by Ben Kane
Tarquinius would not answer. 'I need to talk to Pacorus,' he announced.
Brennus rolled his eyes.
'He won't tell us,' said Romulus. 'You should know that by now.'
The Gaul laughed.
Well used to Tarquinius' secretive nature, Romulus did not ask either. They had survived Carrhae, marched east for over a thousand miles with few mishaps. Despite an apparent lack of funds, he felt reassured by the prediction. The wise haruspex would win over Pacorus and get them the silk to give them a way of fighting new enemies. Getting back to Rome might seem impossible, but this did not. He strode forward confidently, the hot sand crunching beneath the soles of his sandals.
Tarquinius was as good as his word. That night, he left the others huddled by a tiny fire, eating bread and dried goat meat. Once the legionaries had sworn allegiance to Parthia, their captors had begun to treat them better and they were now fed a reasonable amount every day. There was no point starving men who would be expected to fight for the empire.
Making his way quietly through the darkness, the Etruscan observed the resting soldiers. Although they were captives, there was still good discipline, a sense of order. The cloth tents had been placed in neat lines, century by century. Even temporary ramparts had been thrown up, with pairs of sentries marching vigilantly round the perimeter. It looked like a typical army camp, except that this was further from Rome than any legionary had ever ventured.
Since the prisoners had realised they were not to be killed out of hand, their spirits had been rising. They would fight well, especially when Tarquinius revealed a new protection against the tribes' lethal arrows.
'Halt!' Burly warriors levelled spears at the Etruscan. Pacorus kept Parthians stationed around his tent at night. 'Who goes there?'
'The haruspex.'
Fear filled their eyes. 'What do you want?' one asked.
'A word with Pacorus.'
They conferred with each other for a moment.
'Wait here,' the first guard said curtly. Leaving his companions to watch Tarquinius, he entered the large tent a few steps away. The Parthian was not gone long. Lifting the cloth flap, he jerked his head.
Tarquinius approached, ducking a little to enter. The warrior lingered at the opening, clutching his weapon nervously.
In stark contrast to the Romans' accommodation, the interior of Pacorus' tent was richly decorated. Thick wool carpets covered the floor and a brazier smoked in one corner, providing warmth against the night air. Oil-soaked torches burned in deep plates, casting long shadows. Reclining cushions lay scattered about, but weapons stacked on a wooden stand were a reminder of the journey's real purpose. Slaves were cooking on a fire, and standing by with platters of food and drink. The tempting smell of roasting meat filled the tent.
The Etruscan's mouth watered. It had been a long time since he had tasted fresh lamb. Memories of Olenus at the cave flooded back and Tarquinius offered up a prayer of thanks for the wisdom the old man had imparted. Because of his abilities, the haruspex knew what was about to happen.
Pacorus was seated cross-legged by the brazier. Waving a half-gnawed bone, he gestured at Tarquinius to sit. The Parthian did not seem at all surprised to see him. 'Share my food,' he said, nodding brusquely at the nearest servant.
Beard greasy with fat, Pacorus' eyes danced with interest. He had shed his normal loose jerkin for an expensive robe and baggy white cotton trousers. Soft leather slippers with pointed toes poked from under his muscled legs. The gold belt circling his waist was delicate, yet a pair of curved daggers hung from it. First and foremost, Pacorus was a warrior.
Tarquinius sat down, taking the offered meat and a wooden beaker which contained some good wine. There was silence as he ate and drank. When the Etruscan looked up, Pacorus was eyeing him closely.
'How are my new troops?' said the Parthian. 'Ready to obey their master?'
'They have little choice.'
Pacorus leaned forward. 'Tell me. Will the legionaries fight for me? Or will they run, as at Carrhae?'
'I can only answer for my cohort.' Tarquinius spoke confidently. After Pacorus had granted his request to re-arm the legionaries of his unit, their spirits had risen immeasurably. All it had taken to convince the Parthian was an accurate prediction of which mountain passes were blocked with snow. This valuable information had probably saved lives and certainly shaved several days off their journey. 'They will fight to the last man rather than suffer defeat again.'
