Parthian Dawn (50 page)

So far, so good. The atmosphere was calm, almost serene, and were it not for the fact that we were fully armoured and armed, the horses could have been on a morning stroll. I could make out the enemy now, small black blocks in the distance.

On we went, nearing the enemy ranks. We kept aligned to the legion to our left, the rhythmic sound of thousands of sandals hitting the ground in unison filling the air. Some of the horses, sensing men’s nervousness and fear, became jittery and had to be calmed by their riders. Remus, long used to the sights and sounds of battle, showed no signs of emotion. I could see the Roman cavalry now, men armed with lances and shields massing on their left wing, and I could also make out archers on horseback, men who were bare chested and wore no head armour. The Romans had deployed as I had expected them to do.

We halted as the Romans deployed into line, their right flank anchored on the river. I knew that Furius would not wait long before he ordered an attack and so did Domitus. And so my Roman friend launched his assault first, the blast of trumpet calls suddenly filling the air to signal the start of the battle. I glanced left and saw the Duran Legion moving forward like it was on the parade ground, then turned and gave the signal for the cavalry to likewise advance.

I nudged Remus to walk forward as the horns sounded along the line. I urged him to quicken the pace and he broke into a canter. I glanced behind and saw full-face helmets on my cataphracts. Between them, horse archers, their reins wrapped around their left wrist, were stringing arrows in their bows. Vagharsh slowed and let the front rank pass him. I also pulled up Remus momentarily to allow the front rank to catch me up — I had confidence in my men but did not want to be shot in the back by mistake by an archer whose thumb slipped. We were widely spaced as our horses broke into a gallop and as one we levelled our lances at the fast-approaching enemy, holding the thick shafts with both hands on our right sides. I estimated our distance from the Roman cavalry to be four hundred paces.

They scattered before we reached them.

In an effort to break up our charge they had placed mounted archers among their horsemen, but Parthian recurve bows have greater range than Roman ones and our arrows were finding their targets before they had a chance to reply. If the enemy cavalry had reckoned their chances had improved by stiffening their ranks with archers, they disappeared when those same archers began to turn and flee. Some enemy spearmen had advanced towards us in an attempt to mount their own charge, but these now halted in confusion when they saw their ranks thinning. Many turned and joined the archers in attempting to flee, others just sat in their saddles and tried to redress their lines, while a few, a tiny number, levelled their spears and charged us. They were the first to fall, either pierced by arrows themselves or thrown by their horses as iron-tipped arrows slammed into their mounts. The air was rent with the screams of wounded and dying horses as we thundered across the baked ground.

The Roman cavalry was now fleeing back to the safety of its camp. There was little point in chasing after them with three enemy legions still on the field, so I slowed Remus and those either side of me did the same with their own animals. Horns sounded recall and the whole line slowed into a canter, then a trot and finally a walk. I turned and looked up and down the line. There appeared to be no empty saddles. Behind us the lords, as planned, were veering left at the head of their men to attack the Roman legions from behind, the sounds of thousands of iron-shod hooves like thunder to our ears. Orodes rode up.

‘That was easy enough.’

I pointed ahead at the Roman cavalry, which had stopped running and was now attempting to reform. ‘They’ll be back unless we can disperse them.’

I called the commander of the horse archers forward and ordered him to take his men forward to irritate the Roman horse. ‘Stay out of range of their bows and drop as many as you can. If they advance, you retreat. But keep shooting at them. Be like flies around camel dung. Above all, keep them away from their foot. Go.’

He saluted and rode away. Seconds later horns sounded and his men were forming into their companies and trotting forward once more. Following on behind were three score of camels carrying extra quivers of arrows.

‘And now, lord prince,’ I said to Orodes, ‘a more difficult task. Follow us.’

‘Wheel left and reform the line,’ I shouted.

