Carrhae (79 page)

‘Excellent idea,’ said Surena, who likewise began taking shots at the soldiers ascending the hill. Soon the front ranks of his companies arrayed in a line behind us were also loosing arrows, which as far as I could tell were having a negligible effect. I nudged Remus forward and then wheeled him about before raising both my arms.

‘Stop shooting!’

Surena gave the order to desist shooting as one by one the Amazons lowered their bows and finally Gallia also halted her efforts. I returned to her side and looked at her half-empty quiver.

‘You might need the rest of them.’

‘At least Crassus would have had to duck his head,’ she sniffed.

Those Romans who had been wading through the marsh had now all ascended the hill, after which those with locked shields in front of us began to inch to their right to follow them, all the time retaining their
testudo
formation. We sat on our horses and watched them go. There was no point in wasting any more arrows. We might kill a few and injure more but our prize had alluded us and with it the chance of outright victory.

It took at least half an hour for the huge
testudo
to traverse the slope and join the Romans who had been under Crassus’ command. While they did so I discussed our next move with Surena.

‘We should demand the surrender of Carrhae,’ I said, ‘and after that the other towns occupied by the Romans in this region – Nicephorium, Ichnae and Zenodotium. When the Romans return next year they will find that their defences and garrisons will have been greatly strengthened.’

‘And Syria?’

I looked at him. ‘What of Syria?’

‘We are close to the border, lord, and could raid the Roman province with ease.’

I thought of the strong and high walls of Antioch. ‘We will not be able to storm Antioch or any other town or city. That being the case, the most we could achieve would be to ravage the countryside.’

‘At least that would give the Romans a taste of what they have inflicted on others,’ said Gallia.

I doubted whether we would kill any Romans using such tactics. More likely the only people that would be affected would be poor Syrians trying to make a living.

‘I will consider it,’ I replied.

‘Why aren’t they moving?’ asked Vagises, looking up at the enemy on the hillside.

I looked at the Romans who had formed into a long line of centuries arrayed several ranks deep facing our left flank in the plain below. But Vagises was right: they were standing immobile on the hillside around six hundred paces from us.

‘Perhaps they intend to attack,’ suggested Surena.

In the next few minutes we hurriedly redeployed and swung our line through ninety degrees to face the Roman line, our horse archers manoeuvring their companies into line order to match the extent of the enemy’s frontage. There certainly seemed to be a high level of activity among the Roman ranks, with officers and centurions running around between the centuries and then towards the rear where the white-attired lictors stood out against the green background.

‘I’ll warrant you wished you hadn’t wasted those arrows now,’ I grinned at Gallia, who scowled back at me.

We stood ready to face the Roman onslaught but as the minutes passed the more I realised that such a manoeuvre would at best be ill advised and at worst suicidal. To launch an attack down a steep hill would result in units becoming disorganised and they would have to redress their lines at the bottom, prior to a charge. And even if they launched a charge we would simply withdraw before them. And what then? They would not wish to get back into Carrhae having crept out from there under cover of darkness; rather, they would have to retreat back up the hill. It made no sense.

‘They are not going to attack,’ I said, ‘pass the word to stand at ease.’

‘What are they doing, then?’ asked Gallia.

I patted Remus on the neck. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

‘I will ride up there and demand their surrender,’ announced Surena with a wide grin across his face.

We all laughed at his proposition, but as sun beat down on us and the Romans continued to stand on the hillside his plan sparked an idea in my mind. I turned to the King of Gordyene.

‘Surena, perhaps we might yet secure an advantage from this curious situation. I would ask you to go to the Romans under a flag of truce and request a meeting with Crassus regarding a peace treaty.’

Gallia, who had taken off her helmet, rolled her eyes. ‘Why don’t you send a squire instead, Pacorus, someone far more appropriate for dealing with the Romans than a king?’

‘I don’t mind, lady,’ said Surena, ‘anything rather than sitting here being bored to distraction. What terms do you demand, lord?’

‘The immediate evacuation of all Parthian territories and a cessation of hostilities between Rome and Parthia for five years.’

Gallia burst out laughing. ‘And ask Crassus to come down and clean Pacorus’ armour at the same time, for you have more chance of achieving that than the aforementioned demands.’

