Around us more legionaries were flooding into the compound and taking up position on the flanks of the first men who had fought their way into the palace grounds. Fresh javelins were ferried to the men facing the palace guards. Soon there would be nearly five thousand men facing what I estimated to be under a thousand palace guards and around two hundred archers.
Nergal looked towards the palace steps. ‘They must know that they are going to die.’
Domitus spat on the ground. ‘They know, but they are good soldiers and are prepared to die for their lord.’
‘And where is their lord?’ I asked.
‘Skulking inside his palace no doubt,’ replied Nergal.
‘Let’s get it over with, then,’ said Domitus.
‘No, go and tell Marcus to bring his smaller ballista inside the palace grounds,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to lose any more men than we have to.’
Domitus nodded and ran back to where the engineers stood with their machines. He took a hundred men with him, who helped the Romans carry their ballista into the square and position them around three hundred paces from the royal guards arrayed at the foot of the palace steps. They loaded spears with long iron heads into the machines as I tied a white rag to the end of my sword and walked forward with it held aloft.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Domitus called after me.
I turned and smiled at him. ‘Is that any way to speak to your king?’
I walked to where the legionaries were standing in their ranks, shields still hoisted above their heads. They parted as I made my way to the front and then strolled beyond the front rank to face the enemy, their shields forming a wall of bronze to my front, the spears of the front ranks levelled towards me. Behind me Marcus’ men dragged forward the ballista as the legionaries shuffled their tightly packed centuries sideways to create gaps for the ballista to shoot from. I raised my sword so all could see the white rag tied to its point. I carried on walking towards the enemy until I was around a hundred paces from them.
‘That’s far enough,’ called out one in the front rank, their commander I assumed.
I lowered my spatha and untied the white rag.
‘I would ask that you lay down your weapons. I guarantee your lives will be spared.’
I slid my blade back in its sheath. There was no answer from the Mesenian ranks.
‘You have done all that honour requires,’ I said to them. ‘It is senseless to die for no purpose.’
Silence greeted my plea. I tried once more.
‘I ask you once more to lay down your weapons. I will not do so again.’
The enemy stood like stone statues before me.
‘Go back to your blonde whore,’ shouted one.
I turned and walked briskly back to my Durans and then to where Domitus, Nergal and Marcus stood near the gates. I pointed at Marcus.
‘Kill them all.’
He saluted and then rushed off to begin his work.
‘One day,’ said Domitus, ‘you will get an arrow through your heart or a spear in your guts while you stand in front of the enemy trying to sweet-talk them. If they didn’t want to fight any more they would have run away or thrown down their weapons already.’
I nodded. ‘You are right, it was a waste of time.’
Seconds later a score of ballista began shredding the enemy ranks. The first volley of iron-tipped missiles cut down the front rank with ease, slicing through shields, armour and flesh. Men were not only hit but also thrown back by the force of the blow, knocking those behind off their feet. Half the ballista fired solid iron balls the size of a fist at the archers at the top of the steps, smashing skulls and bodies with ease.
As the balls careered through the enemy’s ranks the archers loosed one volley against us, the arrows slamming harmlessly into the locked shields of the Duran ranks, but that was the only volley they shot. Seeing their comrades’ skulls being caved in and the spearmen of the royal guard being skewered by iron-tipped bolts, the archers ran. They suddenly disappeared into the palace. Domitus was standing beside me as we watched the archers melt away. I heard Marcus bark some orders and all the ballista were then directed against the spearmen, who to their credit were still standing in their ranks. But the missile fire was mercilessly thinning those ranks.
‘Finish them,’ I said to Domitus.
He walked forward to a group of his officers, who sprinted to the trumpeters standing behind the cohorts. The instruments blasted and Marcus turned to look at me. He raised his hand at the signal and then shouted at his men to cease their shooting. The testudo formations broke up as legionaries brought their shields down to cover the front of their bodies. Another trumpet blast signalled the advance. The cohort that had forced its way into the palace grounds faced the royal guard now and began to advance. Just as they had done a hundred times on the training ground, the men trotted forward to within thirty paces of the enemy and then hurled their javelins. The missiles flew through the air and lodged in the shields of the enemy, the soft metal bending after impact to make it impossible for its user to pull it out. After throwing their javelins the legionaries drew their swords and charge headlong into the royal guard. As the two lines clashed the rearmost ranks in each century also hurled their javelins into the enemy. This time the Mesenian formation buckled. Already weakened by the fight at the gates and being cut to pieces by ballista missiles, they were at first pushed back as the Durans used their swords to stab with frenzy. On their flanks more centuries cut into the guardsmen so that in no time they were being assaulted on three sides. Incredibly they did not fall back but stood and died in their ranks. It did not take long, more legionaries sweeping up the steps and then assaulting them from the rear. The piercing screams of the dying cut the air as the guardsmen were scythed down by hundreds of gladius blades. No quarter was asked for or given, and then there was only a pile of dead men where the best of Chosroes’ soldiers had once stood.
The Durans then poured into the palace. I walked with Domitus and Nergal in the wake of the slaughter. My soldiers were disciplined, but they had earned this victory and I was in no mood to prevent their excesses as bloodlust gripped them. We walked up the palace steps, skirting the piles of dead that were scattered all around. Already Marcus’ men were walking among the corpses looking for ballista missiles that could be retrieved. We had a century as an escort as we made our way through the stone columns at the top of the palace steps and then went into the building itself. Ahead I could hear shouts, screams and whoops as the Durans vented their wrath upon anyone who still resisted. A total of three cohorts had entered the palace, which I soon regretted.
The palace consisted of a great vaulted main hall leading to the throne room, which was flanked by two smaller rooms opening into three larger, domed halls. These in turn led to the rear of the palace where numerous private apartments were located. Everywhere there were smashed statues, wrecked furniture and torn curtains and tapestries. I ordered Domitus to go back outside and bring more soldiers into the palace to control the ones who were already inside and running amok. Nergal and I continued through the main hall to the throne room and then the private apartments. We came across corridors littered with dead servants and court officials, with Durans lounging around on furniture or hacking at desks and valuable ornaments with their swords. As soon as they saw me they stopped and stood to attention. I ordered them to leave the palace immediately and assemble on the square outside. We continued our journey, stopping when we heard the screams of women at the end of a long corridor on our left. We ran down it and came to two red doors inlaid with gold that had been forced open. Four gaudily dressed servants lay dead immediately inside the doors, their torsos ripped to shreds by repeated sword thrusts. This was Chosroes’ harem. Its floor was covered with white marble tiles, white and red curtains were hanging from the ceiling; the air was filled with the aroma of sweet incense. No doubt the dead at the doors were eunuchs charged with guarding the king’s wives. The women themselves, around twenty in number, were huddled in a frightened group in the middle of a great columned room, surrounded by at least a hundred leering, raucous legionaries. Many of the women, some young girls, had been stripped naked before being herded together. They were clinging to each other, terrified, weeping and pleading for mercy. The escort formed into close order as I marched through the throng and stood in front of the women.