Parthian Dawn (32 page)

‘Nergal, when I give the signal gather your horsemen and assault the enemy opposite. Pepper them with arrows but don’t get too close. If they advance, you retreat, but you must keep on annoying them to fix their attention on you.’

Nergal turned in his saddle and looked at the masses of enemy horsemen facing him. ‘They will undoubtedly attack us, lord.’

‘I know, but if they do, like I said, withdraw but keep on harassing them. Now go.’

He galloped back to his men, who by this time were in their saddles and mustering around their lords. They didn’t have the discipline of my cataphracts or legionaries, but it did not matter. As long as they stayed in the field, shooting at the enemy and did not get drawn into a melee, then they would prove their worth.

The wall of noise coming from the enemy’s ranks showed no sign of lessening as I rode forward to admire the view, for it was not often that the kings of the empire arrayed their forces in one spot. Next to the legion I spied the purple-clad foot and horse of Babylon, and beyond them the ill-equipped hordes of Chosroes, and in the distance, just visible on our left flank, magnificent in their white tunics and scale armour, the horsemen of Hatra. I saw Phraates sitting on his horse immediately behind the Babylonians alongside Vardan, both kings flanked by mounted spearman and a phalanx of huge axe men standing directly in front of them. Almost exactly opposite Phraates, across the empty space of ground between the two armies, was Narses himself, the handsome, ruthless rebel leader. I could not see his face from this distance but I could see that he was mounted on a large black horse. He wore an armoured cuirass that shimmered in the light, for now the sun’s rays were lancing through the breaks in the clouds. Narses wore a steel helmet with a red crest and was surrounded by all the other kings in his army, judging by the standards that were being held behind his entourage. And on his flanks and behind him there must have been at least five hundred cataphracts. Narses and his horsemen looked magnificent and intimidating in the centre of the enemy’s front rank, but they were in entirely the wrong place. For which I thanked Shamash.

Then the noise coming from the opposition’s ranks began to diminish, until after perhaps five minutes it had completely died away. An ominous silence then descended over both armies as Narses and a group of riders slowly walked their horses forward beyond the front ranks. Immediately behind him his great banner fluttered in the wind — a great yellow flag sporting the black head of
Simurgel
, the bird-god of Persepolis. So, perhaps he was going to talk after all. I smiled to myself. The time for talking was long past; it was time to fight. I kicked Remus forward to take me about fifty paces beyond our line then halted him. I saw Domitus standing a few paces in front of his legion and lowered my
kontus
towards the enemy. I kept it there until he raised his hand in recognition of my signal, then I rode back to my horsemen.

Seconds later there was a blast of trumpets and then the whole legion began moving forward. Screams and shouts erupted from Narses’ army, while he himself hurried back to the safety of his densely packed soldiers. And then what I had hoped for happened. Their blood up and expecting an easy victory, the enemy foot opposite Domitus and his legion charged. It was not a disciplined advance but a feral rush of maddened men who wanted to wash their weapons in the enemy’s blood. And so they ran as fast as they could in a disorganised mob to close the gap between the two armies as ten of my cohorts marched briskly forward.

In such an encounter discipline, not weight of numbers, holds the key to victory. The legionaries in the front ranks of the first line centuries carried no javelins but advanced with their swords drawn, the fearsome
gladius
held ready to stab upwards into thighs and bellies. The men in the rear ranks behind them carried their javelins at the ready. Then the legion’s trumpets blasted once more and the men charged, maintaining their order as they did so. And when the two sides crashed into each other the rear ranks in each century hurled their javelins over the heads of their comrades in front. The front ranks of the legion buckled under the ferocious onslaught of Narses’ foot soldiers, but they held. And then the killing began. Legionaries in the front ranks smashed their shields into the enemy, their shoulders behind their shields as men collided at a run. Javelins flew overhead and felled hundreds of the enemy before they even got close to the legionaries, and then the enemy mass thickened as more and more men raced forward to get to grips with Domitus’ soldiers, but this worked against them because all it did was push their front ranks onto the swords of the legionaries, who kept stabbing upwards repeatedly. Enemy soldiers, their thighs and bellies oozing blood, fell to the ground and were stepped on by a man behind, whose belly was also soon gushing blood as a
gladius
found its mark. And so the slaughter went on, but it was entirely one-side as the soldiers of Narses were turned into offal. The mass charge had also entirely negated the influence of the enemy slingers and archers, who were reduced to the role of useless bystanders.

