Carrhae (5 page)

I turned and signalled to the commander of the six companies of Duran horse archers who were grouped immediately behind me.

‘We go to aid Lord Vagises, follow me with your men.’

He saluted and rode back to his companies as Malik’s bodyguard – a hundred black-clad warriors – closed around him.

‘I am coming with you, Pacorus.’

I smiled at him. ‘It would be an honour, my friend.’

‘Are we going or not?’ grumbled Vagharsh as his horse scraped impatiently at the earth.

‘I would ask you to be patient a little longer, lord king,’ I said to Haytham, ‘and the day will be yours.’

He raised his hand as I bellowed at Remus to move. He reared up on his hind legs and bolted forward as I headed for the left flank, followed by Vagharsh, Malik, a hundred Agraci warriors and six hundred horse archers. In front of us Vagises had withdrawn in the face of the Roman onslaught, enticing their horsemen forward in expectation of an easy victory against the lightly armed horse archers they faced. The Romans, maintaining a tight, disciplined formation, were charging now, their large, tan-coloured shields tight to their left sides and their spears levelled. I pulled my bow from its case and then extracted an arrow from my quiver as we rode across the front of the densely packed ranks of Haytham’s warriors towards the Romans. The Agraci cheered us as we passed, though they were probably acclaiming their prince who was accompanying us rather than me or my men.

I nocked the arrow in the bowstring and leaned forward in the saddle as Remus thundered across the ground made bone-dry by a merciless sun. The Romans were cheering now as they chased Vagises’ apparently fleeing horsemen. Signallers in the horse archers accompanying me blew their horns to indicate the charge as we broke into a fast gallop.

We were closing on the left rear of the Roman formation as I released my first arrow and reached into my quiver to nock another. Behind me six companies of horse archers deployed into line as their members released arrow after arrow at the Romans, tearing gaps in their ranks as the missiles struck animals and riders, the bronze arrowheads piercing flesh and smashing bones. Above me the air was thick with shafts as six hundred men loosed around three and half thousand arrows a minute at the enemy.

The Romans in the rear ranks, thinned by my archers, halted and desperately tried to reform to meet the new threat. But stationary targets meant my men could now aim more accurately as the companies slowed their pace and then wheeled right so they could ride parallel to the Roman line, raking them with arrows as they did so. And then Vagises’ men began their own shooting, at first releasing their bowstrings over the hindquarters of their horses and then halting to about-face to shoot volley after volley so the front ranks of the Romans literally rode into a wall of arrows. This first halted them and then forced them back as saddles were emptied and horses were struck multiple times by missiles.

We kept our distance from the Roman horsemen as they were armed with spears and shields and to fight them at close quarters would be to invite our destruction. Our advantage lay in archery from a safe distance, using the power and range of our bows to shoot them to pieces. The Roman commander also realised this for I heard trumpet blasts and then saw the horsemen change direction.

Their discipline was magnificent as they about-faced as on the parade ground and withdrew to the safety of their own lines. I saw a figure on a brown horse, a man sitting tall in the saddle, his stature increased by a great red crest in his helmet. He remained at the rear of his horsemen so all could see that he did not fear us. He was undoubtedly their commander.

I dug my knees into Remus’ sides and he shot forward to pursue the fleeing Romans, Vagharsh, Malik and his warriors immediately behind me. The Roman with the great crest saw us and about-faced to meet us, a sword in his hand and a shield held close to his body. The rearmost company of his men – a hundred riders – likewise turned and closed up on their leader. I slipped my bow back in its case and drew my sword as the two groups of riders collided. Like their Roman opponents Malik’s men were equipped with spears and shields in addition to their swords and there was a rapid succession of dull thuds as spearmen tried to drive their points into an opponent’s torso, only to see their lances either miss their target or glance off a shield.

I swung my sword at the Roman commander’s head but he saw my weapon and met the blade with his own, then used his own sword to chop at my head and strike at my body, blows that I parried with difficulty. Whoever he was this Roman knew how to use a sword. I tried to thrust my
spatha
at his mail-covered chest but he brought his shield in front of him to block the strike, before trying to lop off my head with a great scything attack with his own blade. I instinctively leaned back in the saddle and his blade missed my flesh by a hair’s breadth. As our horses did their own intricate dances around each other we continued to hack and thrust with our swords, but he countered every strike I made, seemingly without effort, while I had difficulty in fending off his expert sword strokes. Perhaps it would be better to kill him with an arrow!

