by Peter Darman
We followed his lead and studied the ground around us. We concentrated so much on where our horses were treading that we failed to notice the group of horsemen around two hundred paces ahead.
‘Romans,’ Surena hissed.
I looked up to see what appeared to be a score of riders – two decuriae – all showing red tunics, mail shirts, helmets and green-faced shields. I heard the distinctive sound of a bucina, a shell horn, and as one the enemy horsemen levelled their spears and advanced towards us.
‘You can go,’ I said to the scout as I pulled an arrow from the quiver slung on my back. Gallia, Surena and Burebista did the same.
The latter grinned at me. ‘Just like the old days in Italy, lord.’
I nocked the arrow in my bowstring, reins wrapped around my left wrist, and raised my bow. There was a sharp crack as Gallia loosed her arrow, Surena and Burebista following. I saw the missiles arching into the air as I let the bowstring slip out of my fingers to launch my arrow. I wheeled my mare to the left and dug my knees into her flanks. I looked over my shoulder as I followed the others back into the trees, the Romans closing on us. I heard a shriek as a horse stumbled and fell into an unseen depression.
‘Halt,’ I shouted.
The others turned their mounts and came to my side.
‘Rapid volleys,’ I ordered, ‘drop as many as you can.’
We rode forward a few paces to position ourselves just back from the treeline, the Romans still cantering towards us. I pulled an arrow, nocked it and shot it at the oncoming enemy, the others doing likewise. Within seconds we had loosed three volleys, the bronze arrowheads striking the leading horses and throwing their riders. The horses behind reared up on their hind legs as the Roman advance degenerated into chaos. We kept shooting, loosing up to seven arrows a minute and felling at least another six riders. They were less than a hundred paces from us and, having halted their advance, we could now pick our targets. A thrown rider, winded and helmetless, picked himself up, clutched his bleeding head and then collapsed as Gallia put an arrow in his back. Horses bolted as the signaller blew his horn and those Romans still in the saddle turned and withdrew. Surena put an arrow in the back of the rearmost rider but the Roman managed to stay in the saddle, slumping over the neck of his horse. Surena urged his horse forward.
‘Stay here,’ I snapped at him.
‘They’re getting away, lord.’
I smiled with satisfaction. ‘That’s the idea. With any luck they will be back with the rest of the Roman horsemen. Now all we have to do is wait.’
We dismounted, checked our mounts for any wounds and counted our arrows. Beyond the trees wounded horses and men cried and groaned as they lay in the sun. Some of the horses tried to rise but their wounds were too severe and so they flopped back down on the ground. I handed Gallia my bow and pulled my dagger.
‘Surena, you are with me,’ I said. ‘We must put those poor creatures out of their misery.’
He handed his bow to Burebista and followed me into the meadow.
‘Let the Romans have a slow death,’ Gallia called after me.
Surena laughed but I told him to slit the throats of the wounded men as well as the horses. It pained my heart to slit the throats of injured horses but the only veterinaries that could treat them were in the Roman army, and in any case the arrows had pierced their bodies deeply and they were losing much blood. But as a Parthian I took no pleasure in kneeling beside them, holding their heads my arms and staring into their terror-filled eyes as I swiftly drew my blade across their throats. I tried to make their end as swift as possible but I still asked Shamash for forgiveness for my actions. Surena slit the throats of the two injured Romans, both pierced by arrows and both having broken bones when they had fallen. When he was walking beside me back to the trees his face was creased by worry lines.
‘Will the queen be angry with me, lord, for disobeying her orders not to kill the enemy wounded?’
‘She will forgive you, I’m sure.’
‘She really hates the Romans.’
‘She does,’ I agreed.
‘Do you hate them, lord?’
‘No.’
He was surprised. ‘Even though they treated you harshly?’
I laughed. ‘I have received worse treatment at the hands of Parthians. You remember Chosroes?’
‘I do,’ he spat.
‘When you let hate rule your emotions, Surena, your judgement becomes clouded and a commander cannot allow that to happen.’