Pacorus sat back, looking satisfied. In the manner of enemies who are being polite, the pair spent a short time discussing the journey and border areas. Tarquinius quickly learned that the entire eastern region was full of unrest and that the Forgotten Legion would have its work cut out restoring peace.
'Why have you come?' Pacorus finally asked.
The Etruscan did not prevaricate. 'I have a proposition for you.'
Pacorus lifted a hand and a bowl of warm water carried by a slave instantly appeared. Cleaning his fingers and face, he smiled. 'The prisoner has a proposition for the captor.'
Tarquinius inclined his head.
Annoyed at the lack of deference, the Parthian's manner became less friendly. 'So?'
'Soon a caravan of Judaeans will cross our path.'
'They will be returning from India.' Pacorus picked an orange from a silver tray and began peeling it. 'What has this to do with us?'
'A large part of their cargo will be silk.'
'It usually is.'
Tarquinius changed tack. 'What is the Forgotten Legion's main duty?'
He smiled at the name. 'To defend the empire from hostile tribes. Bactrians, Sogdians and Scythians.'
'Whose warriors use composite bows like the Parthians.'
Pacorus was becoming visibly irritated with Tarquinius' vague manner.
'Your arrows butchered our men at Carrhae. And so will those of the nomads if we do not have a plan,' Tarquinius said.
'Go on,' said the commander icily.
'Orodes will not be pleased if his new border garrison is wiped out shortly after its arrival. That would allow fresh raids into Parthia.'
Pacorus ate a segment of orange, chewing thoughtfully. 'What do you propose?'
'Silk is very strong.'
The Parthian was confused.
'Wrap layers of it over the men's shields,' continued Tarquinius smoothly, 'and no shaft will penetrate.'
'How can you be sure?' Pacorus asked.
'I know many things.'
Pacorus could see where this was going. 'Merchants are taxed as they enter both Antiochia and Seleucia,' he said. 'And the king does not tolerate the robbing of honest travellers.' Most of Parthia's wealth was derived from the tolls imposed on those returning from the east.
'We will not steal from anyone,' replied Tarquinius.
'How will we pay for it then?' snapped the Parthian.
Tarquinius reached into his tunic and produced the leather pouch. Undoing the drawstring, he dropped an enormous ruby into one palm. It had been worn next to his heart ever since he had removed it from the hilt of Tarquin's sword. After seventeen years, the time had finally come to use Olenus' priceless gift. 'This will buy all the silk we need.'
Pacorus pursed his lips. 'I see the lituus is not all you managed to retain.'
Tarquinius said nothing.
The Parthian eyed the gemstone greedily and his right hand moved towards one of his daggers. 'I can take that very easily.'
'But you won't.'
'You are alone and unarmed.' He glanced at his guard. 'There are ten more of my men outside.'
'I would curse you for ever.' Tarquinius' dark eyes glinted in the torchlight as he tucked away the little bag. 'And my cohort might not be too happy either.'
Pacorus swallowed. The blond-haired soldier had helped the column pass safely through the mountains. He could predict landslides days in advance and storms before they appeared in the sky. It was rumoured that he'd even predicted his own side's defeat at Carrhae.
Smiling, the Etruscan walked over to the silk partition that separated the tent into sections. 'May I demonstrate?'
Pacorus nodded.
Tarquinius took down the piece of coloured fabric and wrapped it several times around a square cushion. He paced fifty steps to the end of the long tent, the killing distance that had cut the legions to pieces. Placing it on the floor, he walked back, picking up a deeply curved horn bow and quiver from the wooden stand.
The warrior by the entrance instantly lunged forward, spear at the ready.
Pacorus barked an order and he moved back.
Reaching his host, the haruspex studied the weapon carefully. 'This is very well made,' he commented, testing its draw. 'Powerful too.'
'A good bow takes weeks to build,' said Pacorus. 'The horn and sinew must be just the right thickness and the wood well seasoned.'
Turning towards the target, Tarquinius pulled out an arrow and fitted it to the string. Raising his arms, he paused, half turning.
The Parthian sucked in a breath.
