Read Parthian Vengeance Online
Authors: Peter Darman
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Historical, #Military, #War, #Historical Fiction
‘I left them with my wife and Mardonius at Babylon,’ said Orodes, his fingers dripping with beef fat.
‘I am surprised he did not accompany you,
highness
,’ I said.
He licked his fingers. ‘Very amusing. The truth is that he can hardly walk without the aid of a stick and so I ordered him to stay in the city and guard Axsen.’
‘Soon your wife will have a new throne to sit on.’ I grinned at him. ‘Highness.’
He frowned. ‘I wish you would stop calling me that.’
‘Why? You will have to get used to it soon enough when you have all those courtiers at Ctesiphon grovelling at your feet and whispering honeyed words in your ears.’
A squire offered us more meat from a silver tray.
‘I intend to get rid of most of them,’ he declared, ‘and have men of integrity and honesty around me.’
‘Good luck with that.’
He looked at me. ‘I do not suppose you would consider becoming lord high general again?’
I nearly choked on my wine. ‘You are right; I would not consider it. What about Nergal? He’s brave and loyal.’
‘But not a great general such as you.’
I laughed. ‘If I was a great general, my friend, we would not be sitting at a wooden bench in the open eating and drinking. We would be at home in the company of our wives as I would have already sent Mithridates and Narses to the underworld.’
‘It was a serious offer.’
I laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I know that, my friend, but after this campaign is over I want to return to Dura and live out the rest of my days in peace with my family.’
‘You think that is possible?’
I emptied my cup and held it aloft to be refilled. ‘Anything is possible if you desire it enough.’
The next day we marched east towards Seleucia in three great columns. The northern formation comprised the fourteen thousand soldiers and squires of Dura’s army. In the centre rode my father and Hatra’s fifteen hundred cataphracts and ten thousand horse archers, plus Orodes and his seven hundred and fifty horsemen and ten thousand Babylonian foot. The southern column was made up of Atrax and his seven hundred cataphracts and five thousand horse archers and Surena’s eight thousand horse archers. It took two days for the fifty thousand soldiers of this army to cross the strip of desert between the Euphrates and Tigris to reach the walls of Seleucia.
As we approached the city the enemy had made no moves save to shut the gates of Seleucia and line its walls with the garrison. We stayed well out of arrow range as the central column established its camp directly in front of the western gates and Atrax and Surena pitched their forces south of the city along the banks of the Tigris. Dura’s army made camp five miles north of the city adjacent to the river, being careful not to despoil the villages and the surrounding fields, as they were part of the Kingdom of Babylon. Orodes had sent his own horsemen ahead of the army to reassure the villagers that they would suffer no harm at our hands. This was irrelevant to those villages located close to Seleucia itself as they had been attacked and looted during Mithridates’ two campaigns in Babylon, those of their inhabitants who had not been able to flee having been either killed or taken as slaves. The empty, charred remains of these villages stood as mute testimony to the tyranny of Mithridates’ reign.
Seleucia – gateway to the east. The city had been founded nearly two hundred and fifty years ago by Selucus I called Nicator, ‘The Victor’, one of the successors of Alexander of Macedon who had conquered the world. Selucus had gone on to establish the Seleucid Empire and the city named after him had walls that resembled the shape of an eagle with outstretched wings. Towers stood at regular intervals along their length but I knew from my short period as lord high general of the empire that those walls had not been properly maintained. In many places they were crumbling and some of the towers were also in a state of disrepair. The main road through the city ran from the main gatehouse in the western wall directly east to the stone bridge that spanned the Tigris, which was about four hundred yards wide at this point.
