Carrhae (22 page)

Afterwards we marched back to camp to ponder our next move. The spirits of the army were downcast as both Drenis and Kronos had been popular figures. Nergal and Praxima were similarly dejected as they had both known Drenis from our time in Italy. Our mood was not improved when Byrd and Malik rode into camp just before sunset to report that an army was on the other side of the Tigris and was heading for Seleucia.

‘Our scouts ran into its vanguard earlier,’ reported Malik as we relaxed in my tent.

‘They come from the direction of Susa,’ added Byrd.

‘Did you see any banners?’ I asked.

Malik shook his head. ‘Only horse archers who shot at us from a distance.’

‘Does Mithridates have another army?’ queried Nergal.

‘Perhaps the eastern kings have renounced Orodes and are marching to put his stepbrother back on the throne of Ctesiphon,’ added a concerned Praxima.

I tried to allay their fears. ‘The eastern kings are as weary of war as we are. In any case we would have heard something from Khosrou if the eastern kingdoms were rebelling against Orodes.’

Their stern-looking faces told me that I had failed to reassure them and in truth I too was full of doubts. Why would they plunge the empire into another civil war, especially as both the Armenians and the Romans threatened Parthia? But then, the western kingdoms, my own included, had slaughtered many of their men over the past few years. Perhaps their only desire was revenge.

‘The only way to end our doubts,’ said Domitus, ‘is to march east to meet this new army and defeat it. I suggest we all get some rest. Tomorrow might be a long day.’

With that he rose, nodded to everyone and then took his leave of us. Looking at the tired faces and puffy eyes around me I realised he was right. We had not slept for two days and I suddenly felt very tired. I yawned and stretched out my arms, wincing as pain shot through my left arm.

‘Does it hurt?’ asked Gallia.

‘No,’ I lied, though at least the wound had finally stopped bleeding.

Nergal and Praxima rose and embraced us before they too left and rode back to their camp with their escort. Gallia kissed me and withdrew to the sleeping area, leaving me alone with Scarab who was clearing the table of cups and jugs.

‘You were victorious today, highness,’ he said, flashing a row of white teeth at me.

‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘though victory was bought at a heavy price.’

He looked concerned. ‘You lost many men, highness?’

‘Our casualties were light, but among them were two men for whom I would swap all my victories to have back.’

‘They were your friends, highness?’

‘Yes, they were my friends.’

‘Perhaps you will meet them again, highness, in the next life.’

I looked at him. ‘You believe that we all go on to another life?’

He stopped his cleaning and pondered for a moment. ‘When you are a slave, highness, the only thing that gets you through each day of torment is the thought that there is a better life after this one.’

I rose from my chair and picked up my sword that was leaning against it.

‘Let us hope you are right, Scarab.’

Chapter 5

The army marched two hours after dawn. I left Marcus and his machines behind and appointed him temporary governor of Seleucia in our absence, leaving him two cohorts of Durans to back up his authority. Nergal and his horse archers had left earlier with Malik, Byrd and their scouts, crossing the Tigris and striking southeast to intercept the army that had mysteriously appeared seemingly from nowhere. Vagises then led Dura’s horse archers across the bridge over the river followed by the legions. Finally the cataphracts in their scale armour, followed by their squires, the camel train carrying spare arrows, and wagons filled with supplies crossed the bridge.

It was another glorious day and many of Seleucia’s citizens had turned out to line the streets to see the army pass through their city. The legionaries marching six abreast and the cataphracts fully encased in their armour presented a magnificent sight, griffin pennants fluttering from every
kontus
and white plumes fixed to every legionary’s helmet. It was at times like these that I realised what a formidable machine Dura’s army was and it filled me with hope that we would be able to defeat the new threat that had appeared in the east.

After leaving the city and crossing the Tigris we headed in a southeasterly direction, following the churned-up ground made by the thousands of Nergal’s riders. Three hours later the King of Mesene returned with his horsemen in the company of Byrd and Malik and I halted the army.

‘It is Phriapatius and the army of Carmania,’ said Nergal.

‘So the mystery is solved,’ I replied. ‘How many men does he bring with him?’

‘Thirty thousand, perhaps more,’ said Byrd.

