Parthian Dawn (76 page)

‘Stop being a hero and concentrate,’ shouted Domitus, bloodlust in his eyes.

On we went, stabbing at enemy bellies, thighs and groins. Around us more and more centuries were pouring into the city and forming into line, then charging the enemy ranks, which were being pushed back. We stepped on and over the bodies of the enemy dead and dying as we pushed them back away from the gates. Some were running now. Others were trying to give themselves up. One man threw away his sword and fell to his knees, clasping his hands in front of him as a sign of surrender, but just as at Surkh Domitus thrust his sword into the man’s chest and then kicked his body to the ground with his right foot. On we went. Suddenly a hail of javelins flew over our heads and hit the thinning ranks of the enemy, felling dozens. Trumpets sounded. We halted and reformed our ranks and charged once more. We were killing boys and old men now, the dregs of Chosroes’ army, but we killed them anyway. There was no mercy in Uruk this day.

The threadbare ranks of the enemy fell back. Now Nergal’s dismounted archers came forward and poured volley after volley into them as all around me men were suddenly gripped with a raging thirst and drank greedily from their water bottles. Domitus, his tunic and mail shirt splattered with enemy blood, shared his bottle with me as other legionaries brought full bottles forward for the men and took away empty ones to be refilled. The ground in front and behind us was covered with enemy dead. How many more Mesenians were there?

‘Thirsty work,’ said Domitus. He slapped me on the arm. ‘Not a scratch on you. Well done.’

‘Well done to you, my friend.’

Behind us the rest of the Duran Legion was filing into the city and forming up, followed by the Exiles.

Uruk is divided into four main areas, the palace quarter, the temple quarter, the royal gardens, called the Royal Orchard, and the working quarter. The latter is located in the southern part of the city, a vast collection of mud-brick homes and businesses not unlike those found in Dura, Hatra and a host of other towns and cities throughout the empire. These were now ransacked as the army moved through the city. The Exiles and the Duran Legion maintained their discipline and formation as they marched through the streets, searching for enemy soldiers. But after them came the Ma’adan led by Surena and they were looking for vengeance. They smashed anything that could be broken and killed any unfortunate enough to cross their path. Marcus and his men cleared away the rubble from the smashed gates to allow horsemen to enter the city. Nergal ordered his dismounted archers to get on the walls and in the towers to prevent any enemy archers or slingers shooting at us, but he and his men found no one on the walls. They had all fled to the north of the city. At the northern end of the working quarter I called a halt and retrieved my armour, helmet and sword, handing back my legionary’s kit that had served me so well. The legionaries took the opportunity to sit or lie on the ground as Nergal formed a screen of horse archers in front of the army and the Amazons joined me. Behind us I could hear screams and shouts as the Ma’adan slaughtered those who had failed to find refuge in the temple compound or the palace.

‘Are you going to do something about that?’ asked Gallia, gesturing with her arm to where houses burned and innocents were dying.

‘Not until the city has fallen.’ I replied curtly.

Orodes rode up at the head of the cataphracts.

‘The people are being slaughtered, Pacorus,’ he said.

‘You must do something,’ said Gallia.

Half the city had fallen but there was still some fighting left to do. Still, I had enough foot soldiers to do the task.

I pointed at Gallia and then Orodes. ‘Very well, take the Amazons and the heavy cavalry and stop the Ma’adan in their slaughter, but do not kill them, however tempting it may be. We need those people.’

Orodes raised his hand and wheeled away. Gallia was about to do the same when I called after her.

‘And Gallia.’

‘Yes?’

‘Do not kill Surena, that’s an order. I need him too.’

I heard no reply as she galloped away. A wide canal bisects Uruk, separating the homes of the citizens and the city’s businesses from the royal quarter and the great White Temple that was on my left as I looked across the canal. Several bridges spanned the waterway, the widest of which stood directly in front of us; white stone viper statues sat on pedestals either side of it. These were the only guardians to the last bastions of Chosroes’ kingdom.

‘We had better get across the bridges before they decide to make a stand,’ said Domitus, who had walked over to where I was sitting on Remus.

