decebal, though, appeared satisfied.

‘When we encounter the Romans how do you propose to lure the enemy’s horsemen into an ambush?’

‘By dangling bait in front of them, lord king.’

Radu’s ears pricked up. ‘Bait?’

‘Myself and my fellow horse archers,’ I answered.

I returned to where my wife and companions were resting among the trees, our horses tethered to low-lying branches. Gallia was talking to Burebista, who was unstringing his bow, a model with straight limbs that was indigenous to these parts.

‘It doesn’t have the range of your Scythian models but in this terrain it performs well enough,’ I heard him say.

I flopped down beside Gallia who passed me an apple.

‘Our difficult allies have agreed to my plan,’ I told them, ‘though I fear that once they spot the Romans they will charge heroically to their deaths.’

‘It is difficult, lord, for those whose customs demand bravery in battle to hold back when they see the enemy,’ Burebista informed me.

‘That’s why the Romans always win,’ I said bitterly.

‘Not always, lord,’ said Surena. ‘We beat them at Dura.’

‘I would have liked to have been there,’ said Burebista.

‘You and Anca will be at Dura soon enough,’ I told him.

‘Burebista is free now, Pacorus,’ said Gallia. ‘He might want to remain here, though not if the Romans prevail, perhaps.’

Surena stretched out on his blanket. ‘Do you think we will be allowed to participate in the games at Ephesus next year, lord?’

Burebista laughed and Gallia frowned at him.

‘Probably not, Surena,’ I told him. ‘The Romans don’t take kindly to people who kill their
editors
and incite riots.’

Surena sat up. ‘That fat
editor
was corrupt, lord. He wanted young men to perform unnatural acts with him. The Romans would probably thank me for ridding the world of such an individual.’

Burebista grinned. ‘How little you know of the Romans.’

‘One thing I meant to ask you?’ I said. ‘The arena at Ephesus is too small for horsemen. Why then did you attend the games, though I thank Shamash that you did?’

‘Without wishing to be boastful, lord,’ he replied, ‘I was one of the lanista’s most prized fighters. He told me that the Greek theatre at Ephesus was too small but it did not matter as horsemen always dismount to finish off their opponents in the arena. So I left my horse behind.’

‘Was it very terrible, Burebista, being under the control of that brute Vatia?’ enquired Gallia.

Burebista laughed again. ‘You know what he was like, lady. As long as he was making money he was happy and I made him a lot of money. It wasn’t so bad, aside from being a condemned slave, of course. These past few years I only fought a few times a year, and usually only at the large venues such as Rome and Pompeii.’

He looked at my wife. ‘He was always aggrieved that you slipped through his fat fingers, though. He was also cursing Spartacus that he had led you astray, lady.’

Gallia threw her head back and laughed. ‘Spartacus had nothing to do with it. I was sold by my father to be the whore of Lentulus Vatia and would have escaped his fat clutches with or without Spartacus.’

‘Rome will not mourn the death of a
lanista
,’ mused Burebista. ‘It is ironic that for all his money Lentulus Vatia never achieved his dearest wish.’

‘Which was what?’ I asked.

‘To be considered respectable and not a lowly, despised
lanista
.’

‘Alas for Lentulus Vatia,’ said Gallia with a mocking voice.

The new day dawned warm and sunny, rays of light lancing through the trees to illuminate the verdant terrain all around us. We were in the saddle as the sun was still creeping above the eastern treeline, though our pace was slower than the day before. Once more scouts were despatched to discover the whereabouts of the Romans and they returned two hours before midday with news that they had spotted the enemy less than five miles away. Radu, as I feared, was all for intercepting them as quickly as possible, but Decebal had thankfully reflected on my words the evening before and asked for my advice.

‘We should find a good ambush position along their line of march and then take cover in the trees,’ I told him. ‘I will ride ahead to lure them into our trap.’

‘What if they don’t take your bait?’ snapped Radu.

‘Then we will try your strategy, King Radu,’ I answered.

