Parthian Vengeance (18 page)

Orodes charged one of the best men in his bodyguard to take care of Remus, standing now with his scale armour covering his body, neck and head. Even his eyes had wire grills over them as protection against enemy arrows. I stroked him under his chin.

‘Orodes will take care of you, and when you get back to Dura Gallia will ensure your needs are met. May Shamash protect you my faithful friend.’

I nodded to Orodes’ officer who bowed his head and led Remus away towards the camp’s western entrance. It was the first time that I would not ride him in battle.

Though they had been deployed to the west of the camp yesterday, today Narses’ palace guard were drawn up around their king and Mithridates. This meant that the foot soldiers the legions would be attacking would not be élite troops. I thanked the gods for that.

A hundred horse archers had volunteered to remain with the legions and it was they who accompanied me on foot as I ran from the southern entrance across the open ground towards where Narses, Mithridates and their soldiers were grouped. Their cataphracts were drawn up in a long line of two ranks either side of the two kings who stood with the best foot soldiers in Persis, their bronze-faced shields presenting a wall of metal in front of a forest of spears. As we ran in one rank towards the enemy, to my right I could hear trumpet blasts coming from the camp – Domitus was attacking. We rushed across the ground to within five hundred paces of the enemy, horns and kettledrums answering our trumpets. 

We halted, strung arrows in our bowstrings and released them, then kept on shooting at the enemy ranks. Our arrows arched high into the sky and then dropped onto the densely packed ranks of the enemy foot. We shot at least four volleys – sixteen hundred arrows – before groups of armoured riders from each flank on either side of the foot began trotting towards us.

‘Back to camp!’ I screamed. Then we were running as though all the demons in hell were snapping at our heels. Behind us the cataphracts broke into a canter and lowered their lances. Perhaps Narses himself was leading them. I saw the camp’s entrance ahead, my heart pounding in my chest. Don’t look back; keep moving; run faster! I heard the thunder of iron-shod hooves getting closer and the shouts of men on horseback closing on their quarry. We dropped our quivers as we neared the wide gap in the earth rampart and ran into the camp with only seconds to spare. As we did so groups of legionaries either side of us and on top of the rampart next to the entrance hurled caltrops into the gap. These comprised three stakes that were ordinarily used to construct the palisade around the camp lashed together with wire to form a three-headed stake. Where only half minute before there had been a gap wide enough for twelve men to march through abreast, there now stood a thick carpet of caltrops.

The enemy’s horses panicked and either tried to veer aside or pull up sharply to avoid crashing into the caltrops. Those behind smashed into the front ranks as dozens of horses and their riders were caught up in a giant, tangled press. Some horses reared up on their hind legs and threw their riders to the ground, to be trampled by other animals behind. It was chaos and I wished that I had fresh archers to shoot arrows into the faces of the horsemen and the unarmoured bellies of horses as they reared up, but all I had was a hundred men who stood panting and slapping each other on the back at their escape from the clutches of the enemy. More legionaries ran onto the rampart and hurled their javelins at the disorganised mass of horsemen. Most glanced off scale armour harmlessly; a few found flesh. Finding their way barred, the enemy officers reasserted control and began to pull their men back. They retreated out of arrow and javelin range and re-dressed their ranks. There were few empty saddles but, more importantly, we had created a diversion and given the army at the camp’s western entrance time to carry out its attack unhindered.

The Romans call it
cuneus
, meaning ‘wedge’, and as the attention of Mithridates, Narses and the cream of their horsemen was focused on what was happening immediately to their front, the Duran Legion and the Exiles were pouring out of the western entrance of the camp, straight into the enemy’s foot. Each legion charged at the enemy in one long column, each one made up of dozens of ranks of six men.

Immediately before they charged at the enemy a barrage of missiles was unleashed by the ballista operated by Marcus and his men. These had been placed on the ramparts either side of the western entrance. The smaller ballista were essentially over-sized and over-powered bows fixed horizontally on wooden stands that shot bolts, stones and solid metal balls over great distances.

The charge of the Durans and Exiles was a foregone conclusion, made quicker as the enemy actually advanced towards the camp and then stopped abruptly when ballista ammunition began tearing into their tightly packed ranks, some bolts and balls taking heads off and showering those around with bone and gore. Soon the ranks faltered and then fractured as some men attempted to turn around and run from the horror that was being visited upon them, while others tried to press on with their attack. And then they were hit by the legions.

