by Peter Darman
Scarab laughed but Spartacus froze him with a stare. ‘She was real enough. Said that the city of Assur was in danger.’
Alarm coursed through me like a raging torrent. ‘What did you say?’
Spartacus stopped cleaning his blade. ‘She said that Assur was in great danger.’
‘What did she look like, this mystery woman?’ queried Gallia.
Spartacus thought for a moment. ‘Tall, thin, long black hair. It was a most curious thing. Even though I had never met her before she felt familiar. Her eyesight must have been poor, though.’
Gallia leaned closer to him. ‘Why?’
Spartacus grinned. ‘She called me “little one”.’
The next morning he and Scarab were mounted on their horses in front of the Amazons as I stood before an increasingly irate Domitus. Zenobia held the reins of Epona as Gallia, her hair tied in a plait behind her back, put on her helmet.
‘You are riding to where?’ asked my general.
‘Assur, Domitus, it is in danger.’
He looked behind him at Byrd and Malik who had been alerted that we were riding to Assur.
‘Have your scouts been riding near to Assur.’
Byrd shook his head, as did Malik.
‘Assur too far east,’ said Byrd.
Domitus turned back to face me. ‘Why would you want to go to Assur?’
‘It is in danger, Domitus.’
‘We have received no word from Herneus appealing for aid,’ he said, still disbelieving that I was riding with my wife, two squires and the Amazons to Assur.
‘We received word last night, Domitus,’ I replied.
Domitus would not let the matter go. ‘No one entered the camp last night or I would have heard of it.’
I walked over to him so that Spartacus would not hear me. ‘It was Claudia, Domitus, she was the one who delivered the message.’
He did not realise who I was alluding to. ‘Claudia?’
‘The wife of Spartacus.’
He went to laugh but then saw that I was deadly serious. ‘She is dead. I saw her body burn to ashes.’
‘Listen my friend. You will have to trust me in this. Get the army to Hatra and await me there. But I cannot ignore this warning.’
He looked at me and then Gallia and scratched his head. He then looked at Byrd and Malik. ‘These two and their scouts are staying with me otherwise this army is blind and one of us has to keep his wits about him.’
I smiled and slapped him on the arm. ‘I will see you at Hatra.’
It took us two days of hard riding to reach Assur.
A rider galloped ahead of us to announce our arrival as our tired beasts plodded their way along the dirt track, their heads bowed from exhaustion. A squad of foot guards from the gatehouse dressed in white leggings and shirts barged people out of the way with their spear shafts and shields to allow us to enter Assur. The city was its usual bustle of disordered activity on our right side, the southern part of the city where the general population lived and worked: a sprawling collection of one- and two-storey homes and businesses squeezed together alongside stables, brothels, market squares and animals pens. Overcrowded and noisy it also stank of animals, rotting food and sweating people.
‘I need a bath,’ said Gallia, stating aloud what I was thinking, and turning her nose up at the pungent aroma that was being brought to our nostrils by a southerly wind.
Our escort left us at the gatehouse of the governor’s palace, a large, three-storey building with shuttered shooting ports on every level. The palace was surrounded by a high stone wall with round towers positioned in each corner and along its length, though I saw few guards either on the walls or standing guard by the open twin gates. The palace itself was a single-story rectangular building arranged around two courtyards and as I dismounted in front of its steps the governor, Lord Herneus, escorted by three of his senior officers, descended them and bowed his head to me.
‘Greetings, majesty.’
Gallia also dismounted and handed the reins of Epona to a stable hand. The Amazons behind us did likewise.
I stretched out my arms as Remus and the other fatigued horses were led away to the stables.
‘Get their saddles off quickly and rub them down,’ I commanded, ‘they have had a hard ride.’
I turned to Herneus. ‘As have I. Are you well, Herneus?’
He nodded his bald head. ‘Well, majesty. This is a most unexpected visit, and it is good to see the Queen of Dura grace this city.’