‘All horsemen,’ added Malik.

We marched towards Phriapatius for another hour and then deployed into battle order, the legions in the centre and the horse archers on the wings. Nergal’s men formed our right flank and Vagises’ men deployed on the left. In between the legions and Dura’s horse archers were my cataphracts arrayed in two ranks. To give the illusion of strength the legions were deployed in two lines, while on both flanks the horse archers were drawn up in their companies side by side. In this way our battle line had a width of over five miles. The camels carrying the spare arrows were deployed immediately behind the horse archers and the wagons holding spare shields, armour, helmets and javelins were sited to the rear of the legions.

I rode with Gallia, Vagharsh and the Amazons to the centre of the line, a hundred paces in front of the legions, and there we waited for Nergal and Praxima. Gallia and Praxima were dressed for battle like the Amazons: mail shirts, helmets with closed cheekguards and full quivers slung over their shoulders. The banner of Mesene fluttered behind Nergal and Praxima as Mesene’s king halted beside me. His wife took up her position next to Gallia. The Amazons raised their bows to salute their former second-in-command, now a god in Uruk.

The stoical Vagharsh held my griffin banner behind me as ahead a group of horsemen galloped towards us, their mounts kicking up a great cloud of dust as they hurtled across the parched earth. I looked into the cloudless sky and felt a trickle of sweat run down my neck. It was going to be another hot and bloody day.

‘It would appear that Byrd and Malik have found the enemy judging by the way they are riding.’ I looked down to see Domitus standing beside Remus, vine cane in his hand.

He nodded towards the black-clad riders who suddenly veered to the right while two of their number continued to head towards us, slowing their horses as they got nearer.

‘You and your scouts didn’t fancy fighting them, then?’ shouted Domitus.

Malik raised his hand in recognition of his friend while Byrd ignored him as they both pulled up their horses in front of me.

Byrd turned in the saddle and pointed ahead. ‘Phriapatius and his army draw near.’

‘About half an hour away,’ added Malik.

‘Will you attack first or fight a defensive battle?’ Domitus asked me.

‘We are not here to fight, Domitus,’ I told him.

He looked at me wryly. ‘Has anyone told the Carmanians?’

Nergal smiled at him nervously though none of us knew what the intentions of Phriapatius were. Nestled in the southeast corner of the empire, Carmania had been untouched by the recent civil war and though its army had been forced to retreat after it had invaded Nergal’s kingdom as part of the alliance of Narses and Mithridates, Phriapatius could still muster a substantial number of soldiers. Perhaps he desired no less than the high crown itself and sought to take advantage of our difficulties with the Romans and Armenians to seize Ctesiphon and Seleucia. I smiled to myself. Soon Seleucia would be nothing but a pile of rubble if it had to endure any more assaults.

Byrd and Malik stayed with us as their scouts went to the rear of the army to rest themselves and their mounts. I saw Byrd put a hand on his lower back and rub it.

‘Are you hurt?’ I asked.

Gallia and Praxima looked at him with concern. He arched his back and then rubbed it again.

‘No. Getting old. Cannot sit in saddle for hours like I used to.’

I had never thought of Byrd as old before. In fact I had never even considered his age. He was just Byrd: ageless, withdrawn and scruffy, someone who was always there when I had need of him. But now, looking at him, I could see that the lines on his face were deeper and more numerous and it made me ponder. I had known him for nearly twenty years and they had passed in the blink of an eye.

My daydreaming was interrupted by the appearance of the Carmanians who at first resembled a thin black shimmering line on the horizon. After a few minutes the line increased in height as thousands of horsemen approached our position, and then I could make out the different troop types as they trotted forward. In the centre of their long line was a formation of cataphracts – men in scale armour wearing helmets, carrying long lances and riding horses that wore half-armour covering their bodies but not their necks or heads.

Either side of these heavy horsemen were dense blocks of mounted spearmen, soldiers armed with lances and carrying large round shields painted red on their left sides. They were equipped with helmets but wore no armour on their legs or arms. They were probably wearing some sort of body armour – leather most likely – though I could not tell at this range. On the wings Phriapatius had placed his horse archers to match our own mounted bowmen.