I frowned at her to indicate my displeasure but she waved away my annoyance. Vagises grinned at Surena as he pulled his bow from its case and unfastened the bowstring, before riding forward holding the disabled weapon aloft so the Romans could see that he came in peace. He rode up the grassy slope with some difficulty, his horse losing its footing a couple of times. A group of men left the enemy ranks and came down the slope to meet him, centurions judging by the transverse crests on their helmets. I saw Surena pointing back to where we were sitting and then gesturing with his arms, then one of the Romans left them and went back up the slope to pass through the long line of centuries and stop at a group that included the lictors.

Gallia was clearly bored by it all. ‘We should ride back to camp and then return to Hatra. Hopefully Orodes has had better luck than us.’

‘We have still mauled the enemy and prevented them from invading the empire,’ I reminded her, ‘you are too harsh in your judgement.’

‘You have won a victory but not the war,’ was her unrelenting comment.

I gave the order for the horse archers behind us to dismount as midday approached and the sun roasted our backs, swarms of small flies from the marsh adding to our general discomfort as they plagued both horses and men. Eventually Surena returned with news that Crassus would consider my offer and give his answer presently.

‘He and his men will be gone within the hour,’ said an increasingly irritable Gallia.

I was apt to agree with her but then there appeared to be a great commotion on the hillside as we saw figures running around again and apparently arguing with legionaries in their ranks. I had no idea what was happening and neither did anyone else, but then a small group began to slowly descend the slope and head towards us. There were eight of them, seven attired in bronze muscled cuirasses, red-crested helmets, white pteruges around their thighs and shoulders and red cloaks pinned on their right shoulders. They formed a guard around a bald-headed man of medium height wearing a white tunic with purple stripes and a purple cloak – Marcus Licinius Crassus.

I rode forward with seven companions to match the number of Romans: Gallia, now with her helmet back on her head, Zenobia who carried my banner, Surena, Vagises, Malik, Byrd and Surena’s second-in-command, a sour-faced man with a long scar on the side of his neck called Exathres. As we approached the Romans I saw that every one of their officers had their swords sheathed, a good omen.

We walked our horses forward in a line as the Romans adopted a similar formation, Crassus directly opposite me. At a distance of twenty paces from each other the two groups halted as if by mutual consent and stared at each other. Epona flicked her tail, Remus chomped on his bit while Surena swatted away a fly that was pestering him.

I raised my right hand. ‘Greetings Marcus Licinius Crassus, Governor of Syria and consul of Rome.’

Crassus showed me a faint smile, though he looked very tired and slightly nervous. He raised his right hand in return.

‘Greetings King Pacorus, son of Varaz of Hatra, Lord High General of the Parthian Empire.’

‘It is with regret that we meet under such circumstances,’ I said, ‘but I hope that we may yet depart as friends.’

‘Friends do not make war on each other,’ retorted Crassus.

‘Or invade each other’s territories,’ snapped Gallia.

The high-ranking Roman officers looked angrily at the helmeted figure wearing a mail shirt beside me but Crassus nodded knowingly.

‘I do not think that we have been introduced,’ he said to Gallia. ‘You know my identity and I suspect I know yours, but perhaps we may be formally acquainted.’

Gallia snorted in contempt but fortunately her cheekguards masked her disdain, but then she slowly removed her helmet to reveal her face.

‘I am Gallia, Queen of Dura,’ she announced, fixing Crassus with steely blue eyes.

Crassus pointed up at me. ‘Twenty years ago your husband came to my house in Rome and during our conversations he talked of your beauty, and even though it was two decades ago I can see why he was so eager to talk of your splendour.’

Gallia was unmoved by his flattery. ‘Ten years ago your dog, Lucius Furius, came to my city and tried to take it. Just like you his army was defeated and he himself was killed.’

The other Romans with Crassus bristled at her words but Crassus raised his hand to quieten them. I frowned at Gallia but she was unapologetic and continued to taunt Crassus.

‘Have you come to beg for your life, governor?’

Crassus did not rise to the bait but I could see that his officers were livid at the effrontery being shown to their commander.

‘I have come here because your husband requested a parley. But perhaps you would rather shoot me down with your bow, warrior queen of Dura?’

