Carrhae (The Parthian Chronicles)

by Peter Darman

  I hurriedly saddled Remus and collected together five hundred horse archers, the Amazons and a further thousand of Surena’s men and rode with him and them north. We skirted Carrhae and headed north towards the foothills of the mountains. We left Vagises behind with orders to allocate guards to watch the prisoners, distribute the camel train’s remaining spare arrows among the horse archers and then bring them and the cataphracts north to scour the area.

  I cursed my luck as Remus galloped among the scrub and I searched for Crassus. In front of us were the hills of Sinnaca, an area of thick woods, steep slopes and rocky paths, country that was ideal for travel on foot and for eluding horsemen. If Crassus had managed to reach the hills the game was up and he would be back in Syria in two days. A mile north of Carrhae we encountered Byrd and a dozen of his scouts, one of whom was riding a donkey.

  ‘This is Abgarus, a cousin of Andromachus,’ reported Byrd. ‘He inform me of whereabouts of Crassus.’

  I closed my eyes and thanked Shamash for this miracle. The man on a donkey was an unprepossessing sight, with straggly long hair and a lazy left eye. Nevertheless, if accurate his information was invaluable.

  The man smiled as Vagises arrived at the head of two companies of horsemen to swell our force.

  ‘You saw Crassus?’ I asked.

  He shook his head. ‘No, lord.’

  I gripped my reins tightly in frustration. ‘Then how do you know where he is?’

  He smiled submissively again. ‘I saw three groups leave Carrhae last night, lord, but only one contained lictors.’

  Surena was confused. ‘Lictors?’

  ‘Special Roman administrators in plain white togas,’ I told him. ‘On their left shoulders they carry bundles of vine rods bound together by red bands from which an axe head protrudes. These rods are emblems of Roman unity and power but, more importantly, they escort Rome’s consuls and governors on their journeys, the bearers acting as bodyguards.’

  ‘These lictors half a mile away,’ said Byrd, ‘in a marsh.’

  I smiled at Abgarus. ‘My thanks to you. How can I reward you?’

  ‘I have lived in Carrhae all my life, lord, and made a good living until the Romans came and brought with them their taxes. Now I live in penury.’

  From his appearance I knew he was telling the truth.

  ‘Their expulsion from Carrhae will be reward enough.’

  Byrd thanked him and tossed him a bulging leather pouch. Abgarus’ eyes lit up when he looked at the contents and began whistling as he tapped the donkey on the flank and rode back down the road to Carrhae. I had a feeling that he was poor no longer.

  Byrd led the way as we left the road and headed in a southeasterly direction, riding over slightly undulating ground towards the hills of Sinnaca. The scrub was getting thicker now with small groups of oak and almond trees dotting the landscape. Byrd slowed his horse as a great expanse of marshland loomed into view, a lush green area of reeds, grasses and low-growing shrubs. The Romans were in the process of extricating themselves from this wetland, to head for the steep slopes of the hills that rose up on our left.

  ‘Why would they enter such terrain?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Get lost in dark,’ replied Byrd, ‘no moon last night.’

  Our attention was diverted from the Romans in front of us by the sound of trumpets and I saw a second Roman force appear from those hills and began descending the slope. I estimated their strength to be four cohorts as they marched slowly down the hill to place themselves between Crassus and us.

  Surena drew his sword and pointed it forward to signal the advance to his officers behind. We had perhaps two thousand horse archers to throw against two thousand Romans rapidly descending the hill to face us, plus perhaps another three thousand under Crassus. The ground was covered in bushes and we were on the edge of a marsh, which meant we would not be able to outflank the enemy, with the wetlands on one wing and the hills on the other. We would have to charge straight at the Romans, who even though were tired, hungry and deficient in weaponry would still be able to lock shields and halt our advance. We might be able to stand off and shoot down their front ranks but Crassus could still escape into the hills.

  ‘Surena,’ I said, ‘we cannot destroy them.’

  He held up his hand to stay his officers and then turned in the saddle to look at me.

