‘Time to go,’ I said, releasing another arrow at a centurion, his telltale crest betraying his rank, who was standing behind the palisade barking orders.
We ran as fast as our legs would carry us, my heart pounding in my chest as I strained every muscle to get back to the safety of the forest. We must have covered that two-mile stretch of ground in a time that a Greek Olympian would have been jealous of, because when we entered the trees we all collapsed on the ground, gasping for air. Some of my cataphracts had been posted there as a rearguard should we be pursued, and now they helped us to our feet. For a while I had difficulty standing upright and it was painful to breathe, but eventually our hearts returned to normal and anxiety and stress were replaced by boyish enthusiasm as we congratulated ourselves on a job well done. Back at camp we sat on the ground until the grey light of dawn came, exaggerating our feats wildly. Once again we had given the Romans a bloody nose.
In the morning we broke camp and rode to the edge of the forest. The Romans had also left their camp and were forming into ranks on the steppe in front of us. We moved out of the trees and faced them, though they were well over a mile away and we were beyond the range of their archers and slingers. Their cohorts were arrayed in the centre and the light troops — spearmen with shields but no armour, archers and slingers — were deployed on the flanks. A blast of trumpets signalled their advance. Thousands of men began a steady march towards us. I saw few horsemen among their ranks save a small group behind their centre wearing red cloaks and surrounded by standards. The commander and his senior officers, no doubt.
There were only two hundred of us arrayed before the Romans, deployed in one long line at the tree line. But we raised a great clamour and hurled insults at the enemy as we fell back into the trees.
The Romans followed us, sending forward their lightly armed spearmen and archers first. Those of us on horseback withdrew into the vastness of the forest, but always letting the enemy see glimpses of us as we did so. The enemy thought that their light troops, used to operating in open order, would be more than adequate to deal with a few horsemen among the trees. The spearmen entered the trees gingerly, the archers and slingers positioned on their flanks to offer them protection. They shot a few arrows at the fleeting shapes of horsemen among the trees, but the day was overcast and the foliage diminished the light still further. The spearmen kept moving forward, their shafts levelled and their round shields held in front of their bodies. The archers and slingers, carrying no shields to protect them, crouched low in an effort to reduce their silhouettes. Those of us on horseback put away our bows as we kept out of range of the enemy bows and slings. Further we retreated into the forest, back towards our camp. Then our trap was sprung.
Hidden among the trees were the rest of my men, seven hundred archers behind cover waiting for the enemy. The remaining hundred Parthians remained in camp tending the horses and mules, and would form a reserve if we needed them. A Parthian recurve bow has a greater range than its Roman equivalent with its straight limbs, but today my men let the enemy archers get close to them. On horseback a Parthian horse archer can shoot between five and seven arrows a minute; on foot this increases to up to ten arrows a minute. When the enemy had closed to within fifty paces a horn blew and Parthian bows began shooting. My men were hidden and stationary and their first volley was deadly accurate — seven hundred arrows sliced through the air and buried themselves in flesh and bone. After half a minute three and a half thousand arrows had been shot at the Roman archers and slingers, who suffered horrendous losses. Most had been hit and either killed or wounded by the first two volleys, but my men kept on firing until the survivors fled. Two horn blasts signalled that the enemy was now running. I turned and gave the order to sound the advance. Now it was our turn to move forward.
The plan was for those on foot to stay where they were as the horsemen counterattacked. We drew our swords and moved forward, cantering through the trees. The enemy spearmen had been left alone while their archers had been dealt with, but now my archers began directing their arrows at them. Ahead I could see the spearmen, their ranks being thinned by arrow fire, then I signalled the charge. Horns blasted and we screamed our war cries as we galloped at the enemy. Gaps had already appeared in their ranks where dead spearman lay on the ground, and in any case among the trees it was difficult to form an unbroken shield wall. A few threw their spears at the onrushing horsemen and one or two found their target, but many had already turned tail before we made contact. And then we hit them like a thunderbolt.
Had they stood firmed in solid blocks we would not have been able to defeat them, but these men were auxiliaries, not legionaries. They were not trained to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with shields locked facing the enemy, to withstand arrow fire and spear storms and the charge of enemy horsemen. And the rout of their archers and slingers had shaken their morale. I slashed left and right at heads and torsos, taking care to avoid spear points, for neither our horses nor we wore armour. On we rode, hacking and thrusting, splitting thin shields with swings of our swords. Many of the enemy had thrown away their spears and shields and were running as fast as they could to escape us. We pursued them to the edge of the forest and beyond, catching some as they fell to the ground and began retching due to their exertions. They just had time to look up before a swing of a sword blade ended their life. Dozens fled back to the safety of the cohorts deployed on the steppe, which were now advancing towards the forest. I chased after one man who still carried his shield. I held my sword arm straight as I closed on him, then brought it up as I rode past him and slashed down, knocking him off his feet as my blade bit deep into the left side of his skull. I slowed Remus and then wheeled him right, then heard a hiss as a javelin flew past me. In concentrating on my quarry I had ridden dangerously close to a Roman cohort that was closing on me. I yelled at Remus and urged him forward, out of javelin range.
‘Sound recall,’ I shouted, as some of my riders got too close to the enemy and were felled by javelins.
I rode back to the edge of the forest, to be joined by Orodes and Atrax. As the men reformed either side of the royal standards I saw Surena riding up and down in front of the Roman front line, loosing arrows at them.
‘Stay here,’ I shouted to Orodes and Atrax, then rode back towards the advancing enemy. I halted when I was within shouting distance of Surena.
‘Get back, you young idiot. Obey orders for once or I will shoot you myself.’
I turned and galloped back to the men, followed by Surena. His eyes were wild with the excitement of battle.
‘Listen for the horns next time,’ I said. ‘I was nearly killed because I got too close to them.’
In front of us five cohorts of legionaries were getting ready to attack. We had won one relatively bloodless victory; the next fight would be much harder.