He seemed satisfied by this as he wheeled away and conveyed the plan to the commanders of the Maedi. Decebal turned to speak to his second-in-command who rode back to his men.

‘Well, King Pacorus, the time of trial approaches. Let us hope the gods favour your plan.’

‘If they don’t,’ I replied, ‘then the Romans will be dining in Akrosas’ palace in three days.’

We rode forward for another mile, following the scouts as they retraced their steps. We halted when we reached an area of open grassland bordered on one side by a large bog beside a river and forest on the other. The latter was an expanse of beech trees, the forest floor a mass of moss and fallen, decaying branches. But it was possible for five hundred horsemen to become invisible just back from the treeline. I rode to Radu and Decebal as my companions pulled their bows from leather cases and strung their bowstrings. Among the trees men gripped their spears and took the shields off their backs. They were enthusiastic enough but I wondered how they would fare in a fight with Roman horsemen? Hopefully the element of surprise would tilt the balance in their favour.

‘Resist the temptation to charge if there are only a few of them,’ I told them. ‘The Romans may anticipate our stratagem and send only a token force ahead.’

Decebal nodded to indicate he would heed my advice but Radu turned his head away from me.

‘It will be your foot soldiers and those of King Akrosas that will give you victory, remember that.’

I cantered back to where Gallia and the others waited, along with a scout who would show us the way back to the Romans. As we trotted through the meadow I probed him about the enemy horsemen.

‘How many did you see?’

‘Thirty or more, excellency,’ his accent was thick and I had difficulty making sense of his bastardised Greek.

‘They were well equipped?’

He nodded. ‘Armour, helmets, spears and shields, excellency.’

We left the meadow and rode through a gully in a beech copse, skirted a forest pool and came into another area of open ground where the long grass brushed the bellies of our horses.

The scout slowed his horse to a walking pace. ‘Have a care for potholes and rabbit warrens,’ he shouted.

We followed his lead and studied the ground around us. We concentrated so much on where our horses were treading that we failed to notice the group of horsemen around two hundred paces ahead.

‘Romans,’ Surena hissed.

I looked up to see what appeared to be a score of riders – two
decuriae
– all showing red tunics, mail shirts, helmets and green-faced shields. I heard the distinctive sound of a
bucina
, a shell horn, and as one the enemy horsemen levelled their spears and advanced towards us.

‘You can go,’ I said to the scout as I pulled an arrow from the quiver slung on my back. Gallia, Surena and Burebista did the same.

The latter grinned at me. ‘Just like the old days in Italy, lord.’

I nocked the arrow in my bowstring, reins wrapped around my left wrist, and raised my bow. There was a sharp crack as Gallia loosed her arrow, Surena and Burebista following. I saw the missiles arching into the air as I let the bowstring slip out of my fingers to launch my arrow. I wheeled my mare to the left and dug my knees into her flanks. I looked over my shoulder as I followed the others back into the trees, the Romans closing on us. I heard a shriek as a horse stumbled and fell into an unseen depression.

‘Halt,’ I shouted.

The others turned their mounts and came to my side.

‘Rapid volleys,’ I ordered, ‘drop as many as you can.’

We rode forward a few paces to position ourselves just back from the treeline, the Romans still cantering towards us. I pulled an arrow, nocked it and shot it at the oncoming enemy, the others doing likewise. Within seconds we had loosed three volleys, the bronze arrowheads striking the leading horses and throwing their riders. The horses behind reared up on their hind legs as the Roman advance degenerated into chaos. We kept shooting, loosing up to seven arrows a minute and felling at least another six riders. They were less than a hundred paces from us and, having halted their advance, we could now pick our targets. A thrown rider, winded and helmetless, picked himself up, clutched his bleeding head and then collapsed as Gallia put an arrow in his back. Horses bolted as the signaller blew his horn and those Romans still in the saddle turned and withdrew. Surena put an arrow in the back of the rearmost rider but the Roman managed to stay in the saddle, slumping over the neck of his horse. Surena urged his horse forward.