Narses and Mithridates did not have enough heavy horsemen to assault our square on all four sides, so they were gambling on one large attack against one of its sides. If they broke through then they would destroy the army, for behind them would come thousands of horse archers. Domitus realised this also.
‘So,’ he said, ‘it all comes down to us holding off their heavy horsemen.’
‘Do you want me to reinforce this part of the line with some of my lads?’ asked Kronos.
Domitus shook his head. ‘No, if we weaken one part of the line they might throw in any reserves they have at it. We wait until they hit us and see what happens.’
He slapped me on the arm. ‘I wish we had Orodes with us.’
‘Me too,’ I said.
We went back through the ranks as the legionaries stood up and locked their shields together to present a wall of white shields once again. The horsemen became more widely spaced as they trotted towards us, each man bringing down his kontus on his right side and grasping it with both hands. The charge of thousands of cataphracts is a magnificent sight; the sun glinting off lance points, scale armour and helmets and the ground shaking as tens of thousands of iron-shod hooves race across the earth. It is also terrifying for those standing in its way. Ordinary Parthian foot soldiers would have crumbled long before the horsemen reached them. But the men standing in the path of the cataphracts were not ordinary soldiers. They had spent years training not only in perfecting their own drills but also working with horsemen, and they knew what it was like to face a charge of heavy cavalry.
At least once a month the whole army was taken out into the desert to the west of Dura to train in massed formations. At the end of the exercise the legions had been drawn up in battle array and had been charged by a thousand cataphracts. The charge had not been pressed home of course, but it had acquainted the legionaries with the sights and sounds of heavy horsemen hurtling towards them. So it was today, as upwards of five thousand armour-clad horsemen broke into a gallop to charge and thunder towards them. The enemy screamed and urged their horses to move faster as thousands of javelins were hurled at the oncoming horsemen.
In their defensive formation each cohort had a depth of four ranks, each rank made up of twenty men. It was the rear two ranks that threw their javelins as front ranks of the cataphracts tried to batter their way through the legionaries. Batter was the correct word for the charge, magnificent though it was, had already begun to falter before it had even reached the foot soldiers. No horse will run blindly into a solid object. Unable to turn aside or wheel about, the horses either tried to stop or slowed and reared up on their back legs. Some lost balance and somersaulted into the ranks of the packed legionaries, causing dreadful carnage. In those few seconds the Durans lost more men than they had in the first battle or in the previous few days. The javelin storm further interrupted the momentum of the charge but caused few casualties, the points mostly glancing off scale armour.
So a desperate mêlée began, cataphracts either trying to jab their lance points into the faces of legionaries or, abandoning the shafts, going to work with their maces, axes and swords. But the legionaries kept their discipline and fought back, the front two ranks keeping their shields tight to their front and jabbing at the horses and riders with their javelins. The gaps that had been created by the careering and thrashing horses had been sealed by reinforcements sent from the cohorts drawn from the other sides of the square, and those thrown riders who had not been killed when they had been crushed by their own mounts were quickly dispatched.
‘Archers!’ I screamed. I threw my shield to the ground and picked up my bow and the two full quivers lying at my feet. The other archers deployed in a single line either side of me did the same.
‘Shoot at the faces of the riders,’ I shouted.
I nocked an arrow in the bowstring and searched for a target. Dura’s armoured fist wore full-face helmets but most heavy horsemen in the empire sported open-faced helmets. They gave a rider a wide field of view and were not as hot to wear for hours on end in battle. The disadvantage was that they left the face exposed. I saw a rider stabbing at legionaries with his kontus and released my bowstring. I watched the arrow hurtle through the air to strike the man’s eye socket. He yelped and clutched his face with his hands, as he was pulled from his horse by a group of legionaries and disappeared from view beneath a flurry of gladius blades. I loosed another arrow that missed a rider who was hacking right and left with a mace. Then I shot three more arrows, one of which went through a rider’s mouth. I quickly used up my arrows as the rest of my archers also emptied their quivers.
