Parthian Dawn (48 page)

This aroused the interest of Domitus, who opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. ‘You spoke to them?’

‘Of course. They grumble like old women.’

‘You rode into their camp?’ Orodes was amazed.

Byrd frowned at him. ‘No, I take cart and mule and load it with fruit, then drive it into their camp. I say I Agraci and they no question me further. I not look like soldier.’

He was right there, with his ragged, dirty Agraci robe, wild hair and unshaven face. If only the Romans had known that they had been buying fruit from the finest scout in the Parthian Empire.

‘They not like Dura, say it is too tough a nut to crack. They were promised an easy victory but have suffered big losses. Say it is insult to their manhood to be held at bay by a woman. They grumble of witchcraft.’

‘Witchcraft?’ asked Orodes.

‘Romani soldiers have been pierced by poisoned arrows shot from Dura’s towers. They believed they were at safe distance but arrows found them anyway. Arrows smeared with poison. Romani soldiers who were hit lost use of legs, went blind, then went mad before they died in agony.’

‘Well, she never ceases to amaze me,’ said Domitus.

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘Your old witch, of course. A few weeks ago she came to me and said she wanted some of my men to go hunting, said it was essential for the security of the city.’

Domitus told us how Dobbai had persuaded him to send a century to hunt down as many Arabian cobras as they could find. They came back with two score of the deadly reptiles. Dobbai had them milked of their poison, then killed and skinned them. The snake poison and flesh were mixed with dung and left to putrefy, after which the Amazons smeared their arrows with the poisonous substance.

‘That’s what she told me,’ concluded Domitus, ‘seems to have worked a treat.’

I smiled to myself. Perhaps I should leave these Romans to Gallia, she seemed to be coping very well.

‘So Dura still stands, Byrd?’ I asked.

He drained his cup and smiled at me. ‘No Romani army will take that city.’

After a final council of war, during the course of which I had again explained the tactics that we would use the next day, the lords went back to their men. I had insisted that they and their followers, plus all of Nergal’s horsemen and my own cataphracts, should sleep behind the earth rampart of the legion’s camp. This made for a crowded camp, as the men of Pontus were also accommodated within its circuit, but I did not trust the Romans not to attempt a nighttimes’ assault and I did not want to give them the opportunity for an easy victory Malik and Byrd assured me that their Agraci scouts had the Romans under close watch, but I insisted, and I even requested that Orodes bring in his men as well. He acquiesced, more from not wishing to appear discourteous than because of any sense of danger. Domitus approved.

‘Just because we are home doesn’t mean we get sloppy.’

It was the first time that I had heard him call Dura home and I was pleased. I always worried that he missed his own people, but if he did he never said so and now I was reassured that he felt one of us. I knew that he was immensely proud of his legion, and had every right to be, and also that he was held in great respect by his men.

That night I wrote a letter to my father and mother, explaining that I would be giving battle tomorrow and that afterwards, Shamash willing, I would march to Hatra’s aid. Later I went outside to stretch my legs. I never slept much before a battle, two or three hours at most, but I was seldom tired on the day of action itself. Rather, it was as if my senses were heightened by the prospect of slaughter. My mind raced with ideas, my reflexes were faster than usual and I could almost feel my blood coursing through my body. I put this down to my upbringing, when I had first been introduced to the tools of war as a small boy. By the time I was eight I could shoot a bow from the saddle, wield a small sword, throw a spear with some accuracy and fight with a mace and shield. When I became a teenager I had mastered the use of all these weapons and had learned how to fight as part of hundred-man mounted company, then as a member of a dragon. I had fought my first battle at the age of twenty-two and now, six years later, I stood on the eve of another one. I stared south and saw the black shape of Dura’s walls and its Citadel framed against the clear night sky. No lights flickered in Dura. I smiled. Gallia had all the windows barred with shutters and no lamps burned in the city’s streets. She knew that a sentry or careless individual framed by light made an easy target for an enemy archer or slinger.

Tomorrow I would be with my love once more.

Surena appeared and offered me a cup of water.

‘You should get some sleep,’ I told him, taking the cup and emptying it.

‘I’ve tried, but as soon as I shut my eyes a thousand images fill my mind. I will sleep after the battle.’

I hoped that it would not be the sleep of death. He still had his knife tucked in his belt and wore sandals on his feet.

