The Parthian (58 page)

Thousands of sandal-clad feet and tens of thousands of hooves had kicked up a great cloud of dust that chocked man and beast alike. As the day wore on this cloud thickened over the whole battlefield.

The dust was just another thing to cope with on this day of slaughter. It was hot in my leather cuirass and helmet, and soon small streams of sweat were coursing down my face and neck and soaking my silk vest and tunic. It must have been an hour at least after the battle had commenced when Spartacus rode over to where my cavalry were positioned. Most of the men were lounging on the ground with their helmets lying beside them, though one in every five companies was mounted and deployed to our front and on our right flank, in case we were attacked. As the battle wore on, vigilance became more important as the wretched dust continued to reduce visibility.

‘That proconsul in command of the Roman army is a clever bastard. We can’t shift them.’ Spartacus gulped down the contents of the waterskin I had passed him. 

I shrugged. ‘We could break off the engagement. My horse can cover the retreat.’

‘No. If we retreat the Romans will be back twice as strong. Besides, it will be bad for morale if we run away from two legions and a few Gauls.’

A short time later Castus ran up to inform me that he had shifted four cohorts to the extreme right of his line and deployed them so they were at right angles to the rest of his men who were facing the Gauls. 

‘Spartacus, forgive me, I did not realise that you were here. Are you hurt?’

‘No. What has happened?’

‘The Gauls are taking down their stakes where they outflank us. I think they are going to attack. Pacorus, we may need your cavalry to stiffen our line.’

I signalled for Burebista to attend me.

Spartacus gazed over to where Castus had ridden. ‘So, the Gauls have grown bored with standing idly by while their fellow warriors have all the glory.’ He smiled. ‘The gods may have just given us a sign. How many horse have you, Pacorus?’

‘Fifteen hundred, lord.’

‘Good.’ He slapped Castus on the shoulder. ‘Get back to your men and make sure they hold. Remember, the Gauls won’t come at you like the Romans do. They will charge in a wild, screaming mass. But they will break on your wall of shields.’

Castus looked alarmed. ‘But they may sweep around us and get behind the army.’

Spartacus shook his head. ‘Extend your line by taking men from your second line. Use Pacorus’ archers to shoot them down. There may be a lot of them but they are not disciplined, and it’s discipline that wins battles. Now go.’

Castus saluted and departed in haste. Spartacus turned to me, his eyes wild with excitement. ‘Pacorus, your horse is the key that will unlock their defence. Take your men and ride parallel to the enemy’s left flank, then sweep around behind them. The dust should cover your movement.’

Riding along the enemy’s front for more than half a mile would deprive the army of its reserve, and if the Gauls broke through our right flank then thousands of their warriors would be free to butcher the wounded and loot the baggage camp. That said, Castus could probably hold them, at least long enough for my horse to get behind them. It might just work.

‘It is a gamble, lord.’

He grasped my shoulders. ‘Your horse are the best trained and led cavalry outside Parthia.’ He knew how to flatter. ‘You have never let us down before, nor will you today.’

I felt a surge of pride go through me. I turned to Burebista. ‘Get your men mounted, we are going to kill some Gauls.’

‘Yes, lord,’ he beamed, and began to order his company commanders to assemble their men. Soon the air was filled with horns calling men to assemble.

Spartacus jumped back on his horse. ‘Get behind them, Pacorus, and do as much damage as you can. Good luck.’

Then he was gone. I walked to where Gafarn was holding Remus and his own horse. I took Remus’ reins. Around us men and horses were forming into columns, lance points glinting in the dusty haze. 

‘Well, Gafarn, we are going to see how well Gauls fight.’

‘With swords and spears, no doubt. They all seem to look like Crixus.’

‘Don’t remind me. Stay close to Gallia and Diana. They are to remain here to guard the baggage camp.’ This was slightly disingenuous as the wagon camp had its own guards, but no matter.

‘Yes, highness.’

I mounted Remus. ‘And take care of yourself, Gafarn.’

He nodded. ‘You too, highness.’