Gallia had taken off her helmet and smiled wanly at him. She looked pale and tired, we all did.
‘We need to bathe to wash the grime from our bodies,’ I said, ‘but while we are taking advantage of the palace’s comforts you need to send couriers to your lords to order them to muster their men and bring them here, and fetch Lord Silaces also.’
He looked confused. ‘Lord Silaces is not here, majesty. He and his men left for Hatra a week ago, along with my lords and their horsemen.’
My legs suddenly felt weak. ‘Hatra?’
‘Yes, majesty. The king summoned all the horse archers in and around Assur to his side to meet the Armenian threat, foot soldiers too.’
I hardly dared to ask the next question. ‘How many men of the garrison remain?’
‘Five hundred.’
I looked at Gallia and then back at Herneus while the Amazons stood in tired groups.
‘Is there a problem, majesty?’ he asked.
‘Has there been any reports or sightings of Armenians in this area?’ I replied.
He looked at his men.
‘None, lord,’ said one dressed in a bronze and iron scale armour cuirass and a sword in a rich red leather scabbard at his hip.
I looked at Gallia and the Amazons, then at Spartacus and Scarab, all of them wearing tired expressions.
‘We will refresh ourselves, Herneus. Please arrange it.’
The guest quarters in Assur’s palace were even more luxurious than the ones at Babylon, though not as expansive. The walls were painted white and decorated with murals of Parthian victories over the eastern nomads, while the rooms were both airy and spacious. As we changed out of our dirty clothes slaves filled with water a great round bath sunken into the floor in a white-tiled room next to our bedroom. Throughout the palace grooves in the paved floor brought fresh water to the kitchens, latrines and private chambers, and other tiled channels beneath the floors carried wastewater to the city’s sewer and then to the nearby Tigris.
Slaves laid out fresh robes on our bed and took away our old ones to be cleaned as I eased myself into the clear, cool water as Gallia did the same opposite me. She had untied her plait and she slid under the water and then re-emerged and began to refresh her supple body with soap made from water, mineral salts and cassia oil. Despite giving birth to three children her belly was still flat and her skin did not bear any stretch marks or scars, unlike mine. By comparison I had scars on my back, one on my face, another on my leg and a new one on my left arm courtesy of Nicetas at Seleucia.
After we had bathed sweet-smelling slave girls wearing short white gowns massaged the aches and pains from our bodies with oil, their long fingers working the balm into my flesh and lulling me into a sense of utter calm.
We were awakened from our deep slumber by frantic banging on the door.
‘Majesties, the governor urgently requests your presence in the hall.’
We rose bleary eyed and dressed in our new robes; I in a white silk shirt and baggy red leggings and Gallia in a flowing white robe.
‘You look ridiculous,’ she told me as I pulled on my boots and buckled my sword belt.
‘And you look very feminine,’ I smiled.
She went to the door, opened it, told the guard to be silent and ordered him to fetch her a pair of leggings and a top. He returned breathless with brown leggings and a beige shirt. The slaves had taken away our silk vests so to hide her modesty she put on her mail shirt and then we went to see the governor.
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The sight of guards and officials running round and the ringing of alarm bells outside told me that something was wrong before I set eyes on Herneus’ grim expression. He was a man of only medium height but his iron-like visage and deep, commanding voice gave him an air of authority. Now in his fifties, he had held the east of the Kingdom of Hatra for over twenty years.
I strode into the main chamber and Herneus rose from his chair on the dais to let me sit in it. He had also arranged for another to be placed beside it for Gallia.
‘I take it the Armenians have arrived,’ I said indifferently.
Herneus raised an eyebrow. ‘You knew they were on the way, majesty?’
‘I suspected. Where are they?’
Herneus pointed at a dust-covered soldier. ‘Tell the king.’
The man went down on one knee and bowed his head. ‘Ten miles north of here, majesty.’
‘Get up,’ I told him. ‘How many?’