Thus far the battle had unfolded exactly as I wanted. But the day was still young and much was left to do.

‘Follow me,’ I shouted to my horsemen behind, then wheeled Remus to the right as he broke into a trot.

Much as I would have liked to watch Domitus and his men cut their way through the enemy, I too had work to do. The cataphracts followed me as I cantered away from our centre, Nergal and his horse archers advancing forward to fill the large gap we had left and to begin shooting arrows at the enemy horsemen opposite. The ground was hard and parched, and soon great clouds of dust were being created by the thousands of feet and iron-shod hooves that were trampling the earth. We rode on, keeping parallel to the enemy’s left wing, whose members were now preoccupied with returning the fire of Nergal’s men. I glanced left and through the haze tried to see any enemy horsemen. I saw none. I continued riding forward for another minute or so then turned Remus left.

‘Wheel, wheel,’ I shouted as Remus shifted speed and tried to move into a gallop. I restrained him; he would need all his reserves of strength this day. There was no point in exhausting him. I glanced behind; my men were still following me. On we rode, the sounds of battle now clearly audible on our left. I slowed Remus down into a trot, then a walk and then halted him altogether. Those behind me did likewise. Enius, Orodes and Gotarzes fell in beside me.

‘We must be behind their battle line now. We will face left and form a line here, on me,’ I said. They both nodded and Enius and Gotarzes rode back to their men.

It took some time to form nine hundred cataphracts into an attack formation made up of one-hundred man companies drawn up into wedge formations. Each wedge was made up of fifty men in two ranks that were both widely spaced. I rode up and down the line and told the commander of each wedge not to employ horns for signalling. We would make our appearance unannounced.

My own cataphracts were in the centre of the line and I took up position at the tip of one of the wedges, Orodes on my left and slightly behind me.

‘Keep safe, Orodes.’

‘You too, Pacorus.’

I raised my
kontus
, pointed it forward and then nudged Remus to move. He snorted and began walking, while behind me a hundred others did likewise. The clash of steel and cries of men were getting louder in front of us as we broke into a trot and then a canter. I glanced left and right and saw every
kontus
levelled, ready to strike. I gripped my shaft with both hands tightly on my right side and leaned forward. The sounds of battle grew louder and ahead I could make out figures on horseback moving forward — lightly armed horse archers with bows in their hands and quivers at their hips. We thundered forward, broke into a gallop and screamed our war cries. Directly ahead of me, sitting on a stationary horse, his mouth open in surprise, transfixed by terror, was a bareheaded man wearing a light brown shirt and holding a bow. He did not move as the point of my lance pierced his side and the shaft plunged into his torso. As I released the grip on my
kontus
he still wore a look of surprise as I raced past him, drew my sword and slashed the rider behind him across the chest, knocking him from his saddle.

We hit the rearmost ranks of the opposition’s left flank with the force of a lightning bolt. At first the enemy was surprised, and after several hundred of them had been skewered, slashed, had their skulls caved in by maces, and been run through, they panicked. These men were lightly armed horsemen, mostly archers but some spearmen also, but they had no chance against heavily armoured cavalry. Some attempted to rally and attack us but their blades made no impression on our scale armour and were easily brushed aside. Most turned their horses around and attempted to flee, not to the rear at first, but towards the centre of their own army. They thus careered into other horsemen attempting to advance in the opposite direction to meet us. The result was chaos, and on the edges of the maelstrom, like wolves circling sheep, my cataphracts were picking off their victims with ease. We retained our formations and kept tight to the enemy, hacking and slashing with our blades and maces. We discovered that most of the enemy horsemen did not have swords only long knives, and it was pathetic to see them try to stab us with them, only to be run through or disembowelled because their blades did not have the reach to harm us. These men also wore no helmets and so many of those under the command of Enius put away their swords and used their maces instead, bringing the weapons down on felt caps and splitting skulls in an orgy of slaughter. We pressed on.

I do not know how long we were in the melee, perhaps an hour, probably less, but suddenly, when my sword blade and armour were smeared with blood, the enemy in front of us evaporated. The entire left wing of the Narses’ army had disappeared. Many lay dead but most had fled the battle on their horses. It did not matter. Horns blasted around me and our tired ranks reformed. I suddenly felt exhausted but knew that victory was near. Ahead I saw cataphracts clustered around Narses and the other kings, who were still observing the battle to their front. I peered left but all I could see through the dust was a large mass of foot soldiers with their backs to me.

