by Peter Darman
The commander directed his horse forward a few yards and then wheeled it right to advance towards the enemy warriors, several of whom had dropped their leggings to take a piss in our direction, to the great amusement of their comrades. The commander cantered forward and then broke into a gallop as he swung his mount to the right again so he could ride from left to right across the front of the enemy formation. His and his men’s arrival was greeted with jeers and whistles from the enemy. Until he and they swung left in the saddle, pulled back their bowstrings and shot their arrows.
A Parthian recurve bow is so called because the central part of the limbs curve towards the archer while the tips of the limbs curve away from him. This shape gives more power to the arrow when it was released. And had the enemy been more attentive they would have noted that the bows equipping the horsemen riding across their front at a distance of just over fifty paces were short, had a setback centre section and had limbs that were thick in proportion to their width. The Sakastanis must have thought that we too were engaging in insults and taunting, until the archers released their bowstrings.
The whoosh of the arrows as they were shot was drowned out by the jeers of the enemy. But the high-pitched screams of men being struck by three-winged bronze arrowheads were clear enough above the din. The riders took their time shooting to conserve ammunition, letting loose only three arrows each before they wheeled right to take them back to their starting positions. But every arrow found its mark, some going through shields to strike unarmoured torsos and necks. Half the company had killed or wounded a hundred and fifty men by the time its second rank began its assault. Like their comrades the riders galloped across the enemy’s front, shooting arrows as they did so and keeping out of range of any spears that were hurled at them. The Sakastanis’ bravado had evaporated as they huddled together to present a wall of shields and levelled spears to my horsemen. But all this did was to make it easier for the archers to kill more of them, closely packed as they were and having useless headgear and no armour protection. The second rank likewise killed at least a hundred and fifty more of the enemy.
Three hundred Sakastanis had been killed or wounded for no losses.
The company made another attack, again raking the enemy formation with arrows that felled over two hundred more of the enemy. Each horse archer had now shot six arrows and I was considering letting them make a third assault when suddenly hundreds more soldiers appeared from the canal, and more importantly from near the city walls. This indicated that I had managed to draw the enemy away from where the fighting was taking place with the defenders. Perhaps the entire enemy army had been diverted to deal with my presence. I was feeling very happy with myself and was pondering whether to commit the whole dragon when the officer of the company that had been attacking the Sakastanis galloped up.
‘Enemy archers massing, majesty.’
I peered into the haze that was thickening as a result of the dust kicked up by our horses.
‘Where?’
He turned and pointed to the left of the Sakastanis where I could make out groups of individuals in the dusty dimness.
‘They are also from Sakastan, majesty. I recognise them from when we defeated Porus.’
I remembered too. Porus’ archers were equipped with long bamboo bows the height of a man, which required one end to be anchored on firm ground before they could be shot. But if they managed to release a volley their missiles would hit my horsemen easily. We had but moments to act.
‘Sound retreat,’ I ordered.
The officer saluted and galloped back to his men, his signaller blowing his horn to indicate an immediate withdrawal.
I turned to the officers of the other company commanders behind me. ‘You will also withdraw your companies immediately.’
They too saluted and rode back to their men.
‘Time to go, Vagharsh,’ I said, wheeling Remus around and digging my knees into his sides. He grunted and raced forward, his hooves churning up the dry surface as he did so. I turned and looked at the rapidly fading mass of archers grouping in front of the canal, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for the arrow storm to engulf us.
If the enemy loosed a volley I did not see it as Vagharsh and I brought up the rear of the fleeing horse archers. They reined their horses to a halt when they ran into Gallia and her Amazons, the advance guard of the rest of the army. Her face was streaked with sweat when she removed her helmet to speak to me a few moments later.
‘Running away, Pacorus?’ she grinned.
‘A tactical withdrawal, my sweet.’
I looked past her to see a long line of white shields sporting red wings.
‘I hope we have enough men,’ I said.
‘And women,’ she added.
We rode to where Domitus was marching alone before his front rank of legionaries, vine cane in hand and appearing as nonchalant as he would be on a morning stroll in Dura. He raised his cane to signal a halt as we approached. I jumped down from the saddle.
‘The garrison is still fighting and I have managed to draw the enemy from their boats onto land to the north of the canal. That’s the good news.’
He took off his helmet, pulled a cloth that was tucked in his belt and used it to wipe his sweat-covered brow.
‘And the bad news?’
‘It would appear that we are heavily outnumbered.’
He gave Gallia a crooked smile. ‘We are always outnumbered.’
‘They have archers,’ I informed him, ‘so when you advance make sure your men are in testudo formation.’
I looked at the two thousand legionaries and the horse archers that were deploying on their flanks. I was concerned by our lack of numbers.
‘I hope our numbers are enough.’
‘We have enough,’ growled Domitus. ‘You should remember that the steel that runs through the veins of my boys is far more important that the steel they hold in their fists. And like a fist we will smash straight through them.’
