Your friend
Marcus Licinius Crassus
I stared at the words after I had finished reading them and felt a rage building within me. It was bad enough that a Roman army was encamped before my city, but it was made far worse by the fact that it was led by Lucius Furius, a tribune whom I had met on several occasions in Italy. A red-haired, arrogant individual whom I had bested in battle several times, though he had always managed to escape. And now he was in Parthia, his army no doubt paid for by Rome’s richest man — Crassus. I threw the letter to the ground. Domitus picked it up but he could not read Greek.
‘Lucius Furius, that overbearing bastard we fought in Italy, leads the army laying siege to Dura, financed by the wealth of Marcus Licinius Crassus.’
Domitus walked over and laid a hand on my arm.
‘Do not let your anger cloud your judgement. It does not matter who leads that army or who paid for it. You still have it exactly where you want it.’
He was right, of course, but for the rest of that day and all morning of the next I was sullen and withdrawn, seething that Furius was in my homeland.
‘What difference does it make?’ asked Surena, his bow tucked inside a new hide case on his saddle together with a quiver full of arrows. Being inquisitive, he had been asking questions about my time in Italy.
‘It just does,’ I snapped, not wanting to discuss the matter.
‘The commander of the Roman army is an old adversary of ours,’ remarked Nergal, ‘King Pacorus fought him on many occasions and always defeated him.’
‘But now he is here,’ said Surena.
‘And now he is here,’ I mused.
Surena beamed at me. ‘You visited his homeland and now he is visiting yours.’
I turned in the saddle to face him. ‘Are you trying to be amusing? Because I have to tell you that it isn’t working.’
‘Well, if you had the chance to kill this Furius and let it slip through your fingers, you now have another chance to finish him. Seems simple enough.’
‘Does it!’
‘Well, perhaps this time you won’t be so careless.’
‘Why don’t you go and do something useful, Surena. I grow tired of your voice.’
He dug his knees into his horse and rode away. ‘The truth always hurts.’
My mood improved, though, when the army halted to await the lords and their followers. This time each one brought around three hundred riders, so that by the time I held a muster of the army we had been reinforced by over six thousand horse archers. The legion numbered four thousand men, the men of Pontus gave us an additional three and half thousand foot, Nergal commanded a thousand horse archers and I had my five hundred cataphracts. That night I held a council of war in the legion’s command tent. The lords, Domitus, Nergal, Malik and Byrd all faced me as I explained the plan for the coming battle.
‘We are two days’ march from Dura. Nergal will throw a screen of riders in front of the army as it marches south. I have no doubt that the Romans know that something is amiss, if only because their supply convoys and couriers have not been getting through. So tomorrow we march south and the day after will give battle.’
‘How many men do the Romans have, majesty?’ asked one of the lords.
‘We have counted three eagles, which means three legions. In addition, the Romans have auxiliaries of foot and their own cavalry. I estimate twenty thousand in total.’
‘May be less now, majesty,’ said another lord. ‘We have destroyed their courier bases and killed their garrisons.’
‘It doesn’t matter how many they are,’ I said. ‘I intend to break their battle line before they can make their greater numbers tell.’
They cheered at this statement. I liked my lords; they were like the life they lived — tough and straightforward.
‘A fitting plan for the “pitiless one”,’ shouted one on the right.
‘The pitiless one?’ I said.
He beamed at me. ‘That is what people are calling you majesty — Pacorus the Pitiless. They say that one who uses his wife and infant child as bait to lure his enemies to him makes the devils of the underworld shake with fear.’
My god, is that what people thought of me? I had to admit that I was taken aback, but then they started chanting my name and stamping their feet. Clearly they were impressed by my unintentional ruthlessness.
Having briefed all of the lords, Domitus and Nergal on our plan of battle before we had even caught sight of the enemy, I was confident of victory. I knew the ground we would fight on and I knew the men I commanded.
On the march south towards Dura I was in high spirits, until Byrd rode up in an agitated state.
‘Horses approaching from the north, big dust cloud. They are many.’
‘Romans?’ I was surprised to say the least. I turned to Nergal. ‘Go and find out who they are. If they are Romans you must delay them until the army is ready.’
As he galloped away to collect his companies I cursed my luck. I had mapped out the coming battle over and over in my head, considering every imaginable possibility and how I would take all into account to fight the battle exactly according to my wishes. And now I risked being undone by an enemy force that had suddenly sprung up from the desert. As Nergal and his horse archers cantered north a sweating Domitus ran up.
‘Problems?’
‘Yes, it appears that there may be a Roman army behind us.’
He raised his hand and then raced back to his officers. Then the sound of trumpets resounded across the area as he about-faced his cohorts and their commanders went about marshalling them into battle formation. The cohorts were marched north so that the wagons and mules carrying their supplies would be in the rear of the army if it came to a fight. I deployed the lords on our right flank, next to the Euphrates, while I took my cataphracts out to the left wing. Behind them, the squires struggled with the camels that were burdened with the cavalry’s supplies. The cataphracts hurriedly rode back to the camels to get their scale armour, and then began a race against time to put it on, one squire helping his lord, the other dressing his horse in its armour protection. Surena rode up.
‘Do you wish me to bring you your armour, Pacorus?’
‘No, I will fight as I am.’ In truth I found scale armour heavy and burdensome, preferring my Roman cuirass and helmet. ‘Get back with the squires. Your knife won’t be much use in a battle.’
He rode off. At least that was one less thing to worry about.
I rode out in front of the thousands of men who were deploying for battle to get a better look at what was coming from the north. I could see them, now — horsemen kicking up a vast cloud of dust. Whoever they were they were moving at speed. They obviously wanted to get to us very quickly. Had Furius got wind of our approach and requested reinforcements? I thought it unlikely. Any Roman soldiers in Syria would have to have wings to get here this fast. I was wondering whether it was possible to defeat this new enemy and then fight those in front of Dura, when I caught sight of Byrd galloping towards me ahead of his pursuers. I reached behind me for my bow, pulled it from its case and then strung an arrow. Whoever was chasing him would be felled before they got near him. He was frantically waving his right arm at me and shouting at the same time. I strained to hear his words. I thought he said ‘fiends’. Marvellous, we were about to be attacked by devils! But as he came closer I realised that he was actually shouting ‘friends’.
He arrived panting and covered in dirt. ‘Friends, Pacorus. Orodes and horsemen from Susiana.’
I relayed the news to the army and soon men were standing, cheering and patting each other on the back. The atmosphere, previously tense and uncertain, was now one of elation and relief. Byrd halted beside me and then Nergal and Orodes arrived, and behind them a column of cataphracts in their scale armour. They slowed and formed into a line of two ranks, then halted behind their prince.