by Peter Darman
Vistaspa had also noticed the gap and was manoeuvring his heavy horsemen to meet whatever threat came through it. But as yet nothing appeared and while I was absorbed with what was happening on the left the Armenians launched a fresh assault against our centre.
Perhaps up to ten thousand levy spearmen had been killed or wounded by Vagises’ archers and Domitus’ legionaries but to the Armenian commander they were expendable: farmers and townsfolk who had a minimum of training and deficient weaponry. They were chaff and Armenia would not weep for their lost souls. A far tougher proposition was now approaching the legions: heavy swordsmen.
As Vagises drew up his horse in front of me his men flooded the ground to the rear of the Amazons and then companies peeled away to make the trip to the camel train to replenish their stocks of arrows.
‘They are just toying with us,’ he said, nodding to Gallia beside me. ‘But I have a feeling that the real battle is just beginning.’
‘Your men did well, Vagises,’ I said.
He moved his horse to take up position on my left side and pointed at the widening space between our centre and left flank.
‘I don’t like the look of that.’
‘No,’ I agreed, ‘take two dragons of your men and seal the gap. The rest will stay here with me as a reserve. I have a feeling we may need them.’
He peeled away to consult his officers as there was a great tumult in the centre and the Armenian heavy swordsmen attacked. Just as I had modelled my foot on Rome’s legions so had the Armenians based their heavy swordsmen on the Roman model. Protected by conical helmets with cheekguards, mail shirts and oval-shaped wooden shields faced with bronze or iron, these men carried two short throwing spears that they now hurled at my frontline cohorts before drawing their swords and charging. These men were professional soldiers who were recruited from the Armenian heartlands. They were well paid, well equipped and highly motivated and they numbered at least twenty thousand men.
Just as Dura’s legions were trained to hurl their javelins and then charge at an enemy with their swords drawn, so the Armenians threw their missiles and launched themselves at the legions. Three things prevented them breaking our line. Firstly, they faced soldiers who were even better trained and motivated than they were, which meant that that the first-line cohorts were able to withstand the hail of spears that were thrown at them. Though dozens of legionaries were killed or wounded the line did not break. Secondly, the first-line cohorts that received the Armenian charge were actually the cohorts that had begun the battle as the second line. In the aftermath of the defeat of the levy spearmen Domitus had brought up his fresh second line to take the place of those cohorts that had battled the spearmen. Thirdly, and perhaps decisively, the ground in front of the legions was literally carpeted with dead spearmen, which broke up the momentum of the heavy swordsmen’s charge as enemy units negotiated their way through and over piles of dead men.
The awful din of a huge mêlée erupted as the swordsmen finally got to grips with the Durans and Exiles, the front ranks of both sides stabbing and hacking at opponents with their swords. The frenzy of sword strikes produced fewer casualties than expected, though, as men kept their shields tight to their torsos and tucked their chins into their chests to protect their necks. The reality was that a small number of men in the front ranks of both sides duelled with each other as the ranks behind them waited for the breakthrough that never came.
The centre was a scene of deadlock but on the left a disaster was unfolding.
Vagises was leading two thousand of his horse archers towards the gap between Peroz’s rapidly fading horsemen on the left wing and the left flank of the Exiles when groups of enemy horsemen suddenly began pouring through said gap: a seething wedge of horseflesh made up of mounted spearmen in green tunics, scale armour cuirasses and helmets. They were moving fast towards the cataphracts that stood motionless in front of them.
There were dozens of dragon windsocks fluttering among the Armenian horsemen, each one being the standard of a company of around a hundred men. From my position I could not determine how many enemy horsemen there were but a guess would put the figure at fifteen thousand or more.
Horse archers are not able to engage in a close-quarter battle with enemy horsemen who are armoured and equipped with lances and shields. Their most effective tactic is to shoot at an enemy from a safe distance, like a swarm of hornets, arrows being their deadly sting. But now Vagises led his men directly towards the Armenian swarm, his companies deploying into a long line of wedge formations, each one four ranks deep. His horse archers were galloping towards the right flank of the Armenian mass and began loosing arrows at a range of seven or eight hundred paces from them.