Chapter 3
The dust haze still hung in the air as the cohorts made their way towards the canal, which was around five hundred yards away. The legionaries dumped their furcas and went into all-round defence mode, those in the front ranks forming a shield wall and those behind lifting their shields above their heads to create a roof of wood and leather. Domitus had grabbed a spare shield and stood in the centre of the battle line, which was composed of twenty-five centuries in a single line. Each century was composed of eighty men in eight ranks, each rank containing ten men. It was a thin line that had a frontage of around three hundred yards. But there was a substantial reserve – two thousand horse archers – because I could not commit the horsemen until the location and strength of the enemy’s bowmen had been determined.
Byrd and Malik wanted to take the scouts forward but I forbade it.
‘I do not wish to lose two friends and all my scouts,’ I told them, ‘so you and they will remain with me.’
We were advancing at a slow walking pace, which at least gave the horses some respite, the legionaries shuffling forward under the cover of their shields. An unnerving quiet had descended over the battlefield, which at least indicated that the fighting where the canal entered the city had halted. The archers on the towers would be able to see our presence by now, which would hopefully raise the garrison’s morale. I stared ahead and realised that at least the haze was diminishing now that the horses were no longer kicking up dust. The view was not reassuring.
The enemy mass had lengthened to not only match the frontage of Domitus’ men but also outflank them substantially. In the centre was a line of helmets, spear points and large round shields – the soldiers of Charax.
‘Stay here,’ I said to Gallia, Byrd and Malik as I urged Remus forward.
Vagharsh followed but I turned and shouted to him.
‘You too, I need to talk to Domitus.’
I galloped forward to the rear of the giant testudo as it inched its way towards the enemy. I jumped from the
saddle and handed the reins to a startled legionary in the rearmost rank.
‘Hold these,’ I said and then pushed my way through the century.
‘Mind where your tread, bloody idiot and get out of my way’ were but a few of the insults I had to endure from burly, gruff soldiers whose minds were focused on the coming fight and had no time for their king at this time. I stooped low and shoved my way through the ranks. I recognised a transverse crest in front of me.
‘Domitus,’ I hissed.
‘What in the name of Mars are you doing here?’
I stood immediately behind him. ‘Those soldiers in front are from Charax. You remember us talking about them? They probably fight in the old Greek style. You remember the tactics from the Sons of the Citadel?’
‘Of course,’ he snapped. ‘Now get back to your horse boys and make sure no one turns our flanks.’
‘Shamash be with you,’ I said to him as I turned and endured more insults as I made my way to the rear of the century. As I took Remus’ reins and vaulted into the saddle I heard Domitus shouting to his centurions, alerting them to the tactics of the enemy and to spread the word to the other centuries.
I galloped back to my queen and scouts as a loud whooshing sound erupted behind me. Gallia gave the order to stop as I brought Remus to a halt in a cloud of dust and turned him to face south. Just in time to see the sky filled with thousands of black arrows arching into the blue sky. The legionaries halted as the missiles fell out of the sky and struck their shields.
There followed a second volley and once again the Durans and Exiles sheltered beneath their shields – three layers of wood glued together with the grain of the wood at right angles to the preceding layer, faced with thick leather. The shields were locked tight above and facing the enemy because arrows had a nasty habit of finding any gaps to strike bodies. And so the centuries stood, immobile, as the soldiers of King Tiraios marched across the bone-hard surface towards them.
Know your enemy was a phrase that was heard often enough in the classrooms where the Sons of the Citadel were instructed. These were the best and brightest officers of Dura’s army, men earmarked for future high command. I had hired Parthian, Greek and Egyptian scholars, Chinese philosophers and Roman engineers. I had originally envisaged the school as a place where boys would be tutored to become Dura’s future military leaders. But once established it became apparent that the army’s best serving officers would also benefit from the school’s pool of hired wisdom. And so it was.
The best commanders among the legions, horse archers and cataphracts soon learned of the tactics, composition and capabilities of every kingdom in the Parthian Empire, as well as those of our greatest foe: Rome. This meant that no matter what adversary Dura’s army faced its leaders would be well acquainted with the enemy it was about to fight. And today was no different.
Alexander of Macedon, the demi-god who had conquered the world, had founded Charax. But that had been two hundred and sixty years ago and since that time the city had been destroyed by floods, rebuilt and seen its status greatly reduced. Today it was a trading centre and something of a backwater. Its kings were more concerned with commerce and the price of precious metals from the east than with wars and conquest. How easy it must have been for Narses to bribe and flatter Tiraios to make him a pawn in his plans. Just as the King of Persis had dangled the prospect of glory and riches in front of Chosroes, so he had no doubt convinced the King of Charax that Mesene would be easy to conquer, the more so with thousands of warriors from Sakastan to reinforce Charax’s army.
