Peter Darman - The Parthian

The air was warm as I slowly approached a grey stallion, which turned to look at me when I was five or so paces from him, approaching from his right side. I stopped, being careful not to look directly into his eyes, which was the action of a predator. I spoke to him quietly as I inched my way sideways towards him, thereby presenting no threat. He turned away and resumed his chewing at the grass. I stopped and watched him for a few minutes. There was no rush; it could take us all day, but our patience would be rewarded. I inched closer until I was near enough to touch him. I stopped again and did nothing for several minutes, looking away from him but talking in a quiet voice, reassuring him that I was his friend and would not hurt him. He could not understand, of course, but he would understand the calm tone of my voice. I extended my hand with my fingers closed — spread fingers would give the impression that I was a wild animal — and gently touched his neck. He drew back so I withdrew my hand. It was some minutes more before he resumed his grazing, and once more I extended my hand and gently touched his neck. This time he did not draw back, so I continued to stroke his neck, talking to him soothingly and calmly.

I do not know how long I stood there talking to this stallion, perhaps an hour, but at the end I was able to put the rope halter over his head and lead him away towards where my own horse was tethered in the shade. By late afternoon we had tamed many horses and were leading them back to camp. Being a herd, once the head stallion had been tamed, by Nergal, which flushed him with pride, all the other horses were soon haltered. While we were away the rest of my men were building wooden pens to hold our new charges. The sun was on our backs and sinking into the west as we trotted back into camp with our four-legged captives. They were then led to the pens and safely secured, after which they were fed and watered. A count revealed that we had captured fifty-five horses. We went out again the next day to bring in the rest, which numbered another forty.

The following days were spent taming our new mounts. Spartacus visited us to observe our progress. He seemed pleased by what he saw. Each horse had been allotted to one of my men, who would be its sole master when it was fully tamed.

‘How long will it take?’

‘Two or three weeks, maybe a month,’ I replied.

‘That long?’ he seemed surprised.

‘It takes time, lord.’ He obviously knew very little about horses, so I decided to educate him. ‘The first step with a wild horse is to establish trust. You have to gain his trust before you can do anything with him. You cannot work with any horse if that horse does not trust you. You have to visit him every day. You feed him, water him and talk to him in a mild, reassuring manner. Eventually, the horse will start to trust you, and will know that you are not there to hurt him. Once this happens, you can go inside the pen and give him a massage or body rub. This helps strengthen the bond that you are now starting to build with the horse. When you are confident that the horse no longer sees you as a threat, you can start showing him objects that he will be using in the future. The rope and the halter must be the first items you should introduce to him. Let him smell it, rub it against his back and neck, so he will get used to it. Let him wear the halter for a few hours every day, but take it off when you leave. And when you have acquainted the horse with objects around him like fences, ropes, the halter, the saddle, and everything else, he becomes more trusting. He looks to you as a leader. This makes training be easier. Horses are intelligent creatures, lord, and it takes time to earn their trust.’

‘When will you have your men ready?’

‘One month, lord. But I will need more horses and more recruits. I have only two hundred men. You will need more cavalry than that.’

He stared into the distance, saying nothing for a while. ‘Nola.’

‘Lord?’

He turned to face me. ‘We will attack Nola, a town about thirty miles away. That should provide us with more weapons and supplies, and horses for your cavalry.’

‘Does it have walls, lord?’

‘Yes, strong stone walls with a ditch in front of them.’

‘Have you any siege engines? I asked, somewhat surprised that he was thinking of assaulting a walled town.

‘None.’

‘Then how are you going to take it?’

He looked at me and smiled wolfishly. ‘You are you going to take it, Pacorus, you and your cavalry. Come to a council of war in two hours and I will explain.’

With that he marched away, leaving me more than a little bewildered.

I took Nergal with me to the council. As my newly appointed second-in-command it was only proper that he should be privy to the decisions that would affect us. He was delighted with his new rank and though he was a year older than me, he was like a child with a new toy. He was taller than me and slightly lanky, with long arms and even longer legs. He looked awkward when he was walking, being all limbs, but in the saddle he was a superb horseman, far better than I. Parthians loved their horses, but Nergal, I think, loved them the most and they loved him. When he was riding he and horse seemed to become one, man and beast fused together. He perhaps wasn’t the brightest person in the world, but he was loyal and had an infectious spirit.

The council meeting was held in a large leather tent that was supported by two centre poles that held up the roof and numerous ropes that gave tension to the walls. The flaps at each end were open to allow air inside, for it had been a hot day. We went inside and I saw that stools had been placed around a large oblong table in the middle. Wine and water jugs had been placed on tables either side of the entrance. I filled a cup with water and handed it to Nergal, then filled another for myself. Spartacus was already seated and called for us all to take our places. I recognised Crixus, who ignored me, and Castus who nodded as he sat beside another dark-haired warrior who was dressed in a similar fashion to him. Crixus finished his cup (no doubt wine) and shoved his companion beside him off his stool and ordered him to fetch a jug. Spartacus frowned and stood up.

‘I have decided we are going to attack and capture Nola. We cannot remain idle forever, and the longer we are passive the more the likelihood that the Romans will attack us again. Besides, we are eating up all our supplies and emptying the countryside of food. We need fresh supplies.’

‘Nola has walls,’ said Castus.

‘There are plenty of rich villas further afield,’ growled Crixus. ‘Why waste time battering our heads against walls we can’t take.’

‘We are not going to batter the walls, Crixus,’ replied Spartacus, ‘we are going to walk up to the gates and they will let us in.’

Crixus burst into laughter. ‘You’ve been in the sun too long. Have some water and lie down for a while.’

Spartacus waited a few minutes until Crixus had finished making his noise. He fixed the Gaul with an iron stare until the silence was oppressive. Castus said nothing. Nergal, who had never seen Spartacus up close, looked upon the Thracian with awe. Spartacus certainly had an imposing presence. Crixus snorted in disgust and played with a giant two-bladed axe that he had rested on the ground beside him. His new toy.

‘As I said,’ continued Spartacus, ‘we are going to take Nola. Pacorus and some of his men will ride up to one of the gates dressed in Roman cavalry uniforms,’ he nodded at me. ‘Once he is inside his men will seize the gatehouse and keep the gates open long enough for a following force of foot to get inside. Simple and effective.’

I looked at Nergal, who was shaking his head enthusiastically. Spartacus had obviously won him over. I have to confess that his plan struck a balance between audacity and foolishness. It might just work. Crixus glared at me.