Byrd and Malik joined us as we were equipping our horses with scale armour from the camel train that accompanied us. It was mercilessly hot and I knew that horse and rider would not be able to spend many hours encased in steel armour, thick hide and iron scales. Byrd told me that the enemy was five miles south of our position.
‘They made camp hereabouts last night and wait for their prey.’
‘Where are Surena and his men?’ I asked.
‘Ten miles south of the Mesenians,’ said Malik. ‘Your foot soldiers are also with them.’
‘Did you count the Mesenians, Byrd?’
He squinted in the sunlight. ‘Not more than a thousand, mostly spearmen and horse archers. No problem for your horsemen.’
We left the camels under a guard of squires and then began our journey. My plan was hardly subtle. We would ride south in two lines and strike the enemy while they were attacking the marsh people. I thanked Shamash that the cohorts had linked up with Surena. I was unconcerned about the legionaries, they could handle cavalry easily enough, but if the marsh people had been intercepted before my men had linked up with them, then the desert would be littered with their corpses by now.
On we rode, the dust cloud filling the horizon where men were fighting and dying. At around two miles from our target we broke into a canter, my kontus resting on my right shoulder. The sounds of battle were pulling me, making my heart race as the lure of combat made my blood race through my body. Remus strained at the leash to break into a gallop, for he too knew the sounds of battle. Not yet, my friend, have patience. On we rode, now less than half a mile from the bloody maelstrom. I could see figures ahead, men on horseback riding parallel to a line of shields — Duran shields!
I brought down my kontus and grabbed it with both hands on the right side of Remus.
The enemy spotted us as we broke into a fast gallop, hurtling across the iron-hard earth towards them. They desperately tried to form a line as we closed on them, riders lowering their spears and then moving toward us. But we had the momentum and when we hit them their thin line disintegrated. My kontus felt as light as a feather as I clutched it hard, drove it into the chest of a horsemen then let it go. I drew my sword and slashed left and right at figures as I thundered through the enemy formation and then wheeled Remus around and went back to the melee. A figure lunged at me with his spear but the point glanced off the metal rings protecting my arm. I brought my sword down and hacked at his shoulder as he rode past me, the blade cutting into flesh. These riders had shields and helmets but wore no armour protection over their torsos. Many had been speared in our first charge and now my horsemen went to work with their swords and maces. The enemy could find no way through our scale armour and metal leg and arm protection. A figure dressed in an ornate helmet and scale cuirass came at me with his sword, driving the point towards my face. I parried his blow and then swung at him with my spatha but he deflected my blade. He used his sword with great dexterity, thrusting and then withdrawing it, always looking for a gap in my defences. I raised my blade above my head and brought it down against his neck but he blocked the blow and then drove his sword point into my arm. The metal rings fortunately deflected the blow. We fought for what seemed like an eternity and I forgot about what was happening around me. Once more he raised his sword above his head, and then an arrow slammed into the side of his chest. He froze, looked down at the feathered shaft protruding from his flesh and then slowly lowered his sword. Another arrow hit him in the back and he pitched forward in the saddle, dropping his sword. I looked past him and saw Surena on his horse with a bow in his hand. He nocked another arrow and then shot my opponent in the back once more. The man gently slid out of his saddle and fell to the ground. Surena rode up to me.
He spat at the dying figure beneath us. ‘That is Chosran, the eldest son of Chosroes who has persecuted my people for many years.’
The son of Chosroes lay on the ground face-up, blood oozing from his mouth as he tried to gasp for air. Around us the last remnants of the Mesenian horsemen were being killed, while their horse archers, who had been trying to break the square of legionaries, turned tail and ran. I gave orders to let them go — most likely they would flee to Uruk and we would have another chance to kill them soon enough.
Surena strung another arrow in his bowstring to shoot at the prostrate figure of Chosran.
‘No,’ I ordered, ‘slit his throat and have done with it.’
But Surena merely sniffed, spat on the ground once more, replaced his arrow in his quiver and wheeled his horse away. I slid off Remus’ back and knelt beside Chosran. He was already more than half dead, his eyes wide and vacant and his breathing very shallow. I pulled my dagger from its sheath and drew it swiftly across his throat to send him into the next life.
‘Know that it was your father’s treachery that led you to this place.’
Orodes rode up as I began to take off my arm and leg armour and dump it on the ground. Others were doing likewise, for the heat was intolerable.
‘That was easy enough, Pacorus.’
‘How many did we kill?’
Orodes looked around. ‘Difficult to say at this juncture, but our first charge must have cut most of them down.’ He looked at the dead figure at my feet. ‘Who is that?’
‘One of Chosroes’ sons. I’m hoping that when he learns of his death Chosroes himself will march out to exact vengeance on me.’
‘I doubt that,’ mused Orodes.
In the battle’s aftermath the squires brought us water and helped us take off the horses’ scale armour. It may have saved them from missiles and blades in combat but it caused them to sweat horrendously. Our own losses amounted to five dead and a similar number wounded, while we counted over three hundred enemy bodies. Not as many as I would have liked, but it was three hundred less men who would be defending the walls of Uruk.
We burnt our own dead and left the Mesenians to rot. The cohorts that I had sent to link up with the marsh people were commanded by a grizzled Thracian named Drenis, a man who had not only served under Spartacus in Italy but had also been a gladiator in the same ludus in Capua. How long ago that time seemed now.
‘They tried to charge through us at first. They must have thought we were just a bunch of ill-armed savages. So we formed into line and then emptied many saddles with our javelins. They were a bit more wary of us after that.’
‘Did you lose many men?’
‘No, about ten or twelve wounded, none killed. Our main problem was keeping these people,’ he jerked his head towards the great crowd of Ma’adan, ‘from trying to run after the enemy horsemen when they fell back to reform.’
‘Well done, Drenis, you have helped a great deal today.’
‘I don’t think those marsh people will be much help against Uruk,’ he said, ‘they have hardly any weapons and no discipline.’
‘They are the future of Mesene, Drenis.’
‘Really?’ He looked long and hard at the long line of bare-footed, scruffy individuals tramping after his cohorts. ‘No wonder it’s a shit-hole.’