A Roman legion in battle order is usually drawn up in three lines. The one that had been next to the Roman cavalry now had an exposed left flank. I raised my lance and dug my knees into the sides of Remus. He grunted, broke into a canter and headed for the gap between the second and third lines of the Roman legion. It was now a race against time between my horsemen and enemy centurions desperately trying to form a wall of shields on their left flank. The cohorts could stand where they were and form an all-round defence, but that would mean leaving gaps to their front, sides and rear, through which we could pour. Their leaders gambled that they would have time to close these gaps before we hit them. They were wrong.

We broke into a fast gallop less than two hundred paces from the first centuries that were forming the shield wall. Screaming our war cries we crashed into a mass of legionaries, creating a sickening crunching noise as lance tips and horses smashed into them. A horse will not run at a solid object, but the Roman line was still ragged and disjointed and so the horses attempted to lunge through any narrowing gaps. Some failed and tried to turn away, but their momentum was too great so they tumbled over into the enemy ranks, throwing their riders but crushing Romans as they somersaulted and thrashed like rocks careering downhill in a landslide. They carved a path of chaos and broken bodies as the force of horse and rider gouged a path through the enemy. Other horsemen followed, driving their lances into shields and mail shirts, sometimes pinning a legionary to the earth as a
kontus
was driven straight through a torso and then into the ground behind. A thousand riders hit the flank of that Roman legion, driving deep into its disorganised ranks. Legionaries and horsemen soon became intermingled as the momentum of the charge carried cataphracts deeper into the enemy formation.

I rammed my
kontus
through the chest of a centurion, let go of the shaft and drew my sword. I swung the blade down to the right and cut deep into the upper arm of a legionary who was running past me. He yelped and fell to the ground. I screamed at Remus and dug my knees into his side. He lurched forward. A Roman attempted to thrust his sword point into his armour, but the iron scales and thick hide defeated his blade. I thrust my own sword at him and penetrated his right shoulder. He squealed in agony and fell to his knees. I rode on, slashing at figures on my right and left. Before battle my scale armour felt heavy and cumbersome; in combat it became as light as a feather as battle frenzy took hold of me. I felt as though the blood of an immortal was racing through my veins. Around me cataphracts were going about their work with a relentless fury. I saw some javelins fly through the air and heard the dull thud of lead pellets launched by slingers hit their target, but in this disorganised melee it would have been almost impossible for missile throwers to have the space or time to launch their weapons with any accuracy.

Roman trumpets blasted and then fell silent as their owners were killed, their skulls caved in by a mace. The din of battle filled my ears and was getting louder. Centurions and officers screamed orders. Remus suddenly kicked out with his back legs. I looked behind me and saw a Roman lying face-down on the ground; he must have been felled by my horse’s rear hooves. A javelin glanced off the armoured rings that protected my left arm. A legionary, bare headed and with no shield, blood pouring down the side of his face, ran at me. I raised my sword high above my head and brought it down. He must have been in the grip of delirium, for he brought up his left arm to parry the blow. Perhaps in his mind he believed that he still carried his shield. My sword went straight though his forearm and severed his limb just below the elbow. He made no sound but merely stared at the bloody stump in disbelief. He looked up at me and then died when one of my men rode past him and crushed in the top of his skull with a swing of his mace.

We were herding the Romans before us, slowly and bloodily, and gradually some semblance of order was emerging out of the chaos. The ground lay thick with Roman dead and a few slain Parthians. Cataphracts grouped around the banner held aloft behind me. Ahead I could see a wall of Roman shields forming and javelins arching through the air towards those cataphracts who were still hacking at the Roman soldiers. Then arrows and slingshots began emptying saddles.

‘Horns, horns,’ I shouted. ‘Sound recall.’

It was futile to keep charging the enemy now that they had sealed their flank. The shrill blast of horns bought the rest of the horsemen back to where our own line was forming. In front of us, and all around, the ground was carpeted with enemy dead and dying. Orodes rode up, helmet dented and a cut on his right cheek, his eyes full of fire.

‘One more charge and they’re finished, Pacorus.’

I shook my head. ‘No, we leave them alone for now. They’re shaken but will hold what they have. They will not charge horse and we will not charge them.’

He looked disappointed. ‘Then what?’

