Peter Darman - The Parthian

‘Two hundred.’

He laughed aloud and placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘Then die well, my friend. For surely we are doomed.’

And it was as Castus had said. Dozens of trumpets sounded across the river and then the Scorpions opened fire, their bolts streaking across the water to cut through mail, shields and flesh. Then the slingers and archers joined them, lead pellets and steel-tipped arrows slamming into shields, helmets and mail shirts. The discipline and courage of Castus’ Germans was magnificent as they stood defiantly, despite their front ranks being methodically mown down under the hail of enemy missiles. And then the Romans began to cross the river — three legions, a total of twelve cohorts in the first line marching in perfect step to the river and then slowly wading through the water. And we were powerless to stop them.

Soon the whole of the Roman front line of cohorts was in the water, with their second following close behind, when a high-pitched sound echoed across the battlefield, and not since that day have I heard a sweeter noise, which was soon joined by others of a similar note. And then the ground started to shake and the air was filled with the low rumble of thunder. But there were no clouds in the sky and this thunder was not made by the gods but by the hooves of hundreds of horse. And as I looked across the river to where there had been a flat, empty plain, I saw that it was now filled with a dark mass. And the victory that the gods had seemingly granted the Romans, which dangled tantalisingly in front of their eyes, was suddenly snatched away. The slaughter would go on, for the gods had sent a new instrument with which to torture the eagles.

For my horsemen had come.

They swept across the plain as they galloped forward to assault the Roman legion situated on the enemy’s right wing. Its first line of legionaries was already in the water as the first companies swept around its flank and behind its rear-most cohorts, firing arrows into the packed ranks of the Romans. Other companies charged forward between the troops in the water and the legion’s second line of cohorts waiting to cross the river. The result was chaos, as those in the water were struck from behind by arrows and their comrades on the bank momentarily panicked. But moments were all it took for centuries to collapse in panic and attempt to flee. Some ran back into the third line and broke the latter’s formation, others tried to withdraw south towards their camp, but only succeeded in crashing into and disrupting other units deployed on their left. Soon, what had been an impeccably disciplined Roman legion became a disorganised rabble assailed on all sides by horsemen shooting arrows and hacking at individuals with their swords. My company commanders kept their men under tight control, working their way in and around isolated groups of Romans and then killing them with arrows, then withdrawing and reforming, before once again seeking out easy targets and destroying them.

Castus led his legion forward to the river to allow his men to hurl their javelins at the men still in the water. The Scorpions were still firing, those whose crews had not been killed by my horsemen, but they soon stopped as hordes of fleeing Romans turned tail and tried to escape back out of the water. Those were the lucky ones. Hundreds were speared in the river as the Germans hurled every javelin that had at the men in the river, whose waters were soon turned red by the butchery.

The three Roman legions, what was left of them, now withdrew badly shaken, so assured of victory and now demoralised and disorganised. My horsemen kept them under attack as they shuffled back to the safety of their camp, leaving the field littered with their dead and dying and most of the Scorpions, whose crews had abandoned them. Two cohorts disintegrated and ran towards the trees that covered the slopes of the valley. None made it, being ridden down and slaughtered to a man by horsemen. The Roman legions on that side of the river would take no further part in the battle.

A company rode across the river and headed towards us. The Germans cheered them loudly and the horsemen raised their bows in acknowledgement. They were led by Nergal. Gallia was behind him leading Remus, and behind her Vardanes carried my banner. He dismounted and I shook his hand.

‘We did not know where you were, highness.’

Gallia jumped down from Epona and we embraced. She looked at my tunic splattered with mud and blood.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘No. Where is Diana and the child?’ I asked.

‘Safe with Gafarn and Godarz,’ she replied. ‘Where is Spartacus?’

I told them what had happened but Gallia did not cry; she had used up all her tears.

‘When did you get back?’ I asked Nergal.

‘Yesterday, highness. We sheltered among the trees in the hills while the storm was raging, and then came down this morning. Godarz told me what had happened. I moved the cavalry down the valley but kept it hidden among the trees. The Romans were so busy preparing to cross the river that they didn’t think to put scouts out. We waited until they began to cross and then hit them.’

‘You did well, Nergal.’ I turned to Domitus. ‘I must rejoin my men. Stay here and inform Castus where I have gone.’

To our front, the sounds of battle had once again died down as the Romans withdraw once more, the failure of their river crossing having dented their morale somewhat. Gallia rode beside me.

‘I thought I told you to stay in camp.’

‘My place is with my women,’ she replied.

My horsemen were reforming in their dragons on the plain across the river. Their ranks looked somewhat depleted.

‘What happened on the Appian Way?’

‘We lost three hundred men, highness,’ said Nergal. ‘We achieved surprise at first and killed many Romans, but those troops we fought are veteran soldiers. We were too few and they too many.’

‘Do you think you slowed their march?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe for a day or two, but no longer.’

It was a poor reward for losing three hundred men but I said nothing. It was my orders that had sent them to their deaths. I pulled my bow from its case and fixed its bowstring in place. I checked my quiver. It was full.

‘Has anyone got anything to eat?’ I enquired, ‘I’m starving.’

Gallia passed me some bread and cheese, which I devoured greedily, then washed it down with lukewarm water from my waterskin. Around me horsemen lay on the ground resting while their mounts chewed at the lush grass that filled the valley. I was weighing up in my mind my next course of action when a scout thundered up and halted in front of me. One of Byrd’s men, no doubt, by the threadbare state of his attire and unshaven face.

‘Roman cavalry are forming up two miles or so to the south.’

‘How many?’ I asked.

‘Twelve hundred, maybe more, deploying into line and heading this way.’

I turned to Nergal. ‘It appears that our old friend, Lucius Furius, has arrived.’

‘What do you intend to do, highness?’

‘We must fight him, otherwise he will cross the river and charge our forces in the flank. Pass the word: all archers in the front rank to shoot at their horses first.’

Nergal rode away to take command of his dragon while horns blared and men remounted their horses. My standard was held behind me.

The large scarlet banner barely fluttered in the light breeze, but would billow as our speed increased. The sky was cloudless and the sun was beating down, drying out the ground nicely — perfect for cavalry. I wondered why the enemy’s horse had not appeared earlier. I could only surmise that they had been camped some miles away and had received a desperate summons when Crassus’ army had been assaulted.

Gallia and her women formed line immediately behind. I motioned for her to take her place beside me. It was useless to try to persuade her to ride back to camp, so I didn’t bother. Her face was a mask of stern concentration. I nodded to her; she did likewise, then replaced her helmet and closed the cheek guards. I nudged Remus forward then turned him to face my horsemen. I raised my bow over my head; two thousand others did the same. Then I returned to face the front and urged Remus forward.