Shooting around four arrows a minute, two thousand missiles landed among the Armenians every fifteen seconds. They struck horses and their riders, sending animals careering to the ground where they thrashed around in agony. Dozens of injured beasts, wild-eyed with terror and pain shooting through their bodies, collided with other horses and knocked them off-balance. Riders were thrown from saddles and trampled under hooves as Vagises’ men inflicted carnage on the Armenian flank.
When they were around two hundred paces from the enemy the companies of Dura’s horsemen wheeled their horses to the right and then right again as they about-faced and retreated, twisting in the saddle and shooting arrows over the hind quarters of their animals as they did so.
Now Vistaspa led his cataphracts forward and the ground began to shake as two and half thousand armoured horses and their riders broke into a canter and then a gallop, hundreds of kontus shafts lowered as they were held two handedly on the right flank of the animals. It took my breath away as I beheld the steel-encased horseflesh of Dura and Hatra race across the ground and then smashed into the Armenians. I punched the air as I heard the sickening scraping noise that told me that kontus points were going through shields and armour.
‘Pacorus!’ Gallia shouted.
‘I know, it is a magnificent sight. Hail victory!’
‘No, Pacorus, Look!’
I turned away from admiring the unstoppable charge of the cataphracts to see with horror Gafarn’s horse archers fleeing from a great number of Armenian heavy horsemen who were now dividing into two parts: one that continued to pursue Hatra’s horsemen, and another that was riding towards our position. The Armenian commander had timed the charge of his horsemen with perfection – on one wing unleashing them into an inviting gap; on the other committing his mailed fist to smash through the horse archers on our right flank. I stared open-mouthed as at least three thousand heavy horsemen, followed by Armenian horse archers, galloped after Gafarn’s men who were shooting arrows over their horses’ hind quarters as they retreated back to Hatra. The army’s right wing had evaporated.
The Armenian horsemen who had peeled away and who were now bearing down on us wore steel arm armour, scale armour cuirasses and green plumes on their helmets. Each man carried a long lance and no doubt was also armed with a sword and perhaps also a mace or axe. One thing was certain: the thousand horse archers with me plus the Amazons would not be able to withstand them.
The Armenians had now halted and were dressing their lines preparatory to a charge to destroy us. Frantic and frequent trumpet blasts to my front indicated that the legions’ commanders had also witnessed the collapse of Gafarn’s wing.
‘The legions are forming square,’ I said to no one in particular.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Gallia.
I peered at the Armenians horsemen and saw that though their horses wore scale armour, the suits covered the animals’ bodies only, not their heads or necks. I called forward the company commanders.
I pointed at the Armenian horsemen beginning to walk their animals towards us.
‘The horses’ heads and necks are vulnerable. We are therefore going to charge them and drop as many of the beasts as we can before taking refuge in the square being formed by the legions. Go!’
T
hey saluted and rode back to their commands, horns sounded and then the Duran dragon and Amazons slowly swung right to face the Armenians. The latter had now broken into a canter as they closed the gap between them and us, their lances lowered to skewer Parthian flesh. I raised my hand and signalled the advance and we too broke into a trot and then a canter. Gallia leaned forward in her saddle and without thinking pulled an arrow from her quiver and nocked it in her bowstring. Horns blew and we broke into a gallop, Remus straining his muscles to outrun Epona beside him. I strung an arrow and released it, then nocked another and another and another as missiles flew at the Armenians and scythed down their front ranks. Horses pulled up and collapsed as arrows hit them, catapulting their riders onto the ground.
Then, just as we had done a hundred times before on the training fields, fresh horn blasts signalled a wheel to the right and then right again as we about-faced and retreated from the Armenians. I twisted in the saddle and shot an arrow at the oncoming enemy, and then a second before turning away and shouting at Remus to move faster to escape our pursuers.
