Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

There was a blast of horns and the Mesenians began to disengage and fall back. They obviously had had enough, for the moment. Other horns sounded, our own, and we too fell back to regroup. Gallia and the Amazons appeared mercifully unhurt. We reformed into our companies, the ground in front of us sprinkled with dead and dying men and horses, though in truth, considering the great effort that had been expended hacking and stabbing, there were fewer casualties than I expected. But there were many wounded, men with wounds to their bodies, arms and legs, and also horses that had been gashed by blades. I checked Remus over; I could not see any wounds.

Smoke was now drifting across the battlefield from the four siege towers, which were all burning brightly. To our front the enemy foot soldiers, plus those horse archers whose mounts we passed in camp, had now turned away from the city and were marching towards us. I looked left and right. No one had any arrows left and arrows were now flying from the enemy ranks towards us. There was nothing left to do. I turned to the nearest signaller and ordered him to sound retreat. He blew his horn, a sound that was soon echoing down the line. Gallia galloped over to my side as horsemen wheeled their animals away to ride back from where we had come from.

‘We are falling back?’ She had a nasty dent in her helmet and her left sleeve was gashed, though I could see no blood.

‘Are you hurt?’ I enquired.

She ignored my question. ‘The city is still besieged, Pacorus.’

‘Their siege towers are destroyed and their foot are marching towards us. They will attempt no further assault on Dura today. Now get your women back.’

Kuban and his men acted as a rearguard as we fell back through the enemy camp. I ordered that any enemy horses and camels were to be untethered and scattered into the desert, and the tents, wagons, supplies and compounds to be torched. The next few minutes were not the proudest of my life as my men and the Amazons went about firing the camp cutting down any unfortunates they came across. Panicking women ran around screaming and were either trampled under horses’ hooves or killed with swords. I saw one woman, with rouge on her cheeks and gold in her hair, perhaps no older than twenty, fall to her knees in front of a group of Amazons, imploring them to show mercy. Perhaps she was a whore or a slave taken against her will to serve the soldiers of Chosroes. It did not matter. Gallia rode up to her and almost severed her head with a swing of her sword. Tents burst into flames, their occupants running into the sunlight with their clothes alight. They too were killed. Sick and wounded soldiers limped from hospital tents, only to be cut down without mercy. I was worried that the bloodlust would distract my men and so rode among them, ordering them to fall back, smoke stinging my eyes as the camp was engulfed in flames. Terrified horses and camels were herded into the desert and scattered far and wide as we finally left the Mesenian camp and moved back into the desert.

Recall was sounded and once more the men formed into their companies as Kuban’s men emerged from the smoke and again formed up on our right wing. Atrax, Gallia and Kuban joined me, their eyes red from the smoke, their faces streaked with dirt and their blades smeared with blood.

‘We must get back to reinforce Vistaspa.’

So we rode to the bridge, our wounded carried behind other riders. Fortunately the enemy cavalry did not pursue us as we cantered across the plain to the river. We arrived to discover that Vistaspa had seized the bridge intact and had erected a protective barricade of wagons on the eastern bank, facing the enemy on that side of the river. He had established his command post next to a small cart on the western side of the river, around two hundred paces from the pontoon bridge.

‘There is no point in holding one end of a wooden bridge if the enemy can set fire to the other,’ he said.

He told me that when he arrived there was only a light guard manning the bridge, whose members had been speedily killed, allowing him to send men across the river and secure the eastern end. Then he manned the barricade with archers and threw a cordon around the bridge on the west bank of the river. As I spoke to him my cavalry filed past his horsemen sitting in their companies ready to beat off any attack. My men dismounted and threw themselves on the ground, exhausted. He looked at our tired faces and ripped attire.

‘We could not break through to the city,’ I said despondently.

He nodded and handed me a waterskin. ‘Is Queen Gallia well?’

I managed a smile. ‘She is well.’

I looked across the river to see a great mass of horsemen approaching from the north.

‘Hatra’s horsemen, plus those of the other kings,’ remarked Vistaspa. He looked at me. ‘Your city will soon be free of any threat.’

More horn blasts came from our side of the river and I mounted Remus once more. I saw the banner of Orodes fluttering in the hot air and behind it a column of cataphracts, the sun glinting off the whetted points of their great lances, followed by Nergal, Dura’s lords and their horse archers. My tiredness started to recede as I rode to greet them. The enemy’s army had now been split in two, but we still had to force a way through to the city. Dura was difficult to see clearly now because the whole plain was wreathed in smoke caused by the burning enemy camp. I now realised that torching it was a mistake. Gallia rode over to me as Vistaspa joined us on his horses.

Orodes, dressed in his scale amour, raised his left arm. ‘Hail Pacorus, hail Gallia.’

‘We can push our way through to the city now,’ said Gallia impatiently.

Across the river the shouts and cries of thousands of men signalled that the two sides had now clashed. I looked at the smoke obscuring the city, horses and camels bolting and injured men limping past us.

‘What are we waiting for?’ snapped Gallia.

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Orodes, get your heavy cavalry into line on the plain behind that burning camp. Nergal, get your men on the plain in front of those of Orodes.’

Gallia nodded her head enthusiastically and Vistaspa raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Across the river the din of battle increased.

‘You disagree, Lord Vistaspa?’ I asked.

He was aware of Gallia’s animosity towards him so he chose his words carefully.

‘It might be prudent to wait for your legions to arrive.’

‘They are two hours’ march away at least,’ said Orodes.

‘Two hours is too long,’ said Gallia. ‘We must attack again.’

They were both right, so I decided to compromise.

‘Orodes, your men will form a reserve in case the enemy mount a charge against us at the bridge. Nergal and Atrax, take the horse archers and annoy the enemy deployed in front of the city.’

They saluted and rode off to organise their men.

‘What are you doing?’ said Gallia, clearly annoyed.

‘We use the horse archers to pepper the enemy with arrows. They will not storm the city now.’

Vistaspa nodded and Gallia rode off to refill her quiver. Orodes had brought camels loaded with arrows with him, and now these were distributed among the horse archers of Dura and Media. Surena also went and brought me back a full quiver. Nergal and Atrax then deployed their men across the plain to the west of the city and led them forward once more. This time, however, they operated in their hundred-man companies, moving forward, shooting at the enemy and then retreating. Orodes deployed his cataphracts behind the archers, well back from still-smouldering enemy camp. If the enemy’s horsemen showed themselves again the horse archers were to fall back to let the cataphracts deal with them. And so, while we waited for Domitus, the enemy was once again assaulted by an arrow storm. The enemy also had arrows, but because they had used many when we had first assaulted their ranks earlier that day, their fire soon lessened and then stopped altogether. Nergal reported that they had fallen back from in front of the city’s walls and were grouped in a solid block on the plain between the city and their own destroyed camp. Our horsemen did not ride through the charred remains of the camp, but rather skirted it by riding north to south, shooting arrows at the enemy ranks on their left side. Then, once a company had ridden beyond the southern flank of the enemy, it wheeled right and rode back north behind the camp. In this way there was a continuous chain of companies loosing arrows at the enemy. The ammunition expenditure was prodigious, and after it had made two circuits each company had to ride back to the camel train for fresh arrows. We could not maintain such expenditure indefinitely, for soon our own supplies would be exhausted, but we did not have to. To the north the shrill sound of trumpet blasts could be heard — Domitus had arrived at last.