At a range of five hundred paces we began loosing our bows, firing at a rate of five arrows a minute as we quickly closed the distance between ourselves and the enemy’s rear ranks. The shouts and war cries of the Mesenians, expecting the walls to be conquered by the siege towers, drowned out the sounds of our horses’ hooves, so that the first they knew of our arrival was the sight of their comrades collapsing on the ground, their bodies pierced by arrows. Most wore no armour and more than a few had no helmets, so our arrows easily found flesh and bone. Around twenty thousand arrows had been fired before they realised what was happening. Then we were less then fifty paces from them, loosing arrows as we abruptly wheeled our horses’ right and then retreated, shooting a final shot over the rear quarters of our animals. A line of Mesenian dead bore testament to the success of our first charge. As we had done a hundred times in training, we halted five hundred paces from the enemy and then wheeled right once more, before commencing another charge against them. By this time the enemy had realised what was occurring and their officers were frantically trying to realign their ranks to form a wall of shields and spears against us. I strung an arrow and shot it, and then shot another and another as we hurtled towards them, then yanked Remus to the right once more, but this time enemy arrows were being shot back at us. Horses and riders went down as we pulled back. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach as I desperately sought out Gallia. There she was, leading her Amazons, shooting arrows and for the moment safe.
Relief.
Back we went, loosing arrows and taking more casualties, and then we fell back once more to regroup. I reached into my quiver. Empty! I looked left and right and saw other riders similarly out of missiles. In front of us the Mesenian line, battered and littered with dead, still held. I ordered a halt to be sounded and considered our next action. And then I saw a wondrous sight. From within the city what appeared to be black rocks arched into the sky and fell on and around the siege towers. One, two, three and then a fourth, hurtling into the sky and then smashing into the wooden towers. When they struck a tower or crashed onto the earth they turned into a fireball. How was this possible? Then I realised that they must be clay pots filled with the Chinese liquid that was kept in the armoury. But how were they being launched? In minutes one of the siege towers was ablaze, burning figures hurling themselves from the top platform, then a second caught fire and exhilaration swept through me.
‘What is causing that?’ Gallia was at my side, pointing at one of the burning towers with her bow.
‘I have no idea,’ I replied. ‘But I thank Shamash for his miracle. I am out of arrows.’
She shoved her bow back in its case. ‘Me also.’
Around us men and women began cheering as a third tower was hit by two Chinese fireballs and erupted into flames. We might have failed to break the enemy line, but the attack on the city had been stopped in its tracks.
Then I heard frantic horn blasts and looked to my left, to see a line of horsemen armed with spears, protected by round shields and wearing helmets hurtling towards Kuban’s men. The latter in turn charged them and they smashed into each other with a sickening crunching sound that echoed across the battlefield. Enemy cavalry had hit us with a devastating counterattack against our left wing. I placed my bow in its case. I forgot about the enemy foot soldiers in front of us — we had to help Kuban or our flank would be rolled up.
‘Form column,’ I shouted, ‘follow me.’
I tugged on Remus’ reins with my right hand to turn him left, then shouted at him to move. He knew every inference and tone of my voice and broke into a gallop. I wrapped his reins round my left wrist and drew my sword with my right hand. Horns blasted and Gallia, the Amazons the rest of the horsemen careered after me. We formed a loose wedge as we closed the gap between the enemy horsemen that were going to work with their spears, parrying the swords and spears of Kuban’s men with their shields. Already they were cutting their way through the northern horsemen, who to their credit were fighting back and giving ground reluctantly. Then we hit the flank of the Mesenians and in no time a frantic melee erupted. I swung my sword at the neck of a passing horseman, the blade biting deep into his flesh and knocking him from his saddle. I felt a searing pain in my left arm and turned to see a spear blade had brushed my flesh. I yanked on Remus’ reins and he turned away from my assailant, who directed his own mount in an attempt to skewer me with his lance. I raised my sword and brought it down to cut through the wooden shaft, then brought it up and thrust the point into the man’s thigh. He yelped in pain and turned his horse away to beat a retreat. And so it went on, stabbing, slashing and thrusting at fleeting targets as they came within range. Screams, shouts and obscene language filled the air. My men tried to stay close to me, tried to maintain some semblance of discipline, but it was hard as individuals became locked in combat and absorbed in their own private battles. Riderless horses, wild-eyed and bleeding, bolted from the carnage while others, too hurt to move, stood still and then collapsed on to the ground.
There was a blast of horns and the Mesenians began to disengage and fall back. They obviously had had enough, for the moment. Other horns sounded, our own, and we too fell back to regroup. Gallia and the Amazons appeared mercifully unhurt. We reformed into our companies, the ground in front of us sprinkled with dead and dying men and horses, though in truth, considering the great effort that had been expended hacking and stabbing, there were fewer casualties than I expected. But there were many wounded, men with wounds to their bodies, arms and legs, and also horses that had been gashed by blades. I checked Remus over; I could not see any wounds.
Smoke was now drifting across the battlefield from the four siege towers, which were all burning brightly. To our front the enemy foot soldiers, plus those horse archers whose mounts we passed in camp, had now turned away from the city and were marching towards us. I looked left and right. No one had any arrows left and arrows were now flying from the enemy ranks towards us. There was nothing left to do. I turned to the nearest signaller and ordered him to sound retreat. He blew his horn, a sound that was soon echoing down the line. Gallia galloped over to my side as horsemen wheeled their animals away to ride back from where we had come from.
‘We are falling back?’ She had a nasty dent in her helmet and her left sleeve was gashed, though I could see no blood.
‘Are you hurt?’ I enquired.
She ignored my question. ‘The city is still besieged, Pacorus.’
‘Their siege towers are destroyed and their foot are marching towards us. They will attempt no further assault on Dura today. Now get your women back.’
Kuban and his men acted as a rearguard as we fell back through the enemy camp. I ordered that any enemy horses and camels were to be untethered and scattered into the desert, and the tents, wagons, supplies and compounds to be torched. The next few minutes were not the proudest of my life as my men and the Amazons went about firing the camp cutting down any unfortunates they came across. Panicking women ran around screaming and were either trampled under horses’ hooves or killed with swords. I saw one woman, with rouge on her cheeks and gold in her hair, perhaps no older than twenty, fall to her knees in front of a group of Amazons, imploring them to show mercy. Perhaps she was a whore or a slave taken against her will to serve the soldiers of Chosroes. It did not matter. Gallia rode up to her and almost severed her head with a swing of her sword. Tents burst into flames, their occupants running into the sunlight with their clothes alight. They too were killed. Sick and wounded soldiers limped from hospital tents, only to be cut down without mercy. I was worried that the bloodlust would distract my men and so rode among them, ordering them to fall back, smoke stinging my eyes as the camp was engulfed in flames. Terrified horses and camels were herded into the desert and scattered far and wide as we finally left the Mesenian camp and moved back into the desert.