by Peter Darman
‘I would ask you to safeguard my wife, lord prince,’ I said to Malik.
His face broke into a grin. ‘Have no fear, my friend, I will see to it.’
‘I too,’ said Byrd, who raised a hand to me and then followed Malik in the wake of the Amazons.
I dug my knees into Remus and he shot forward towards the waiting companies on the left flank. They were already nocking arrows in their bowstrings in anticipation of combat, for they knew that the horde of warriors charging towards them had to be stopped. I thanked Shamash that the speed of their advance would negate the enemy’s archers from delivering any supporting volleys.
The commanders of the companies came forward as a red and yellow tide surged towards us from the south.
‘First five companies will assault them head-on,’ I ordered. ‘The second-line companies will strike their flank. Shamash be with you.’
They saluted and galloped back to their men. I urged Remus forward as the signallers behind me blew their horns and a thousand horsemen moved forward. The first-line companies, each one in two ranks as before, broke into a canter and then a slow gallop as they advanced towards the oncoming warriors. As the middle company caught up with me I could see that the enemy numbered thousands. I nocked an arrow in my bowstring and aimed the arrow up at the sky. I released the bowstring and plucked another arrow from my quiver as those beside and behind me did the same. The company, like the others, was widely spaced for we had no intention of charging into the oncoming mob. The distance between it and us was around four hundred paces and diminishing fast as we shot two more volleys. Just as they had done on the training field as soon as the horns sounded we turned our horses left and left again, to take us away from the oncoming mass. We twisted in the saddle to shoot a volley over the hindquarters of our horses as we retreated before the Sakastanis.
The enemy’s charge had been slowed but not stopped by our volleys but its impetus was greatly curtailed when the other companies of horse archers struck it in the flank.
The five companies that had been in the second line turned left and rode away from the army before swinging right to head towards the canal. They galloped hard and then turned completely around so they were riding parallel to the right flank of the charging enemy warriors. They then proceeded to rake them with arrows from a distance of around two hundred paces. Close enough to ensure that their arrows found their targets; far enough away to safeguard against being hit by the missiles being shot by their comrades in the first-line companies.
In a matter of minutes each horse archer had emptied one of his quivers – nearly thirty thousand arrows shot at the enemy. Not all of them had hit an enemy warrior, especially as the horses had once again kicked up a prodigious amount of dust that reduced visibility. But it destroyed the momentum of the enemy’s charge.
After retreating three or four hundred paces we turned our horses and rode back south once again, this time at a canter. The dust was everywhere, stinging our eyes and getting into our noses.
‘Halt!’ I shouted.
The last thing we needed was to blunder into the enemy unawares. Spears and swords could inflict terrible injuries on horse bellies and legs. The sounds of battle could still be heard to the right where the centuries were locked in a ferocious battle with the phalanx but ahead there were only muffled sounds of shouts, screams and shrieks. Suddenly figures on foot appeared ahead, two hundred paces away perhaps. One, two, a dozen, fifty.
‘Shoot them down,’ I shouted.
Seconds later there was a succession of whooshes as my archers began shooting. Sitting stationary in the saddle they were not only able to shoot up to six arrows a minute, they could also do so with deadly accuracy. The companies deployed in one long line of two ranks, the first ranks shooting their bows as they emptied a second quiver. The enemy’s leaders desperately tried to rally their men and several led them forward in an attempt to disperse us. But we emptied our third quivers and littered the ground with heaps of the dead and dying.
‘Second rank to move forward,’ I ordered.
The signallers blew their horns and the second rank walked their horses forward through the first rank, now out of ammunition. The haze once again subsided as the five companies that had been raking the right flank of the enemy returned and deployed behind the five companies I commanded, which were still walking their horses forward. The officers came to me and reported that they and their men had empty quivers.
‘Your men have no arrow left?’ I queried.
They shook their heads.
‘There were many enemy soldiers, majesty,’ said one.
‘We reaped a rich harvest,’ added another.