I pulled Remus back a few feet and then Malik was at my side, pointing his bloodied sword at my opponent.

‘Time to die, Roman. You are alone and surrounded.’

I looked around and saw that he was indeed the only Roman in the immediate vicinity. Behind him, on each side and to his front was a host of Agraci warriors in their saddles with their spears pointed at him. And beside Malik was Vagises, whose horsemen must have either killed or chased away the remaining Romans. As more and more Agraci and Parthian riders gathered round the Roman rested his sword on his right shoulder, his shield still tucked tight to his left side, seemingly unconcerned that he was surrounded by many enemy soldiers intent on killing him.

‘Are you hurt, Pacorus?’ asked Malik with concern.

I shook my head, rivulets of sweat running down my face for it was still very warm.

‘No, my pride is a little dented, that is all.’

The Roman sheathed his sword and slowly removed his helmet to reveal a round face topped by thick curly hair, a square, clean-shaven jaw and a large forehead. He also had a thickset neck. I estimated him to be in his mid-twenties.

‘So you are King Pacorus of Dura. I have heard much about you,’ he said to me in Greek.

His stare was determined, his voice firm.

‘Kill him,’ commanded Malik.

‘Stop,’ I shouted as a dozen Agraci prepared to skewer the Roman with their spears. Malik turned to me with a quizzical expression on his face.

‘My apologies, Malik, but he appears to know me and I would know his identity before you kill him.’

‘You are a famous warlord, Pacorus, it should not surprise you that many have heard of your name.’

‘Indeed you are,’ said the Roman in Agraci. Whoever he was he clearly had knowledge of languages as well as the arts of war. I must confess that I was becoming more intrigued by this individual by the minute.

I turned to Vagises. ‘What is the situation?’

‘We have pushed back the Roman horsemen. I sent five companies to shadow them to ensure they do not return.’

‘Your men are well trained,’ said the Roman, now speaking in Parthian.

‘We’ve had a lot of practice killing Romans,’ sneered Vagises.

Malik smiled. ‘Are you afraid, Roman?’

‘Everyone dies, Prince Malik, therefore it would be foolish and a waste of time to fear that which is inevitable.’

‘As you appear to know all of our identities,’ I said, ‘it would be courteous if you could at least furnish us with your name.’

He smiled. ‘I am
Praefectus Alae
Mark Antony, deputy commander of the army of Syria.’

The deputy commander of the Roman Army in the east was worth more alive than dead and would command a large ransom, in addition to being a useful bargaining tool in any discussions with the enemy.

‘I think this Roman should be kept alive,’ I whispered to Malik, ‘at least for the time being.’

He looked most unhappy but allowed logic to suppress his bloodlust, slamming his sword back in its scabbard. He pointed at Mark Antony.

‘You are to be taken to my father, the king, who may not be as merciful as his son.’

So our prisoner rode between Malik and myself as we trotted back to the centre of the Agraci battle line, past thousands of Agraci warriors as once more Vagises’ horse archers formed up on the left wing to face what was left of the Roman horsemen. When we arrived at the spot where Haytham’s great black banner hung limply from its flag staff with his lords gathered behind it, we also found Gallia and a grinning Spandarat. Both of them were covered in dust but as far as I could tell there was not a scratch on either of them. As we halted Haytham’s stare settled on the bold figure of Mark Antony.

‘A gift for you, father,’ announced Malik, holding out his arm towards the Roman captive. ‘This is the deputy commander of the Roman army.’

‘Has Agraci custom changed, lord king?’ asked one of Haytham lords. ‘Do we now take prisoners?’

‘Silence!’ barked Haytham, before looking at his son. ‘We do not treat with invaders, Malik, you have made a mistake.’

‘The mistake was mine, lord king,’ I said. ‘I thought you might have a use for such a high-ranking prisoner.’

Haytham nudged his horse forward to take a closer look at this Mark Antony. The latter still maintained an air of calm but averted Haytham’s eyes. He had obviously heard of the king’s ruthlessness and his indifference to suffering. Haytham rode slowly round the captive.