‘Romans!’
I heard Gallia’s voice and saw her pointing. I turned to see dozens of enemy horsemen flooding the far end of the meadow. I ran back to the trees, Surena bounding past me. I vaulted into the saddle and my wife handed me my bow. I shoved it into its case and grabbed my reins.
‘Time to flee,’ I said.
We retraced our steps through the trees and into the long grass beyond, the enemy horsemen closing on us. I kept glancing behind and saw a tide of horseflesh pouring out of the trees. There were scores of them, which suggested that the main army was very close. We kept ahead of the Romans as we passed by the trees where the horsemen of Radu and Decebal lay in wait. When the Romans appeared they charged from the vegetation, shrieking their war cries as they did so. They burst from the shade to attack both flanks of the Romans, who immediately slowed as their officers frantically tried to reorganise their commands. There was a flurry of horn calls as the Thracians and Dacians closed the last stretch of ground between them and the Romans.
I halted and wheeled my horse about as I called to the others to stop. The clatter of clashing weapons and shouts of men fighting filled the air as hundreds of horsemen battled each other. But though the Romans had been surprised they were not overwhelmed and within minutes a grim mêlée began to develop. Saddles began to empty and horses crumpled to the ground but the Romans did not break.
‘Pick your targets,’ I shouted.
My mare was skittish, probably unused to the sights and sounds of battle, so I stroked her neck and resisted the urge to ride into the battle. I had already emptied half a quiver and in the next minute or so used up the remaining missiles as I shot at Roman horsemen. Surena, Burebista and Gallia reaped a rich harvest of Roman dead, shooting from a stationary position on the edge of the fighting. But though it was satisfactory to empty enemy saddles I also saw many Thracians and Dacians fall, expertly speared by a Roman rider or cut down by a swing of a spatha. The enemy were better equipped and no doubt trained and they proved hardy opponents.
I learned afterwards that it was Decebal who won the fight. He kept his men under tight control and split the Roman formation in two, first surrounding and destroying one part before turning his attention to the other section. But it cost him half his men – a hundred and fifty warriors – to do so. For our part we must have killed over fifty Romans, using up half our arrows in the process. When it was over the Dacians and Thracians went among the dead to pillage the Roman corpses, taking their mail shirts, helmets, weapons and anything else of use. The stench of death was tangible in the summer heat, the buzz of flies that came to feast on dead flesh discernible over the moans of wounded humans and animals.
The vast majority of the Dacians and Thracians had now dismounted and were either looting the dead or congratulating themselves on a hard-won victory.
‘They have no discipline,’ uttered Surena contemptuously.
‘Stay here,’ I said to him and the others as I spotted a group of horsemen among the debris of battle. ‘I need to speak to Radu and Decebal.’
I nudged my horse forward towards the treeline and away from the dead men and horses that littered the ground. The mare was still jumpy but I continued to pat her neck as she trotted to where the air smelt sweeter and there were no flies. I rode along the edge of the forest and then wheeled her right to take me to where Radu was roaring with laughter in his saddle. Decebal sat on his horse opposite and as I got closer I could see that his tunic was splattered with blood and his
hair was even wilder than usual. He turned when Radu pointed to me.
‘So, Parthian,’ he said loudly, ‘your plan worked. We have destroyed the Romans’ horsemen.’
‘Part of my plan has worked,’ I cautioned. ‘The difficult part is still to come.’
Radu waved away my prudence. ‘This is just the beginning of our triumphs. I will admit, though, that your Roman was right.’
‘He will be arriving soon with King Akrosas, King Draco and the foot soldiers,’ said Decebal.
Radu raised his arms. ‘And then we will slaughter every Roman and rid them from our land.’
The men behind him cheered and Decebal smiled. I heard a thud and saw a warrior behind Radu topple from his saddle, then heard a succession of screams around us. My horse became skittish again and began to move sideways as more warriors were hit. Out of the corner of my eye, to my left, I glimpsed a line of red shields and in front of them individuals in white tunics with whirling arms.