No sooner had I ridden to the front of the column of horse that was now moving slowly to the right, fifteen hundred horsemen in companies arranged in three files each, than Gallia was at my side, her helmet’s cheek guards open.

‘Gafarn has passed on your suggestion. I considered it and rejected it. We fight today.’

‘It was not a suggestion,’ I said. ‘It was an order.’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘We have a right to fight. We will merely join the rear of the horse. Do you want a wolf as a wife or a lamb?’

There was no time to argue. ‘Very well. But stay close.’

‘Don’t worry. I won’t let any Gaul rape you.’

‘Very well, I snapped, ‘get your women behind my company. And stay close.’

She shouted with joy, closed her cheek guards and rode Epona away, and within minutes a hundred riders had slotted in behind the company of Dacians that I headed.

I was nervously peering to my left, in the direction of the Gauls who were massed on the left wing of the enemy’s army. I could only see them with difficulty, the dust and the heat haze distorting the view. I prayed to Shamash that they were likewise handicapped.

To my right and riding at the head of the middle column was Burebista, lance in hand and shield tucked into his left side. To his right was another company, and behind us more columns riding three abreast and parallel to the enemy’s wing. 

Company commanders kept their men in check, for in battle there is a tendency, especially among inexperienced men, to quicken the pace and get the bloodletting over with as quickly as possible. But those who have been in a fight know that discipline and restraint are the keys to staying alive. There is no point in running a horse hard before a charge; all that happens is that he will be exhausted when you need his reserves of energy most. Similarly, a horse picks up on adrenalin careering through its rider and will become edgy and fretful, which is very undesirable as when he is thrust into the maelstrom of the melee, he will most likely panic and become either uncontrollable or throw his rider in an attempt to flee to safety. So we rode at a steady pace, keeping our formation and reassuring our horses. Remus was feisty anyhow, so I continually said his name and comforting words to him. He would understand the tone of my voice at least. I glanced behind me to ensure that Gallia and her women had done what they had been told, and sure enough they were moving in impeccable formation. We were kicking up a huge amount of dust, and it would not take a genius to work out that a large body of horse was on the move. I prayed that the Gauls were too busy attacking Castus and his men to notice.

We moved parallel to the Gauls until I estimated that we were well beyond their line, then I swung the column sharply to the left and led it forward about five hundred yards. Again the company commanders restrained the pace, and then I halted the men altogether. Ahead was empty space — we had moved beyond the enemy’s left flank and were behind them. But to my left I could see a great mass of warriors moving slowly inwards towards our own right flank. So, they had indeed taken down their stakes and were attacking Castus’ men. The Romans may have been disciplined, but the Gauls did not have the patience to stand and bide their time, thankfully or us. I felt a tingle of excitement go through me as I entertained the thought that we could charge them in the rear. I rode over to Burebista. 

‘All company commanders to deploy their men in line, three ranks only. Then we’ll go straight at them. Wait for my signal’

He saluted and galloped back to his officers who had gathered in a group behind us. The next few minutes were a confusion of curses and shouts as fifteen hundred men on horseback cantered into position to form a thin line of horseflesh about two miles wide to face the enemy. As far as I could tell through the haze and dust, the Gauls were still wheeling inwards to attack Castus and his men, who I hoped were still holding their positions. I rode along the line, shouting encouragement and brandishing my sword at the men, who responded with hurrahs and cheers. Their morale was high and I knew that their training had been thorough. I rode back to the centre of the line where Rhesus and Burebista were sat on their horses, fifty feet in front of the first rank. Either side of us, all along the line, company commanders were sat ahead of their men, ready to lead by example. I also saw Gallia, face enclosed in her helmet and bow in hand, in front of her women. I nodded at her, she nodded back. My mouth was dry and my heart pounding. I checked my helmet straps, sword belt and bow case. I patted Remus on the neck and lowered my sword, then gently nudged him forward with my knees. 

Behind me horns sounded as Burebista’s dragon followed my lead.

