Peter Darman - The Parthian

‘You never learned to ride, then, Domitus?’

‘No, sir, never saw the point, truth be told.’

‘It doesn’t matter now. Hatra has need of all good soldiers such as you, even if they cannot ride.’

I dismounted Remus and walked beside him. ‘I fear you may never see Italy again, Domitus.’

He shrugged. ‘Rome was quick enough to discard me. Reckon I can do the same to it easy enough.’

‘Once we are back in Parthia, perhaps we could raise a legion for you to command.’

He looked at me, then jerked his head towards those he was leading. ‘This lot are good soldiers, because they’ve been taught to fight like Romans. Not sure if Eastern types are suited to be legionaries. No offence, sir.’

I laughed. ‘None taken. But surely any man can be taught to fight in a certain way if he has the right instructors.’

Domitus shrugged. ‘Maybe, sir, though it takes the Romans five years to train a legion. That’s a lot of time and I’m only one man.’

‘But the men behind us could help you, could they not?’

‘Again, maybe,’ he cast me a glance. ‘I would have thought that you would have been sick of the Romans and all things Roman by now.’

‘Parthia’s horsemen are the best in the world, Domitus, but an army that combines them with Roman legionaries is truly a powerful thing.’

‘Like Spartacus did, you mean.’

‘Exactly. I do not intend to let the knowledge I have gained in Italy go to waste. I would like you to think about it, at least.’

He suddenly shouted at the top of his voice, causing Remus to jerk his head in alarm. ‘Pick up those feet you miserable worms, we’re not on a pleasure trip.’

He looked at me. ‘I will certainly consider it, sir, but I thought you would be thinking of a more quiet life, not planning more wars.’

I mounted Remus. ‘I have a feeling that war will be coming to Parthia soon, and I want Hatra to be ready. I fear that only the dead have seen the end of war.’

We crossed the River Orontes and travelled into the vast fertile region between that river and the Euphrates, the western border of the Parthian Empire. The first five days of our journey were uneventful, but on the sixth day our outriders galloped back to the column in alarm, bring their horses to a halt feet from Nergal and myself.

‘Cavalry approaching, highness.’

‘How many?’ I asked.

‘Unknown highness,’ replied the other, ‘but we spotted them on the horizon. They are kicking up a lot of dust, there must be many of them.’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Nergal, pointing to the east and the sky that was filled with a light brown cloud.

‘Armenians?’ I mused.

We were on a track that was in the middle of a wide expanse of semi-arid desert, though there were a few hillocks dotted either side of the road and stretching into the distance. One on our left, around a quarter of a mile away, was slightly higher and larger, and I decided that it was as good a spot as any. We marched over to the hillock and deployed into line, sixty riders, seventy-five soldiers and two dozen camels about to face a multitude. At that moment a rage welled up inside me. To have come so far and with the border of Hatra within touching distance, only to die in this miserable stretch of Syria made me mad beyond description.

Godarz must have been reading my thoughts. ‘We could try to outrun whoever they are.’

I shook my head. ‘They are too close and will catch us, especially those on foot.’

‘Perhaps they are Romans,’ said Nergal.

An unpleasant thought entered my mind. Surely Lucius Furius could not have crossed the sea to track me down? But the riders approaching were coming from the east, not the west.

‘Perhaps they are not interested in us at all,’ suggested Gafarn. ‘After all, we are just another caravan on the road.’

He may have been right, but my instincts told me that something was wrong.

‘Nergal,’ I snapped. ‘We will form an all-round defence on this hillock. Put the horses and camels in the centre. Domitus.’

He ran up to me and saluted. ‘Yes, sire.’

‘I fear that our line will be thin. I will place archers behind your men. Hopefully we can shoot their horsemen before they get near us. Go.’

He raced away and began organizing our defence.

‘Each archer has only thirty arrows, highness,’ said Godarz.

‘They might disorganise our line, highness.’

I looked at him and burst into laughter. The absurdity of it all. He looked at me as though I had gone mad.

‘Do not worry, Godarz, I fear that whatever tactics we use this day will avail us little.’

The dust cloud was getting closer as Domitus formed a line of his men around us and my horsemen dismounted and took up position behind the foot soldiers, and if I squinted my eyes I could make out tiny black shapes on the horizon. Whoever they were, they were in a hurry to get to us.

‘Gafarn,’ I said.

My former slave and trusted companion was at my side.

‘Gafarn, you and Diana will ride south and then swing east where you will be able to cross the Euphrates. There are bridges there you can use.’

‘I would rather stay with you, highness.’

‘And I would rather you, Diana and the child live. This is my final request to you as a friend. If you all live, then it will have all been worthwhile.’

For once in his life he appeared speechless.

‘I’ll take that as a yes, then.’ I shouted along the line again. ‘Godarz and Alcaeus, please attend me.’

They arrived half a minute later.

‘I would ask a favour of you both, and that is to accompany Gafarn and Diana to Hatra.’

Godarz began to speak. ‘I would rather…’

‘I know what you would rather do, but I am making this request. It is not an order, but one friend asking a favour of another. Let me die knowing that our quest was not in vain.’

‘Please get some supplies and go,’ I told them, for the enemy horsemen were fast approaching, a great line of men on big horses filling the horizon. Whoever they were, their riding skills were impeccable, for their frontage was unbroken and arrow straight. There appeared to be thousands of them. I dug my knees into Remus and rode to stand in front of our ragged, sparse line. I faced those I led, Parthians, Gallia’s Amazons, Thracians, Dacians, Gauls and Greeks and one Spaniard.

I raised my bow. Vardanes, it is time to unfurl the banner.’

I felt a shot of pride as the breeze caught the large standard and I saw the white horse’s head flutter in the breeze.

‘We are many races, but we are also one. We are united by one thing, something so strong that death itself cannot defeat it. We are free and we shall die free. Sons and daughters of Spartacus. Freedom!’

They screamed and shouted the cry back at me, the noise loud and piercing enough to wake the gods. I put on my helmet. I would die beside my woman this day, that much was certain, but afterwards we would be together in heaven for all eternity, she and all these present who I had come to love. I nudged Remus forward to take my place in the front rank and then dismounted. They were about three miles away now, still maintaining their formation and discipline. Suddenly Nergal was beside me.

‘They are riding white horses.’

‘What?’

‘They are riding white horses, highness.’

I peered into the distance. The main body of horsemen, who indeed did seem to be on white horses, was now being overtaken by a host of other riders on each flank who were filling the valley.

‘I see a white horse’s head on their banner!’ Nergal was pointing frantically at the large banner being carried by a rider in the centre of the line. Behind me cheering erupted and some of my men began chanting ‘Hatra, Hatra’. They were two miles away now and I saw before me not an enemy but the Royal Bodyguard of my father, King Varaz.