‘Slingers,’ I shouted. ‘Fall back.’
Radu roared in anger as another of his men was hit but Decebal kept his head and ordered a signaller to sound retreat as men forgot about plundering the dead and raced to their horses. The main Roman army had been closer than I had realised as centuries and cohorts marched into view, slingers clearing a path for the legionaries as they moved as though they were on the parade ground. I urged my mare on as Decebal and Radu galloped beside me, their men following. Gallia and the others waited for me before they too retreated, dozens of warriors in Roman helmets and mail shirts racing past them. We rode hard for at least half an hour to put as much distance between the Romans and ourselves as possible. Eventually the pace slackened with the realisation that we were not being pursued. The kings gave the command to dismount and walk the horses so they could catch their breath. We had ridden at the rear of the column so we could shoot at any Roman horsemen that pursued us. But luck was with us and we had an undisturbed flight. I checked my arrows and found I had only one full quiver left. The others had a similar amount of missiles.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘at least we know where the Roman army is. Let’s hope that King Akrosas arrives soon.’
Dura’s foot soldiers could march up to thirty miles a day but I doubted that the Thracians and Dacian warriors could match them. Still, they had had a day and a half of marching and must be relatively close to our position, wherever that was. I was mulling over these thoughts when a messenger arrived from Decebal informing me that he and Radu would be making camp. Once more we melted into the forest, only this time we moved deeper into the trees to put as much distance between the Romans and ourselves as possible.
Once again the lighting of any fires was forbidden and so warriors sat on the ground in sullen silence after they had unsaddled and tethered their horses. Guards were posted and parties despatched to find water desperately needed by both men and beasts. With their captured arms and armour the warriors looked much more martial, but as I walked to converse with the two kings who stood beneath an ancient oak once more I could see that our numbers were sadly depleted. Both of them were in a sombre mood when I arrived.
‘My few surviving chiefs report that we have lost a hundred and sixty dead,’ muttered Decebal.
‘Maedi losses are eighty killed,’ reported Radu, though his concern was less as they were not his people.
I tried to cheer them. ‘But at least we have dealt the enemy horsemen a crippling blow and we know where the main Roman army is.’
‘Your strategy commands a high price, King Pacorus,’ retorted Decebal. ‘Perhaps too high.’
‘We must hold our nerve, my lords,’ I said. ‘When King Akrosas arrives we will be able to grind down the enemy.’
‘Perhaps it is us who will be ground down,’ said Radu bitterly, his bravado having seemingly disappeared.
‘When King Akrosas arrives,’ I said firmly, ‘he will bring with him nine thousand foot soldiers and five hundred horsemen, more than enough to destroy the Romans.’
Decebal leaned against the massive trunk of the tree. As far as I could see none of the blood that had been splashed on his tunic and leggings was his own.
‘You think so?’
‘I know so,’ I replied.
‘It’s true that my warriors are itching to exact revenge for their recent reverse,’ said Radu reflectively as he took off his armour and threw it on the ground.
‘With all my experience of fighting the Romans I tell you that they are in a very precarious position,’ I told them. ‘Imagine a house built of wood that is riddled with woodworm. You only have to kick in the door and the whole rotten structure will come crashing to the ground.’
I looked at them both with as much determination as I could muster and they appeared to respond positively to my words. I left them in a steadfast mood, which was just as well because I doubted that even with the addition of Akrosas’ men would they be able to defeat five thousand highly trained legionaries.
‘I am apt to agree with you.’
Domitus placed his hands behind his head and reclined on the blanket, his weapons and armour by his side. King Akrosas had issued him with a magnificent burnished bronze cuirass that gleamed even in the dimness of the forest as the light began to fade fast as evening approached. He and the king had ridden ahead of the main body of foot to catch up with us, the rest of the army being left under the command of Draco. The latter was only around five miles away but Akrosas had been impatient to find out how we had fared.
‘It will be difficult but as you have eradicated their horsemen it will at least slow them down, which in turn will give these barbarians time to organise themselves.’
