Douglas Jackson: Saviour of Rome

But even as Melanius died Valerius knew it had all taken too long.

Despite Piso’s screaming exhortations the two cohorts of the Sixth still hadn’t moved and the long lines of legionaries stood motionless as some sort of altercation took place between the young tribune and Proculus. Had Proculus seen Melanius die, or was he just biding his time to discover who emerged victorious from the skirmish?

He would certainly see Aulus Aemilianus Severus die. A hundred paces away Asturica Augusta’s duovir watched in terror as Serpentius dispatched the last of three Parthians who’d tried to stop him reaching Severus. Now he abandoned his horse and sought refuge among the rocks at the base of the far slope.

Valerius watched as he scurried among the boulders and he could hear his plaintive shouts pleading for help from Proculus and his legionaries. But the ageing Severus was no match for Serpentius. The Spaniard caught up with his prey in seconds as Severus leaned against a rock, head down and chest heaving with the effort. Death came almost unnoticed. Serpentius despatched the duovir with the casual ease he would have butchered a rabbit. Valerius saw the sword rise and fall. It was done.

Time to get out.

Little knots of Asturian riders still danced around individual Parthians, but they were far fewer than when they’d ridden out from the gully. Small Asturian ponies dotted the plain, standing with heads bowed over the crumpled bodies of their owners. Beyond them – and between Valerius and the gully he’d marked as their escape route – at least two squadrons of the Parthian vanguard wheeled into position, while two more circled to cut off any escape to the south. With the Sixth legion blocking the road west and the bulk of the Parthian cavalry riding up from the ford they were trapped. Even if Proculus chose not to become involved the Asturians were outnumbered at least ten to one. Serpentius reined in beside Valerius, his face as bleak as a December morning in the Rhenus bog.

‘I suppose we could always surrender.’

‘This is no time for jokes.’ Valerius looked to where Claudius Harpocration had halted his remaining six squadrons. A trumpet call rang out and the Parthians fighting Valerius’s Asturian allies disengaged and rode to join their comrades. The Asturians retreated in their turn to form a semicircle of riders behind Valerius and Serpentius. Fully half of them had suffered wounds and two or three were slumped in the saddle, barely conscious. ‘In any case I doubt that will be on offer.’

It appeared the surviving officer from Melanius’s escort was trying to explain to Harpocration how he’d lost his charge and the cavalry prefect didn’t like what he was hearing. Without warning Harpocration and another man broke away and rode to where Valerius waited. They halted ten paces off and Harpocration removed his helmet and pushed dark hair from his eyes.

‘You will surrender Marcus Atilius Melanius and Aulus Aemilianus Severus to me now and I will spare your lives,’ the Parthian said without preamble.

‘Even if that were possible I doubt very much you’d keep your part of the bargain.’ Valerius kept his tone formal. ‘Unfortunately it is not.’

He moved his horse to one side so Harpocration could see the bulky figure in the glittering armour who lay in the dust in a pool of blood. The Parthian growled, but besides anger Valerius saw a fleeting shadow of anguish cross his face. Harpocration knew perfectly well that Melanius’s death meant the end of his ambitions.

‘You can have Severus,’ Serpentius offered with a sneer. Something round and the size of a melon flew past Valerius’s right shoulder and landed to roll at the front hooves of Harpocration’s mount. The beast skittered and the Parthian looked down into the startled features of the duovir .

‘You will die slowly and in exquisite agony,’ Harpocration promised.

Serpentius watched as the Parthian’s hand crept to his sword. ‘You’re welcome to try.’ Serpentius’s features twisted into the wolf’s grin that never touched his eyes. ‘I’d like that. Like it a lot. How about it, hook-nose, just you and me? Then we’ll see how brave you are. I noticed you’re happy to send other men to fight for you, but you stay away from trouble yourself.’

Valerius laid a hand on his arm. ‘It may not come to that.’

The Spaniard glared at him and Harpocration made to circle his horse and return to his men.

‘Wait.’ Valerius raised his voice to a shout. ‘It’s over and you know it. Without Melanius and Severus there is no rebellion. Look.’ He pointed to where the Sixth were lined up and Piso and Proculus stared at them with the rest. ‘Your Roman friends are in no hurry to get killed helping you. Vespasian knows everything, or if he doesn’t now, he soon will. There is no hope for you, Claudius Harpocration, but your men were only following your orders. You can save them if you surrender yourself to me.’

‘You think to turn them against me, Roman?’ The Parthian actually laughed. ‘Then think again. These are not just my men. They are of my people and my tribe. They are my brothers.’ Harpocration’s glittering eyes wandered over the riders gathered behind Valerius. ‘Soon your pathetic little band of farmers will feel the point of their spears. But not you.’ Now the hate-filled eyes pinned Valerius. ‘You and the old man beside you will be taken alive so I may have my pleasure of you. With a sharp knife and hot coals I will make your passing a torment beyond bearing and you will plead for death long before the end.’

‘This old man will carve his name on your face with his sword so every man knows who killed you,’ Serpentius spat.

‘Enough of this time-wasting.’ Harpocration spun his horse and trotted back to his men. ‘Remember what I said about your end, Roman. I look forward to our next meeting.’

‘A fine sentiment, writing your name on his face,’ Valerius observed mildly. ‘But I’m not sure it helped.’

Serpentius shrugged. ‘An angry fighter is a careless fighter and I want the bastard angry when the time comes. In any case it can’t make it any worse. Do we make a break for it?’

‘That’s what I was thinking. At least one or two of us might make it to the slope.’

‘I’ll be at your right hand at the end.’

Valerius felt a lump in his throat. ‘A friend by your side and a sword in your hand?’

‘Let us make it so. At least …’ Serpentius’s eyes were drawn towards the river. ‘Venus’ withered tits, what’s he doing?’

Tito had done exactly as his father ordered. When the Parthians advanced he withdrew his men through the maze of boulders and cunningly disguised spiked pits he’d created in the bed of the ford. On the far side they’d taken up position among the rocks and behind a rocky barrier they’d created to block the road. A few men stayed on the bank to taunt the enemy and hopefully goad a few into charging to be pinned by a spear or brought down by one of the traps.

But it hadn’t worked.

It had been a good plan, but it depended on perfect timing and the cooperation of the hook-noses. In war, as his father had advised often since his return, nothing was predictable. Harpocration had been attracted by the bait, but he was as wary as a fox approaching a farm at night. Tito would swear the Parthian sensed the clash to his rear even before the sound of fighting reached them. His men had lined up along the river bank for no more than a few moments before their commander’s head whipped round. With a contemptuous glance at the ford’s defenders he turned away and Tito could only watch as close to three hundred riders carried their spears to where his father and Valerius were likely fighting for their lives.