‘And now, lord prince,’ I said to Orodes, ‘a more difficult task. Follow us.’
‘Wheel left and reform the line,’ I shouted.
A Roman legion in battle order is usually drawn up in three lines. The one that had been next to the Roman cavalry now had an exposed left flank. I raised my lance and dug my knees into the sides of Remus. He grunted, broke into a canter and headed for the gap between the second and third lines of the Roman legion. It was now a race against time between my horsemen and enemy centurions desperately trying to form a wall of shields on their left flank. The cohorts could stand where they were and form an all-round defence, but that would mean leaving gaps to their front, sides and rear, through which we could pour. Their leaders gambled that they would have time to close these gaps before we hit them. They were wrong.
We broke into a fast gallop less than two hundred paces from the first centuries that were forming the shield wall. Screaming our war cries we crashed into a mass of legionaries, creating a sickening crunching noise as lance tips and horses smashed into them. A horse will not run at a solid object, but the Roman line was still ragged and disjointed and so the horses attempted to lunge through any narrowing gaps. Some failed and tried to turn away, but their momentum was too great so they tumbled over into the enemy ranks, throwing their riders but crushing Romans as they somersaulted and thrashed like rocks careering downhill in a landslide. They carved a path of chaos and broken bodies as the force of horse and rider gouged a path through the enemy. Other horsemen followed, driving their lances into shields and mail shirts, sometimes pinning a legionary to the earth as a kontus was driven straight through a torso and then into the ground behind. A thousand riders hit the flank of that Roman legion, driving deep into its disorganised ranks. Legionaries and horsemen soon became intermingled as the momentum of the charge carried cataphracts deeper into the enemy formation.
I rammed my kontus through the chest of a centurion, let go of the shaft and drew my sword. I swung the blade down to the right and cut deep into the upper arm of a legionary who was running past me. He yelped and fell to the ground. I screamed at Remus and dug my knees into his side. He lurched forward. A Roman attempted to thrust his sword point into his armour, but the iron scales and thick hide defeated his blade. I thrust my own sword at him and penetrated his right shoulder. He squealed in agony and fell to his knees. I rode on, slashing at figures on my right and left. Before battle my scale armour felt heavy and cumbersome; in combat it became as light as a feather as battle frenzy took hold of me. I felt as though the blood of an immortal was racing through my veins. Around me cataphracts were going about their work with a relentless fury. I saw some javelins fly through the air and heard the dull thud of lead pellets launched by slingers hit their target, but in this disorganised melee it would have been almost impossible for missile throwers to have the space or time to launch their weapons with any accuracy.
Roman trumpets blasted and then fell silent as their owners were killed, their skulls caved in by a mace. The din of battle filled my ears and was getting louder. Centurions and officers screamed orders. Remus suddenly kicked out with his back legs. I looked behind me and saw a Roman lying face-down on the ground; he must have been felled by my horse’s rear hooves. A javelin glanced off the armoured rings that protected my left arm. A legionary, bare headed and with no shield, blood pouring down the side of his face, ran at me. I raised my sword high above my head and brought it down. He must have been in the grip of delirium, for he brought up his left arm to parry the blow. Perhaps in his mind he believed that he still carried his shield. My sword went straight though his forearm and severed his limb just below the elbow. He made no sound but merely stared at the bloody stump in disbelief. He looked up at me and then died when one of my men rode past him and crushed in the top of his skull with a swing of his mace.
We were herding the Romans before us, slowly and bloodily, and gradually some semblance of order was emerging out of the chaos. The ground lay thick with Roman dead and a few slain Parthians. Cataphracts grouped around the banner held aloft behind me. Ahead I could see a wall of Roman shields forming and javelins arching through the air towards those cataphracts who were still hacking at the Roman soldiers. Then arrows and slingshots began emptying saddles.
‘Horns, horns,’ I shouted. ‘Sound recall.’
It was futile to keep charging the enemy now that they had sealed their flank. The shrill blast of horns bought the rest of the horsemen back to where our own line was forming. In front of us, and all around, the ground was carpeted with enemy dead and dying. Orodes rode up, helmet dented and a cut on his right cheek, his eyes full of fire.
‘One more charge and they’re finished, Pacorus.’
I shook my head. ‘No, we leave them alone for now. They’re shaken but will hold what they have. They will not charge horse and we will not charge them.’
He looked disappointed. ‘Then what?’
I saw a group of lords riding towards us. I pointed at them. ‘We will soon find out.’
They halted in front of me and raised their hands in salute. They all looked dirty and fatigued. One with a full beard whose helmet appeared too small for his over-sized head spoke. ‘Your men are breaking through their centre. We’ve been shooting arrows at them and now we can see that golden griffin.’
A wave of excitement went through my body. I turned to Orodes. ‘We are wasted here. We will move towards their centre.’
I looked at the lords. ‘Keep shooting at them, we must help Domitus.’
They galloped away and we followed. We had no lances now and both horses and men were tired from our melee, but we had to aid Domitus. We rode towards the river, behind the Roman lines. We left the legion we had attacked in its all-round defence and galloped to behind the Roman centre. I rode at the head of the column of cataphracts, Orodes beside me and our two banners fluttering directly behind us. Through the dust and haze I could hear the din of battle on my left. This was where Domitus and his men were fighting the enemy. Then I saw the masses of horse archers ahead, riders galloping full-pelt at the enemy shield wall, then wheeling away after they had released their arrows, followed by more riders who did the same, an unending stream of archers making the air thick with their missiles.
I ordered half a dozen of the lords to take their men to harass the Romans who still stood on the left flank, the survivors of the legion we had charged so successfully. This necessitated a reorganisation, as archers were recalled, formed into groups around their lords and then redeployed to annoy the Romans’ left flank. The air still resonated with the sounds of battle to the front of the Roman line, indicating that Domitus and his men were still grinding their way through the enemy. I had to aid him, but how?
A blast of trumpets behind made me turn in the saddle. I recognised that sound; it was made by the instruments carried by the legions. I had trumpets in my own legion, of course, but these were coming from behind. Had Roman reinforcements arrived, perhaps from their camp? I turned and rode through the ranks of my cataphracts; Orodes came with me.
‘What is it?’
‘Roman trumpets,’ I said, my stomach knotted with concern.
The cataphracts had also wheeled about and were following us, but then I pulled up Remus sharply. Ahead were two cohorts of legionaries, but these were not Romans. They wore the white tunics of Dura and they were flanked by horse archers wearing helmets, mail shirts and with white cloth showing on their arms. Ahead of them all were two riders, one on a chestnut mare — Epona. The garrison of Dura had come, led by my wife. My men began cheering as they approached, and I must confess that I too took off my helmet and began shouting my praise as the two cohorts and their Amazon escort tramped towards us. The lords and their men also raised a mighty cheer, and momentarily forgot that they were supposed to be attacking the enemy.