The Parthian (30 page)

‘Tribune Furius,’ I shouted, ‘are you intent on getting yourself killed?’

He looked at the two dead soldiers on the ground. ‘Enjoy your small victories, Parthian, you will be nailed to a cross soon enough.’

‘You conversations are becoming repetitive, Roman.’

‘That’s a fine horse you have stolen,’ he shouted back. ‘ I promise to take good care of him when you are dead.’

‘Thank you,’ I hollered, ‘but he’s coming to Parthia with me.’

‘You will never see Parthia, I promise that.’

I was getting bored and thus decided to bring this shouting match to an end. I raised my hand.

‘Until the next time, Roman.’ I turned Remus away and walked him back to where the Thracians stood. ‘How far do you think those other riders are from where we stand?’ I asked their commander.

‘Hard to tell, sir, about five hundred yards, maybe more.’

I turned Remus around to face the river and drew my bow. 

‘You’ll never hit them from this distance,’ he said.

I looked at him, pulled an arrow from my quiver, strung it and took aim. Furius was riding back to his men when I loosed the arrow, which arched into the air and then curved back towards the ground. I don’t know if it pierced the mail shirt of the man it hit, but his horse reared up and he fell to the ground, spreading panic among the other rides. The Thracians cheered again.

‘Stay here,’ I told them. ‘Spartacus will send reinforcements.’

But Spartacus came himself, marching on foot at the head of a long column of troops, all well armed. The stubby legs of Akmon marched beside him. 

‘It’s just a scouting party,’ I told him.

He shook his head. ‘Their army will be here tomorrow morning.’ He turned to Akmon. ‘We’ll break camp tonight and march through the night. Pacorus, I know it may pain you, but ride to Crixus and tell him that he must attack Forum Annii at first light. And tell him he has to take the town. I don’t want a garrison in front of me and an army behind me.’

I saluted and galloped away. The Gauls’ camp was a sprawling mass of makeshift canvas tents, wicker windbreaks and cooking fires, a far cry from the well-ordered camps of Spartacus and Castus, but it was far larger. As I rode among the shelters I saw men working frantically on constructing scaling ladders from tree branches. I had to admit that there was a real sense of urgency about them. Most ignored me as I rode to find their leader, though some gave me a menacing sideways glance as I passed. I found him stripped to the waist and wielding a large axe against the base of a tree. He was sweating profusely as he swung the weapon and cleaved another chunk of wood from the trunk. He stopped when he saw me. There was a large group of his warriors admiring his handiwork with an axe.

‘Well, if it isn’t the prince of Parthia. What do you want, boy?’

Gritting my teeth, I dismounted. ‘Greetings from Spartacus. The Romans are at the river. He asks that you lead your men up the mountain and attack the town at first light.’

The mention of the Romans aroused his curiosity, as he stopped what he was doing and even forget his animosity towards me. ‘How many?’

‘Just a cavalry patrol, but their army won’t be far behind.’

He called over Oenomaus. ‘Get everyone ready. We move this afternoon. Where’s that guide Spartacus promised me?’

‘He’s eating porridge outside your tent,’ said Oenomaus.

‘Bring him to me, I want to make sure he doesn’t run away before he serves his purpose. Go.’

His men dispersed, leaving us alone. The silence was awkward. Crixus, his muscled, bear-like torso covered in swirling blue tattoos, picked up a tunic and put it on.

‘It was brave of you to come alone, boy,’ he said at last, pouring water over himself from a bucket, ‘I hear you usually have to have your archers to back you up before you dare face a Gaul.’

He was obviously commenting on my disagreement with some of his men at the bridge. ‘Your men are indisciplined,’ I said, matching his stare.

He laughed. ‘All will be settled in time, Parthian. Now go and play with your horses.’

He picked up the axe, slung it on his shoulder and walked past me. I did not doubt that we would be settling the animosity between us soon enough, but not today.

It took hours for the army to get on the road leading to Forum Annii, not helped by the descending darkness and the steady rain that began to fall soon after dusk. Camp fires were stoked higher and left to burn to give the impression that we were staying put, but anyone with half a mind would have been able to tell that thousands of people and animals were on the move, the shouts and curses and hordes of individuals trying to get on the road and the bellowing and lowing of cattle. Byrd organised the packing of our equipment into carts that had been taken at Nola. The town, or rather its inhabitants, had been generous in supplying a large quantity of equipment for the cavalry, and now Byrd was stacking large buckets, pitch forks, brooms, wheelbarrows, halters, lead ropes, hoof picks, combs, brushes and saddle clothes onto a long line of carts. Another two carts were stacked high with spare arrows, which were covered with waterproof hides to keep the water off them. Byrd’s temper was rising as he became increasingly irritated by the apparent lack of progress a group of new recruits was making in getting the carts loaded. I told him to calm down, not least because the cavalry and its equipment would be the last to leave the camp, as we would form the rearguard. 

