Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

‘What do you think, Praxima?’ I asked.

All eyes fell on the wife of Nergal, who was dressed in her leggings and mail shirt, her wild hair about her shoulders. Fearsome and fearless in battle, she was now very uncertain.

‘I know nothing about strategy, lord.’

‘Nonsense,’ I said, ‘you have fought in nearly as many battles as I have. What would you do, attack or sit around doing nothing?’

Domitus looked away in disgust, while Nergal looked perplexed.

‘I would attack, lord,’ she replied.

‘And so we will,’ I announced. ‘We break camp in the morning.’

Gallia cornered me after the others had left.

‘Since when did Praxima have a voice on the war council?’

‘Since today,’ I replied.

‘And you are suddenly interested in her opinion?’

‘Of course, why not?’

She was unconvinced. ‘Because you usually listen to no one but yourself, that is why.’

‘I have to say that is unfair.’

‘But true,’ she retorted.

I said no more and eventually she threw up her arms and left. I would reveal my plan when we stood in the royal palace at Uruk. Until then it would remain a secret.

The march to Uruk was uneventful, though as usual Nergal threw a screen of horsemen all around the army. Domitus placed Surena and the Ma’adan in the very rear of the army, which ensured that they were covered in the dust thrown up by those that went before them. This appealed to his cruel streak. After two days of marching and seeing no enemy we arrived before the southern walls of Uruk.

Uruk, famed city of history. It was rumoured to be five thousand years old, or at least there had been people living on its site for that long. High, mud-brick walls surrounded the city with towers at regular intervals. They had been built over four thousand years ago by a great warrior king named Gilgamesh. The city was located some five miles from the Euphrates and was connected to the great river by a series of canals that brought water to Uruk. One of the reasons for these was to irrigate the great gardens inside the city that had been created by its kings for their recreation. The gates into the city were located at the four points of the compass, though the main gates were those that faced south. These were flanked by two high, square towers from which flew the viper standard of Chosroes. He had hoped to plant his banner on Dura’s walls but I promised myself that soon the griffin would be atop those towers. The gates were slammed shut as the army surrounded the city and the Roman engineers positioned their siege engines. Marcus thought it would be straightforward enough.

‘A city this size, filled with refugees and with no relief army to march to its aid — might as well starve them out. Tedious, but effective.’

‘But if we starve them out you will not be able to demonstrate your machines,’ I said, ‘and I was so looking forward to seeing them in action.’

He looked at me as though I had gone mad. ‘Starving them will save you a lot of blood.’

‘You let me worry about that.’

I walked with him towards the southern gates while Domitus and Nergal organised their commands. The Duran Legion set up its camp to the south of the city and the Exiles were positioned on its northern side. Kuban and his wild men were ordered to form a defensive screen to the east and Nergal established company sized camps up to twenty miles from the city in all directions. Beyond them all rode Byrd, Malik and their Agraci scouts. In this way I would have plenty of prior notice if any enemy relief force approached, such as Narses.

‘Narses won’t come,’ said Domitus bluntly. ‘He won’t risk being beaten just to save Chosroes.’

‘Alas for Chosroes,’ remarked Orodes, ‘he chose his allies unwisely.’

‘Don’t waste your pity on him,’ I said. ‘He would have none if the roles were reversed.’

At the end of the first day, when the army had settled into its positions around Uruk, I convened a meeting of the war council to determine the next day’s course of action. I had invited Marcus to attend after we had finished our inspection of the city’s defences.

‘This is the plan,’ I said, smiling at Marcus. ‘The attack will commence tomorrow when we begin battering the main gates and the towers next to them. We will keep shooting at them until we have effected an entry.’

‘Those walls look very thick,’ mused Nergal.

‘And very strong,’ added Domitus.

‘May I speak, sir?’ said Marcus, raising his right hand.

‘Be my guest,’ I replied.

He stood up and bowed awkwardly to me and Gallia, then Praxima. Orodes grinned and Domitus raised his eyes to the ceiling. Gallia nodded back to him courteously while Byrd looked bored by it all. Malik raised his hand in greeting.

‘Well,’ said Marcus, ‘I have given the matter careful consideration and believe that my engines can break those gates.’

‘And if you can’t?’ Domitus was unconvinced.

‘Then we will find another way,’ I said. ‘The point is that we are here and will not be leaving until I we have taken the city. Thank you, Marcus.’

‘Will you still try to convince Chosroes to surrender, Pacorus?’ Sometimes I found Orodes’ sense of protocol extremely irksome. I bit my lip.

‘Of course, as I promised.’

The dawn came soon enough, an orange glow in the east that illuminated the white walls of Uruk in a ghostly glow. I smiled to myself — the last day that it would know peace under its present king. Marcus and his men had risen early and were already assembling their siege engines, watched by a curious Domitus. I ambled over to him as he munched on a handful of biscuits and sipped from his water bottle. I could tell that he was fascinated.

There were six of the giant ballista, each one weighing several tons, being three times the height of a man and around thirty feet long. The ballista works like a bow, with a strong wooden frame holding two skeins of animal sinew in place vertically. Two horizontal wooden arms pass through each skein and are linked by a strong bowstring. As the arms are pulled back the sinews become twisted to create a great tension for propelling a missile forward, the latter resting in a groove in the horizontal stock of the ballista. The bowstring is pulled back using winches and held in place by a rotating trigger.

Marcus was bellowing orders at his men, ten of them working on each large machine. And on either side of these were smaller ballistae, which could throw a metal-headed bolt, solid metal balls and stones over great distances. A team of two men worked these smaller machines, similar to the scorpions I had encountered in Italy. Marcus had ensured that his men and their machines were out of range of the archers who were now lining the walls facing us. When he saw us both he stopped shouting and sauntered over.

‘Morning! We shall soon be ready.’

Domitus nodded towards the machines. ‘You think they will be up to the task?’

‘Oh yes, they are the latest in military technology,’ replied Marcus. ‘Crassus had them made specially to knock down….’ He stopped and looked sheepishly at me.

‘To knock down Dura’s walls,’ I continued for him. ‘It is quite all right, Marcus, you are a soldier who was obeying orders, a professional. You have nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘he had these specialists brought over from Greece and they built the big ballistae and then trained us to use them. It took half a year to get us ready. This is the first time the big ones have been used in anger.’

‘They were not used at Dura?’ I asked.

Marcus shook his head. ‘The army’s commander wanted to take the city by storm, thought my machines were a waste of time. I pleaded with him but he would not have it. We did some damage with the smaller ballista, and after he was repulsed from the walls he said he would think about employing the big ones. But then your army arrived and, well, he had other things to think about.’