I dismissed them and rode forward to where those horse archers still possessing ammunition were busy felling enemy warriors. I gave the order for them to halt their shooting immediately. As the dust settled I could see the enemy falling back, many tripping over the bodies of their dead comrades that had been felled by our arrows. On the right the chant of ‘Dura, Dura,’ could now be heard and I smiled. Domitus had broken the enemy’s resistance. But what was happening on the right flank?
The arrival of an agitated horse archers pushed that subject temporarily to the back of my mind.
‘My commander sends his greetings, majesty,’ he babbled hurriedly, ‘but begs to report that soldiers of Chosroes are approaching from the left.’
He turned and began pointing frantically towards the city walls.
‘Calm down,’ I told him. ‘Your commander is obviously wrong. Chosroes is dead.’
He began shaking his head liked a demented person.
‘No, majesty,’ he insisted, ‘the enemy have black vipers painted on their shields.’
‘Perhaps Chosroes has returned from the underworld to haunt you,’ suggested Vagharsh, ‘bringing with him an army of demons.’
‘If he has,’ I replied, ‘then you will join me in facing them, Vagharsh. Follow me.’
I shoved my bow back in its case and drew my sword.
‘Keep pressing the enemy,’ I told the company commanders. ‘Above all guard General Domitus’ left flank.’
The legionaries were now moving forward inexorably, hacking the Charaxians to pieces and pushing their rear ranks back towards the canal. I rode over to where the company on the extreme left of my horse archers was apparently keeping watch on King Chosroes, newly returned from the dead. The excitable archer accompanied me and Vagharsh as I saw with my own eyes what appeared to be a small phalanx of spearmen marching across the company’s front, perhaps three hundred paces away. I brought Remus to a halt in front of the company commander, a thin man with dark-brown skin and a black beard. He bowed his head.
‘I was at Uruk when we stormed the city, majesty,’ he told me in a low voice, ‘and I remember what Chosroes’ palace guards looked like.’
He pointed at the newly arrived phalanx of spearmen. ‘They looked like them.’
I nudged Remus forward so I could take a closer look at these devils from hell.
‘Careful, Pacorus,’ said Vagharsh.
‘It may have escaped your notice Vagharsh,’ I called back to him, ‘but they appear to be marching across our front and are ignoring us.’
The battle appeared to be going in our favour, notwithstanding that most of my ten companies of horse archers had used up all their ammunition. The warriors of Sakastan had been cut to pieces by volleys of arrows and were falling back, pursued by those horse archers that did have missiles. And in the centre Domitus’ men were pushing back the Charaxians, albeit slowly in a vicious battle of attrition. Only two questions remained unanswered: where were the enemy archers and how was Gallia faring on the right wing?
I rode to within two hundred paces of the ghost phalanx that was still marching across our front. I slowed Remus and saw that its men were indeed attired and armed in the fashion of Chosroes’ palace guards. They wore bronze helmets, red tunics under cuirasses of overlapping bronze scales and carried large round shiel
ds faced with bronze and sporting a black viper motif. They were armed with spears that had leaf-shaped blades, the front rank holding their lances levelled, the ranks behind carrying theirs at an angle of forty-five degrees. I counted ten ranks but could not ascertain the number of files. At a guess I estimated their numbers at three hundred.
Vagharsh pulled up his horse beside me as the soldiers wearing the colours of an enemy pointed their spears towards us and began cheering.
‘Well,’ said Vagharsh, ‘either Chosroes has returned from the dead a changed man or they are not demons from the underworld.’
