Peter Darman - Parthian Dawn

I urged Remus forward and we rode through the gardens towards the palace. Nergal’s men filled the trees, bows at the ready, looking for any enemy soldiers that might be in the foliage. We emerged from rows of ancient cypress trees to reach the mud-brick palace walls covered in plaster that had been painted white. There was a well-tended cobbled road that led from the gardens to the palace gates, which were shut. Arrows flew at us from archers standing on the walls either side of the gates.

‘Back into the trees,’ I yelled.

There was no point in sitting on our horses shooting at men standing behind a wall, so we retreated back to the trees and there waited for Domitus and his men to arrive. I ordered a rider to fetch Marcus and to tell him to bring a means of breaching the gates. Some of the dismounted men were standing at the edge of the trees, losing their arrows at the enemy but I ordered them to desist. There was no point in wasting arrows. I too dismounted and walked to the last row of trees to look at the palace, rising up behind the walls; a great whitewashed two-storey stone building with a wide frontage. It appeared to be set back some distance from the walls that protected it, no doubt with a great square before it. No doubt the square where Narses and Chosroes had planned to put me to death.

Byrd and Malik appeared and informed me that there was another set of gates into the royal compound on the other side of the palace.

‘They too are guarded,’ reported Byrd.

‘Will you storm the palace, Pacorus?’ asked Malik.

‘Yes,’ I replied.

Domitus arrived a few minutes later, his men halting among the trees. Guards were posted and the rest took off their helmets, stacked their shields and then lay in the shade. Domitus joined us as we studied the palace walls.

‘I have ordered Marcus to bring some of his engines so we can gain entry via the gates,’ I said.

‘How many men are on those walls?’ asked Domitus.

‘Hard to tell,’ I replied, ‘but they are the palace guard and they will put up a fight.’

Domitus took off his helmet and wiped his brow. ‘It doesn’t matter, we’ll kill them easily enough.’

It took Marcus an hour to arrive with the means to get into the palace, a great battering ram that was loaded on to half a dozen wagons. It took him and his men another hour to assemble it, during which time there was no activity on the walls. A strange silence descended over the area as the Duran Legion rested and Marcus and his men assembled the battering ram. I asked Byrd and Malik to ride over to the western side of the city and report back on what was happening at the White Temple, and they took all the Agraci warriors as an escort just in case there were any roving bands of enemy soldiers still at large. I prayed to Shamash that Gallia and her Amazons were safe.

The battering ram was truly a wondrous thing, a huge tree trunk suspended by chains from a thick overhead beam that formed the top of its arched frame. The beam and the ram itself were under protective screens laid over the frame, the screens being composed of wooden boards overlaid with iron plates with clay underneath and then an inner layer of thick hide. No enemy arrow would be able to pierce that thick roof of iron, while the clay formed a fireproof barrier. The whole ram was mounted on four great wooden wheels so it could be pushed forwards and backwards. The ram itself had rope handles at regular intervals along its length. This was to enable those manning it each side to pull it back and then hurl it forward against the target. And on the point was a massive iron head cast in the shape of a snarling ram, complete with horns.

‘I like your ram, Marcus,’ I said, stroking the massive iron head.

‘Yes, sir, it cost Crassus a great deal of money.’

I smiled. ‘I have no doubt. He is a man who likes quality in all things.’

A mischievous grin spread across Domitus’ face. ‘Tell him what your men have nicknamed it, Marcus.’

Marcus cleared his throat and looked sheepish. ‘I don’t think the king would be interested in such trivial gossip.’

‘Nonsense,’ replied Domitus.

‘Yes,’ I added, ‘please tell, Marcus.’ I looked at the snarling image; they probably called it Crassus. I smiled to myself.

‘Pacorus, sir, begging your pardon.’

‘What?’ I said.

Marcus avoided my eyes. ‘They nicknamed it Pacorus.’

Domitus and Nergal thought it hilarious.

‘It looks like you,’ said Domitus.

‘The mirror image,’ added Nergal, creasing up with laughter.

Marcus was blushing while my two senior commanders were giggling like young girls. I decided to maintain my dignity. I laid a hand on Marcus’ shoulder.

‘It is quite all right. When these two have finished with their childishness we will put my namesake to work.’

The smaller ballista had also been loaded on to carts and driven to the royal gardens where they were re-assembled by their crews. Once in position they began sweeping the walls with bolts and iron balls, just as they had done before the city gates. After a few enemy heads had been caved in, the palace walls were soon empty of archers, allowing the ram to be pushed forward. I insisted on being a member of the party that grabbed the beams inside the ram’s protective cover and hauled it forward. Domitus and a century of his men followed immediately behind the ram, the legionaries’ shields held above them and on their sides as a defence against enemy missiles.

There were twenty of us pushing the ram, including Marcus, and even with all our efforts it was slow to move so heavy a beast. I began sweating heavily as I pushed on one of the beams, the iron-headed ram swaying slightly with every forward effort. Iron plates mounted at the front of the ram provided additional protection for those manning it, but also added more weight to the machine. Marcus coordinated our efforts, telling us when to push forward, but it was painfully slow progress. I heard the crack of the ballista balls and bolts hitting the walls, though the sounds gradually died away, presumably because there were no targets to aim at. Occasionally there was a dull thud on the ram’s roof as an enemy archer diced with death and shot at us, followed by more cracks as ballista missiles flew at him and struck the walls.

Domitus was directly behind the ram and delighted in making fun of our efforts.

‘Come on, push it. We want to get into the palace before dark. Perhaps I should knock on the gates and ask to be let in.’

We had no energy to reply, all our strength being used to push the ram forward. My heart was pounding in my chest and sweat ran into my eyes as I heaved it forward. The others, veins bulging in their muscled arms, groaned as they threw their weight behind each effort, with the voice of Marcus constantly in our ears.

‘Heave; heave; heave.’

Then, finally, we were at the gates. We shoved the ram’s roof right up against the gates just in case the enemy above decided to throw rocks or burning oil down upon us. Each man grabbed one of the rope handles that had been nailed to the trunk and pulled it backwards, then on Marcus’ command we hurled it forward. The great iron head smashed into the gates, splintering the wood. Again we pulled it back and then sent it hurtling into the gates once more. More cracking and splintering as the ram’s head fractured the gates and wrenched them from their hinges, forcing them back. Again and again we propelled the iron head into the wood until one of the gates lay twisted on the ground and the other had been smashed in two.

‘Grab the ram, pull it back,’ shouted Domitus to the men behind him as he picked up one of the ropes fastened to the rear of the ram for just such a purpose. Then we were pushing the ram back so it no longer blocked the broken gates. Domitus drew his sword and ran past the battering ram and through broken gates into the palace grounds, his men following. They barely had time to form a wall of shields before being attacked by Chosroes’ palace guards.