‘That was easy enough,’ said Orodes.
‘The next part will take longer,’ I replied.
‘You ride back to the city?’ enquired Atrax.
‘I do indeed, brother. This time perhaps you two would like to accompany me.’
And so the three of us rode back to the gates of Vanadzor, this time with a hundred riders behind us. We did so at a gentle pace; there was no point in tiring the horses unnecessarily. This time the banner of Susa fluttered beside my own. Atrax has wanted to fly Media’s standard in Gordyene but his father had forbidden him to do so. Farhad clearly feared the Romans, but I did not tell his son this. We arrived once more at the gates, which were now slammed shut. I told the others to keep well out of bow range as I once more goaded the enemy.
‘Romans,’ I hollered. ‘Were those horsemen the best you could offer? Their blood now fertilises the earth. Surrender now and save your skins, for to fight further is to invite death.’
I saw no movement on the towers or walls, and so after a few minutes waiting I returned to the men.
‘Why don’t they attack us?’ Atrax was plainly itching for another fight.
I shrugged. ‘They will come in their own time. I suggest we withdraw and get some food inside us.’
‘I want to insult them.’ Atrax made to ride forward but I reached over and laid a hand on his arm.
‘No Atrax, we have done enough.’ His face was a mask of disappointment but I did not want him to get shot for the sake of mere bravado.
We camped five miles south of the city in the forest, though I made sure that I had sentries posted all around. There were other gates out of the city, and just because the Romans had not shown themselves at the southern entrance did not mean that they would not send soldiers from another gate to sweep around our rear and catch us unawares.
After two hours Byrd and Malik rode to where we were camped, our horses tethered to branches and their saddles dumped on the ground. Parties had been sent to the river to fetch water for them, and while we waited for the enemy we checked their iron shoes and groomed them.
‘Romani marching out of city,’ said Byrd.
I was standing in front of Remus holding a waterskin to his mouth. ‘How many?’
‘At least two thousand legionaries, plus light troops and more horsemen.’
I gave the order to reform and the sound of horns filled the forest as the companies were assembled. I called their commanders together and they stood in a semi-circle around me.
‘Our plan is simple. We goad the Romans, annoy them, and then fall back. We wear them down.’
‘We could surprise them, attack from the trees, like we did with the last ones,’ suggested one of my officers.
‘No, they outnumber us and there is no point in charging legionaries. You might kill a few, but once we get close to their locked shields we will ride into a hail of javelins.’
‘What about their horsemen, Pacorus?’ asked Orodes.
‘We can kill them. They will be acting as scouts and riding ahead of the foot. Kill them with arrows. But remember that our aim is to lure the Romans further away from the city.’
‘To what end?’ queried Atrax.
‘Attrition, lord prince. Grind them down, just like the Romans like to grind down their enemies.’
And so it was. We saddled our horses and then rode south, letting the enemy horsemen see us but always keeping a safe distance between them and us. The road we were on led south to Media, but after an hour we left it and made our way back to the camp we had constructed among the trees. As we moved we left small parties of riders, half companies, in the trees either side of the track we travelled along. These men would ambush the Roman cavalry, empty a few saddles and then gallop way. Once they had recovered the enemy cavalry would give chase, only to run into another ambush set further along the track. I took part in these ambushes, as did Surena, Atrax and Orodes, and they were immense fun. We would wait in the forest some hundred paces from the tree line, so anyone on the track would see only darkness if they stared into the trees. Once the enemy horsemen appeared we would shoot at the front and rear of the group, which would sow confusion and terror, then we could pick off those in the middle as men tried to calm their frightened horses. Then we would ride away through the trees, leaving the survivors to deploy against an enemy that was no longer there.
By dusk the Roman cavalry no longer pursued us. We had killed most of them and the rest had retreated to take refuge with the foot. The latter had been under the observation of Byrd and Malik, who rode into our camp after dark, having dismounted at the edge of the forest adjoining the wide steppe where the Romans had built their camp. I forbade the lighting of any fires lest they give our position away, even though we were deep in the forest. It therefore took Byrd and Malik some time to weave their way in the dark through the traps that had been laid among the trees. Eventually they found their way to my tent where Orodes, Surena and Atrax were sitting on the ground eating biscuits washed down with water.
‘There must be four thousand Romans in that camp,’ said Malik, flopping down on the hard earth.
‘Tomorrow we will entice them into the trees,’ I said, ‘but tonight perhaps we might ruffle their feathers.’
‘Ruffle their feathers?’ asked Byrd.
‘Why not? Get close to their camp and kill a few sentries. Keep them all on edge.’
Byrd was unimpressed. ‘Romani camp in middle of grassland. Uninterrupted view in all directions.’
‘We’ll just have to crawl, then.’
Two hours later I was impersonating a snake as I crawled on my belly towards the enemy camp. Like all Roman camps it was a neat rectangle surrounded by an earth mound that was surmounted by a palisade of stakes. Inside the legionaries slept eight to a tent, the latter arranged in neat rows and blocks. The night was overcast; if there had been moonlight we would not have attempted our raid because any sentry would have had a clear view of the illuminated steppe. With me were Orodes, Surena and Atrax. Farhad’s son has immediately volunteered to come with us and I had initially refused his offer, but he had made such a protest that I changed my mind just to shut him up. In truth I regretted that he had come on this expedition, not least because I did not want anything to befall him. On the other hand he was brave and loyal, two qualities that seemed to be in short supply in Parthia at present.
Before we left camp I had borrowed a dark brown shirt to wear instead of my white tunic, and we all left our helmets behind. So we crawled for at least an hour across the steppe, inching closer to the Roman camp that was illuminated by the lighted oil lamps and braziers within. We carried no swords, axes or maces, only daggers attached to our belts, full quivers and our bows. No one spoke as we shuffled in a line towards our target. It was a miserable night: cold, damp, the air filled with spits of rain carried on a cool northerly wind. Hopefully the Roman guards would be wrapped in their cloaks with their heads down. On we crawled. I could hear muffled noises now. Straining my ear I thought I caught the sound of laughter. Perhaps a group of men was playing cards or throwing dice, the universal pastimes of soldiers the world over. Around two hundred paces from the camp we halted and then did not move for at least ten minutes. There appeared be a guard every ten paces, and if any of them had seen movement ahead their first instinct would not be to raise the alarm but to look again to confirm what they thought they had seen. So we remained dead still and the guard would have seen no further movement; he would shrug it off as being a lapse in concentration or a trick of the mind, nothing more.
I rolled onto my back and reached into my quiver. The arrows had been bound together to stop them rattling during the journey. I slowly untied the twine and pulled an arrow out and placed the nock in the bowstring. Then I very slowly assumed a kneeling position, my right knee on the ground. I peered head and saw a guard’s head and shoulders directly in front of me. I drew back the bowstring, keeping my eyes on the target. It would be a difficult shot because the only real target was his face. I slowed my breathing and focused entirely on the target; nothing else existed at that moment. Subconsciously I had already made allowances for the wind and distance. The bow was not a weapon; it was a part of me, at one with my senses and instincts. Time slowed as I released the string. I heard a twang and low hiss, then a dull thud as the arrowhead struck the sentry and he fell to the ground. The others took their shots as I strung another arrow and loosed it. The air was filled with hissing noises as my companions searched out targets, and then other sounds were carried on the wind — trumpet blasts and shouts as the camp was awoken from its slumber.