I saw a group of lords riding towards us. I pointed at them. ‘We will soon find out.’

They halted in front of me and raised their hands in salute. They all looked dirty and fatigued. One with a full beard whose helmet appeared too small for his over-sized head spoke. ‘Your men are breaking through their centre. We’ve been shooting arrows at them and now we can see that golden griffin.’

A wave of excitement went through my body. I turned to Orodes. ‘We are wasted here. We will move towards their centre.’

I looked at the lords. ‘Keep shooting at them, we must help Domitus.’

They galloped away and we followed. We had no lances now and both horses and men were tired from our melee, but we had to aid Domitus. We rode towards the river, behind the Roman lines. We left the legion we had attacked in its all-round defence and galloped to behind the Roman centre. I rode at the head of the column of cataphracts, Orodes beside me and our two banners fluttering directly behind us. Through the dust and haze I could hear the din of battle on my left. This was where Domitus and his men were fighting the enemy. Then I saw the masses of horse archers ahead, riders galloping full-pelt at the enemy shield wall, then wheeling away after they had released their arrows, followed by more riders who did the same, an unending stream of archers making the air thick with their missiles.

I ordered half a dozen of the lords to take their men to harass the Romans who still stood on the left flank, the survivors of the legion we had charged so successfully. This necessitated a reorganisation, as archers were recalled, formed into groups around their lords and then redeployed to annoy the Romans’ left flank. The air still resonated with the sounds of battle to the front of the Roman line, indicating that Domitus and his men were still grinding their way through the enemy. I had to aid him, but how?

A blast of trumpets behind made me turn in the saddle. I recognised that sound; it was made by the instruments carried by the legions. I had trumpets in my own legion, of course, but these were coming from behind. Had Roman reinforcements arrived, perhaps from their camp? I turned and rode through the ranks of my cataphracts; Orodes came with me.

‘What is it?’

‘Roman trumpets,’ I said, my stomach knotted with concern.

The cataphracts had also wheeled about and were following us, but then I pulled up Remus sharply. Ahead were two cohorts of legionaries, but these were not Romans. They wore the white tunics of Dura and they were flanked by horse archers wearing helmets, mail shirts and with white cloth showing on their arms. Ahead of them all were two riders, one on a chestnut mare — Epona. The garrison of Dura had come, led by my wife. My men began cheering as they approached, and I must confess that I too took off my helmet and began shouting my praise as the two cohorts and their Amazon escort tramped towards us. The lords and their men also raised a mighty cheer, and momentarily forgot that they were supposed to be attacking the enemy.

Gallia galloped up with Praxima beside her. The cheekguards on their helmets were both fastened shut. She stopped in front of me and cupped my cheek with her hand.

‘Did you think I would sit idly by while my husband and my people fought for their homeland?’

I struggled to hold back my tears. It was so good to see her.

‘Where is Claudia, my love?’

‘Safe in the Citadel protected by Haytham’s men.’

‘Haytham?’

‘I will tell you later. Where is that toad Furius?’

His name refocused my attention back on the battle. I ordered the two cohorts from the garrison to attack the Roman shield wall that had been under arrow fire for some time now. As the men neared the enemy they began banging their javelins on the inside of their shields and shouted ‘Dura, Dura’ as they dressed their lines. I asked Orodes, who had taken Gallia’s hand and kissed it, much to her amusement, to deploy his men on the right of the garrison while my own cataphracts massed on the left.

Another blast of trumpets, this time from the Roman ranks, and suddenly the enemy legion to our left, the one we had assaulted, began moving towards their centre. It was still being peppered with arrows, but its men were now moving crab-like towards the river. Then there was another blast of trumpets from within its ranks, followed by shouts and screams. Its commander, realising that if he stayed where he was the result would be the destruction of his men, had decided to join the legion in the centre, the same legion that was being assaulted by Domitus. With horror I also realised that as he did so his men would in turn hit Domitus in the flank. The discipline of the Romans was magnificent as they shuffled towards their centre, all the time their rear, front and left flank under arrow fire.