‘Come with me,’ I said.

We walked among the rows of tents holding sleeping legionaries until we came to the southeast corner of the camp where Nergal and his horsemen were located. The comforting smell of horses, and the not-so welcoming smell of their dung, met my nostrils as I found my cavalry commander sitting on the ground playing dice with his officers.

‘I did not know you were a gambler, Nergal.’

They all saw me and made to stand up. I indicated for them to stay where they were.

‘I’m not really, lord, but I feel lucky and wanted to take advantage.’

I tilted my head at Surena. ‘I came to find this one a sword and some boots.’

Nergal looked at Surena. ‘Pity he can’t wait until tomorrow. There will be many Roman ones lying on the ground.’

This brought laughter and smiles from his officers.

‘I wish to have a sword now,’ said Surena sternly, ‘so I can kill the enemies of Pacorus.’

Nergal stood up and tugged at Surena’s tunic, indicating that he should follow him. ‘That’s
King
Pacorus to you, boy.’

Surena mumbled something under his breath and followed Nergal. Two minutes later we were in a fenced-off area containing two- and four-wheeled wagons, the whole park being guarded by a ring of sentries positioned every ten paces. Mules were tethered together in another adjacent area, and further away, though judging by the smell not too far away, was the camel park. Nergal nodded to the guards and we walked up to a small hide-skin tent pitched near one of the wagons. Nergal stood in front of the tent.

‘Strabo. Come out, your king has need of you.’

Seconds later I heard a rustling noise and then a large man with long dark hair and a round face shuffled out on all fours.

‘Can’t a man get a few hours’ sleep without being troubled?’ He sniffed and then turned his head to me. He obviously knew who I was because he quickly got to his feet and dusted himself down. He wore a simple white shirt and dark leggings. His feet were bare. He squinted at me with piggy eyes.

‘Well. Apologies, your majesty, but I didn’t know you were coming. No one ever tells me anything, it’s always Strabo do this, Strabo do that. Well, one day we will have a proper set of procedures for dealing with things.’

‘Enough, Strabo. The king needs your assistance.’

‘Well, I will be happy to oblige if I can, though all my assistants are asleep. It’s late. Well, you are lucky that I was just closing my eyes.’

‘The sooner we can have what we came for,’ I said, ‘the sooner you will be able to return to your slumbers. I need a sword and a pair of boots for my squire here.’

He wiped his nose on a sleeve as he studied Surena. Then he ambled over to one of the carts, mumbling to himself as he did so.

‘Like all quartermasters, he is reluctant to part with his supplies. Isn’t that right, Strabo?’ Nergal called after him.

Strabo ignored the jibe as he lifted the canvas cover on the cart and rummaged underneath. He returned with a pair of boots and threw them at Surena.

‘They should fit you nicely. Nice and worn in, they are. Came off a dead one of that lot who fought with Porus last year.’

Surena held them with distaste.

‘Now don’t you get high and mighty,’ said Strabo, ‘they’re fine boots and the previous owner no longer has a use for them.’

‘He’s right,’ I added.

Strabo scuttled off and began rifling through another cart, then reappeared with a sword in a scabbard. He handed it to Surena, who this time was beaming with delight. He drew it slowly from its scabbard. It was a Roman
spatha
, exactly like the one I carried, though mine had been a gift from Spartacus himself. The blade was long and straight and finished in a point. Both edges were razor sharp and its hilt was made of dark-stained walnut. It was a beautiful piece.

‘Where did you obtain it from?’ I asked.

‘Malik and his Agraci brought in a load of captured weapons after they had butchered a few Roman horsemen on the road north of here. Seeing as you’ve got one, I thought it appropriate that your squire should have one as well.’

‘A fine sword, Surena,’ remarked Nergal, whose own
spatha
hung from his belt, ‘make sure your conduct is worthy of such a blade.’

‘My conduct?’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Will you use it to further your honour or as a tool to butcher innocents? Will you wield it to defend your family and homeland, or to spread death and misery in furtherance of your own selfish goals?’

He looked at me with a blank expression on his face.

‘Well,’ I continued, ‘these things are for the future. But remember that a man’s sword is not just a lump of metal; it is an extension of him. However, it is late and we have troubled Strabo enough for one night.’

