He stood up and put his hands on his hips. ‘We can’t march through it, so we’ll have to split our forces and launch our attacks from the flanks, straight at their centre.’
I told him about the enemy horsemen that had counterattacked us.
‘Where are they now?’ he asked.
‘I do not know.’
He smiled. ‘They will be covering their foot, most likely.’
‘Orodes and his horsemen will deal with them,’ I said
The sounds of battle could still be heard across the river, though Domitus made no mention of what was happening on the other side of the Euphrates. His attention was focused on this side of the river. He replaced his helmet on his head and strode away to join a knot of his officers who were waiting nearby, then they all marched off to rejoin their units.
A lull descended over the battlefield as Domitus arranged his cohorts for the next attack on the enemy. Nergal’s horse archers were pulled back and drawn up on both flanks of the legions, while behind the foot Orodes’ cataphracts roasted in their scale armour. With Gallia I rode over to where the legions were deploying for battle, each one drawn up in three lines on either side of the still-burning camp. This meant that there was a large gap between each legion and I was worried that the enemy could escape through this space.
‘Escape to where?’ asked Domitus, watching his officers arrange their cohorts in close order. ‘If any do manage to escape, all that awaits them are the scorpions of the desert and Haytham’s warriors.’
Those of Nergal’s horse archers who were drawn up on the right flank I sent across to the left, for Gallia had brought her Amazons with her. Behind them came the leather-clad horsemen of Kuban, who now formed themselves into a long line extending south. I could see the enemy mass clearly, a great brown block of Mesenian foot, which included the horse archers who had left their mounts in camp. I wondered what they were thinking as the legionaries made their final preparations. They were about a quarter of a mile from Dura’s walls and had been standing there for some time now, with no food or water and under a blazing sun. I glanced at the Pontic Legion drawn up on our left.
The constant drills and training that the legionaries had performed over the preceding months meant that their deployment into their battle positions was as smooth as silk. The forthcoming clash would be a mere formality, but then the unexpected happened. I never considered that the enemy opposite us would attack, but that is precisely what they did. Not a measured approach followed by a disciplined rush at our ranks, but a wild charge against the Duran Legion positioned to the north of the burnt camp. Whoever the general was who led those forces, and I hoped it was Chosroes himself so I could kill him with my own sword, he had obviously realised the hopelessness of his situation. Having retreated from before the walls of Dura, he and his men were now trapped between the city and two legions that were each flanked by horsemen. I estimated by the extent of the enemy line that there were still around six or seven thousand men arrayed against us, though many of those were dismounted horse archers who had been used to sweep Dura’s walls and towers of guards as the siege towers approached the city. Now those same men were largely without arrows. The rest were a motley collection of spearmen and other foot armed with axes, clubs and swords. Some of our horsemen had been hit and killed by lead balls, which meant that there were also some slingers among their ranks. But their commander knew that to stand and wait to be attacked was to invite certain death, so he threw all his men against the Duran Legion standing to the north of the charred camp. He could see that the latter divided the forces formed up against him, and probably gambled that he could smash his way through our lines before our forces deployed to the south of the camp could reach him. It was a bold gamble.
The two sides were around five hundred paces apart when there was a mighty cheer and the whole of the enemy mass began moving towards the Duran Legion. I was standing beside Domitus, finalising the plan of attack, when I heard and then saw the charge of the enemy. For a moment I was stunned; I could hardly believe that they would attempt such a thing. Then alarm swept through me. If they broke through the legion then they would reach the bridge, and if they reached the bridge they might escape across the Euphrates.
‘Brave but stupid,’ remarked Domitus nonchalantly.
Already trumpet blasts were coming from the legion’s centuries as the frontline cohorts prepared to receive the enemy’s charge. As they had done countless times on the training field, the men would close up and then advance against the seething mass that was now running towards them. When they were within thirty to forty paces of the opposition the front ranks would hurl their javelins, draw their swords and then charge the enemy. The storm of javelins would cut down their front ranks and then the legionaries would go to work with their short swords, stabbing with their points at their opponents.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Domitus, ‘the boys will hold. You had better deal with those, though.’
He was pointing at a long line of horsemen heading in our direction from south of the city, no doubt the same ones that had attacked Kuban’s men earlier in the day. I vaulted into Remus’ saddle.
‘The enemy must not be allowed to reach the bridge, Domitus.’
He raised his hand. ‘They won’t, but you had better keep those horsemen away.’
‘Don’t worry about them,’ I replied.
I galloped back to my horse archers, who were already stringing arrows in their bows, while Kuban’s men levelled their spears in preparation for a charge. However, I decided that this was a task for Orodes. I sent a rider to fetch the Prince of Susiana and his men, and at the same time I ordered our whole line to fall back. This would temporarily expose the right flank of the Pontic Legion, which dismayed Gallia. As horns blew and the horsemen about-faced and pulled back she was at my side, her Amazons behind her. She pointed at the approaching enemy horsemen, who were still at least half a mile away.
‘Why are you running away from them? We should be attacking them. You are leaving your own foot soldiers exposed.’
My patience was fast running out. ‘If you were one of my officers I would have had you clapped in chains for your insubordination by now.’
With hindsight this was the wrong thing to say. ‘Don’t you dare speak to me that like,’ she bellowed. By now those horsemen within earshot had stopped their rearward movements and were sitting in their saddles observing their king and queen bickering.
‘Get back and obey my orders,’ I insisted.
‘I will not let you abandon our soldiers. Amazons,’ she shouted, ‘face front and prepare to charge.’ Her women nocked arrows, while Kuban’s men began moving their horses forward.
I swung in the saddle. ‘Stay where you are!’
I turned back to Gallia, but at that moment the low rumble of horses’ hooves came from the rear and I saw the banner of Orodes coming towards me. He and his cataphracts rode through our horsemen and began forming into two ranks in front of us. Ahead, the enemy was breaking into a canter.
‘I desire you to deal with those horsemen opposite, my friend,’ I said.
‘Consider it done.’ He smiled and rode forward and as one the two lines of cataphracts began moving towards the enemy, at first trotting and then breaking into a canter. Each rider then levelled his kontus and grasped it with both hands on his right side as the cataphracts broke into a gallop. Moments later there was a scraping noise as the two sides collided. As the horizon disappeared in a cloud of dust and our ears were filled with the screams of men and horses, to our left the Pontic Legion was moving forward prior to wheeling left to attack the flank of the Mesenian foot that had failed to break through to the bridge.