He glanced nervously at Herneus before answering. ‘Thousands, majesty, mostly foot soldiers. I also saw rafts on the river being pulled by ropes from the bank.’
I dismissed him and turned to Herneus. ‘You have closed the gates?’
‘Yes, majesty.’
‘Get the people into the temple district.’ Herneus nodded to one of his officers who scurried away to organise the evacuation of the people from their homes and businesses to the temples in the northeast area of the city. These buildings were large and could accommodate the city’s residents, and hopefully their priests would provide them with solace. The main temples in the city were dedicated to Marduk, the supreme god of Babylon, the Sky God Anu and the Sun God Shamash. But there were also places of worship dedicated to the Storm God Adad and Assur, the chief deity of the city since Assyrian times.
‘Our defences will be stretched thin, majesty,’ said Herneus. ‘There are not enough men to man the entire length of the walls.’
I nodded. ‘That was the intention all along. We will reconvene in an hour.’
With Gallia I went back to our quarters where our cleaned clothes were laid out on the bed. I changed into my leggings, vest and white shirt and Gallia did the same. Spartacus and Scarab brought my leather cuirass and helmet, the latter having a fresh goose feather crest. Zenobia reported to Gallia and after eating a quick meal of fruit and cakes the five of us walked to the main hall. Herneus and his officers were waiting for us in their scale armour cuirasses, helmets in the crooks of their arms.
‘Let us take a look at the enemy,’ I said, striding past them towards the entrance hall.
As we walked from the palace across the courtyard and through the gatehouse groups of soldiers ran past us heading towards the walls. I thanked Shamash that both my father and his father, King Sames, had devoted much time and resources on strengthening Assur’s defences. In addition to the river that protected two sides of the city and a moat that covered the other two sides, a double wall, the space in between filled with buildings to house troops of the garrison, surrounded the city on the landside. On top of the outer wall was a parapet protected by battlements, the latter containing narrow slits from where archers could shoot on attackers below.
I gestured for Herneus to walk beside me.
‘I had hoped that when Tigranes died Armenian military expertise would die with him, but it appears that I was wrong. By massing a great army north of Hatra they have drawn all the forces of the western empire there, including my own army, but it appears that it was a ruse to divert our attention from their real target – this city.’
‘If Assur falls,’ he said grimly, ‘then the enemy will control the kingdom’s main city in the east and a major crossing point over the Tigris.’
‘And will deny our allies in the east the means to get forces over the Tigris,’ I added. ‘They have played their hand well.’
I could tell that Herneus was infuriated with himself that he had allowed his lords, Silaces’ horse archers and half his garrison to be taken away from him, and perhaps a part of him was also annoyed with his king, but his sense of loyalty would never allow him to say so.
We walked through the gate in the inner wall and then ascended the steps that led to the parapet on the outer wall beside the Tabira Gate, in the northwest of the outer wall. All three of the city’s gates had been closed by now and troops of the garrison, armed with bows, stood ready behind the battlements, but they were spread very thinly. The length of the outer wall facing the landside was over a mile in extent, with the rest of the perimeter fronting the river to the north and east.
The Armenians were making no attempt to approach the walls; rather, they were deploying their forces to the west and south of the city in preparation for an assault against the three gates. Their troops were dressed in bright uniforms of blue, red and orange; huge banners bearing the Armenian six-pointed star fluttering in the southerly breeze. I thanked Shamash that a deep, wide moat encompassed all the landward side of the city else the enemy would swarm over the walls and into the city with ease.
It was now three hours past midday and despite the breeze it was very warm notwithstanding that the sun was beginning to descend in the west, right into our eyes. The battlements were high on the outer wall to protect everyone on the parapet so we stood on large steps to see over the walls.
‘They mean to attack immediately,’ I said. ‘They wish to take advantage of their superiority in numbers and will have the sun behind them when they assault us.’
I turned to Herneus. ‘Send pigeons to Hatra and Irbil to request aid.’
