The Parthian (32 page)

Spartacus grimaced. ‘Needs must, Pacorus. This army is bound together by a fear and loathing of the Romans, but some of those bonds are tenuous. I have to keep this army strong and united or we will lose.’ He rose and cupped his wife’s face in his hands, kissed her and then looked at me. ‘Go and get some food and rest. Embrace Gallia and forget about Crixus.’

I rose and saluted. ‘Yes, lord.’

‘Oh and Pacorus,’ he said.

‘Yes, lord?’

‘I heard about your little disagreement with Oenomaus. You should have killed him.’

I would have to add him to the list of people who were still alive but, according to others, shouldn’t be. 

I found the cavalry quartered a mile east of the main camp, near the headwaters of a river called the Aciris. The spot was heavily wooded and thus well shaded, was near to water and away from the stench of human and livestock dung that hung over the army. I found Gallia practising her archery with Diana and watched over by Gafarn and Godarz. It was good to see them all, and I ran over to Gallia and embraced her. I kissed her on the cheek and then greeted the others.

‘How’s their archery coming along?’ I said to Gafarn.

‘Good, with practice they could be as good as I,’ he replied, ‘and they’re already better than you, not that’s much of a boast.’

‘All the carts safe and sound?’ I asked Godarz, ignoring Gafarn’s jibe.

‘Yes, highness.’

‘Excellent, it’s good to be back. I would speak with the Lady Gallia alone.’

‘Same time tomorrow, ladies,’ said Gafarn, as he and the others took their leave, leaving me alone with my Gallic princess. She smiled and linked her arm with mine.

‘I’m glad you’re safe, I was worried,’ she said.

‘You were?’

‘Of course, just because I’m a Gaul does not mean I don’t have emotions. We are not all like Crixus.’

‘Of course not,’ I stammered. ‘I didn’t mean to insult you.’

‘You are always so formal, Pacorus. You must learn to relax more.’

With my heart beating ten to the dozen that was difficult. I wondered if she knew the extent of my feelings for her? I dared to hope. We walked up into the trees and rested beneath a tall birch. The birds were singing and violence and war seemed a long way away.

‘The march here was hard,’ she mused.

‘Spartacus did well to put some distance between us and the Romans.’

‘We bypassed the town that Crixus took. They say that it was frightful afterwards.’

‘It was,’ I said bitterly. ‘Crixus killed just about everyone and everything, and when the Romans discover what he did they will be thirsting for vengeance.’

I turned to look at her. Her thick hair shone like gold in the daylight, her lips full and inviting, and her eyes the purest blue. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I leaned towards her. Then our lips touched as we kissed long and tenderly. And in those moments I experienced bliss such as I had never believed was possible.

The next two days were quiet and gave me time to think about organisation. I was pleased that the cavalry was now nearing a thousand strong, though equipment, weapons and horses were constant problems. There was no way that recruits could be trained in horse archery while the army was moving, so any recruits that joined who could ride, but who could not use a bow or any other weapon, were placed under Byrd’s command as scouts. Soon he had over two hundred men looking to him for orders, which was beyond him as I had forgotten that he had been a civilian scout when he joined us prior to our expedition into Cappadocia. He came to see me as I was grooming Remus on the morning of the second day. 

‘I’m not a general, lord. Know nothing about horses or feeding men.’

I could see that he was unhappy. ‘No, of course not. I did not think.’

‘You general, lord, not I.’

I thought about putting him under Godarz, but then Godarz had his hands full taking care of logistics, so in the end I attached the new recruits to Nergal, who seemed happy that his command had increased. Indeed, he was generally in good spirits as he had taken a wild Spanish girl called Praxima as his woman. In general those who had joined Spartacus were mainly men, either herdsmen, shepherds or field hands, with the odd smattering of runaway town slaves. However, as news of the slave revolt had spread more women had drifted into camp. They were Gauls, mainly, with many of them having a very unsettling resemblance to Crixus. They joined their male brethren, but other females attached themselves to the Thracians or Germans, and a few, a small band, found their way into the cavalry. I did my best to put them off, of course, but Praxima could ride, and ride well, and having sweet-talked Nergal I suddenly had another woman on horseback. He was delighted and she also happy, and as I wanted a happy second-in-command, I acquiesced. 

‘In any case,’ Gallia reminded me, ‘you accepted myself and Diana into your cavalry, so you can hardly turn away her.’

‘That was different.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, for one thing you could both ride,’ I said.

‘So can she, actually much better than either of us.’