  ‘We have them, lord. One more charge and we will rid the world of Crassus.’

  I smiled though I could have wept. ‘We cannot outflank them and our horse archers are already low on ammunition. After they have used up all their arrows they will not be able to cut their way through ten ranks or more of legionaries.’

  ‘My other horse archers and your cataphracts will be here soon,’ he insisted, ‘we can hold the enemy’s attention until they arrive.’

  I admired his tenacity but the thickening ranks of Romans in front told me our efforts would be futile. Whoever commanded the group of legionaries that had been on the hillside had not only saved Crassus but also his campaign. Now he would escape into the hills, return to Syria and raise another army. I suddenly felt tired and old as the fruits of our great victory withered before my eyes.

  ‘What now?’ asked Vagises as Surena slammed his sword back in its scabbard in frustration.

  ‘We watch the Romans withdraw up the hillside,’ I said.

  The enemy force that had descended the slope to face us was now fully deployed and presented a shield wall to deter our arrows, with the ranks behind holding their shields above their heads to defeat our missiles. Remus scraped at the ground as more and more of Surena’s horse archers swelled our ranks. It made no difference: we could have fifty thousand men and would still not be able to break the enemy before Crassus escaped. Then I saw a handful of white-robed individuals scrambling up the steep grassy slope and knew they were the lictors, which told me that the governor was with them, though I could not identify him.

  I pointed at the small white figures ascending the hill. ‘You see those men wearing white, they are the lictors and Crassus is with them.’

  ‘How far are they away?’ asked Gallia.

  ‘Seven hundred paces, perhaps more,’ said Vagises.

  She pulled her bow from its case and nocked an arrow in the bowstring. ‘Amazons! Aim shots at those whites figures on the hillside.’

  ‘You are wasting your arrows,’ I told her as she released her arrow at a high angle, the missile arching into the sky and disappearing from view. Seconds later dozens of arrows were flying towards the Romans scrambling up the hill as the Amazons vented their frustration.

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said Surena, who likewise began taking shots at the soldiers ascending the hill. Soon the front ranks of his companies arrayed in a line behind us were also loosing arrows, which as far as I could tell were having a negligible effect. I nudged Remus forward and then wheeled him about before raising both my arms.

  ‘Stop shooting!’

  Surena gave the order to desist shooting as one by one the Amazons lowered their bows and finally Gallia also halted her efforts. I returned to her side and looked at her half-empty quiver.

  ‘You might need the rest of them.’

  ‘At least Crassus would have had to duck his head,’ she sniffed.

  Those Romans who had been wading through the marsh had now all ascended the hill, after which those with locked shields in front of us began to inch to their right to follow them, all the time retaining their testudo formation. We sat on our horses and watched them go. There was no point in wasting any more arrows. We might kill a few and injure more but our prize had alluded us and with it the chance of outright victory.

  It took at least half an hour for the huge testudo to traverse the slope and join the Romans who had been under Crassus’ command. While they did so I discussed our next move with Surena.

  ‘We should demand the surrender of Carrhae,’ I said, ‘and after that the other towns occupied by the Romans in this region – Nicephorium, Ichnae and Zenodotium
. When the Romans return next year they will find that their defences and garrisons will have been greatly strengthened.’

  ‘And Syria?’

  I looked at him. ‘What of Syria?’

  ‘We are close to the border, lord, and could raid the Roman province with ease.’

  I thought of the strong and high walls of Antioch. ‘We will not be able to storm Antioch or any other town or city. That being the case, the most we could achieve would be to ravage the countryside.’

  ‘At least that would give the Romans a taste of what they have inflicted on others,’ said Gallia.

  I doubted whether we would kill any Romans using such tactics. More likely the only people that would be affected would be poor Syrians trying to make a living.

  ‘I will consider it,’ I replied.

  ‘Why aren’t they moving?’ asked Vagises, looking up at the enemy on the hillside.