‘Arrows,’ I shouted. The others also held up their bows to signal that they too required more ammunition.
In front of us riders were still trying to cut their way into the Duran ranks, flailing their weapons with frenzy. But our line was holding and it was becoming obvious that the enemy horsemen had been stopped. Domitus stalked immediately behind the rear ranks, gladius in hand, shouting encouragement. Wounded men were hauled from the ranks and attended by members of Alcaeus’ medical corps. The seriously injured were placed on stretchers and taken to where Alcaeus had established his hospital area.
Panting legionaries, Exiles sent to us as reinforcements by Kronos, ran along the line and dumped full quivers at our feet, no doubt enemy arrows they had picked up. We began shooting again. I saw a mounted enemy officer directing his men against us, calmly issued orders within feet of our front line. He was around a hundred paces from where I stood as I drew the bowstring back so the three flight feathers were by my right ear. I did not look at the arrowhead, only the target. The sounds of battle disappeared as I concentrated. My breathing slowed as I exhaled and let the bowstring slip from my fingers. The arrow sliced through the air over legionary helmets and hit the officer’s right eye socket. His arms immediately dropped by his sides and his head slumped forward. He remained in his saddle, just another dead man on the battlefield.
Above the clatter of weapons striking helmets and shields and the roar of men cursing and crying out in agony came the shrill sound of horn blasts. Slowly the cataphracts disengaged and retreated from our front line. The legionaries began cheering and banging their swords and javelins on their shields, chanting ‘Dura, Dura’. The enemy’s heavy horsemen reformed their line and then about-faced and withdrew. We had beaten them. Domitus came rushing over and we embraced each other like small boys who have just discovered a heap of freshly baked cakes.
All around men fell to their knees and gave thanks to their gods while others, racked with pain from wounds now the frenzy of bloodlust had left them, winced and leaned on their shields or their comrades for support. Others fainted from exhaustion, for they had been standing and fighting in the sun for hours now. We had been fortunate that the enemy had assaulted only one side of the square. If we had been attacked on all four sides then perhaps they would have broken us.
‘They knew their foot and horse archers couldn’t break our line,’ said Domitus, who had taken off his helmet and was wiping his sweat-covered scalp with a rag. ‘They gambled that their heavy horse could break through and they lost.’
He glanced at the sun and squinted. ‘What I wouldn’t give to dunk my head in the Euphrates right now.’
‘That, my friend,’ I said, ‘is our Achilles’ heel.’
My fears were confirmed by Marcus who reported to me as I lay on the ground, my right forearm across my eyes to shield them from the sun. I was exhausted from the exertions of battle and from having no sleep on account of the night raid on the enemy camp.
Domitus kicked the sole of my boot.
‘You awake, Pacorus?’
‘If I wasn’t before I am now.’ My limbs ached and with difficulty I sat up.
‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ said Marcus. ‘But the water situation is most dire.’
‘How dire?’ I asked.
‘Enough in the wagons for only half a day.’
I held out an arm to
Domitus who hauled me up. I picked up my helmet and bow.
‘Very well, I said. ‘Council of war in ten minutes. Assemble all the senior officers.’
As our precious water supplies were allocated in order or priority – to those who had been fighting, to the rest who had been standing in the ranks, and lastly to the wounded – Domitus, Kronos, Alcaeus, Marcus and the cohort commanders gathered in the centre of the camp. They sat down on stools arranged under a temporary awning Marcus had rigged up between two wagons, though it was now late afternoon and mercifully the sun’s heat was abating.
‘You and your men did well today,’ I told them. ‘There are very few soldiers who can hold their ground against the empire’s finest cataphracts, but they did and more.’
‘I thought Dura had the finest cataphracts in the empire,’ said Drenis, the others cheering at his words.
‘But we are still surrounded and far from home,’ I continued. ‘Marcus informs me that our water supplies will last only one more day. We cannot remain here if we are to live.’
‘We could always strike for the Tigris,’ suggested Kronos. ‘It is only two or three days’ march from here.’