Crumbling they may have been, but the walls of Seleucia were tall enough to stop an army from entering the city unhindered and seizing the bridge across the river. The size of the city’s population was around eighty thousand, though many had probably fled east over the Tigris upon hearing of our approach. From what I could remember from my days as lord high general the garrison was around a thousand men, though this number could be augmented in an emergency to five thousand or more, and reinforcements could also be sent from the east bank of the river if need be. In theory Seleucia was very strong and its ability to receive an unending stream of supplies and men across the bridge made it a tough nut to crack. But Seleucia had one major weakness – the walls ended at the river. Because the Tigris is wide and deep at this point Selucus’ engineers had thought it unnecessary to build walls on all four sides of the city. There were thus no city walls running parallel to the Tigris, though the palace that was located in the northern part of the city, near to the harbour, was fully encompassed by its own walls. But then no army could assault Seleucia from the riverside, until tonight.
In the weeks preceding the campaign Orodes had given orders that fifty rafts were to be stockpiled well to the north of the city on the western bank of the river, guarded by soldiers that he had sent from Babylon. Now these rafts were each loaded with fifty legionaries and ten dismounted archers as two a half thousand men from the Duran Legion and five hundred bowmen prepared to float downstream and assault the city from the river.
I stood on the leading raft beside Domitus as the oarsman at the rear indicated to the Babylonians to push the raft into the river. Despite being loaded down with fifty fully equipped legionaries and ten archers it moved effortlessly into midstream and then began to move downriver. The water was calm and the current mild as we floated towards our destination, the other rafts following in a long line behind. The men carried no javelins, only their swords, daggers and shields, the archers each carrying three full quivers.
Domitus looked up at a full moon in the cloudless sky.
‘Unless every sentry is asleep they will spot us before we reach the city,’ he complained.
‘Have faith, my friend,’ I replied in a hushed tone. ‘They will not be looking for the unexpected.’
‘Let’s hope that they don’t have the harbour area lined with archers by the time we get there.’
‘I’m sure your god Mars approves of our plan and will aid us in our endeavour. Time for the signal, I think.’
Domitus turned to one of his men holding a small box of tinder and took it from him. Kneeling on the planks of the raft, he took a palm-sized piece of flint from the legionary and held it in his left hand with the sharp edge angled upwards and then hit it fast with a steel striker to produce hot sparks, striking the flint again and again until the tinder in the box was aflame. The legionary then held the wick of an oil lamp to the flames until it was alight. Domitus stood up and took the lamp, faced the western riverbank and moved it from side to side. The six Agraci scouts saw the prearranged signal and galloped off inland. So far, so good.
Domitus extinguished the flames, paced to the edge of the raft and glanced upstream. He came back to my side.
‘Everything in order?’ I asked.
‘Seems so,’ he replied, his hand gripping the hilt of his
gladius
.
We were around two miles from the city, though I could not make out its shape in the moonlight. Despite the fact that there were three thousand men moving downstream it was eerily quiet, as though the world was holding its breath before the storm. The rafts were travelling at a speed of around three miles an hour, which meant that we would reach the city in around forty minutes. The time passed agonisingly slowly and it seemed as though we had been on the water for hours before the city gradually loomed into view. Ahead I could now make out the arches of the bridge across the river that linked Seleucia with Ctesiphon. Thus far our presence had been undetected. The raft inched its way slowly towards the city’s northern wall. I strained to see any activity either on the battlements or on the round tower that stood in the water and marked the spot where the walls ended, but could see nothing.
Suddenly, in the distance, we heard thuds and crumps and saw the occasional red glow. I smiled. The scouts had reached their destination and now Marcus’ siege engines were commencing their attack on the city. The larger ballistae were shooting huge lighted clay pots filled with sulphur, pitch, charcoal, tow and naphtha that ignited upon impact. They were being shot against the city gates and were intended to cause a lot of noise and fire. Then we heard the cheers of thousands of men – the remainder of the Durans plus the Exiles who were arrayed either side of the engines. They had been instructed to begin shouting, blowing their trumpets and whistles and cheering when the shooting commenced as a diversion. The noise rose in volume as we drifted past the tower towards the city’s harbour.
The archers nocked arrows as our raft glided past the tower and then along the walls of the palace and still we had not been spotted. I was beginning to think that my plan was flawless when an alarm bell suddenly sounded in the tower and then we heard shouts of alarm from within the palace.