Then I diverted him right and the others followed as we headed towards one side of the square that had now been formed by the Durans and Exiles.
I pulled up Remus as the cohorts opened to allow my riders to enter the square as Gallia pulled up beside me, the Amazons grouped around us while Vagises’ dragon flooded into the square. The Armenian heavy horsemen had not pursued us and were content to form up into a long line around five hundred paces away.
‘Why don’t they charge?’ asked Gallia.
‘There is no need,’ I answered. ‘They have succeeded in swatting away one of our wings and have got into our rear. We are now surrounded, my sweet, like sheep in a pen.’
I pulled on Remus’ reins and walked him into the square with my wife and her warriors as the cohorts closed ranks and faced their shields towards the Armenians. Gafarn was gone, Vistaspa and Vagises had been separated from the main body of the army and I had no idea where Peroz was. As the sun descended in the west I was facing certain defeat in front of the city of my birth.
I thanked Shamash that Lucius Domitus commanded the army for as soon as he had discerned that both our wings had disappeared and that there was fighting in the rear he had disengaged his front cohorts from the Armenians swordsmen and formed square. He had also fortuitously ensured that the wagons carrying spare weapons and shields were within that square. An additional bonus was that most of the animals from Dura’s camel train had also sought sanctuary within the square so at least we had replacement arrows to shoot at the enemy.
The Armenian swordsmen did not follow the legionaries as they withdrew, having lost a not inconsiderable numbers of men to gladius strikes. The Durans held the top and right-hand sides of the square, the Exiles its left-hand side and rear, as all round it enemy troops deployed into position.
I slid off Remus’ back as I saw the white-crested helmet of Domitus coming towards me. Gallia ordered Zenobia to dismount the Amazons as the rest of Dura’s horse archers also jumped down from their horses. A curious quiet engulfed the square as the officers of both sides worked feverishly to rearrange their men and ignored their opponents. Quartermasters issued fresh javelins, shields and swords to battered and bruised legionaries who formed orderly lines at the wagons while Alcaeus and his physicians ran around patching wounds and carrying the seriously wounded into the centre of the square.
Domitus had taken off his helmet and was wiping his sweaty forehead when he reached me. ‘Bit careless of you to lose both of your wings.’
I too took off my helmet and wiped my brow on my sleeve. ‘There are too many of them, I realise that now.’
‘What do you want to do?’
Chrestus ran over as Gallia began counting the arrows left in her quiver.
‘We are only half a mile from Hatra,’ I said. ‘Gafarn has most likely withdrawn to the city and Vistaspa is too good a soldier to allow his heavy horsemen to be trapped and destroyed, so I must deduct that he too has sought refuge in Hatra. We should do the same.’
Gallia was unimpressed. ‘You will give victory to the enemy?’
‘Either that or stay here and be slaughtered,’ said Domitus flatly.
‘We take the wounded with us,’ I said. ‘Those who are seriously injured can be loaded on the wagons, the others can walk back to the city.’
I smiled at Gallia. ‘Take command of the horse archers. Divide them between the four sides of the square and tell them to kill any slingers or archers they see. The enemy will try to soften us up with missiles before they launch a fresh assault.’
She nodded curtly and then went off with Zenobia to organise our archers.
‘It is best that the queen has something to occupy herself,’ I said to Domitus and Chrestus.
Domitus winked at Chrestus. ‘To stop her bending your ear, more like. Reminds me of that time when we were surrounded by Narses and Mithridates. The horsemen buggered off then as well.’
‘I sent them away,’ I corrected him. ‘Besides, it is not quite the same: at least we are within walking distance of safety.’
‘If we can break out of the position we are in,’ Chrestus reminded us both.