‘Well, you two can shoot a bow,’ I replied, irritably.

‘Only because you and Gafarn taught us. I’m sure Nergal can teach her.’

‘If you say so. Anyway, it’s done now.’

‘Is my lord prince annoyed by my questions?’ she said, mischievously.

‘Yes, no. I just don’t approve, that’s all. I’ve heard she was a prostitute.’

She glared at me. ‘Forced to be a whore by her Roman masters, you mean. Don’t be so pompous.’ 

She was right, of course, as she always seemed to be, which made it worse, but I had to admit that overall things were going well. I had decided that if the number of horsemen kept increasing I was going to make Nergal and Burebista commanders of their own dragons. But perhaps I was living in a fantasy land. Reality rudely interrupted my dreams when our camp was invaded by a large group of Gauls led by Crixus, his head bandaged in a grey cloth. They marched over to where I was standing and surrounded me in a menacing manner. I guessed there was around fifty of them, all carrying swords or spears and all intent on seeing my head split open, it appeared. 

‘The time has come for you and I to settle affairs,’ Crixus said, fondling his two-bladed axe affectionately. He was bare headed and dressed in a tunic, trousers and leather boots. He wore no mail shirt, carried no shield and was obviously supremely confident. His hair was as wild as ever and his moustache hung down to his chest. He really was quite revolting. 

‘It will be my pleasure,’ I said. I too wore no armour and carried only a sword and Cookus’ dagger. 

By now the camp had stirred into action and dozens of my men were forming up around the Gauls. Nergal angrily pushed his way through them and stood by my side, sword in hand, to be joined seconds later by Burebista. Crixus was totally unconcerned about the threat to him and his men.

‘Are you going to fight or don’t you want to get your princely little hands dirty?’

I told Nergal and Burebista to step away and drew my sword. ‘You boast too much, Gaul.’

The assembled throng widened as Crixus and I began circling each other, and I was hardly aware of the sound of horns and trumpets being blown and the frantic banging of drums in the background. Moment later there were load shouts as Byrd rode into the mass of men. Individuals jumped aside as he rode his horse into the space occupied by Crixus and myself.

‘Romani, Romani,’ was all he said, his eyes wide with excitement. 

The fight between Crixus and myself would have to wait, for a bigger fight was going to take place first, for the Romans had arrived. 

Men scattered in all directions as they frantically mustered in their companies. Crixus and his Gauls raced headlong for their own camp, while I ran to the fenced-off area where Remus was quartered. Gafarn had already saddled him, and was in the process of saddling his own horse. Gallia and Diana were also present, presumably having been sharpening their archery skills. I embraced Gallia then jumped onto Remus’ back.

‘Don’t let them out of your site,’ I ordered Gafarn, pointing to the two women. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m depending on you.’

‘I’ll take care of them, have no fear,’ he replied. ‘You take care of yourself.’

Akmon’s Roman camp was about a mile away. I steered Remus through groups of Germans, Gauls, Thracians and others, all hurriedly gathering weapons and equipment and falling into line, their appointed officers hurling abuse at them and shoving them into formation. I reached Spartacus’ tent and went inside. Crixus was hot on my tail, sweating profusely after his run. I noticed that there was a bloodstain on his bandage — hopefully he was in great pain. Spartacus acknowledged me as I joined him at the table, upon which Akmon had placed small blocks of wood and was arranging them into two separate groups. Castus raced in seconds later and joined us at the table.

‘We’re all here. Good,’ said Spartacus. ‘We haven’t got much time so here’s the plan. These are the Romans.’ He pointed to where Akmon had arranged one group of blocks into a straight line. ‘We will attack them with a pig’s head through their centre.’

‘Pig’s head?’ I asked.

‘It’s simple,’ said Akmon, ‘one section of the army is shaped like a spear point. This is our army,’ he pointed at the line of wood blocks opposite those representing the Romans. He took one block and pushed it beyond the others in the line, then placed two blocks immediately behind it. It looked like a pyramid. ‘See, a wedge shape that can pierce the enemy line.’ He then pushed the pyramid made from three blocks into the Roman blocks and forced it through.

‘The Romans won’t be expecting us to attack, that’s our advantage,’ continued Spartacus. ‘So we’ll split their centre, smash straight through, and after that it will just be a matter of mopping up.’

‘Let my Gauls break them,’ said Crixus.

‘Not this time, Crixus,’ replied Spartacus. ‘You and your men will be on the left. They will form a line right up to the trees on the slopes of the mountain. Castus, your Germans will do the same on the right. Right up to the slopes — you must not let yourself be outflanked.’