The phalanx continued to march until it was a hundred paces from the remnants of Tiraios’ right wing – perhaps five hundred exhausted and demoralised men – and then it increased its speed to a trot. Like the five companies of horse archers that had been shooting at the Sakastanis as they stumbled backward but which were now out of ammunition, I watched like a spectator as the men in the phalanx gave a great cheer and charged at the enemy. There was a long crunching sound and then a series of screams and cries as the phalanx drove into the enemy, its front rank thrusting spears into the unarmoured torsos of the enemy. The Sakastanis stood and fought for perhaps a minute before fleeing in every direction, some towards the canal, most towards the waiting companies of horse archers. They dumped their shields and weapons and scattered, running for their lives. What followed was highly unusual as the horse archers replaced their bows in their saddle cases, drew their swords and then charged the fleeing warriors. It was one of the few times that I saw horse archers engage foot soldiers, albeit ones that were largely defenceless and demoralised. It quickly degenerated into a slaughter as the horsemen went to work with their swords.
The phalanx of bronze and iron, meanwhile, had halted among the dead and dying Sakastanis. A figure left the front rank and began running towards us.
‘What now?’ said Vagharsh.
‘Perhaps he holds a grudge against you, Vagharsh.’
The figure slowed some fifty paces from us and raised his spear in salute.
‘This gets stranger by the minute,’ mused Vagharsh.
The figure rammed his lizard sticker into the ground and took off his helmet, to reveal black shoulder-length hair and a square, clean-shaven face with a thin nose. Surena grinned at me.
‘Hail, majesty.’
I slid my sword back into its scabbard. ‘The mystery is solved.’
I nudged Remus forward.
‘Greetings, Surena. Your appearance is most fortuitous. Where is King Nergal?’
‘He left the city several days ago, along with the queen, majesty.’
I leaned forward. ‘Then who has been defending Uruk?’
Surena’s dark brown eyes flashed with pride. ‘Me and Rahim, majesty.’
He pointed at the phalanx he had been leading. ‘Plus a few hardy Ma’adan warriors.’
‘Stranger and stranger,’ grunted Vagharsh.
The horse archers had finished butchering the hapless Sakastanis by now and were regrouping in their companies. My thoughts turned to Gallia.
‘Report to General Domitus,’ I said to Surena. ‘I must go to secure my right flank.’
Surena saluted and grinned at Vagharsh, who shook his head and followed me as I rode back to the companies of horsemen. I left five to support Domitus’ men and took the remainder across the rear of the still steadily advancing centuries towards the right wing. The ground where the Durans and Exiles had been fighting was a ghastly sight: dead and dying everywhere, many crying out pitifully for water or assistance. I felt no pity, only relief that most appeared to be enemy soldiers.
Remus was tired now, his breathing heavy as he thundered across the baked earth, he and hundreds of other horses kicking up clouds of dust to add to the agonies of injured men. My silk vest and tunic were soaked with sweat and my head felt as though it was on fire under my helmet. Sweat stung my eyes. My mouth tasted foul.
Our pace was agonisingly slow because even though our mounts would run themselves into the ground if we demanded it of them, no true Parthian would willingly cause the death of his horse.
At last we passed the last centuries on the right of the line and came upon our right wing, or at least four companies of it. Fear rose within me as I frantically looked around for my wife. She was nowhere to be seen and neither were the Amazons. I halted the column as an officer from one of the companies rode over to report. He and his horse looked remarkably fresh.
‘Report,’ I ordered.
He bowed his head. ‘When the enemy charged the queen formed all the companies into a wedge formation, majesty, and charged straight at them, the queen and the Amazons at the tip of the wedge. The enemy was halted and then scattered by our volleys of arrows.’
‘Where is the queen?’ I snapped, looking past him to where bodies lay scattered on the ground. He pointed towards the Euphrates.
‘Pursuing the enemy, majesty,’ he replied. ‘She left those whose ammunition had been exhausted behind.’
I gave the order for all but a hundred men to remain with Gallia’s four companies and support Domitus’ men, taking the remainder with me towards the Euphrates. There were hardly any sounds of battle now, just a dust haze that hung over the carrion field. I took a swig from my water bottle and then urged Remus forward. Vagharsh and the company followed as we cantered west towards the river. Dead men in baggy yellow leggings and red tunics indicated the path my wife had taken.