Two great columns of men resembling a pair of great armoured serpents slithered out of camp towards them, the front two ranks gripping their lethal short swords tight to their bodies while those behind held their javelins at the ready. The ballista stopped shooting as the head of each column reached the enemy’s battered front rank. And then the slaughter began.

As the front ranks of the enemy stood transfixed by the snarling and screaming legionaries running at them, the sky was suddenly filled with other missiles as the men behind the front two ranks hurled their javelins forward. Ever since I had first encountered them in Italy I had been fascinated by the Roman javelin, a spear that bent upon impact, making it impossible for an enemy to throw it back. And now dozens of javelins embedded themselves in enemy flesh, felling dozens. And then the legionaries went to work with their swords, stabbing upwards into thighs and bellies and over the rims of their shields into faces.

I was told later that the two columns went through the enemy like a
gladius
through a linen shirt. On the legionaries went and the enemy was glad to get out of their way, fleeing left and right before them. So the Durans and Exiles prised apart the enemy, herding them into two disorganised and dispirited blocks, one to the north and the other to the south. In the middle the two columns of legionaries pushed their way forward until they had broken clear through the enemy. And then they stopped. Trumpets blasted and the Durans and Exiles halted as one. Whereas the enemy foot was a mass of frightened and confused men, the Durans and Exiles retained their discipline and cohesion. Train hard, fight easy.

The Duran Legion formed the northern column and the Exiles the southern one. The trumpeters of both formations now sounded again and as one the Durans faced right to present a wall of shields to the enemy that had been barged aside and herded in a northwards direction like a flock of sheep. At the same time the Exiles faced left to prepare to advance against the second mass of enemy soldiers. Different trumpet blasts signalled a general advance, followed by another hail of javelins as both legions once more hurled their missiles at the enemy, the squeals and cries announcing that the latter’s ranks had been culled once more. Then the legions advanced north and south respectively, literally herding the enemy before them and creating a wide corridor behind them. Then Orodes led his horsemen out of the camp.

The corridor that had been created by the foot was wide enough to allow the Prince of Susiana to deploy his cataphracts in a great wedge formation, he and his bodyguard forming the point, the banners of Susiana and Dura fluttering behind him as he led the horsemen into the desert. Behind the cataphracts came the squires leading camels loaded with food, fodder, full water skins, spare arrows, weapons and clothing, plus the camels of the ammunition train. Either side of the squires, providing flank protection, rode two great columns of horse archers, each one riding parallel to the rear of the legions. As they did so they shot volleys of arrows over the legionaries into the ranks of the enemy foot soldiers, causing them to fall back further. Surena came last with the rear guard – a thousand horse archers following in the wake of the other riders.

The enemy’s attention had been first focused on what was happening at the southern entrance to the camp, especially after I led a hundred archers to pepper the enemy with missiles. The great number of horse archers deployed to the east and north of the camp remained immobile when the legions attacked from the camp’s western entrance. Now, as I ran with the other archers and those legionaries that had been detailed to support us to join the departing legions, the enemy horse archers began to move. Those to the north of the camp, obviously alerted by couriers to what was happening to the west, endeavoured to assault the Duran Legion. Fortunately for the Durans the enemy foot soldiers that had been herded north acted as a barrier between them and the horse archers.

By the time Narses had realised what was happening Orodes and the cavalry and camels were galloping west into the desert, leaving the legions to redeploy into a giant hollow square as it inched its way northwest, towards Hatran territory. I caught up with them as enemy horse archers forced their way into the empty camp via the eastern entrance. Everything had been packed into the wagons and on mules, which were now positioned around the inner sides of the hollow square.

The enemy cavalry had ridden out into the desert to try and catch Orodes, but had been recalled. The first part of the plan had worked – my horsemen had been saved. But then the grim realisation dawned on me that I plus thousands of others were now surrounded by around forty thousand enemy troops. Orodes may have escaped but our ordeal was only just beginning.