  I looked at the Romans who had formed into a long line of centuries arrayed several ranks deep facing our left flank in the plain below. But Vagises was right: they were standing immobile on the hillside around six hundred paces from us.

  ‘Perhaps they intend to attack,’ suggested Surena.

  In the next few minutes we hurriedly redeployed and swung our line through ninety degrees to face the Roman line, our horse archers manoeuvring their companies into line order to match the extent of the enemy’s frontage. There certainly seemed to be a high level of activity among the Roman ranks, with officers and centurions running around between the centuries and then towards the rear where the white-attired lictors stood out against the green background.

  ‘I’ll warrant you wished you hadn’t wasted those arrows now,’ I grinned at Gallia, who scowled back at me.

  We stood ready to face the Roman onslaught but as the minutes passed the more I realised that such a manoeuvre would at best be ill advised and at worst suicidal. To launch an attack down a steep hill would result in units becoming disorganised and they would have to redress their lines at the bottom, prior to a charge. And even if they launched a charge we would simply withdraw before them. And what then? They would not wish to get back into Carrhae having crept out from there under cover of darkness; rather, they would have to retreat back up the hill. It made no sense.

  ‘They are not going to attack,’ I said, ‘pass the word to stand at ease.’

  ‘What are they doing, then?’ asked Gallia.

  I patted Remus on the neck. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’

  ‘I will ride up there and demand their surrender,’ announced Surena with a wide grin across his face.

  We all laughed at his proposition, but as sun beat down on us and the Romans continued to stand on the hillside his plan sparked an idea in my mind. I turned to the King of Gordyene.

  ‘Surena, perhaps we might yet secure an advantage from this curious situation. I would ask you to go to the Romans under a flag of truce and request a meeting with Crassus regarding a peace treaty.’

  Gallia, who had taken off her helmet, rolled her eyes. ‘Why don’t you send a squire instead, Pacorus, someone far more appropriate for dealing with the Romans than a king?’

  ‘I don’t mind, lady,’ said Surena, ‘anything rather than sitting here being bored to distraction. What terms do you demand, lord?’

  ‘The immediate evacuation of all Parthian territories and a cessation of hostilities between Rome and Parthia for five years.’

  Gallia burst out laughing. ‘And ask Crassus to come down and clean Pacorus’ armour at the same time, for you have more chance of achieving that than the aforementioned demands.’

  I frowned at her to indicate my displeasure but she waved away my annoyance. Vagises grinned at Surena as he pulled his bow from its case and unfastened the bowstring, before riding forward holding the disabled weapon aloft so the Romans could see that he came in peace. He rode up the grassy slope with some difficulty, his horse losing its footing a couple of times. A group of men left the enemy ranks and came down the slope to meet him, centurions judging by the transverse crests on their helmets. I saw Surena pointing back to where we were sitting and then gesturing with his arms, then one of the Romans left them and went back up the slope to pass through the long line of centuries and stop at a group that included the lictors.

  Gallia was clearly bored by it all. ‘We should ride back to camp and then return to Hatra. Hopefully Orodes has had better luck than us.’

  ‘We have still mauled the enemy and prevented them from invading the empire,’ I reminded her, ‘you are too harsh in your judgement.’

  ‘You have won a victory but not the war,’ was her unrelenting comment.

  I gave the order for the horse archers behind us to dismount as midday approached and the sun roasted our backs, swarms of small flies from the marsh adding to our general discomfort as they plagued both horses and men. Eventually Surena returned with news that Crassus would consider my offer and give his answer presently.

  ‘He and his men will be gone within the hour,’ said an increasingly irritable Gallia.

  I was apt to agree with her but then there appeared to be a great commotion on the hillside as we saw figures running around again and apparently arguing with legionaries in their ranks. I had no idea what was happening and neither did anyone else, but then a small group began to slowly descend the slope and head towards us. There were eight of them, seven attired in bronze muscled cuirasses, red-crested helmets, white pteruges around their thighs and shoulders and red cloaks pinned on their right shoulders. They formed a guard around a bald-headed man of medium height wearing a white tunic with purple stripes and a purple cloak – Marcus Licinius Crassus.