I turned in the saddle. ‘Kill Narses, kill Narses.’

Our horses were sweating and grunting and the men were tired, but they fell into their wedge formations once more. I saw Orodes. His helmet was dented and his armour torn, but he grinned at me to indicate that he was fine. I saw Gotarzes some distance away but of Enius there was no sign. Narses and his heavy cavalry were fresh and they still carried their lances. We had to quickly close the distance between them us and to stand any chance of victory. I raised my sword and dug my knees into Remus’ flanks. Horns blasted. He reared up onto his hind legs and hurtled forward, the other riders following.

Once more we hurled ourselves against the enemy, only this time they did not break. Narses had noticed us and was desperately trying to deploy his cataphracts to face us. We were upon his men before they could charge us, but they merely threw down their lances, armed themselves with their close-quarter weapons and met us head-on. And so began a grim battle of attrition, sword clashing against sword and mace against mace. I was suddenly beside a great brute whose face was contorted in hate, and who brought his sword down in an attempt to split my helmet. I parried the blow with my sword and then swung the
spatha
in a scything movement towards his head. I got lucky — the point sliced his neck. He screamed, clutched at the wound and then fell from his saddle. I suddenly felt an intense pain in my right cheek, as if a red-hot iron had been placed on my flesh. I turned and saw a horseman on my right side who had just hit me with his mace, the blow striking my helmet’s right cheekguard. He drew his weapon back to deliver another blow but at that moment Orodes severed his hand with his sword. The man squealed like a stuck pig and rode away. I nodded my thanks.

‘Are you hurt, Pacorus?’ he shouted.

My face burned with pain. ‘No,’ I lied, ‘I’m fine.’

Around us hundreds of men were fighting for their lives. I saw Narses on his black steed perhaps only fifty paces from me, and beside him the serpent-like Mithridates. I clenched my hand tightly around my sword’s handle.

‘Orodes, with me,’ I shouted, and then urged Remus forward.

A group of my Duran cataphracts closed around me as I charged forward once more. I felt nothing but intense loathing for the two rebel leaders as I closed the gap between us, screaming Narses’ name as I did so.

Whatever Narses was he did not want for courage. He directed his horse straight towards me and attempted to lop off my head with a deft swing of his sword. I ducked the blow and tried to strike him with a backswing, but he was too quick for me and blocked the strike with his blade. He wheeled his horse around as my cataphracts fought his, and then came at me again with a series of attacks directed at my head and neck, for those were the only places where his sword could cut flesh. I was tiring now and found it difficult to defend his powerful strikes, but salvation came from an unlikely source. I had caught sight of Mithridates, wild-eyed and clearly terrified, before I got to grips with Narses, but now I saw him again, this time turning tail and running away. His flight spread panic among the other kings of Narses’ entourage and soon they were doing likewise, taking their bodyguards with them. Narses also saw this undignified retreat. He moved his horse away from Remus and pointed his sword at me.

‘Our business is not finished, boy.’ Then he wheeled his mount away and galloped after his fleeing allies.

The fight now went out of the enemy. Those who could made good their escape, others threw down their weapons and pleaded for mercy. A blast of horns to my left signalled the arrival of Nergal and his men. I ordered him to take them and pursue Narses and his entourage, though I doubted that they would succeed judging by the sweat-lathered state of their horses and riders slumped in their saddles. I gave the orders for the cataphracts to reform into line as ahead I spotted the locked shields of the legion coming into view. They were marching at a steady pace, trampling the dead and dying among the enemy. There was no resistance now as the enemy foot, what was left of them, had seen their lords desert them and had either ran for their lives or else dropped to their knees in front of the legionaries and begged for mercy. They were shown none. Those who surrendered and threw down their weapons were killed as soon as the first legionaries reached them. Then I saw Domitus and felt a surge of joy. He was standing next to one of leading centuries, pointing with his
gladius
for the men to maintain their order. An enemy soldier, a spearman, seeing Domitus cast aside his weapon and fell to his knees, his hands clasped in front of him like a man in prayer, imploring Domitus to save his life. The latter stepped forward and plunged his blade into the man’s chest, then walked on. Such is war.