A roll call revealed that the legions had lost a hundred and fifty dead and nearly four hundred wounded, most of the casualties being inflicted in the mêlée with the Armenian swordsmen. The latter now stood facing the Durans in front of the top of the square, retreating fifty paces when the archers Gallia posted among the legionaries began shooting at them with great accuracy. The Durans on the right side of the square faced thousands of levy spearmen, our archers having great sport against these men who had already been badly mauled by the legions, shooting arrows that pierced thin wicker shields and struck unarmoured torsos, necks and faces. They were quickly withdrawn out of range. The Armenian slingers and archers took up position in front of the spearmen and attempted to counteract our missile fire, but our recurve bows had greater range than the Armenian ones and after a short while their archers also withdrew, leaving only the slingers to duel with our bowmen before they too were pulled back.
It was the same on the other side of the square where the Armenian commander also placed a great number of levy spearmen, who were very effectively culled by Dura’s expert archers before being pulled back. But it was a different story at the foot of the square where we would have to make our breakout attempt. Here the enemy placed his professional spearmen: soldiers wearing leather cuirasses and helmets and carrying large, rectangular wicker shields of almost shoulder height that were faced with leather. Our arrows were unable to penetrate them and so the archers were reduced to trying to hit the Armenian horsemen who were arrayed behind the spearmen, to no avail. I received a report from Chrestus whose Exiles faced these heavy spearmen that they numbered at least twenty thousand men. The Armenian general knew that this was the direction any breakout attempt would come from and had deployed his men accordingly. Smashing through such a barrier would be an epic struggle indeed.
The ordered calm was suddenly shattered by the sound of hundreds of kettledrums, trumpets and horns as the Armenian ring around us sprang into life and thousands of spearmen and swordsmen charged our square. The charges against the right and left sides of the square were disordered and half-hearted as hundreds of levy spearmen, their morale already fragile, were cut down by dozens of archers standing among the ranks of the legionaries. But at the top and bottom of the square it was a different story. The Armenian swordsmen, now without their javelins, locked shields and ran at the Durans with swords drawn. The latter, having been resupplied with javelins, hurled two volleys to cut down the first ranks of the Armenians and temporarily disrupt their momentum. But there were still many thousands of Armenians left and the two lines smashed into each other to recommence their grim close-quarters battle. At the bottom of the square the locked shields of the Armenian heavy spearmen advanced steadily and methodically but were stopped as the first five ranks of the Exiles
hurled fifteen hundreds javelins at them. The thin, soft iron points embedded themselves in shields and bodies, chopping down hundreds of men in the front ranks and halting those behind. Then the Exiles charged, clambering over dead and injured spearmen to get to grips with those behind. The Armenians began to fall back slowly as gladius points stabbed groins, necks and faces. But the truth was that the enemy was keeping us fixed where we were and he had greater numbers to grind us down with relentless attacks against all sides of the square, trading lives for time.
And then I heard a new sound to the northeast and heard the telltale low rumble created by thousands of hooves pounding the earth and knew that we were finished, for a new army had arrived on the battlefield.
It was then that I saw in the distance the Armenian commander; a figure wearing a tall white conical hat with a cuirass of shimmering steel plates, riding a huge black horse up and down behind his swordsmen, no doubt urging them on.
All thoughts of a breakout disappeared as I ran to where the Durans were having difficulty holding back the masses of swordsmen who were hacking at their front ranks. Behind the tiring cohorts dismounted horse archers and Amazons were still loosing arrows over the heads of the Durans and were undoubtedly finding targets, but their missiles were cutting down only a few of the tens of thousands of Armenians who were attacking the legionaries.
Gallia and Zenobia stood beside their female companions as others rushed off to bring fresh quivers from the camel train. Inside the square it was chaos as drivers struggled to retain control of camels and mules and horse archers tried to calm horses frightened by the screams, shrieks and war cries of tens of thousands of men.
I ran past Gallia to the rear of the line of cohorts where a steady stream of wounded men were either hobbling from the ranks or being dragged by medical orderlies and then unceremoniously dumped on the ground before being worked on. I saw one legionary, his mail shirt torn and bloody, stagger from the rear of a century. I ran over to him, put his arm over my shoulder and assisted him to where Alcaeus was binding the wounded arm of another soldier.