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I rode in the rear guard alongside Vistaspa, who in his grief seemed determined to get himself killed. As companies of heavy horsemen formed into arrowhead formation and charged at groups of hill men, riding among them, slashing at them with swords and maces, moving at all times to prevent the exposed legs of their horses being cut by enemy blades, before turning and withdrawing, Vistaspa rode at an enemy group on his own.

There were a dozen of them, great hairy brutes stripped to the waist and carrying two-handed axes that they swung as though they were feathers. He rode straight at them, initially scattering them and then splitting one of their skulls with a back slash of his sword as he passed. But they chased after him and when he attempted to turn around when another group barred his way, a heathen in the first group grabbed the reins of his horse. Vistaspa severed the man’s hand with a downward cut of his sword but another axe man swung his weapon into his leg armour, denting the metal and causing Vistaspa to scream in agony and drop his sword. At that moment Surena released his bowstring and shot the man who had tried to sever Vistaspa’s leg, then killed another standing beside him and kept on shooting arrows at his assailants as I rode towards him.

Half of them were dead by the time I reached his side.

‘Lord Vistaspa, I order you to fall back.’ I looked at his dented leg armour that was now covered in blood.

‘Move!’

He nodded and rode away as a crazed hill man, all hair and muscles, ran at me with his giant axe held over his head. I charged and swung my sword at him, lopping off his head with a single stroke. As half a dozen cataphracts rode in front to give me cover, my would-be killer’s headless body lay twitching on the ground.

The enemy halted their attacks and withdrew sharply when Orodes appeared with his companies, having ridden to assist us when word reached him about what had happened. The fighting ceased abruptly as a great column of his men rode north to form a screen to allow the battered soldiers of Hatra to escort their dead king in peace. I dismounted and walked beside his body as it was carried back to camp, Gafarn beside me but saying nothing as we trudged disconsolately along. We were joined by Orodes who was likewise grief stricken.

We walked across ground that was strewn with dead: men, horses and camels, their bodies either ripped open by metal blades or pierced by arrows. Orodes answered the questions that were going through my mind.

‘The hill men sacked Surena’s camp after those inside had been evacuated. Gallia also managed to get many of the camels carrying spare arrows back to your camp, Pacorus, but not all. I am afraid to say that the Hatran, Median and Babylonian camps were also overrun before we forced the enemy back.’

‘There is room in my camp for everyone,’ I said without emotion.

As the long column of horsemen and their exhausted mounts walked to the eastern entrance to the Duran camp the sun began to set in the west, a great yellow ball of fire set against an orange background. I closed my eyes and prayed to Shamash that He would welcome my father into heaven and that he would be granted a place of honour at His table, for such a great and wise king deserved it. I opened my eyes as the sound of kettledrums once more sounded in the south.

Chapter 18

They hit us at twilight, when the last vestiges of light were disappearing from the world, a demented rush of feral men who hurled themselves against all four sides of the camp. Having flooded Surena’s camp and destroyed the tents of the Medians, Babylonians and Hatrans, the hill men now concentrated their fury against my own camp, thinking that it too would easily succumb to their savage attacks. But they had reckoned without the skills of Marcus Sutonius.

The squires and civilians had originally erected the camp but Marcus had subsequently strengthened it further. The surrounding ditch was eight feet deep on all sides, having a width of four feet at the bottom and twelve feet at the top due to its sloping sides, and the bottom of the ditch was lined with blocks of wood fitted with iron spikes to impale anyone who fell on them. Behind the ditch stood an eight-foot-high earth rampart surmounted by a wall of stakes, with additional stakes set in the rampart pointing outwards at an angle of forty-five degrees to make it difficult to scale.

As the last horsemen rode into camp and the eastern entrance was barred with wagons and logs covered with many long iron spikes positioned in front of them, the Zagros tribes gathered in their war bands and then charged our defences. The ramparts were initially defended by squires before the horse archers dismounted and sprinted to reinforce them, Domitus also assigning legionaries to use their shields as a barrier against the hail of light axes, javelins and arrows that was being hurled against those standing behind the stakes. Fortunately there was a distance of one hundred paces between the tenting area and the perimeter rampart all round the inside of the camp, but even so missiles still landed among tents and animals to inflict wounds, some fatal.

I ran to the northern wall where the attack was heaviest, the air filled with screams and shouts as I neared the rampart. I had ordered Gallia to stay with Domitus, who with Kronos was organising reserves of legionaries to be deployed all round the inside of the perimeter, to the rear of the rampart, in case the enemy broke through. She ignored my order and led her Amazons behind me as I ran up the bank of earth to join those fighting on its summit. The area beyond the ditch was heaving with the enemy, many of whom had been felled by arrows before they reached the ditch. The latter was now choked with the twisted bodies of the dead and dying as archers around me poured volley after volley into the seemingly endless mass of hill men that stretched far into the distance.

Legionaries were holding their shields above the stakes on the rampart as the enemy archers on their stationary horses shot at us from a range of around four hundred paces. As more and more of our own horse archers came onto the wall parties of squires were ordered to fall back to bring more ammunition to the rampart.

I dumped my quiver on the floor and stood beside a legionary whose shield had been struck by two arrows. A squire beside me released his bowstring and then beamed with delight when he saw me.

‘We are holding them, majesty.’

‘You are doing well,’ I told him.

I bent down to pull an arrow from my quiver and heard a dull thud and then a groan, and turned to see an axe imbedded in the squire’s skull. He collapsed on the ground, dead.

Despite their furious efforts the enemy could not breach our defences because the ditch was too wide and they had no scaling ladders to climb up our wall of earth, so they brought forward those carrying light javelins and throwing axes and launched them at us, reinforced by the arrows of horse archers positioned to the rear. I gave the order for everyone on the wall to kneel to present a smaller target to the enemy as we had already lost too many squires, who wore no armour on their bodies or heads. More legionaries came to the wall and formed an unbroken wall of shields along its top, behind which we could shoot our own arrows at the enemy below. The hill men had suffered enormous casualties by now and their bloodlust was starting to abate, especially when the archers on the walls poured volley after volley against the javelin throwers standing just to the rear of the ditch. The latter, half-naked, were slaughtered and so the rest of the hill men withdrew into the night, leaving their dead behind them. The assault against the northern wall had failed.

I heard my name being called and saw Domitus standing behind the rampart with Kronos and Marcus. I slapped the shoulder of the legionary whose shield had protected us both and then walked down the earth slope.