We rode for around four miles until we came across dismounted horse archers standing near where the canal meets the Euphrates, their horses standing in groups back from the canal’s edge. When they saw my banner the men began to cheer and raise their bows in salute.
‘Dismount,’ I ordered when we reached the companies.
I slowly descended to the ground and handed Remus’ reins to Vagharsh who had also dismounted.
‘Wait here,’ I told him.
I walked towards the canal bank, which was lined with archers. Others were standing behind them, cheering as the ones in front shot their bows. There were calls of ‘the king’ as I made my way forward. The throng parted and I saw Gallia standing, helmet by her feet, with bow in hand at the canal’s edge. She turned and gave me a beautiful smile as I took off my helmet and ran to embrace her. More cheering.
‘I thank Shamash that you are safe,’ I whispered into her ear.
‘And you, my love,’ she purred. She pulled away and gave me a mischievous grin.
I glanced at the canal and was surprised to see it was filled with a plethora of boats, most of them simple rowing vessels no more than twenty feet in length.
‘Keep shooting,’ barked Gallia.
The archers lining the bank recommenced their shooting, aiming at boats that were filled with enemy soldiers desperately trying to reach the Euphrates and safety.
Gallia plucked an arrow from the nearly empty quiver slung over her shoulder and nocked it in her bowstring.
‘After we had scattered the enemy’s wing,’ she said, drawing back the string to nearly her right ear, ‘many enemy soldiers fled on foot towards the Euphrates.’
She released the bowstring and her missile shot through the air to hit a rower in a boat on the far side of the canal. He made no noise as he slumped over his oar.
‘The enemy’s archers fled to their boats and have escaped, I regret to say,’ she continued, pulling another arrow from her quiver. ‘But these soldiers, whom I recognise from when we fought King Porus, were not so lucky.’
She released her arrow and killed another oarsman in the same boat, the girlish Viper a few feet away slaying the man behind him. All along the canal bank archers were releasing arrows at the dozens of boats on the waterway, many of which contained only dead men.
I looked at Viper. ‘Surena led a force from the city to aid us,’ I said to Gallia, ‘but Nergal and Praxima are not in Uruk.’
She stopped shooting and looked at me, surprised. ‘Oh? Where are they?’
I
shrugged. ‘I know as much as you.’
‘We are running out of arrows, majesty,’ a senior officer of horse archers reported to Gallia. She looked at her own quiver.
‘Two arrows left.’
She looked back at the canal where seemingly dozens of boats lay stationary in the water, their crews dead. Other boats were still running the gauntlet between the archers lining the bank and the safety of the Euphrates but a short distance away.
‘We must return to the city,’ I said to Gallia, ‘satisfying though this may be.’
She turned to the officer. ‘Give the order to mount up and ride to the city.’
‘Viper,’ she called.
Surena’s wife walked over, bowing her head to both of us.
‘Your husband has marched from the city, my husband tells me. You have been apart for too long, so go to him.’
She turned to the officer. ‘Give Viper an escort so she can be reunited with her husband.’
Viper smiled, bowed and ran to her horse.
‘It would appear that Surena has saved Uruk,’ I said as Viper and a company of horsemen galloped away.
‘But where are Nergal and Praxima?’ asked a concerned Gallia.
We left the remnants of the enemy army on the canal to ride back to the battlefield. As ever with the field of honour after an engagement it presented a dreadful sight. We sought out Domitus and found him standing among his legionaries, most of whom were either sitting or lying on the ground. Guards had been posted and medical staff were attending to the wounded as hundreds of Durans and Exiles took a well-earned rest. He raised his cane when he saw us approach, the men around him looking up as I slid off Remus’ back and walked over to him. I held out my arm and he gripped my forearm.
‘Good to see you, my friend,’ I said, ‘Uruk has been saved.’
He looked tired and exhausted.
‘That was a hard fight and it was close for a while.’
He nodded towards where a line of Charaxian dead lay heaped at the canal’s edge.
‘If there had been any more of them we would not have been able to break them.’