He turned to one of his officers and gave him the order, the man running down the stone steps to a waiting horse that would take him back to the palace. Hatra was only sixty miles to the west; Irbil ninety miles in the opposite direction. A pigeon could reach Hatra in just over an hour and Irbil thirty minutes more. If we could hold out for two days then Assur might yet be saved.
‘They are going to try to smash through the gates,’ said Herneus, pointing ahead at what appeared to be a great tree trunk mounted on a large four-wheeled carriage. I now understood why the Armenians had been using rafts on the Tigris: it was to transport their battering rams. One ram was drawn up directly in front of the Tabira Gate and I could see another opposite the Western Gate. A messenger confirmed that a third was being readied to smash through the South Gate.
‘When they get near the gates they will be cut down easily enough,’ said Gallia confidently.
But I could see frantic activity around the battering ram as its large crew assembled a protective roof of planks topped with iron sheets over the tree trunk and its carriage. And behind the ram I could also see foot archers in bright blue tunics and leggings. They would provide covering missile volleys when the ram approached the gates.
‘We must concentrate our forces at the three gates,’ I said. ‘Herneus, give the order to abandon the defences on the riverside. The Amazons and a hundred of your men will defend the Tabira Gate, the rest of your garrison will be divided between the other two gates.’
He nodded and then beckoned over another of his officers to convey my order.
‘One more thing,’ I said. ‘Send soldiers to the temples asking that anyone who can shoot a bow is to report to the walls immediately.’
Each of the gatehouses on the outer wall had two storeys, each one having shooting slits for ten archers, and now they began to fill with troops as the garrison was concentrated at the three entry points to the city. Slaves from the palace ferried quivers of arrows from the armouries as the Armenians completed their preparations and made ready to assault Assur.
After an hour the enemy began its advance. In the van were the battering rams – sharpened tree trunks mounted on sturdy carriages with four thick wheels fashioned from the same thick trees that had been used to make the rams, each of them protected by crude iron and wood roofs.
Men wearing no armour or helmets clustered all around the ram’s carriage underneath its roof. They strained to heave the heavy ram
towards the Tabira Gate. The trunk was secured to the carriage by ropes so the Armenians would have to literally ram it against the gates, relying on its weight and momentum to smash through the thick wood.
Behind the ram were the foot archers and behind them blocks of spearmen who would force their way into the city once the gates had been smashed in. They looked very colourful in their red tunics and yellow leggings, though as far as I could see they wore no armour on their bodies or heads. Armed with short stabbing spears and oval wicker shields, they would be useless in a battle but very effective for butchering civilians if they got into Assur. The archers and spearmen were grouped in blocks that numbered around a thousand men: two thousand archers and five thousand spearmen in total. Seven thousand Armenians were about to assault the Tabira Gate.
Herneus received reports from the other two gates that approximately the same number of Armenians was deployed against them – over twenty thousand troops against six hundred.
‘Long odds, majesty,’ he said without emotion.
‘Hopefully we can thin their numbers before they reach the gates,’ I replied. The Amazons were now lining the walls either side of the Tabira Gate and were inside the gatehouse itself, ready to shoot at the oncoming enemy. Full quivers lay on the parapet behind each Amazon, though I was concerned that there appeared to be too few for our requirements.
‘My lords and Lord Silaces took many quivers with them when they rode to Hatra,’ reported Herneus.
‘We will need runners, then,’ I replied.
Gallia looked at me. ‘Runners?’
‘Boys, children, majesty,’ replied Herneus, ‘who run around picking up the arrows that the enemy shoots into a city under siege.’
‘They run the risk of being hit by other arrows while they do so, surely?’ she said.
I shrugged. ‘If the enemy captures the city they will be either killed or enslaved anyway. See to it Herneus.’
He bowed his head and left us at the same time as those who had answered my summons from the civilian population began to ascend the steps to the parapet. My heart sank when I saw them. Most of them were either very old or crippled and deformed in some way: humpbacked, bandy legged, crook-backed or one-eyed.