Tarquinius swung away, content the point had been made. He drew back to full stretch, closing one eye and aiming carefully in the dim light. With a grunt, he released. The shaft hissed through the air, landing with a thump.
'Bring it here!' Pacorus shouted.
The guard picked up the cushion, an amazed look on his face. He walked to the commander, bowed and handed it to him.
Pacorus stared, fascinated. The arrow had only penetrated two fingers' depth into the filling. With a gentle tug, he pulled it free. The barbed head was completely covered in fabric.
Silk that was hardly torn or damaged.
The Parthian goggled.
'Wrap half a dozen layers of that over a scutum,' Tarquinius pronounced, 'and you have an army that can withstand any arrow.'
New respect for the haruspex filled Pacorus' eyes.
'You saw Roman discipline at Carrhae before the cataphracts charged. Legionaries are the finest infantry in the world,' said Tarquinius. 'With silk on our shields, the Forgotten Legion will be unbeatable.'
'Those tribes outnumber us.'
'They do not stand a chance,' repeated Tarquinius.
'Why tell me this?'
'My friends and I have no wish to die. We were lucky to survive the last battle.' Tarquinius raised his eyebrows expressively. 'Facing those bows a second time. '
Pacorus was intrigued. Unknown to the Etruscan, his new command from Orodes was a double-edged sword. Historically the horse archers and cataphracts had been able to keep the steppe nomads at bay. But the war with Rome had depleted Parthia's border forces to dangerously low levels and there had been news recently of incursions deep into the empire. Facing marauding tribes with few bowmen of his own had been worrying Pacorus since leaving Seleucia.
The Parthian poured more wine.
'There's your caravan,' said Brennus, shielding his eyes from the sun.
Romulus grinned. Both of them had been impatiently scanning the horizon since Tarquinius' night visit to Pacorus.
Exactly twelve days had passed.
Dust billowed into hot air in the middle distance. It was never difficult to spot movement on the flat plain that had replaced the sand dunes. A long line of camels could just be made out, stretching back into the haze.
Pacorus spotted the animals too and bellowed for the column to halt. The drums beat further commands. Most soldiers had learned basic Parthian orders by now and obeyed promptly. Recognising that new troops would fight best the way they had been trained, the shrewd officer had already learned many Roman manoeuvres from Tarquinius. A day earlier, he had taken the step of arming all the prisoners again. Again, no one but the Etruscan knew why. Despite their initial enjoyment at marching unburdened, the legionaries were proud to carry javelins, swords and shields once more.
Responding to the calls, the cohorts fanned out in a defensive line, six across, three deep, with two protecting the baggage train at the rear. Everyone grounded weapons and scuta, taking sips of water as they waited. Lean and fit, the Roman soldiers had become used to marching in the heat, and exhaustion was no longer an issue. Deep in Parthian territory, few worried at what was approaching.
Some time passed. Gradually the train grew near enough to make out more details. There were about thirty single-humped animals, walking with a distinctive rolling motion. Heavy cloth panniers hung from the sides of each.
'Extraordinary beasts. They can go for days without water,' commented Tarquinius.
Romulus studied them closely as they drew nearer. At Carrhae, the camels had been too far away to see properly.
A party of fifty men accompanied the beasts of burden. Most looked like bodyguards, hired to protect the merchants and their goods. All wore long robes and head-dresses to protect against the sun and most carried a spear and bow. A few wore swords. They showed little signs of discipline. Several scouts rode nervously alongside, their job of reporting the Romans' presence done.
Tarquinius gave them a quick glance. 'Mixture of Indians, Greeks and Parthians. Enough protection against most bandits.'
'Half a century would take them out,' said Romulus.
'There'll be no need,' smiled Brennus. 'Look at them.'
The caravan came to a halt a short distance away and the dust began to settle. Camels roared loudly, glad of a rest.
It was obvious that the newcomers were nervous. Hands gripped weapons tightly, feet stamped on hot sand. Dark eyes shifted uneasily in sweaty faces. There was nothing the traders could do when faced with such overwhelming force. The plain was flat for miles on end.
'I suppose we 're not a common sight,' observed Romulus wryly.
Everyone laughed. Ten thousand legionaries in the middle of Parthia would seem bizarre to other travellers.
