We reached Assur two days later, making camp four miles north of the city and inland from the river. The city itself had been constructed on a great bend in the river so that the Tigris protected its northern and eastern walls like a giant moat. In addition, a proper moat had been dug to encompass the other two sides using water from the river so that the city was surrounded on all four sides by water in addition to its walls. There were three entrances to Assur: the Tabira Gate in the northwest, the West Gate and the South Gate, each one reached by means of wide stone bridges that spanned the fifty-foot-wide moat. And from each gatehouse flew the white horse head banner of my father.
I had visited the city several times when I had been a boy and remembered that there had always been a great deal of building work being undertaken during each visit. The city itself was three thousand years old and had been the capital of the ancient Assyrian Empire eight hundred years ago. It had been besieged and destroyed several times since then and it was only during the rule of my father’s father, King Sames, that Assur’s defences were significantly strengthened. It was now the administrative centre of eastern Hatra.
I rode with Orodes, Domitus, Byrd and Malik through the Tabira Gate to visit the governor of the city and the man who held the east of the kingdom for my father, Herneus. In the times of the Persian Empire he would have been titled satrap, as he had both civil and military authority over a large area and controlled the many brick-built forts dotted along the western bank of the Tigris that we had passed on our journey south. Most had been empty because Herneus had summoned their tiny garrisons to Assur.
The northern quarter of the city housed the religious district, with temples devoted to Anu, Ishtar and Shamash. The governor’s palace was located next to the temple area and the garrison’s barracks, stables and armouries occupied the northeastern part of the city. The southern area of Assur was where the general population lived: a sprawling collection of one- and two-storey homes, markets, businesses, workshops, brothels, stables, animal pens and shops arranged along streets that had been constructed in a haphazard fashion. It really was a city of two halves: order, power and serenity in the north; chaos, poverty and over-crowding in the south.
At the gates we were met by a mounted party from the city garrison, soldiers dressed in white shirts and leggings armed with spears and swords and carrying round wooden shields covered with leather painted red and sporting a white horse head emblem. They escorted us to the governor’s palace, a single-storey rectangular building arranged around two courtyards. The palace was surrounded by a high stonewall that had round towers at each corner and along its length, with an impressive three-storey gatehouse that gave access to the compound. Our horses were taken from us and then a steward escorted us up the palace steps and into the large reception hall. Two guards tried to bar the way of Byrd and Malik, mistaking their black robes and untidy appearance for unwelcome guests.
‘They are with me,’ I ordered and the guards went back to their stations.
The hall had a high vaulted ceiling decorated with paintings depicting Parthian horsemen defeating eastern nomads. I took that to be a good omen. The walls were tiled blue and yellow with marble statues positioned in alcoves. We walked through the hall into the first courtyard, around which were the offices of city officials. Across the courtyard was the entrance to the royal hall where the governor held court, though on this occasion he sat on the right of my father who occupied the throne on the dais, Vistaspa seated to his left. City administrators, priests and officers of the garrison stood to one side, whilst officers of the royal bodyguard were grouped behind my father on the dais.
Beyond this royal hall lay the palace’s second courtyard, surrounded by the private chambers of the governor, his family and guests.
Herneus and Vistaspa stood up when we entered for I too was a king. The assembly bowed their heads as Vistaspa gave up his seat for me. My father ordered another one brought for Orodes as befitting his position as a prince of the empire. The officers of my father’s bodyguard shot disparaging looks at Malik and Byrd as my two friends and Domitus went to stand behind my chair.
My father began proceedings. ‘Now that the army of Dura has arrived we can plan our strategy regarding how to defeat the army that approaches our borders. Lord Herneus, I believe that you have received information as to its whereabouts and size.’
Herneus bowed his head, stood in front of the dais and cleared his throat. He was a man of medium height with a round face and a head that was completely bald. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Despite the fact that he was extremely rich and powerful, having a mansion in the city and another in Hatra itself, he was dressed in a simple long-sleeved beige shirt, brown leggings, boots and a leather cuirass.
‘Thank you, majesty,’ he replied in a deep voice. ‘The latest intelligence I have received is that the enemy is fifty miles to the east and advancing at a rate of around fifteen miles a day.’
‘A somewhat tardy advance,’ commented my father.
‘Indeed, majesty,’ continued Herneus. ‘The size of the enemy host means that it has to forage far and wide for provisions.’
‘And what size is it?’ I asked.
‘Upwards of one hundred thousand men, majesty.’
‘One hundred thousand?’ said Domitus loudly. ‘Are you sure your scouts can count?’
Byrd and Malik laughed; the officers of my father’s bodyguard scowled at them.
Herneus, to his credit, did not flinch but replied calmly.
‘Quite sure. We have been receiving reports on a daily basis.’
‘Against which we can muster how many?’ I asked.
‘I have brought twelve thousand horse archers and fifteen hundred cataphracts,’ said my father, ‘and you, Herneus?’
‘I and the other lords have raised five thousand horse archers from our estates, majesty, plus another five hundred taken from the outlying forts.’
‘And what of the city garrison?’ I enquired.
