Peter Darman - Carrhae

‘Have the Romans taken Palmyra?’ asked Haytham.

‘No majesty,’ replied the man. He glanced at me. ‘After King Pacorus left Palmyra the princess insisted that we, that is she and her bodyguard, follow the king and that is what we did. We stayed hidden and then joined the riders that Dura’s lords brought with them. The princess joined the charge against the Emesians but became separated from us at the height of the battle.’

‘Is she dead?’ asked Haytham without emotion.

‘No, majesty. I saw her being led away by a group of their horsemen. As far as I know she is still alive.’

‘And the rest of her bodyguard?’

The man cast down his eyes. ‘All dead, majesty,’ he replied softly.

Haytham pulled on his horse’s reins to wheel him left, and in a lightning-fast movement drew his sword and slashed it across the man’s neck. Blood sheeted in all directions as the man clutched his neck and then fell to the ground, gurgling for a few seconds and then falling silent as his lifeless corpse lay on its back, blood oozing onto the parched ground.

‘We attack the enemy at once,’ Haytham shouted to great cheers from his lords.

I looked across the corpse-strewn no-man’s land that separated the two armies and saw the unbroken line of shields of the Roman legion directly opposite, and then squinted before making out horsemen deployed on its right. Granted there were no longer any horsemen on the enemy’s left wing but next to the legion there was still a large phalanx of Emesian spearmen and no doubt many slingers and archers standing among the enemy’s ranks. To charge an unbroken army of enemy foot was to invite disaster.

‘Lord king,’ I shouted to Haytham.

Haytham turned his horse to face me. ‘What?’

‘We can get Rasha back without the spilling of any more Agraci blood.’

‘Did you bring your sorceress, Pacorus, so she could weave a spell to return my daughter to me?’

‘No, lord,’ I answered, ‘but will you give me a chance to prove my words.’

He looked at me with his cold black eyes. I knew that he desired more blood but I also knew that if he launched an attack his daughter, if she still lived, would have her throat slit before his warriors even got close to the enemy. All eyes were on Haytham as thirty thousand Agraci warriors and over twenty-three thousand Duran horse archers steeled themselves for another fight.

‘You have one hour,’ he snapped, pointing at Mark Antony. ‘If you fail he dies and I attack.’

I thanked Haytham and then sent an emissary to the enemy requesting a parley, stating that we had captured their Roman commander and wished to trade him for a young woman that had fallen into their hands, further insisting that she was not to be harmed or violated in any way. I prayed that her captives had not already raped her, if she still lived. While we waited for a reply I suggested to Haytham that we should extend our line greatly to impress the enemy with our numbers. He and his lords thought this a waste of time but he indulged me, and so the horizon was slowly filled with Agraci and Durans as we waited for an answer.

It came only minutes before the hour was up and was good news. The enemy agreed to a parley but insisted that it take place an hour after dawn the next morning. The people of Emesa worshipped the sun god El Gabal and thus thought any important negotiations should take place when their deity was looking favourably upon them. I too believed this, but knew that only Shamash was the god of the sun. Haytham looked sullen and his lords were most unhappy that they had been denied the opportunity to again dip their swords in the enemy’s blood, but I was delighted that Rasha was alive and that we stood a good chance of getting her back. Haytham wanted our prisoner to be staked out on the ground for the night but I requested that he be released to me.

‘Why are you so interested in this man?’ he asked as his warriors were stood down and cooking fires began to cover the plain.

‘I wish to know more about Roman plans, lord.’

He laughed. ‘They plan to conquer the whole world, Pacorus. You above all should know that.’

Gallia wanted nothing to do with the Roman and declared that she would be spending the night in the company of the Amazons. As we had no entrenching tools with us we could not dig a ditch and erect a palisade to surround our tents I ordered Vagises to mount patrols far and wide throughout the night. I did not trust the Romans not to launch a night assault to free their commander. The Agraci pitched their tents over many square miles, though Haytham also sent out patrols to ensure his sleep was not disturbed. As for the enemy, Vagises reported back to my command tent just before midnight that they were inside their Roman camp and showed no signs of leaving it.

‘Your men did well today,’ I said as he settled himself into a chair at the opposite end of the table to where Mark Antony was sitting.

‘Thank you, Pacorus. Nergal trained us well.’

I poured wine into a cup and gave it to him as he watched the Roman with suspicion.

I took the jug and refilled Mark Antony’s cup. He nodded and held the cup up to me.

‘To noble adversaries.’

I drank some wine in acknowledgement of his toast and sat at the table. Vagises rose, held his cup up to me and drained it before slamming it down on the table.

‘By your leave, Pacorus, I have patrols to organise.’ His eyes never left Mark Antony. ‘To make sure the Romans do no not slit our throats while we sleep.’

He curled his lip at Mark Antony and left us.

‘Your commander does not like me,’ observed Antony.

‘Do not take it personally, he has a low opinion of all Romans.’

Antony leaned forward. ‘Tell me, was he a slave, for I have heard that you only enlist slaves in your army? Men say that is the reason it fights so fiercely.’

I nodded at the closed tent flaps. ‘That man, Vagises, is a Parthian who was taken captive with me in Cappadocia before we were transported to Italy as spoils of war. He has little reason to regard Rome or the Romans with affection.’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘And you?’

‘I do not hate my enemies, because to do so would cloud my judgement at a time when clarity of thought is essential.’

He nodded approvingly. ‘A most philosophical answer.’

I poured him some more wine. ‘Now it is your turn to answer some questions. Where is the other legion that your proconsul commands in Syria, for I know that only one was present today? You and your allies underestimated the fighting abilities of the Agraci, I think.’

He laughed mockingly. ‘The Agraci have no fighting abilities. We were more than capable of dealing with them before…’

I smiled. ‘Before I arrived, you mean. You honour me, commander.’

He stiffened. ‘My title is Praefectus Alae .’

‘It is a great pity that so many of your fine horsemen now lie dead on the desert floor. That is the price invaders pay for their aggression.’

‘That is the price Rome pays for civilising the world,’ he tried to correct me.

How many times had I heard that argument before? ‘Roman civilisation is built on the corpses of vanquished peoples.’

‘Only the strong deserve to live,’ he said casually.

‘And the weak deserve only slavery or death, I suppose?’

‘The gods have charged Rome with civilising the world. If our mission was not a divine one, how else can you explain Rome’s victories over the other tribes of Italy hundreds of years ago, her conquest of Carthage, Greece, Pontus, Armenia and Syria?’

I sipped my wine. ‘And now Rome seeks to add Parthia to that list.’

He was momentarily nonplussed. ‘I am a soldier, sir. I obey orders.’