The Carmanians halted around five hundred paces in front of us and after a tense few minutes in which neither side made any movement a solitary rider emerged from where Phriapatius was mounted on his horse in front of his banner: a huge golden peacock on a red background. The horseman galloped towards us as an officer of my cataphracts similarly left his position to meet him. This was standard protocol and indicated that Phriapatius wished to talk, which was a good sign at least.

The riders halted before each other in the middle of the space between the two armies, and following the briefest of discourses my officer returned to state that Phriapatius wished to talk with me.

‘How many in his party?’ I asked.

‘Four, majesty, including the king.’

I turned to Nergal. ‘I would consider it an honour if you and Praxima would accompany me,’ then I laid a hand on Gallia’s arm. ‘You too.’

We nudged our horses forward and walked them slowly into no-man’s land, our hands clutching our reins and well away from our sword hilts. There was little danger of violence between us but such gestures showed good faith when meeting with potential enemies. I looked behind me to see the lone figure of Domitus, white crest atop his helmet, standing a hundred paces beyond the front rank of the Durans. I felt a pang of sorrow when I looked across at the Exiles where there was no Kronos present.

‘I will find you, Mithridates,’ I heard myself say, ‘and you will pay for all your crimes.’

‘What?’ Gallia was looking at me quizzically.

‘Nothing.’

We brought our horses to a halt ten paces from Phriapatius’ party. He looked much the same as the last time I had met him at the Tigris where he had professed his reluctance at being part of the alliance forged by Narses and Mithridates. Now Narses was dead and Mithridates a fugitive. Their alliance was smashed, which begged the question: now neighbouring Persis and Sakastan no longer threatened Carmania, what action was Phriapatius taking?

Not a particularly imposing figure, the King of Carmania was of medium height with broad shoulders, a thick black beard and a large nose. Like many of the people who inhabited the lands near the Arabian Sea his skin and eyes were a dark brown. He regarded me with those eyes before his mouth broke into a broad grin.

‘We got here as fast as we could,’ he said. ‘As lord high general I thought you might appreciate some assistance.’

I have to confess that relief swept through me. ‘You are most welcome, lord. But I made no demand on your presence in these parts.’

‘When I heard that Mithridates had returned to haunt Parthia I suspected that you might need all the help you could muster, especially with the Romans and Armenians threatening the empire as well.’

‘You thought right,’ I answered.

Phriapatius spread his arms wide. ‘But I am forgetting my manners.’ He bowed his head to Nergal and Praxima. ‘I am pleased that we are meeting under happier circumstances and would welcome closer relations between the Kingdoms of Carmania and Mesene.’

This was an interesting moment as the last time Nergal and Praxima had met with Phriapatius had been after they had chased him and his army out of Mesene and back across the Tigris. He had invaded their kingdom and for an anxious moment I thought that Nergal might throw his peaceful overtures back in his face.

Nergal nodded at Phriapatius. ‘We would like that also.’

Phriapatius looked relieved and grinned once more. He held out a hand to the two younger men sitting behind him. Like him they were dressed in open-faced bronze helmets, short-sleeved silver scale armour cuirasses with sculptured bronze plates bearing peacock motifs on their shoulders, red silk shirts and expensive red boots on their feet. They had been present at our previous meeting.

‘These are my sons,’ said Phriapatius, ‘Phanes and Peroz.’ He looked at the fourth member of his party, an older man in a simple iron scale-armour cuirass with a rather battered helmet on his head. Grey hair showed beneath his headdress but his eyes were clear and alert.

‘And this is Lord Nazir, the commander of my army.’

Nazir gave the slightest nod but his eyes never left Gallia, whose identity was as yet unknown to the Carmanians. Phriapatius also looked curiously at the helmeted figure of my wife.

‘Lord king,’ I said, ‘you are already acquainted with me and the rulers of Mesene, but may I introduce my wife, Queen Gallia of Dura?’

Gallia removed her helmet and bowed her head at a clearly delighted Phriapatius. ‘So, at long last I meet Dura’s warrior queen whose name and fame has spread to the furthest extent of the empire and beyond. I am delighted to make your acquaintance, lady.’