Chapter 5

I watched the great dust cloud thrown up by Orodes and his horsemen and camels grow smaller as they rapidly disappeared into the west. By contrast the pace of our great hollow square was painfully slow, literally inching its way to the northwest like an injured crab. I took up position on the southern side of the square, the men on all four sides having adopted what the Romans call a
testudo
formation. Derived from the Latin word for ‘tortoise’, it refers to the legionaries locking their oval shields together to the front and overhead as a protection against enemy missiles. So our massive tortoise crawled across the desert, five cohorts on each side of the square presenting a solid and impenetrable wall and roof of shields all the way round. 

I felt like an unwanted guest at a banquet. I had no shield, no
gladius
and no use as I walked behind a wagon of cooking utensils with the other archers. All the wagons had been arranged so they ‘hugged’ each side of the square, which meant that there was a massive empty space in the centre of the square. Already the pungent smell of mules and their dung filled the warm air. I looked up and saw that the sun was finally breaking through the clouds. It was now mid-morning and the temperature was rising. It was going to be a long day.

Centurions and officers stalked around like hungry wolves, cajoling and encouraging their men. I saw Domitus strolling down the western side of the square, occasionally stopping and sharing a joke with some of the men and encouraging others. Alcaeus joined him as they made their way over to me. Thus far our progress had been relatively straightforward and unimpeded.

‘Orodes made good his escape, then,’ said Domitus.

‘It would appear so,’ I replied. ‘Did we lose many men in the fight earlier?’

He spat out a fly that had flown into his mouth. ‘A dozen killed, five wounded. The ballista shattered their morale before we even hit them.’

‘How are the wounded?’ I asked Alcaeus.

‘Those who can walk are accompanying the wagons that are carrying those too sick to use their legs.’

He had no helmet or mail shirt and carried only his medical bag slung over his shoulder.

‘You should get a mail shirt and helmet,’ I told him. ‘It’s quiet now, but soon the enemy will send their horse archers against us.’

‘In which case,’ he replied, ‘I shall shelter under the shield of a legionary.’

‘I would take Pacorus’ advice,’ said Domitus. ‘When they begin shooting the air will be thick with arrows.’

‘In that case, Domitus,’ quipped Alcaeus, ‘I shall be able to work in the shade.’

‘I could order you to wear a helmet,’ I said.

He screwed up his face. ‘And I could refuse, but I am touched that you are both so concerned about my welfare.’

He smiled and then walked off back to his medical wagons.

‘He’s impossible,’ grumbled Domitus.

‘But a good doctor,’ I replied.

It was as if the enemy had disappeared as thousands of hobnailed sandals tramped across the barren ground. The thousands of mules grunted and the oxen pulling the wagons containing Marcus’ siege engines lowered. Only a few puffy clouds filled the sky now and the sun was beating down on us and heating the earth. I was beginning to think that our trek would be unmolested when from the south I heard the infernal din of kettledrums and the sound of horns. Then the earth began to shake and I knew that we were under attack.

Narses sent in his horse archers first, a great torrent of horseflesh that swept around us and unleashed volley after volley of arrows against the square. The drivers of the wagons dived for cover under their vehicles, while the walking wounded sought shelter beneath the shields of the legionaries. Parthians use a variety of arrowheads, ranging from leaf-shaped to those with grooves for the application of poison, but the most common variety is the bronze three-winged arrowhead. And it was these that were loosed against the edges of the square.

At first horsemen rode parallel to each side of the square, shooting arrows as they did so. Discharging up to five arrows a minute, each side of the square was peppered with thousands of arrows in a matter of minutes. For those on the receiving end of this barrage it was truly nerve-wracking, arrows slamming into shields like raindrops hitting a tile roof in a thunderstorm. It was an impressive display of mass archery and against typical Parthian foot soldiers would have been devastating. Unfortunately for Narses he had sent his horse archers against men who knew how to counter his tactics. Before the first charge of his horse archers had been made the trumpets had sounded a halt and then signalled to defend against arrow attack. The men deployed on each side of the square as one all knelt down. The first rank formed an unbroken shield wall while those behind lifted their shields above their heads to form a forward-sloping roof of leather and wood to counter the arrow rain that fell on them. The front ranks also rested one end of their javelins on the ground and held them at an angle of forty-five degrees to present a line of points to deter the enemy horsemen from getting too close.