‘Five hundred spearmen, majesty,’ replied Herneus, ‘of little use against horsemen, I fear.’
‘With Dura’s army,’ said Domitus, ‘our combined forces are still outnumbered over three to one.’
‘Long odds,’ remarked Byrd, prompting murmurs of discontent from among my father’s officers.
‘Silence,’ he commanded.
‘Prince Gafarn could bring his horsemen from Hatra, lord,’ suggested Vistaspa. ‘That would give us an additional fifty thousand men at least.’
My father thought for a moment. ‘And leave Hatra virtually undefended? No. I need Gafarn and his men to remain in the city. If Babylon falls then Narses and Mithridates will flood across my southern border. Who will stop them if all my soldiers are at Assur?’
The city officials, priests and officers of the garrison looked at each other, concern and fear etched on their faces.
‘Well,’ announced Domitus loudly, ‘if you want to beat such a large army with so few men you will have to make his numbers count against him.’
‘And how do we do that, Roman?’ asked my father, intrigued.
Domitus winked at me and smiled at him. ‘With a bit of bait and a bit more luck.’
After the meeting I rode with Herneus and my companions to the ford of Makhmur that lay immediately south of the city. Though there was a stone bridge over the Tigris near the city’s South Gate, the river to the south of the bridge was shallow. Indeed, we rode our horses into the waters and walked them to the midpoint of the river where it was around three hundred paces wide at this spot. The current was very slow.
‘As you can see,’ said Herneus, the water lapping round his horse’s body, ‘it is about five feet deep, shallow enough to allow men on foot to cross let alone horsemen.’
Domitus looked back at the western riverbank that rose up from the water a paltry four feet. ‘The river is this shallow for how far?’
‘About four miles,’ replied Herneus. ‘In the spring it is deeper and faster flo
wing, but in the summer it is as you see it now. It will be no barrier to an army. It can even be forded to the north of the city, though the banks are steeper than here.’
Domitus nodded and then looked south.
‘What are you thinking?’ I asked him.
‘We line up the legions over there, a short distance from the riverbank, stretching south of the city for around a mile. That should be a nice tempting target for them.’
‘They will be able to sweep round your flanks,’ I said.
‘Not if your horsemen stand on our right flank,’ he said.
We rode back to the city and went straight to the palace to consult with my father. According to Herneus’ intelligence we had two days in which to prepare our battle plan, which Domitus estimated was just enough time to place the stakes we had brought from the north. Herneus provided the city garrison to assist the legionaries, Domitus stating undiplomatically that it was the least they could do as they would be useless when it came to the actual fighting. So the stakes were transported to south of the city and dumped on the western riverbank. They were hammered into the dry ground at an angle of forty-five degrees pointing towards the river, after which each one was sharpened to a point. The stakes were arranged in three rows, each one spaced every four feet to a length of a mile – four thousand stakes in total. They were positioned a hundred paces from the water’s edge and presented a fearsome obstacle.
When the work was finished we both stood and admired the newly planted forest of stakes.
‘Tomorrow the first line will stand in front of them to hide them from the enemy,’ said Domitus. ‘Then they will retire just before the horsemen hit them. Should give them a nasty surprise.’
‘They will shower you with arrows first,’ I said, ‘to soften you up before they send in the heavy horsemen.’
‘We’ve been under arrows before. You just make sure you hold them on our flanks. If they get behind us we’re finished.’
He looked across the river towards the Plain of Makhmur.
‘Keeping a hundred thousand men and their horses provisioned is a mighty undertaking.’
I shook my head. ‘Many of them will be poorly equipped and trained, and the condition of their mounts will leave a lot to be desired after such a long journey. The kings and their lords will have taken priority when it comes to supplies, the rest will have had to scavenge for food and fodder.’
‘That will make them all the more desperate to capture Assur,’ said Domitus.
I nodded my head. ‘No doubt they have looted all the villages along their route in Media. I hope the inhabitants had time to bury their possessions and reach the nearest walled town.’
I knew that was a forlorn hope. Fast-moving horsemen could raid and torch villages before their inhabitants knew what was happening. Media would have felt the full wrath of the invading army. My father was right: it had to be stopped here, at the border.
The first to appear were the light horsemen, men without armour or helmets riding small horses and armed with two short javelins and a long knife. They carried a small oblong wicker shield for protection but their main task was to reconnoitre and harry, not stand and fight. At first there were only a few of them riding on the Plain of Makhmur across the river, but as the time passed the plain began to fill with more and more of them. These were the vanguard of the enemy army and I knew it would not be long before the rest of it arrived: the horse archers and heavy cavalry, the two kings and their entourages.
Dura’s army had risen before dawn, the legions taking up position in front of and behind the rows of wooden stakes that extended south of Assur in an unbroken line, the first line cohorts standing in front of them to mask them from the enemy. The Duran Legion was deployed from the bridge south for half a mile, the Exiles arrayed next to them and also extending south for another half mile. Next to the Exiles were Dura’s three thousand horse archers, the three dragons arrayed in a line that extended south for another mile. The cataphracts were positioned immediately behind the Exiles, and behind them were Herneus and his five and a half thousand horse archers.