Gallia reached behind and pulled her bow from its case, prompting the Roman officers to draw their swords and close around Crassus.

‘You think I would not, Roman?’ hissed Gallia.

Crassus gently pushed his officers away and clasped his hands in front of him. ‘Your reputation as a slayer is know throughout the whole world, lady.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘If you wish to kill me then here I am. A famed archer such as yourself will have no difficulty hitting me from such a close range.’

‘There will be no violence!’ I said firmly. ‘We are not here to fight but to determine once and for all the border between the empires of Parthia and Rome.’

Gallia sneered at Crassus and replaced her bow in its case. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zenobia pass my standard to Byrd who sat next to her but thought nothing of it.

‘Do you hold the authority to determine such a thing?’ asked Crassus mischievously.

‘I am lord high general of the Parthian Empire,’ I replied, ‘entrusted by King of Kings Orodes to negotiate with the enemies of the empire.’

Crassus looked around. ‘And where is King Orodes?’

‘Chasing what remains of the Armenian Army back north,’ remarked Surena, his subordinate stifling a laugh.

‘And you are?’ snapped Crassus, cracks appearing in his composure.

‘Surena, King of Gordyene,’ announced Exathres, ‘the scourge of Armenia.’

Crassus’ eyes narrowed as he studied Surena.

‘Artavasdes is not his father,’ I said, ‘his brother was defeated and killed before the walls of Hatra and now High King Orodes campaigns in Armenian territory. Your ally has been emasculated, governor.’

Whether he had heard of the crushing Armenian defeat I did not know, but even if he had not and did not believe me he knew that his own army had been destroyed and also that Artavasdes was unable to offer him any immediate aid.

‘Your slave state has been crushed,’ gloated Gallia.

‘And now you seek to make me a slave, is that it?’ said Crassus with irritation. ‘Is that why you insist I stand on my feet while you all sit on horses?’

He was right: it was an insult for us to be in our saddles and speak down to him. He was, notwithstanding his defeat, still the governor of Syria.

‘Vagises,’ I said, ‘please let the governor sit on your horse.’

An unhappy Vagises slowly dismounted and then led his horse towards Crassus. His path was blocked by one of the governor’s subordinates, who pushed him aside roughly and tried to grab his horse’s reins. Vagises, his right hand tangled in the leather straps, pushed the man away with his other arm as his horse began to panic and back away. But the Roman, like the other officers, was still holding his sword and without thinking lunged forward and drove the blade through Vagises’ back. Or perhaps he was thinking and had had enough of being taunted by enemies on horseback, one of whom was a woman.

I cried out in anguish as blood came from Vagises’ mouth, he fell to his knees and then pitched forward to lie face-down on the ground. I heard a hiss by my right ear and saw Gallia’s arrow go through the bronze cuirass of Vagises’ killer and then saw Zenobia kill another Roman. Crassus turned-tail and began running back up the slope as Malik’s horse bolted forward and he sliced open a Roman helmet with his sword. Zenobia dropped another Roman with an arrow in his thigh, the man yelping in pain before he was silenced forever by Surena’s sword. Byrd’s horse reared up on its hind legs and threw him to the ground with a loud crack.

Zenobia put an arrow in another Roman as a second ran at me and tried to ram the point of his
gladius
under my cuirass and into my belly, but I drew my
spatha
and whipped it down hard onto his forearm, the blow shattering the bone and reducing the limb to a useless bloody pulp. He uttered a high-pitched scream and then rolled around on the ground in pain before Malik jumped down from his horse and silenced him. The last Roman officer was killed by Surena and Exathres, who manoeuvred their horses either side of him and then rained down blows on his head and shoulders, inflicting terrible wounds on his neck and face, notwithstanding that he was wearing a helmet. They laughed as they toyed with him, alternating sword blows to stab and slash him. His
gladius
was knocked from his hand when a downward strike by Exathres sliced open his knuckles, then Surena used all his strength to deliver a sideways sword strike against the side of the Roman’s helmet, which knocked him to the ground. Half unconscious, he tried to crawl away but Exathres jumped from his saddle, kicked the man hard in his side and then stamped on his back. The Roman made no movement as Exathres stood over him, grasped his sword with both hands and held the point against the rear of his neck, before thrusting the blade down.