‘Without water the mules and oxen will quickly expire,’ said Marcus.
‘To say nothing of the wounded,’ added a grim-faced Alcaeus.
‘We cannot do that,’ I answered. ‘Even if we reach the river we will be nearer the enemy’s homeland and will face certain destruction, even if our thirst has been quenched.’
‘What, then?’ asked Domitus.
‘We attack the enemy. Tomorrow. At dawn. We will advance on the camp of Mithridates.’
Domitus rubbed his nose and looked into the distance.
‘You disapprove?’ I said.
‘The boys are tired and thirsty. If they form into a battle line and advance there is nothing to stop the enemy from hitting us behind and on our flanks.’
‘Ordinarily,’ I replied, ‘I would agree. But these are not ordinary circumstances. We are being ground down here. We cannot shake off the enemy and we will not be able to outrun them. They have time on their side; we do not. They won’t be expecting an attack.’
‘Well,’ said Kronos, ‘at least we won’t have to stand around being pelted with arrows and charged by horsemen.’
‘Very well, then,’ I said. ‘Organise your men. We attack south at dawn.’
The meeting broke up and the officers returned to their commands. I suddenly felt a sharp spasm of pain in my left leg and stopped until it eased. I rubbed my left thigh with my palm. Alcaeus spotted my pained expression and came over to me.
‘Are you hurt?’
‘No. It’s the old wound I picked up at Dura when the city was besieged.’
That was nearly four years ago, when Chosroes had brought his army to besiege my city and I had defeated him, suffering an arrow wound to my leg in the process.
‘Alas, there is little I can do. Being on your feet all day long has inflamed it. I would advise rest and keeping the weight off it but that hardly seems appropriate.’
‘I shall have to wait until we get back home.’
The air was suddenly filled with trumpet blasts and I knew that we were once again under attack. As tired legionaries reformed into their ranks and hoisted up their shields once more the enemy assaulted us on all four sides. The pain in my leg disappeared as excitement heightened my senses and the stamina of an immortal filled my being. I rushed over to the south side of the square, thinking that the enemy might be trying to break our line there once more. The other archers formed a long line behind the ranks of the cohorts as the clatter of metal against metal filled the air.
The light was beginning to fade as the level of noise rose but I could see no enemy horsemen. Most strange. Domitus ran back from his men to report. Behind him the rear two ranks of two cohorts hurled their javelins at the enemy.
‘It seems that they are throwing the dregs against us now. All foot soldiers, mostly ill armed and acting in small groups. Some have no weapons at all.’
Kronos reported the same thing. On all four sides of the square small groups of poorly armed men would charge us in an attempt to break our line. But they either died before they got within striking distance of the front ranks, felled by javelins, or were literally cut to pieces when they came within gladius range. They would fall back, reform then charge again, only to meet the same fate. As the sun set the desultory affair continued, the piles of enemy dead getting larger by the hour as dusk gave way to night. Some of the enemy wore only tunics, no armour or helmets. Their only weapons were stones that they hurled at legionaries in a vain attempt to split a skull encased in a helmet. Some had to be whipped forward by their own officers before they would fight, only to have their bellies sliced open by the waiting legionaries. After a while they stopped attacking and stood out of javelin range, hurling insults at us. So I moved the archers forward and stood with them beyond the front rank of the legionaries. And as the moon once again filled the night sky to illuminate the enemy in a ghostly glow, we shot at them. Legionaries ran back to the wagons to pick up bundles of enemy arrows that had been shot at us earlier. They had been meticulously collected by details of men under the command of Marcus. They were dumped at our feet as we shot arrow after arrow at the enemy.
At first we were content to stay close to the front ranks, especially when a group of the enemy made a half-hearted attempt to rush us. But after a while there was nothing left living in front of us, just heaps of dead that stretched left and right and into the distance. I rested the end of my bow on the ground. The fingers on my right hand hurt and my right shoulder ached. I had no idea how long I had been shooting at the enemy or how many arrows I had used.