‘Queen Gallia has destroyed the enemy horsemen on their left wing, Pacorus.’ He was talking to me but staring unblinking at Mark Antony. ‘There were thousands of Emesian horsemen and now there are none, is that not so, Gallia?’

‘It is as you say, lord king,’ replied Gallia with pride. I smiled at her.

Haytham continued to circle the prisoner, who was now looking decidedly perturbed. ‘The Romans and their allies think the peoples who inhabit these parts are weak and can be crushed and enslaved with ease. Imagine what they will say when they learn that a woman has beaten them. What will they say in Rome, Roman?’

Haytham halted his horse directly in front of Mark Antony.

‘Rome will be disturbed to hear of such a thing, lord king,’ Antony replied. ‘Tinged with admiration.’ He glanced at Gallia who still wore her helmet, its cheekguards fastened shut. ‘For Queen Gallia’s name is known throughout the world.’

‘What use can I have for this Roman, Pacorus?’ Haytham asked me.

‘To ransom him for a great sum, lord king,’ I answered, ‘for the proconsul of Syria will give you much gold for his safe return.’

‘I have enough gold,’ snarled Haytham. ‘Gallia, it is for you to decide this Roman’s fate.’

Haytham wheeled his horse around and returned to the head of his lords. Mark Antony looked at the mail-clad figure of my wife whose face was still hidden by her helmet’s cheekguards. I looked at Malik who smiled maliciously. He knew as well as me that Gallia hated the Romans and would probably kill him herself.

‘That’s you done for,’ remarked Spandarat to Mark Antony casually as Gallia slowly pulled her bow from its hide case behind her. I made to protest but Malik laid a hand on my arm.

‘No, Pacorus. His life is Gallia’s now.’

A sudden commotion in the rear interrupted her role as Haytham’s executioner as a group of Agraci riders came through the ranks to present themselves to their king. After they had halted I saw that half a dozen had been escorting one man, who now dismounted, pulled aside his black face veil and went down on his knees before Haytham.

‘Princess Rasha has been captured by the enemy, majesty.’

There was a murmur from behind and the king spun in his saddle.

‘Silence!’

He looked down at the prostrate figure before him. ‘Get up.’

The man slowly rose to his feet as I thought of the ramifications of what he had said. If Rasha had been captured then that could only mean that the other Roman legion had captured Palmyra. I closed my eyes and thought of Byrd and Noora. Had they been taken, too, or were their corpses lying on the earth?

‘Have the Romans taken Palmyra?’ asked Haytham.

‘No majesty,’ replied the man. He glanced at me. ‘After King Pacorus left Palmyra the princess insisted that we, that is she and her bodyguard, follow the king and that is what we did. We stayed hidden and then joined the riders that Dura’s lords brought with them. The princess joined the charge against the Emesians but became separated from us at the height of the battle.’

‘Is she dead?’ asked Haytham without emotion.

‘No, majesty. I saw her being led away by a group of their horsemen. As far as I know she is still alive.’

‘And the rest of her bodyguard?’

The man cast down his eyes. ‘All dead, majesty,’ he replied softly.

Haytham pulled on his horse’s reins to wheel him left, and in a lightning-fast movement drew his sword and slashed it across the man’s neck. Blood sheeted in all directions as the man clutched his neck and then fell to the ground, gurgling for a few seconds and then falling silent as his lifeless corpse lay on its back, blood oozing onto the parched ground.

‘We attack the enemy at once,’ Haytham shouted to great cheers from his lords.

I looked across the corpse-strewn no-man’s land that separated the two armies and saw the unbroken line of shields of the Roman legion directly opposite, and then squinted before making out horsemen deployed on its right. Granted there were no longer any horsemen on the enemy’s left wing but next to the legion there was still a large phalanx of Emesian spearmen and no doubt many slingers and archers standing among the enemy’s ranks. To charge an unbroken army of enemy foot was to invite disaster.

‘Lord king,’ I shouted to Haytham.

Haytham turned his horse to face me. ‘What?’

‘We can get Rasha back without the spilling of any more Agraci blood.’

‘Did you bring your sorceress, Pacorus, so she could weave a spell to return my daughter to me?’