‘Organisation is not a word that is readily understood by Thracians and Dacians,’ I complained. ‘No offence,’ I said to Burebista.
‘None taken, lord.’
Gallia looked at Domitus who had his eyes closed.
‘Is he asleep?’
‘He is not,’ replied Domitus.
‘Where is Akrosas?’ I asked him.
‘Talking to his fellow kings,’ replied Domitus. ‘He does a lot of that. Drove me to distraction with his constant questions on the way here. He seems to think that the gods sent me to be his personal military adviser.’
‘That’s good, Domitus,’ I said, ‘if he is listening to you then at least he is getting good advice.’
He grunted. ‘Easy for you to say, you don’t have to listen to him.’
The temperature among the trees stayed warm enough when night finally came, though I still woke aching and feeling grimy as the camp stirred and men went about preparing their meagre breakfasts. Most of the fruit and cheese they had been issued with had gone and so they were reduced to chewing on salted fish washed down by water from the nearest rivulet. As we checked over our horses a messenger arrived from Akrosas along with a sack full of bread, cheese, apples and another with fodder for our four horses.
‘The king requests your presence at his headquarters after you have eaten breakfast, majesty,’ said the man, one of Akrosas’ bodyguards judging by his leather armour, helmet and shield with its bow and arrow motif. ‘Along with General Domitus.’
I looked at him. ‘Headquarters?’
‘A temporary awning in the forest, majesty,’ he replied.
After he and his companion had left their bounty we fed the horses and then sat in a circle to eat the food. It was fortunate that there was ample sustenance as Surena ate like a man who had not tasted food for a month.
‘Most important meal of the day, breakfast,’ he informed us. ‘It is important to have a full stomach at the start of the day.’
‘So it would seem,’ I said.
He continued to treat us to his knowledge of diet and hygiene.
‘Bad idea those drinking from the forest ponds, though. Stagnant water can play havoc with even the strongest stomach.’
‘Perhaps you should be King Akrosas’ adviser, Surena,’ suggested Domitus. ‘You two would get on well.’
Surena looked at me expectantly but I shook my head.
‘I think not, Domitus. It is you whose advice he trusts.’
‘Yes, but will he take it?’ he replied.
The ‘headquarters’ was nothing more than a large piece of linen strung between two oaks but Akrosas looked very martial in a gleaming bronze scale armour cuirass and a sword in a scabbard adorned with silver decoration. He also looked remarkably fresh for a person that had been lying out all night.
‘He brought a few slaves with him to ensure his stay in the open was not too stressful,’ Domitus whispered to me as we walked to where the king stood with the other leaders.
‘Ah, greetings, King Pacorus and General Domitus,’ he said, smiling, ‘it is going to be another fine day. A day worthy of our victory over the Romans.’
I looked up at the forest canopy and saw beams of sunlight lancing through the foliage. It did indeed appear that the day would be dry and warm. He and Draco were dressed smartly and appeared refreshed, in stark contrast to Decebal’s blood-stained clothing and Radu’s damaged armour and red-rimmed green eyes. I probably looked as shabby and tired as they did. I also noticed that Draco was giving Radu hateful stares, though why I did not know.
‘Today we crush the Romans,’ said Radu sharply.
Akrosas looked intently at Domitus ‘What is your opinion, general?’
‘My king informs me that the Roman horsemen were dealt a cruel blow yesterday.’
‘So were my horsemen,’ said Draco bitterly, his eyes on Radu.
Radu shrugged. ‘Men die in battle.’
‘But not your men,’ Draco spat back at him.
The big man’s anger was now stirred. ‘If you have something to say, Draco, then say it instead of whining like a virgin maid.’
‘My friends,’ interrupted Akrosas, ‘if we quarrel among ourselves then the only beneficiaries will be the Romans. General Domitus, please enlighten us with your advice.’
Domitus drew his sword and cleared a piece of earth of leaves and twigs with his foot. He made six marks in the soil, one behind the other.