What about me?’ I asked.

‘What about you?’ sneered Crixus. ‘It’s obvious that Spartacus has no use for you and your dainty little horses.’

Spartacus smiled at me. ‘On the contrary, Pacorus and his men will form up behind my Thracians in the centre.’

‘Not on the wings?’ I was confused.

‘If we were on a wide expanse of ground, then yes,’ said Spartacus. ‘But the end of this plateau is narrow and we can’t be outflanked.’

‘Neither can the Romans,’ said Castus.

‘That’s right. Which is why we must punch through their centre. Split them in two and then Pacorus’ horse can pour through the gap and sweep around behind them. The result will be two groups of surrounded and isolated Romans.’ Spartacus swept the Roman blocks off the table and onto the floor. ‘Simple.’

It did indeed seem simple, but I could tell that Spartacus had thought it out carefully beforehand. He had chosen this spot on which to fight. Claudia brought a tray of cups and a jug of wine. She smiled at me and poured wine into the cups, then handed one to each of us. Spartacus raised his cup.

‘Victory. May whatever gods you follow be with you this day.’ We raised our cups and drank to his toast.

‘And now, to your posts.’

Crixus drained his cup, belched loudly and left, followed by Akmon. I shook hands with Castus and he too departed, while I nodded at Spartacus as Claudia handed him his mail shirt and helmet. I rode back to the cavalry camp, where Nergal, Burebista, Godarz, Byrd, Gafarn and Rhesus were waiting. I noticed that Gallia, Diana and Praxima were stood a few feet away, checking their bows and daggers. I was determined that they would see no fighting this day. Around them men and horses were being formed up; the activity was hurried but not disorganised. I gathered my officers in a semi-circle and told them of Spartacus’ plan for the coming battle.

‘Makes sense,’ said Godarz. ‘There is not enough room for us to attack on the flanks.’

‘We will form up in three blocks, one of three hundred at the front and the others each two hundred strong,’ I told them. ‘I will be in the lead; Nergal will command the middle group and Burebista the third. Godarz, you will command the rest, which will form the reserve. The reserve will be made up of those who have had little training and who do not know how to shoot a bow or use a lance from the saddle.’

‘I would prefer to fight,’ said Godarz.

‘If things turn out differently from Spartacus’ plan, my friend,’ I told him, ‘then you will get your wish.’

After I had dismissed them I went to see the women, bringing Gafarn along.

‘I want you to stay with them,’ I told him. ‘And make sure they stay well away from the fighting.’

‘I will do my best, highness, as I told you earlier when you gave me exactly the same command.’

Gallia and Diana were filling their quivers with arrows, while Praxima was bucking on a belt with a sheathed sword attached. Where did she get that from?

‘You will all stay with Godarz and Gafarn, with the reserve,’ I ordered them.

‘I want to kill Romans,’ said Praxima, who was slipping a dagger into her right boot.

‘So do I,’ seconded Gallia, her plaited blond hair running down her back. Diana said nothing.

‘Have you considered that the Romans might kill you first?’ I asked them. ‘Being part of an army means obeying orders, and you will obey mine.’

I pointed at Godarz and Gafarn to emphasise the point and then returned to where my horsemen were forming up, Rhesus marshalling the companies into line. The smell of leather and horses was comforting as the cavalry concentrated in the centre of the line, behind Akmon’s Thracians. The army used exactly the same formations and tactics as the Romans. ‘Their weapons, training and tactics have conquered half the world,’ Spartacus had told me. ‘I see no reason not to copy them.’ And so it was that in front of me thousands of men formed themselves into units called centuries, which were eight ranks deep and ten files wide, though men were detached from the last rank to carry out other duties: standard bearer, a horn blower, water carriers and medical orderlies. Each century had a centurion, a man who commanded the unit and who led from the front. He stood on the extreme right in the front rank. Six centuries made up what was called a cohort, which was around five hundred strong. In battle, as here in front of me, the centuries of the cohort deployed beside each other in a line. Ten cohorts made up a legion, which thus numbered around five thousand men in total. The normal battlefield deployment for a legion, so Spartacus told me, was four cohorts in the first line, three in the second line and three in the third line. But for this battle Spartacus had his Thracians deployed with one cohort at the front, two cohorts immediately behind in the second line, three behind them and four cohorts in the fourth line. There was little space between the four lines, which in my opinion made the whole arrangement very vulnerable to enemy missiles.