I felt extremely isolated as the distance between the enemy and myself decreased. I could see them now, small black figures moving slowly, though in what direction I could not tell. I could also hear them, a slowly increasing roar of thousands of men. I glanced behind me. The cavalry were maintaining perfect order. The companies were widely spaced, and the distance between each horseman was around twenty feet — if the Gauls managed to form a shield wall then each rider would at least have a chance to halt and turn around, for no horse would charge at a solid wall of the enemy. I held Remus back, for he wanted to be unleashed and gallop as fast as his powerful legs would carry him. But he would need all his reserves of stamina for the trial that lay ahead. We were nearing them now, and I could see that our presence had been detected, for groups of the enemy were clustering around their knights. Gallia had told me that each knight of a tribe had his own war band, and in battle these bands clustered around their leader. So it was now, and I felt a surge of elation as I saw gaps appearing in the enemy’s ragged line. I kicked Remus into the charge as I directed him towards a space that had formed between two groups of Gauls who were hurriedly planting their long oblong shields on the ground and ramming the ends of their spear shafts into the ground to form a wall of iron points. I rode between the two groups and split the helmet of a Gaul with my sword who was unlucky enough to be in my path. I slashed at another figure who was vainly attempting to outrun me. My blade caught him on his helmet and spun him to the ground. Behind me hundreds of horsemen were spearing and cutting their way into the enemy’s ranks, for there was were ranks. No disciplined mass of Roman legionaries, just groups of warriors attempting to fight alongside their kinsmen and lords. Those who panicked and ran were killed easily; either speared by our lances or sliced open by sword cuts, or were simply trampled to death under horses’ hooves. 

After the initial clash the discipline of my cavalry and the ill discipline of the Gauls began to tell in our favour. Companies of horsemen not only cut down individuals, they also isolated groups that had clustered around knights and chiefs, slashing at them with their swords. Occasionally a rider fell from his saddle, either the victim of a spear thrust or with an arrow through his chest. But the Gauls had few archers and my men knew how to stop their horses getting too close to the spears of the Gauls. As my horsemen regrouped after the initial clash, the ground was littered with dead Gauls. It was a good start.

We redressed our lines and charged again, this time the companies in wedge formation three ranks deep. We drove deep into the enemy, slashing to the right and left with our swords and Burebista’s men protecting themselves with their shields. Once more we cut down many warriors, who were now mostly a mass of disorganised individuals. But the depth of the enemy was too great and we could not force our way through them to reach Castus’ men. I prayed they held still.

Those who have never fought in battle talk of cavalry being able to roll up an enemy flank, but armies are not carpets and thousands of soldiers cannot simply be rolled up and put away like some scroll on a library shelf. It is impossible to control, much less direct, hundreds of horsemen across a two-mile front. All one can hope for is that their officers and those they lead stay calm and remember their training, that they try to put aside their fear and bloodlust and keep to their task. But it is hard, so very hard. Gauls were running in all directions and we were cutting them down, but in front of us, haphazard and disjointed, a new line was steadily forming as knights and chiefs frantically herded their men into place, forming a thin shield wall that was slowly thickening. Between that line and the groups of Gauls who we had isolated during our first charge, lay a corpse-strewn ground that stretched for nearly two miles. We pulled back to a point just in front of the Gauls’ new line. But not all of the cavalry was reforming. I glanced behind me and saw Gallia shouting and gesticulating as her women formed a cordon around a large group of Gauls. Burebista had ridden to join me. He had a nasty gash on his right arm that was bleeding heavily.

‘Get that seen to.’ I pointed to the thickening Gaul line to our front. ‘Keep an eye on them but don’t attack them, not yet. Wait for me here.’

I rode back to Gallia, who was stringing an arrow in her bow. In front of me her riders were shooting the enemy to pieces. She had ordered all her women to remove their helmets, thus revealing their sex to the enemy. The Gauls took the bait, jeering and throwing their shields to the ground, and then thrusting their hips obscenely at them. Most of the Gauls were stripped from the waist up, some were naked altogether and smeared in war paint. They thought it hilarious that their opponents included a group of women. Some were still laughing and exposing their genitals when the first volley of arrows cut through flesh, sinew and bone. One hundred bows shooting three arrows a minute soon reduced the Gauls to a mound of dead and dying men.