Godarz, as usual, was taking everything in his stride. Having instructed Byrd to load the carts, he was now stood in front of a fire briefing two of my company commanders on what to pack on the mules that weren’t pulling carts.

‘Don’t overload them or they won’t move at all. And there’s no use in beating them. That will make them more obstinate. Treat them like your women and use soft words if you want to tease the best out of them.’

‘But I always thrash my women,’ said one cocky young Parthian in reply.

‘Then you’re an idiot,’ said Godarz, ‘and will die childless and alone. Now go.’

He saw me and raised his hand in salute, his face wearing a frown.

‘Problems?’ I enquired.

‘Just the usual, not enough time. Let’s hope the Romans don’t like marching in the rain.’

‘Use the new recruits to guard the carts,’ I said. ‘They will be useless if we have to fight the Romans while covering the army’s retreat, and I don’t want to lose valuable horses. And unguarded carts are a temptation for any thieving low-life that this army seems to be full of. Do we have enough weapons to equip each new recruit?’

‘Spears, yes,’ said Godarz, ‘but not swords.’

‘Mmm. There’s no point in giving them swords anyway, it takes a lot of training to be able use one with competence. I hate this rain.’

‘Perhaps the Parthians should guard the carts, lord, and the new recruits can be slaughtered by the Romans. That will save you the trouble of training them,’ he mused.

‘What?’

‘It must be very taxing for a prince to be constantly surrounded by low-life.’

I realised that I had offended him. ‘Godarz, I didn’t mean…’

‘These people have nothing, Pacorus. Nothing. They have joined Spartacus because he has given them a glimmer of hope. The hope that they can live as free men. They do not deserve to be talked of as you have just talked of them. The only things they have are the clothes on their back, some not even that. If you think that they are not fit to ride beside you then tell them, at least have the courtesy for that. And now, if you will excuse me, I have duties to attend to.’

With that he saluted and stomped off, leaving me suitably crestfallen. It started to rain harder, thus increasing my misery. It improved somewhat when I rode to see Spartacus at the bridge, accompanied by Akmon whose gangly arms and awkward gait always made me smile. 

All three of us walked onto the bridge and stared into the blackness. I could see no campfires, which was a relief.

‘They appear to have gone,’ I said, trying to reassure myself.

‘They’re there all right,’ sniffed Akmon. ‘Probably a few miles down the road, all nicely tucked up in their tents in their camp.’

‘They will be here in the morning,’ said Spartacus, ‘by which time we will have stolen half a day’s march on them, and Crixus will also have hopefully captured Forum Annii. Pacorus, you remember that plateau that the town is situated on?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s where we will fight the Roman army.’

‘You think we can beat them, Spartacus?’ asked Akmon.

‘We have to, otherwise we’ll be running forever. And anyway, the plain is wide and we outnumber them, which means we can outflank them, and we have more cavalry than they do which means we can get behind them.’ I could tell that he had thought through his plan carefully.

‘Roman armies don’t worry about numbers,’ said Akmon.

‘But we have trained our men to fight like Romans, so we will be using their own tactics against them,’ replied Spartacus. ‘Is your cavalry ready, Pacorus?’

‘Ready, lord,’ I said, proudly.

‘So are my Thracians and Castus’ Germans.’

‘And the Gauls?’ queried Akmon.

‘Crixus is a born fighter,’ said Spartacus. ‘Wild, certainly, but he and his men want to kill Romans and I want such soldiers in my army.’

As we stood in the darkness with only a few small fires burning beside the road, I wondered if Spartacus was trying to convince himself as well as us. From what I could gather, he and Crixus had never been friends, more like uneasy allies. The Gaul had never challenged Spartacus’ authority, but I reckoned it was only a matter of time before the two of them clashed; it was only a mater of time before Crixus and I clashed. But in the meantime we had a Roman garrison to subdue and a Roman army to destroy.

As the night wore on it became increasingly cooler as the rain turned from a light drizzle into a hard, pelting downpour.