I stood with Domitus and Kronos at the water’s edge and watched the plain opposite fill with horsemen. Most were content to ride to the edge of the water opposite the legions and stare, though a few rode into the water and shouted insults in our direction, raising their shields and javelins above their heads as they did so in an act of bravado. The legionaries took no notice. They had seen pre-battle rituals many times and largely ignored them, though there was a large cheer when one of the horsemen was toppled from his saddle and fell in the water when his horse tripped while descending the low riverbank.
We all stood holding our helmets for the day was already hot despite the early hour, the sun rising into a clear blue sky. I had my scale armour on and as always before battle it felt heavy and cumbersome.
‘You think they will attack any time soon?’ said Domitus, nodding at the light horsemen opposite, who now lined the riverbank north and south as far as the eye could see.
‘No,’ I replied, ‘they are just a screen for the main army.’
‘Big screen,’ remarked Kronos.
Domitus pointed his cane to the south where the light horsemen disappeared into the distance.
‘If they have any sense they won’t attack here but rather cross the river downstream and outflank us.’
I shook my head. ‘The depth of the river increases substantially the further south you go. That is why this ford is so important, that and Assur. The city is full of stores and people.’
‘People?’ Kronos was confused.
‘Slaves, my friend,’ I replied. ‘Many Parthian kings like to collect a great haul of slaves and gold to take back to their kingdoms after a campaign as proof of its success.’
‘What about the troops under the city governor?’ sniffed Domitus. ‘You think they are reliable?’
‘My father has great faith in Lord Herneus,’ I replied. ‘He will not let us down.’
‘I would prefer your father’s army behind us rather than his,’ said Domitus, far from convinced.
‘We agreed on the plan, Domitus,’ I said. ‘With luck we won’t even need them.’
He drew his gladius. ‘I prefer to rely on this rather than luck.’
Typical Domitus, hard and unyielding, much like Herneus in fact.
Then, in the distance, I heard that sound that I had come to loathe – kettledrums – signalling that the main enemy force was approaching. At first the drums created a low rumble in the distance, but as the time passed the accursed sound grew in intensity until it reverberated across the plain, like ground-based thunder. Without orders the men behind us instinctively rose from the ground, stopped chatting to each other and fastened helmet straps and checked their shields and swords. Kettledrums were designed to spread fear and uncertainty among enemy ranks, but the men of Dura had grown accustomed to their unceasing lament long ago.
‘It won’t be long now,’ I said.
Domitus offered me his hand. ‘Good luck, and don’t let them outflank us.’
I took his hand and then that of Kronos. ‘Keep safe, my friends, and may Shamash be with you. And remember, they must not break through.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Kronos, ‘they shall not pass.’
We passed the first line of the Durans in front of the stakes, nodding to those men I knew and acknowledging the well wishes of others. Then I came across Thumelicus and stopped and saw that he still wore a centurion’s crest. He grinned at me.
‘I thought I had promoted you,’ I said.
‘You did,’ he answered, ‘but I turned it down.’
‘Why?’
‘A centurion is in charge of eighty-odd men,’ he replied, ‘that’s about as far as I can count. So there’s not much point in putting me in charge of anything bigger.’
He was probably correct: in battle you wanted Thumelicus standing next to you; in camp he was known for being too loose with his tongue, a vice
that earned him many extra hours on fatigues and sentry duty. But he was greatly respected for his courage and fighting skill. The whole army knew and loved this prince of rogues, but he and I knew that he would never rise above the rank of centurion.
I slapped him on the arm. ‘Keep safe. One day we will get you a bigger shield.’
‘You too, Pacorus, don’t fall off your horse.’
I walked to where Drenis was holding Remus and he helped me into the saddle. Across the river the light horsemen had left their position at the water’s edge and were being replaced by groups of horse archers in bright tunics.
‘Pretty bunch,’ remarked Drenis sarcastically.
I slipped my helmet on my head and fastened the straps under my chin.
‘I will see you after the battle, Drenis.’
He raised his hand as I rode back to where Orodes and the armoured horsemen were waiting, their helmets shoved back on their heads and their lances resting on the ground. The air was filled with the unrelenting din of the kettledrums, but was momentarily drowned out by trumpet blasts as the Durans and Exiles adopted their battle formation for dealing with enemy archers: every man in both legions knelt down, the first rank formed a shield wall while those behind lifted their shields to create a roof of leather and wood. Then there was a great blast of horns and the enemy’s horse archers walked their horses into the Tigris and began advancing towards the legions.
At a distance of around three hundred paces they began shooting their arrows, releasing their missiles high into the sky so they would drop onto the packed ranks of the foot soldiers before them. The horsemen halted their animals in the middle of the river and unleashed a fearsome arrow storm that made a sound akin to a great wind whistling across the steppe. As each rank emptied its quivers it fell back and was replaced by another with full ones. It was impossible to identify individual arrows such was the intensity of the arrow fire being directed at the legions. I began to worry that not even Domitus and his men would be able to withstand such a battering. The expenditure of arrows was massive. And then there was another blast of horns and the arrow storm abruptly ceased.
Parthian Vengeance (The Parthian Chronicles) Page 43