That army now marched confidently towards Domitus’ men. Curiously, though Alexander of Macedon had founded Charax, its army was equipped and organised in an older Greek style. Not only had Charax not waged a war in decades but also its location made huge phalanxes equipped with the eighteen foot-long sarissa unworkable. Where could such a formation deploy outside a city surrounded by fields, palm groves and marshland? Instead the primary weapon of the Charaxian soldier was an eight-foot stabbing spear with a leaf-shaped blade at one end and a vicious counter-balance spike at the other end called a ‘lizard sticker’. Tiraios’ men fought in a phalanx, eight ranks deep instead of sixteen favoured by Alexander and his father, the first three of which held their spears overhead to strike downwards. The following five ranks held their spears at an angle of forty-five degrees. The city had adapted the tactics of its army to suit the terrain it was expected to fight in. But we knew how it fought.
As the enemy phalanx approached I heard melodious music coming from its ranks. Like Greek armies of old the Charaxian advance was accompanied by flutes, drums and horns, the music designed to both inspire their own men and strike fear into their enemies.
It was an impressive sight: a great phalanx nearly equal to the frontage of Domitus’ centuries advancing as one, each phalangist protect by hardened leather greaves, leather cuirass and bronze helmets. The latter covered the head and most of the neck and had cheek pieces and nose guards that swept forward to such a degree that they nearly met in the centre of the face. The eyes, nose and mouth of its wearer were virtually enclosed. Charaxian helmets also had white crests on top, which not only provided defence against falling spears and blows to the top of the head, but also made the wearer taller and more fearsome. But such a helmet was uncomfortable and impaired the vision and hearing of its wearer.
As well as protecting an individual from the neck to above the knees, a Charaxian shield also facilitated mutual protection in the phalanx. Around three feet in diameter, they were made of wood and faced with leather, both inside and out. Bowl shaped, they were held with the left arm placed through a central band gripped via a leather strap attached to the shield’s rim. Every shield was painted red and emblazoned with two white wings in honour of the Goddess Nike.
The enemy phalanx walked forward accompanied by its musicians as whistles and trumpets blew among the legionaries and the testudo dissolved. Those who had been wounded by arrows were assisted to the rear to be treated by physicians. I thanked Shamash that there appeared to be few casualties. Then the centuries advanced. Tiraios had subjected Domitus’ men to volleys of arrows to soften them up and now he intended to smash them to pieces using his heavy foot. It was a sensible if predictable tactic but he entirely misunderstood the enemy he was facing. His men fought in a relatively loose formation whereas Dura’s foot fought in more compact bodies, but as both sides closed on each other the Charaxians encountered a nasty surprise.
As both sides broke into a run when they charged each other a volley of javelins came from the ranks of the legionaries. The Romans called a javelin a pilum and it was nothing more than a four-foot shaft of ash topped by a solid triangle of wood, onto which was riveted a thin iron shaft around two and half feet in length that ended in a tiny triangular tip. On impact the iron usually bends, which makes pulling it out of a shield much harder. In fact a javelin stuck in an enemy shield renders the latter useless. But more than this; a volley of javelins destroys the impetus of an enemy charge.
It was so now as the first two ranks in every century hurled their javelins as the two sides closed on each other. Five hundred javelins lanced through the air to land among the front ranks of the enemy phalanx. The first two ranks in each century then pulled their swords from their scabbards as the third and fourth ranks also launched their javelins over their heads towards the now disorganised front ranks of the phalangists – another five hundred iron-tipped missiles embedded themselves in Charaxian shields. And then each legionary went to work with his gladius.
Actually that was incorrect. Each first rank legionary barged into the enemy with his body weight behind his shield. This either knocked a phalangist to the ground where he could be finished off by the second-rank legionaries, or shoved him rearwards into his comrades behind. Either way the phalanx was stopped dead in its tracks and its discomfited members had no time to reorganise themselves after the javelin storm before the legionaries were among them.
I gave a shout of triumph. ‘Now we will see the mettle of these Charaxians.’
‘What about them?’ asked Byrd, pointing at the soldiers of Sakastan standing motionless in two huge blocks, a great gap between them where the Charaxian phalanx had been before it advanced. Towards the rear were the archers, redundant now that the phalanx and the legionaries were locked in combat.
‘They will attack soon, Pacorus,’ Malik warned me.
He was right but I was worried about what the enemy archers would do. If they advanced then I would not be able to deploy my horse archers against the Sakastanis without incurring heavy losses. I was desperately trying to decide what to do when the two formations of enemy spearmen and swordsmen from Sakastan made up my mind for me.
There was a great blast of horns that temporarily drowned out the clatter of combat coming from the centre of the battlefield as the two enemy flanks charged. They moved quickly, breaking into a run almost immediately, fracturing their ragged formation as groups of warriors raced forward. This Tiraios was clever. He knew that his own soldiers were the best troops he had and had committed them against my foot soldiers. But he also knew that if the less disciplined, armed and equipped Sakastanis could sweep around the flanks of my foot soldiers then they could tip the battle’s balance in his favour. The dragon of horse archers that Gallia had led south was positioned to the right rear of Domitus’ men, the dragon that I commanded being positioned on the left, parallel to the one on the right.
‘Gallia,’ I said, ‘take your dragon and stop those enemy warriors threatening Domitus’ right flank. I will do the same on the left.’
She nodded and shouted at Epona to move forward. Seconds later she and Amazons were galloping over to the waiting companies of horse archers.