Domitus came through the ranks of his men to join me. In his mail shirt, white tunic, greaves and helmet with its white crest he looked like a phantom in the moonlight.
‘What’s happening on the other sides of the square?’ I knew that there were no archers to support the legionaries on the other three sides of our formation.
‘They are holding the line with ease. Kronos sent a message that a load of unarmed slaves or such like attacked from the east. Most were cut down by javelins, the rest died easily enough on our swords.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said.
He looked up and down the line with a grim smile on his face.
‘I do. Narses and Mithridates are keeping us occupied while they go about their purpose.’
‘What purpose?’
‘They’re either scarpering or they will hit us again when it’s light and roll right over us.’
I suddenly felt very tired and every limb in my body ached with a fury as the awful realisation dawned on me that the last reserves of our strength had been used up on slaughtering the scrapings of the enemy army.
The men were spent. They had been fighting almost non-stop for over twenty-four hours. Dehydrated, tired, hungry and filthy, they had surpassed themselves in maintaining their discipline, morale and fighting spirit. But even men of Dura’s army now needed rest.
When the dawn came there were no longer any enemy soldiers attacking us, only heaps of dead and dying in front of the first rank of legionaries. These stood leaning on their battered shields like ghosts, staring blankly ahead at the twisted mounds of men that they had made dead flesh. There was no water left to slake their thirsts now. With parched mouths and fatigued limbs they remained silent and waited for the next enemy assault. The final assault that would destroy them. Except that there was no assault, and as the red and yellow rays of light lanced the eastern sky and Shamash returned day to the earth once more we realised that there was no enemy. Narses and Mithridates had gone and taken their army with them.
An hour after dawn had broken and as the sun began its accent in a cloudless sky, Kronos and Domitus joined me as I left the ranks and walked south. My left leg was screaming at me to stop and lie down. It was with difficulty I ignored the torment, enduring a stab of pain wi
th every step. We halted a couple of hundred paces from our lines and stared at the empty space previously occupied by the enemy camp.
‘So, they’ve gone,’ mused Kronos.
‘All that fighting last night was to cover their retreat,’ said Domitus, smugly.
‘You were right,’ I replied. ‘But why? They had almost finished us off. One more day and we would have been meat for crows.’
‘Perhaps that god of yours took pity on us,’ suggested Domitus.
‘Well if he did,’ said Kronos, ‘he only did half a job because we still have no water.’
Our good fortune with regard to the enemy vanishing was forgotten as I gave orders for the army to continue its march northwest, if only to escape the stench of dead flesh that permeated that air. We broke up some wagons to make a pyre on which to burn our own dead, but the thousands of opposition slain and dozens of mules that had been killed by arrows we left to rot. In no time corpses were swarming with large black flies gorging themselves on decaying flesh. As the black smoke of the funeral pyres drifted upwards into the vivid blue sky those still living trudged from the scene of horror.
We maintained our hollow square formation but had not gone half a mile before trumpet calls signalled the alarm. Reflexes honed by countless hours on the training fields commanded tired bodies to once again close ranks, shields forming a wall and roof around our battered formation. I hobbled over to the northern side of the square to join Domitus and Kronos who were standing beyond the front rank peering into the distance.
‘What is it?’ I asked.
Domitus pointed his vine cane directly ahead. ‘Riders.’
My heart sank. ‘The enemy?’
‘Looks like,’ he replied.
I strained to identify the shimmering black shapes on the horizon that were getting larger, albeit agonisingly slowly.
‘Why are they approaching from the northwest?’ asked Kronos. ‘It makes no sense. They should be coming from the south or east.’
I did not care from which direction they were coming, only that once more the enemy was approaching. I knew that this time they would succeed in breaking our square, and after that… There would be no after that for us. With a macabre fascination I watched the figures grow larger as they approached. Oddly they did not fill the horizon in a line but seemed to be riding in a column. Black shapes on black horses. I could now make out spears, the sun catching the tips of the whetted points, presaging our slaughter.
Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 17