‘Very well. The Exiles are to take the temple and the Durans are to assault the palace.’

He saluted and ran back to his officers. After a short conference the first centuries sprinted across the bridges and formed up on the opposite bank. Dismounted horse archers stood on the edge of the canal to provide covering fire should it be needed. It was not; there was no sign of the enemy. I trotted over the bridge and joined the foremost centuries, which were now forming into great columns ready to advance against the temple and palace. I made my way to the head of the Durans and we began to move through the royal gardens; a great expanse of date palms, fountains, orchards and flowerbeds. Nergal joined me on his horse, a host of horse archers behind him.

‘We will scout ahead,’ I said, ‘bring your men.’

The Royal Orchard was not only a place of flowers, trees and watercourses, it was also a large park used for hunting. It covered many acres and contained an abundance of wild animals, such as deer, antelope, onager, boar, bulls and panthers. The noise of thousands of hobnailed sandals would have frightened away any wildlife nearby, but I passed the word for the men to take care and watch the trees for any panthers that might be in the branches, ready to pounce.

In the centre of the royal gardens was a large pool with a temple on a small island in its centre. This was a shrine to the goddess Anahita, the goddess of all waters, war, love and fertility. I gave orders that no one was to desecrate this temple surrounded by stone columns plated in silver. Anahita had been good to Gallia during the birth of our daughter and I had no wish to offend Her. We moved past other rectangular pools that had steps leading into their waters, and around the edges were terraces filled with water plants. The waters themselves were teeming with brightly coloured fish, with ducks swimming on the surface. Around the ponds were acres of trees — date palms, doum palms, sycamores and fig trees — planted in straight lines. The Royal Orchard was truly a sanctuary of peace and beauty, and I said a silent prayer to Shamash, asking for His forgiveness for marching an army through its sacred avenues.

I urged Remus forward and we rode through the gardens towards the palace. Nergal’s men filled the trees, bows at the ready, looking for any enemy soldiers that might be in the foliage. We emerged from rows of ancient cypress trees to reach the mud-brick palace walls covered in plaster that had been painted white. There was a well-tended cobbled road that led from the gardens to the palace gates, which were shut. Arrows flew at us from archers standing on the walls either side of the gates.

‘Back into the trees,’ I yelled.

There was no point in sitting on our horses shooting at men standing behind a wall, so we retreated back to the trees and there waited for Domitus and his men to arrive. I ordered a rider to fetch Marcus and to tell him to bring a means of breaching the gates. Some of the dismounted men were standing at the edge of the trees, losing their arrows at the enemy but I ordered them to desist. There was no point in wasting arrows. I too dismounted and walked to the last row of trees to look at the palace, rising up behind the walls; a great whitewashed two-storey stone building with a wide frontage. It appeared to be set back some distance from the walls that protected it, no doubt with a great square before it. No doubt the square where Narses and Chosroes had planned to put me to death.

Byrd and Malik appeared and informed me that there was another set of gates into the royal compound on the other side of the palace.

‘They too are guarded,’ reported Byrd.

‘Will you storm the palace, Pacorus?’ asked Malik.

‘Yes,’ I replied.

Domitus arrived a few minutes later, his men halting among the trees. Guards were posted and the rest took off their helmets, stacked their shields and then lay in the shade. Domitus joined us as we studied the palace walls.

‘I have ordered Marcus to bring some of his engines so we can gain entry via the gates,’ I said.

‘How many men are on those walls?’ asked Domitus.

‘Hard to tell,’ I replied, ‘but they are the palace guard and they will put up a fight.’

Domitus took off his helmet and wiped his brow. ‘It doesn’t matter, we’ll kill them easily enough.’

It took Marcus an hour to arrive with the means to get into the palace, a great battering ram that was loaded on to half a dozen wagons. It took him and his men another hour to assemble it, during which time there was no activity on the walls. A strange silence descended over the area as the Duran Legion rested and Marcus and his men assembled the battering ram. I asked Byrd and Malik to ride over to the western side of the city and report back on what was happening at the White Temple, and they took all the Agraci warriors as an escort just in case there were any roving bands of enemy soldiers still at large. I prayed to Shamash that Gallia and her Amazons were safe.

