A formal exchange (couched in terms of flowery politeness) followed between Prudentius and Khusro. The Roman informed the king that, in obedience to Justinian’s command, the people of Antioch were determined to resist any Persian attempt to take their city. Khusro thereupon gave assurances that should the Antiochans change their minds and pay the thousand pounds of gold agreed upon, the city would be spared. He would give them until the following morning to decide. The inhabitants of Daphne (unless they chose to join their fellow citizens inside the walls) would not be affected by the consequences of any siege.
Persian intermediaries, mingling with the citizens of Daphne, then asked them (in Greek and with impeccable courtesy) if they had any requests or enquiries to make of the king. Macedonia, full of gratitude towards the Persian officer who had saved her, commended him warmly for his timely action. A short time later she was summoned to appear before the king himself. Suddenly nervous and regretting her impulse to speak out, she found herself facing a strikingly good-looking young man, whose welcoming smile helped to put her at her ease.
‘What unit was this officer in charge of, Kalligenia*?’ the king asked politely, in the purest Attic Greek.
‘I think he said his men were Bactrian scouts, Your Majesty.’
The king rapped out an order to one of his attendants who instantly departed, then, turning back to Macedonia said, ‘I can only apologize for the failure of one of my officers to keep better discipline among those whom he commanded. Failure for which you nearly lost your virtue. Rest assured, he will be duly punished.’ And he inclined his head in dismissal.
Macedonia, who had assumed that the officer was to be congratulated or promoted, was shocked. Opening her mouth to protest, she was confronted by an official who placed a warning finger to his lips, then led her from the scene.
Soon after, the unfortunate officer was conducted under escort to the iron tripod, to be questioned brusquely by the king. Khusro then issued a command, whereupon two brutal-looking menials seized the officer by the arms and hustled him roughly to the gibbet. His hands were bound behind his back, a noose whipped round his neck, and, before the horrified gaze of the assembled Romans, he was hauled aloft, kicking frantically as the cruel rope choked his life away.
Next morning, the Daphne Gate was opened and, to the jeers of the Antiochans and the laughter of the Persians who opened ranks to let them through, the six thousand Roman reinforcements sent by Justinian fled, heading north for the Cilician border. Persian heralds then rode up below the walls and repeated the terms that Khusro had specified to Prudentius. On these being greeted with yells of defiance, the heralds withdrew and the Persian host rolled forward to commence the siege.
First to the attack, advancing to the beat of drums and cymbals, were the Jan-avaspar — ‘the men who sacrifice themselves’ — assault troops carrying scaling-ladders. Time and again the ladders were sent crashing to the ground, spilling their human cargo, the defenders shoving the topmost rungs from the ramparts with long, forked poles. But so vast was the perimeter of the walls that it proved impossible to repel all such attacks, and gradually the Persians began to infiltrate the city, meeting desperate resistance from the citizens who knew that they were fighting for their very lives.
Meanwhile, Persian miners dug tunnels beneath the fortifications from which they began excavating galleries. Listening for the tell-tale clink of picks on rock beneath their feet, the citizens dug counter-mines, breaking into some of the subterranean passages where, in pitch-blackness, they fought bloody hand-to-hand battles with the enemy. But they could not detect every man-made cavern; in the largest of these, the Persians ignited the wooden beams supporting the roof. Minutes later, with a rumbling crash, a section of wall collapsed in a vast pall of dust and smoke.
Into the gaping breach charged a mass of cataphracts, scattering any defenders foolhandy enough to contest their passage. The heavy cavalry was followed by the Sogdian Brigade. These mailed giants from beyond the Hindu Kush were armed with heavy battle axes that inflicted fearful damage on the Antiochans, severing heads or limbs with nearly every stroke. With the cutting edge of the Persian army driving all before them, a torrent of infantry now poured through the gap and began a systematic slaughter of the citizens, suddenly reduced to a demoralized mob possessed of but one thought — escape. However, for the fleeing, huddled crowds and screaming women and children corralled inside the bulwarks, there could be no escape. For the remainder of that day and through the night, the killing continued, the Persians hunting down every man, woman, and child that they could find. .
Several mornings later, accompanied by Prudentius whom he had ‘suggested’ might care to join him, Khusro looked down upon Antioch from the wooded slopes of Mount Casius. Fanned by a strong wind blowing onshore from the sea, fires now raged throughout the city, the distant crackle of flames and the crash of falling masonry mingling with a faint hubbub of despairing cries, as the slaughter carried on unchecked.
‘Stop them, Great King!’ cried Prudentius, aghast, his previous complacency destroyed by an object-lesson in the grim realities of war, and now replaced by disbelieving horror. ‘In the name of humanity, I beseech you — put an end to this.’
Khusro shrugged and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Even I, the Shah-an-Shah of the mighty Empire of Iran, am not omnipotent. My soldiers’ blood is up, and their fury must be allowed to run its course. If I commanded them to desist, would they obey me? As well instruct a tiger not to rend its prey.’ He smiled and shook his head with a smile of gentle irony. ‘You see, my friend, unlike Justinian, who has God upon his side, I am but a man, who must act within his human limitations.’ He gestured to the conflagration below. ‘You seem to imply that this is somehow my fault. Perhaps you should reflect,’ he went on in tones of mild reproof, ‘that it could so easily have been avoided, if only. . Well, I’m sure I need not recapitulate.’
‘To see Antioch destroyed!’ cried Prudentius in a stricken voice. Choking back a sob, he whispered, ‘It is unbearable.’
‘Courage, friend.’ Khusro placed a reassuring hand on the other’s shoulder. ‘Antioch will rise again. For those who survive this unfortunate event, I shall build a new city on the banks of the Tigris, where they may live in peace and freedom as honoured guests of Persia. Greeks have long been welcome in my realm — an ornament to our society, like those professors from Athens when Justinian closed the Schools.’
When the blood-lust of his soldiers was eventually slaked, Khusro continued his progress through northern Syria, exacting tribute from city after city (all paid promptly, encouraged by the fate of Antioch), returning to Persia in the autumn,* well-pleased with the fruits of his campaign against the Romans. These included promises by Justinian to pay an annual subsidy in gold towards ‘protection’ — ostensibly for both Romans and Persians — against the nomads of the steppes.
Accompanying the mighty host as it headed homewards beside the Euphrates was a long, long train of captives (among them Macedonia) — the survivors of the Sack of Antioch.
* The title of the Shah’s chief minister and plenipotentiary.
** How curiously the wheel of history revolves. All these territories (for Lazica read Georgia, for Mesopotamia, Iraq), for centuries mere pawns in the ‘Great Game’ between powers such as Rome, Persia, Russia, Britain, the Ottoman Empire, and more recently, America, are all now independent nations. (Perhaps, in the case of Iraq, that should be ‘semi-independent’!)