‘You’re not wrong there.’

Nergal froze him with an iron stare so Strabo bowed his head to me and scurried away. I told Surena to go back to the command tent and ready my armour and weapons for the morning, leaving me alone with Nergal.

‘Another battle tomorrow, Nergal.’

He grinned. ‘Another defeat for the Romans.’

There would be little time tomorrow for idle chatter, so I welcomed the chance to talk to my friend and trusted commander.

‘After we deal with this lot we will have to march north to aid Hatra, and after that Media. It seems there remains much fighting left to do.’

‘That is what we exist for, is it not?’

‘You sound like Domitus.’

He laughed. ‘That is a fine complement. You know what his men say about him?’

‘No.’

‘That his drills are bloodless battles and his battles are bloody drills.’

Now it was my turn to laugh. ‘I remember the first time I clapped eyes on him. It was when Spartacus had captured that silver mine near Thurri. Domitus was one of the slaves condemned to work in the mine. But after he had been freed he decided to join us. I am glad he did, for I think that I collected the greatest treasure that was in that mine.’

‘The Romans are going to get a surprise tomorrow when they see that there’s a legion facing them.’

‘By the time they realise,’ I said, ‘it will be too late.’

I looked at him. ‘I am sorry that Praxima is in Dura, I did not wish it so.’

He laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘It is not your fault, Pacorus. Praxima would never leave Gallia, you know that. I am proud that she stayed to stand by her friend.’

‘If we win the battle,’ I said, ‘I will have stern words with my wife.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Good luck with that.’

The day of battle dawned clear and windless. It would be hot later, and for some their last day on earth. Surena had laid out my armour the night before. The heavy hide suit covered in iron scales hung on its wooden frame. My Roman helmet, its crest filled with fresh goose feathers, perched on top. My boots he had placed at the foot of my cot, with my leggings and tunic folded on top of them. I always kept my sword on the floor beside me as I slept and my dagger under my pillow. Before I prepared for battle I knelt beside the cot and held the lock of Gallia’s hair in my hand. I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash that He would give me courage this day, and that my conduct would honour my forefathers.

First I put on my silk shirt, followed by the tunic and leggings. By the time I had pulled on my boots Surena had arrived with a tray of fruit, bread and water. I invited him to join me for breakfast, while outside the racket of an army preparing for battle filed the air.

‘Stay with the other squires in camp,’ I told him. ‘If the worst happens, get your hide out of here as quickly as possible and get across the river.’

He looked surprised. ‘I have been told that you have never lost a battle.’

I thought of the last battle with Spartacus in Italy, in the Silarus Valley. All day we had fought the Romans, and though we had not lost, at the end of it Spartacus lay dead and his army broken. It was certainly no victory.

‘What has happened up to now counts for nothing. Just do as I ask.’

‘I have a sword and would like to fight.’

‘And I would like you to stay alive. Fighting Romans is not like ambushing the soldiers of Chosroes and then running back into the marshes.’

He nodded but I could tell that he was far from happy. He was filled with excitement, and being young he never considered that he might be killed. But then, all of us never really thought that we might die on the battlefield. Each soldier knew that battles were bloody affairs, but in his mind it was always the man next to him who was going to die, never him.

And so, once again, I prepared to fight the Romans. In truth there was much to admire about them and their civilisation. For me, their architectural achievements were things of wonder. Parthia had its great temples and palaces, it was true, but nowhere in the empire was there mighty stone aqueducts carrying water to towns and cities or straight, paved roads that connected its cities. The roads in Parthia were dirt tracks, their surfaces baked hard by the sun, which turned to mud when it rained, but Roman roads were a marvel to behold. They were never washed away by rains; rather, they had drainage channels on each side into which rainwater ran. And those same roads carried Roman armies to the far corners of their empire, from where they invaded foreign lands to fulfil the insatiable Roman desire for conquest. The Romans believed that the earth was theirs for the taking, irrespective of what other peoples thought. And in their thirst for conquest they had developed a military system that was the envy of the world. In Italy, no matter how many defeats they had suffered, the Romans always seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of soldiers with which to create new armies. But above all it was discipline and organisation that gave the Romans victory. Ever since I had returned to Parthia I had endeavoured to infuse Dura’s army with these same qualities. Today I would discover if I had been successful.