The battering ram was truly a wondrous thing, a huge tree trunk suspended by chains from a thick overhead beam that formed the top of its arched frame. The beam and the ram itself were under protective screens laid over the frame, the screens being composed of wooden boards overlaid with iron plates with clay underneath and then an inner layer of thick hide. No enemy arrow would be able to pierce that thick roof of iron, while the clay formed a fireproof barrier. The whole ram was mounted on four great wooden wheels so it could be pushed forwards and backwards. The ram itself had rope handles at regular intervals along its length. This was to enable those manning it each side to pull it back and then hurl it forward against the target. And on the point was a massive iron head cast in the shape of a snarling ram, complete with horns.

‘I like your ram, Marcus,’ I said, stroking the massive iron head.

‘Yes, sir, it cost Crassus a great deal of money.’

I smiled. ‘I have no doubt. He is a man who likes quality in all things.’

A mischievous grin spread across Domitus’ face. ‘Tell him what your men have nicknamed it, Marcus.’

Marcus cleared his throat and looked sheepish. ‘I don’t think the king would be interested in such trivial gossip.’

‘Nonsense,’ replied Domitus.

‘Yes,’ I added, ‘please tell, Marcus.’ I looked at the snarling image; they probably called it Crassus. I smiled to myself.

‘Pacorus, sir, begging your pardon.’

‘What?’ I said.

Marcus avoided my eyes. ‘They nicknamed it Pacorus.’

Domitus and Nergal thought it hilarious.

‘It looks like you,’ said Domitus.

‘The mirror image,’ added Nergal, creasing up with laughter.

Marcus was blushing while my two senior commanders were giggling like young girls. I decided to maintain my dignity. I laid a hand on Marcus’ shoulder.

‘It is quite all right. When these two have finished with their childishness we will put my namesake to work.’

The smaller ballista had also been loaded on to carts and driven to the royal gardens where they were re-assembled by their crews. Once in position they began sweeping the walls with bolts and iron balls, just as they had done before the city gates. After a few enemy heads had been caved in, the palace walls were soon empty of archers, allowing the ram to be pushed forward. I insisted on being a member of the party that grabbed the beams inside the ram’s protective cover and hauled it forward. Domitus and a century of his men followed immediately behind the ram, the legionaries’ shields held above them and on their sides as a defence against enemy missiles.

There were twenty of us pushing the ram, including Marcus, and even with all our efforts it was slow to move so heavy a beast. I began sweating heavily as I pushed on one of the beams, the iron-headed ram swaying slightly with every forward effort. Iron plates mounted at the front of the ram provided additional protection for those manning it, but also added more weight to the machine. Marcus coordinated our efforts, telling us when to push forward, but it was painfully slow progress. I heard the crack of the ballista balls and bolts hitting the walls, though the sounds gradually died away, presumably because there were no targets to aim at. Occasionally there was a dull thud on the ram’s roof as an enemy archer diced with death and shot at us, followed by more cracks as ballista missiles flew at him and struck the walls.

Domitus was directly behind the ram and delighted in making fun of our efforts.

‘Come on, push it. We want to get into the palace before dark. Perhaps I should knock on the gates and ask to be let in.’

We had no energy to reply, all our strength being used to push the ram forward. My heart was pounding in my chest and sweat ran into my eyes as I heaved it forward. The others, veins bulging in their muscled arms, groaned as they threw their weight behind each effort, with the voice of Marcus constantly in our ears.

‘Heave; heave; heave.’

Then, finally, we were at the gates. We shoved the ram’s roof right up against the gates just in case the enemy above decided to throw rocks or burning oil down upon us. Each man grabbed one of the rope handles that had been nailed to the trunk and pulled it backwards, then on Marcus’ command we hurled it forward. The great iron head smashed into the gates, splintering the wood. Again we pulled it back and then sent it hurtling into the gates once more. More cracking and splintering as the ram’s head fractured the gates and wrenched them from their hinges, forcing them back. Again and again we propelled the iron head into the wood until one of the gates lay twisted on the ground and the other had been smashed in two.