‘Look lively,’ shouted Domitus as the oarsman steered the raft past the palace towards the harbour, which comprised a long wharf in front of which were berths where shallow-draft riverboats were moored. Set back from the wharf were sheds and warehouses and immediately south was the bridge. As our raft neared the first berth Domitus leapt onto it and ran towards the quay. I followed him as the others also jumped from the raft and ran to form up beside Domitus on the quay. The other rafts were gliding into the harbour as arrows shot from the palace walls splashed into the water. Around ten rafts had made it into the harbour area unscathed but the rest would have to run the gauntlet of arrows that was now being directed at them. The centurion on each raft shouted his commands and the men instantly formed a
testudo
on each vessel, locking shields on all sides and above, ensuring that the archers and oarsman were also under the
scutums
.
On the quay centurions bellowed orders at their men to assemble in their ranks as the archers ran past them to form a defensive screen at the northern end of the quay while the centuries formed up. I stood in the centre of the line of archers as the first enemy soldiers rushed us. These men were no doubt from the palace as most of the garrison would be lining the walls in response to the attack by Marcus’ siege engines. They carried large wicker shields and wore leather cuirasses with linen caps on their heads. They levelled their long spears as they charged us in a disorganised mob and we shot half of them down before they got within fifty paces. The rest stopped and then withdrew as we loosed another volley of arrows and then another and another, this time killing less of them as they formed a shield wall and continued to fall back. More of their comrades appeared behind them and then the shouts of their angry officers made them halt and reform their ranks.
Fortunately there appeared to be no archers with them as they shuffled forward warily and into our arrow storm as we emptied one quiver and then fell back ourselves. The leather-faced wicker shields could stop arrows easily enough but our volleys had allowed the rest of the rafts to disgorge their men without interruption, and now a thousand legionaries were rushing to the bridge as the other fifteen hundred marched forward to engage the upwards of four hundred enemy spearmen who faced them at the northern end of the quay.
The quay was wide enough to allow three centuries to stand in line – a front rank of thirty men – as the centurions blew their whistles and their men charged the enemy. There was a loud bang as the Durans slammed into their opponents and went to work with their short swords. The long spears of the enemy were brushed aside by the front ranks and then the shafts were grasped by those behind, preventing their owners thrusting them into the guts of the legionaries, as the front rank of the Durans stabbed the point of their swords at enemy flesh and herded the spearmen back.
While this was going on Thumelicus was leading the other centuries to the bridge where the sentries were quickly killed and both sides of the aged span were secured.
Arrows then hit several men at the rear of the column fighting the spearmen as the palace archers finally arrived on the scene. The cry of ‘shields, shields’ rang out as the Durans hoisted their shields above their heads for protection as the front ranks continued to grind their way forward.
My archers were grouped around me and I ordered them to shoot at the enemy archers, who were at least three hundred paces away. Thus began a desultory archery contest in the moonlight as men tried to identify targets. Domitus came running over to me.
‘Thumelicus has taken the bridge,’ he said. ‘We are herding the others back despite the archers. It won’t be long now.’
An archer near to us collapsed to the ground with an arrow in his shoulder.
‘Keep shooting,’ I shouted at the others. ‘Keep their heads down.’
The column of Durans was steadily pushing the spearmen back, hacking their ranks to pieces as they did so. Then enemy arrows stopped falling nearby as the opposition archers directed their volleys at the Duran front ranks to allow the surviving spearmen to disengage and fall back towards the palace.
The wounded were helped to the bridge where they could be cared for while Domitus reorganised his men. He allocated three centuries to shadow the retreating spearmen and left two others on the quay as a reserve for Thumelicus holding the bridge. The rest followed the archers and me as we moved into the city.
Seleucia’s inhabitants were hiding indoors as we moved from the harbour along the main street west towards the city’s main gates that were being assaulted by Marcus. We did not see a soul as a thousand legionaries and five hundred archers moved quietly through a seemingly deserted city. Ahead the cheers and shouts of my men outside the city walls continued, accompanied by the thud of missiles hitting the gates. And as we approached the latter the night sky was illuminated by a red glow – the gates were on fire.