  I rode forward with seven companions to match the number of Romans: Gallia, now with her helmet back on her head, Zenobia who carried my banner, Surena, Vagises, Malik, Byrd and Surena’s second-in-command, a sour-faced man with a long scar on the side of his neck called Exathres. As we approached the Romans I saw that every one of their officers had their swords sheathed, a good omen.

  We walked our horses forward in a line as the Romans adopted a similar formation, Crassus directly opposite me. At a distance of twenty paces from each other the two groups halted as if by mutual consent and stared at each other. Epona flicked her tail, Remus chomped on his bit while Surena swatted away a fly that was pestering him.

  I raised my right hand. ‘Greetings Marcus Licinius Crassus, Governor of Syria and consul of Rome.’

  Crassus showed me a faint smile, though he looked very tired and slightly nervous. He raised his right hand in return.

  ‘Greetings King Pacorus, son of Varaz of Hatra, Lord High General of the Parthian Empire.’

  ‘It is with regret that we meet under such circumstances,’ I said, ‘but I hope that we may yet depart as friends.’

  ‘Friends do not make war on each other,’ retorted Crassus.

  ‘Or invade each other’s territories,’ snapped Gallia.

  The high-ranking Roman officers looked angrily at the helmeted figure wearing a mail shirt beside me but Crassus nodded knowingly.

  ‘I do not think that we have been introduced,’ he said to Gallia. ‘You know my identity and I suspect I know yours, but perhaps we may be formally acquainted.’

  Gallia snorted in contempt but fortunately her cheekguards masked her disdain, but then she slowly removed her helmet to reveal her face.

  ‘I am Gallia, Queen of Dura,’ she announced, fixing Crassus with steely blue eyes.

  Crassus pointed up at me. ‘Twenty years ago your husband came to my house in Rome and during our conversations he talked of your beauty, and even though it was two decades ago I can see why he was so eager to talk of your splendour.’

  Gallia was unmoved by his flattery. ‘Ten years ago your dog, Lucius Furius, came to my city and tried to take it. Just like you his army was defeated and he himself was killed.’

  The other Romans with Crassus bristled at her words but Crassus raised his hand to quieten them. I frowned at
Gallia but she was unapologetic and continued to taunt Crassus.

  ‘Have you come to beg for your life, governor?’

  Crassus did not rise to the bait but I could see that his officers were livid at the effrontery being shown to their commander.

  ‘I have come here because your husband requested a parley. But perhaps you would rather shoot me down with your bow, warrior queen of Dura?’

  Gallia reached behind and pulled her bow from its case, prompting the Roman officers to draw their swords and close around Crassus.

  ‘You think I would not, Roman?’ hissed Gallia.

  Crassus gently pushed his officers away and clasped his hands in front of him. ‘Your reputation as a slayer is know throughout the whole world, lady.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘If you wish to kill me then here I am. A famed archer such as yourself will have no difficulty hitting me from such a close range.’

  ‘There will be no violence!’ I said firmly. ‘We are not here to fight but to determine once and for all the border between the empires of Parthia and Rome.’

  Gallia sneered at Crassus and replaced her bow in its case. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zenobia pass my standard to Byrd who sat next to her but thought nothing of it.

  ‘Do you hold the authority to determine such a thing?’ asked Crassus mischievously.

  ‘I am lord high general of the Parthian Empire,’ I replied, ‘entrusted by King of Kings Orodes to negotiate with the enemies of the empire.’

  Crassus looked around. ‘And where is King Orodes?’

  ‘Chasing what remains of the Armenian Army back north,’ remarked Surena, his subordinate stifling a laugh.

  ‘And you are?’ snapped Crassus, cracks appearing in his composure.

  ‘Surena, King of Gordyene,’ announced Exathres, ‘the scourge of Armenia.’

  Crassus’ eyes narrowed as he studied Surena.