Chapter 8

N
o one slept that night, and as a grey and damp dawn broke all of us had aching limbs and tired eyes. Even our horses had their heads down and looked sullen. A light breeze added to our discomfort by making the morning cooler. There was also an eerie silence, as the army, together with Spartacus and his Thracians, had left hours ago and the road from the bridge was now devoid of all traffic save a few miserable-looking dogs who were scavenging for food. I ordered everyone to search for anything that would burn, and had it piled into half a dozen huge bonfires, which were set alight and were soon crackling as the flames hungrily ate away at the wood. Nergal found a couple of wagons whose wheels had broken, which we dragged back to the bridge, broke up and also threw on the fires. While sentries kept watch we huddled around the fires and warmed ourselves. Then we rubbed down the horses, fetched water from the river for them and then fed them. Then we ourselves ate a hearty breakfast of hot porridge. By mid-morning we were feeling much livelier, and as the Romans had still not made an appearance I gave the order to break camp and follow the army.

We moved out at noon, just as the advance guard of the Roman army made an appearance on the horizon, a long, dark column of legionaries marching six-abreast down the road towards the bridge. I was the last to leave as I watched the enemy approaching from the bridge. I saw no cavalry, but had no doubt my chief opponent, Lucius Furius, was out there somewhere. I rode Remus away and joined the rest of the column as it trotted to meet the rear of the army.

We rode for an hour and then dismounted and walked the horses to give them a rest. Burebista walked beside me as more grey clouds heaped the sky.

‘The Romans will be across the river today, lord,’ he said, obviously anticipating the coming battle with relish, ‘then we will be able turn and beat them.’

‘You sound very certain,’ I said.

‘This army has good leaders, not like mine, and we have cavalry and the Romans do not.’

‘They have some,’ I reminded him.

He shook his head. ‘Romans are foot soldiers, they see no use in cavalry save for scouting and carrying their fat officers. We Dacians and you Parthians are horsemen and know how to use cavalry on and off the battlefield. That’s why we will win.’

He had an infectious enthusiasm, and I decided there and then that I would promote him to a senior command as soon as the cavalry was sufficiently large enough. Men prefer to follow confident leaders.

We caught up with the rear of the army in the late afternoon, to find Akmon sitting by the side of the road eating a piece of bread as his Thracians marched in step past him. I rode over to him as my horsemen dismounted and rested on either side of the road. Of the sun there was still no sign on this overcast day.

‘The Romans were approaching the bridge just as we left.’

He nodded. ‘They’ll get their engineers to rig up a makeshift span and then they’ll march across tomorrow. They obviously aren’t in a hurry. Because they are fighting slaves, you see, they are taking their time. For a Roman, fighting slaves is akin to cleaning out latrines — a dirty, unpleasant business but necessary. That’s why they are so hard on slaves who revolt, because it forces them to undertake dishonourable duties.’

‘That is fortunate for us,’ I said.

He finished his light meal and stood up. ‘We’ll have to fight them soon, though. Like Spartacus said, we can’t keep running forever.’

‘I’ve beaten Romans before.’

He eyed me. ‘Took an eagle, so I’ve heard. That’s impressive for one so young.’

‘Truth is, I was lucky,’ I said.

He slapped me on the shoulder. ‘Let’s hope your luck lasts, for all our sakes.’

We walked behind Akmon’s Thracians as we followed the road up onto the plateau. As we rose higher the road passed through a narrow ravine that was flanked by high, sheer rock faces. I understood now why Spartacus wanted Forum Annii taken before the army moved. Even a small force would have been able to hold us up easily in such a narrow passage. The road through the ravine was littered with animal dung and stank, forcing us to watch our step as each of us navigated around what the army’s livestock had deposited. It took us an hour to pass through the ravine and up onto the high plateau. Ahead of us the road went straight to Forum Annii, over which hung a pall of smoke. It appeared that Crixus and his Gauls had been successful. Beyond the town, in the distance, was a vast dust cloud that filled the horizon, the telltale sign of an army on the march. As it was dry here the plateau had obviously been spared the rain that had chilled us earlier. The army had made good time, being already beyond the town. As the road passed straight through Forum Annii and out the other side, we continued our march ahead. I continually sent back riders to relieve the ones who were making sure no Roman cavalry patrols would surprise us, but there was no sign of the enemy. In fact, there was no sign of anything, no birds or wildlife.