Eventually a short man in a grimy white robe began to approach them, his hands held high in a gesture of peace. Three guards followed with dragging feet. Halfway over to the legions, the figure stopped, waiting for a response.
Pacorus glanced at Tarquinius. 'Squad of ten men!' he barked. 'Form up and follow me!'
The Etruscan saluted crisply and led Brennus, Romulus, Felix and seven others to stand in line behind the Parthian. With the legionaries marching to his rear, Pacorus walked his horse slowly across the sand and halted twenty paces from the other party. Tarquinius shouted an order and the files re-formed, facing forwards, scuta at the ready.
The old man in the dirty robe leaned on a well-worn staff, surveying the approaching soldiers. Straggling white hair framed a shrewd face with a large hooked nose. His skin was a deep nut brown, the result of years in the sun. He seemed visibly relieved to find a Parthian in charge.
'Who are you?' demanded Pacorus. 'And where are you bound?'
'My name is Isaac,' replied the stranger swiftly. 'I am a merchant travelling to Syria via Seleucia.' He paused for a moment before daring to ask. 'Who might you be, Excellency?'
Pacorus chuckled. 'An officer of King Orodes' army.' He turned in the saddle, gesturing at the massed cohorts. 'And here are his latest recruits.'
Isaac's mouth opened and closed. 'They look like legionaries.'
'Old eyes do not deceive,' said Pacorus. 'Some months ago, we crushed a huge Roman army west of the capital. These are the survivors. The Forgotten Legion.'
The trader concealed his shock at the news of such an invasion. 'Good news indeed,' he smoothly replied. 'So it is safe to continue our journey?'
'Of course.' Pacorus bowed his head. 'After you have shared my hospitality. The king would wish it, I am sure.'
Isaac smiled, revealing decaying teeth. Not all Parthians could be trusted, but the offer had left no room for refusal.
'A day of rest would be welcome,' the Judaean said, turning and crying out in a high-pitched voice at the men by the camels.
Despite the fact that it was only midday, Pacorus called for camp to be built. Most soldiers complained bitterly about having to dig much earlier than normal. It was extr
emely hard labour to construct a rampart and ditch under the sun's full heat, but those in Romulus' cohort said little. They could tell the haruspex was plotting something.
A few hundred paces away, the camels had been tethered to pegs in the ground. Angry brays filled the air as they demanded food. Unfamiliar with the bizarre-looking creatures, the Romans stared with fascination. The camels' protuberant eyes, long lashes and wide lips gave an impression of real intelligence, but the humped animals also had vicious tempers, kicking and spitting at anyone who came too close.
Guards and traders had worked together to set up large roomy tents. Stacks of goods were carried inside the biggest. Making the most of the situation, Isaac was setting up full camp as well.
Romulus could hardly contain his excitement. Since Seleucia there had been little of interest apart from weapons training and Tarquinius' continuous lessons and the inquisitive young soldier was frequently bored. The long days of marching were tedious. The desert had been replaced by mountains, and yet more sandy wasteland had soon followed. There was almost no daily variation. The possibility of hearing stories from further east and seeing exotic goods was intoxicating.
Hours passed and the temporary earthworks went up as they had so many times before. Tents were pitched and the tired soldiers threw themselves inside, desperate for shade. A few drops of water washed dust from dry throats. It had been a hard lesson, but everyone knew how to conserve liquid as if it was gold. Every man in the Forgotten Legion now knew Tarquinius' trick of sucking on pebbles.
Pacorus waited until early evening before inviting the Judaean to his spacious pavilion. The baking heat had begun to subside as the sun fell in the sky and a faint breeze sprang up. The commander supplemented his Parthian guards with the ten legionaries, while a further century waited nearby, a show of force designed to intimidate.
The two groups of sentries stared at each other with thinly veiled suspicion. Until they had fought against a common enemy, little would change. Too much blood had been shed on both sides.
Soon afterwards Tarquinius was ordered inside while Brennus and Romulus stood close to the tent wall, trying to hear what might be said. To his frustration, Pacorus and the haruspex talked in muted voices.