The legions followed us out of camp and after them came the horse archers who would fight on their left flank. The last to leave would be Surena and his men to form our northern screen, while inside, straining at the leash, would be Gallia with the meagre reserve. I felt pity for Domitus and his men, who would have to march across a carpet of dead flesh to get to grips with the enemy, unless the enemy decided to assault them first.
On we rode, leaving the harvest of dead behind as we cantered further east and the sweet smell of grassland entered our nostrils. The black smoke that still hung in the air over the torched camps had fortuitously masked our exit from camp, increasing our chances of achieving surprise when we struck the enemy’s flank. After five miles or so we headed south and then west before Orodes called a halt so we could deploy into our attack formation — three ranks of cataphracts spread over approximately two-thirds of a mile. Due to losses in both men and equipment over the preceding two days only the front rank was fully equipped with the kontus. Only around half of the second rank had lances and the third rank carried none at all. Much of our leg and arm armour was dented and many scales had been torn from their thick hide suits, but at least every man and horse was wearing some sort of armour protection.
It took only a matter of minutes for the contingents to deploy into formation. On the right flank of our depleted formation was Orodes’ bodyguard — two hundred men — in the place of honour. Next came my seven hundred Durans and to the left of them nine hundred and fifty Hatrans, now led by Gafarn as Vistaspa was lying in a cot in the hospital. Finally, on the left flank, were Atrax’s three hundred and fifty men. As they had done many times before my men had their helmets pushed back on their heads as they waited for the signal to advance, many sharing jokes with their comrades, others checking their weapons, their reins wrapped round their left wrists.
We had gathered a hundred paces in front of the centre of the line as the final preparations were made, the sky once again an intense blue.
‘I wanted to thank you, my friends,’ said Orodes, ‘for your support and faith in me. Our journey has been a long and difficult one and now it comes to an end, for good or ill.’
‘It is just the start of your journey as the high king of Parthia, lord’ I said.
‘A new dawn for the empire,’ stated Gafarn.
‘And an end to tyranny,’ added Atrax.
Orodes raised his lance. ‘A new dawn.’
‘A new dawn,’ we replied in unison.
We then shook hands and wished each other well before rejoining our men.
‘Time to avenge our father,’ I called to Gafarn as he veered away to join his Hatrans. He turned round and raised his left hand in acknowledgement.
Horses scraped at the ground and men pulled their helmets down over their faces as Orodes raised his kontus to signal the advance. Horns were sounded and a wall of horseflesh moved forward into a walk.
Whatever was in the drink that Alcaeus had given us had worked for I felt invigorated, intoxicated even, my senses heightened to make me aware of every small detail around me — the heavy breathing of my horse, the clattering of maces and axes hanging from saddle horns against scale armour, the thud of Remus’ iron-shod hooves on the turf. But he and the other horses were tired from the previous two days of battle and their advance was laboured. To conserve their strength we trotted in the direction of our target for a distance of around three miles, maintaining our formation, before breaking into a canter. We cantered for a further ten minutes to bring us within striking distance of the enemy’s right flank.
I could see them now: two great blocks of horsemen, one behind the other, the front one seemingly expanding and contracting — horse archers. The front ranks were obviously advancing to shoot their arrows before retreating to allow the rear ranks to ride forward and shoot their missiles. And once they had used up all their ammunition they would be replaced by the second formation massed behind them, waiting patiently to take their turn in the front line. And on the extreme right of the scene being played out before my eyes there was another group of horsemen — Dura’s horse archers — locked in a duel with their adversaries.
Orodes rode out in front of our formation and signalled a halt, horns blasting to convey his command through the ranks. I slowed Remus to a trot and then a walk and then rode forward to join Orodes, Atrax and Gafarn who had also left their men.
Orodes was highly animated. ‘We must destroy those horse archers on their right wing but it will not require all out forces. Pacorus, your men will combine with mine to attack the horse archers. Atrax and Gafarn, take your men around them to attack the rear of the enemy’s centre.’
They both saluted Orodes and rode back to their men.
‘One more charge, Pacorus,’ shouted Orodes, ‘one more charge and they will break.’
Obviously Orodes had had a double measure of Alcaeus’ magic liquid.
I raised my kontus. ‘Let us crush our enemies, see them scattered to the four winds and hear the lamentations of their women.’
He screamed at his horse so she rose up on her hind legs and then bolted forward. I laughed and dug my knees into Remus and he too raced ahead. Behind us nine hundred heavy horsemen broke into a gallop. We were around a mile from the enemy and it took ninety seconds to cover half that distance before we levelled our lances to break into the charge. The enemy spotted us but had less than a minute to act before we struck them — hundreds of cataphracts hurtling headlong at the right flanks of two blocks of horse archers, while Atrax and Gafarn thundered behind them. They ran out of time.
We did not so much hit the enemy but rather gouged a great chunk out of them when we smashed into their flank. I drove my kontus into the side of a rider’s horse and then drew my spatha to slash left and right at heads and torsos that wore no armour, killing and maiming with wild abandon as I screamed at Remus to keeping moving. It was carnage as hundreds of men began a killing frenzy. The enemy horse archers had only one aim — to flee — but there was no escape from the steel-clad demons in their midst.
Orodes and his horsemen scythed their way into the front block of horse archers, those who were fighting Vagises’ men, while my heavy horsemen lanced into the rear group.
The initial impact took us deep into the enemy’s formation, those riders in our path trying desperately to get out of the way but most failing as maces split unprotected skulls and swords lacerated bodies. I held my new mace in my left hand and my spatha in my right. They felt weightless as I swung them at any enemy flesh that came within range. I ran a horse through the neck with my sword, smashed a man’s nose with my mace, and then severed a rider’s arm with a downward cut of my spatha. Arrows hit my body and horse and bounced off — Dura’s horse archers were still shooting into the enemy’s ranks — and Narses’ horse archers tried to slash me with their swords, the blades glancing harmlessly off my leg and arm armour. I was suddenly gripped with merriment and began laughing hysterically as I slashed, hacked and clubbed with my weapons, my face and armour being splattered with enemy blood.
On we fought, now herding the defeated horse archers before us. The din of thousands of men locked in combat filled the air, a great roaring noise that engulfed the battlefield and blotted out all other noise. I was screaming at the enemy but could not hear my voice as the ranks of the horse archers thinned and suddenly disappeared. We had ridden straight through them. I looked left and right and saw other riders coming to a halt with blood-smeared weapons in their hands. I turned and saw Vagharsh with my banner and nodded to him. He smiled grimly and then pointed ahead. I turned and saw a great mass of archers on foot loosing their missiles over the heads of the dense ranks of spearmen arrayed in front of them. He looked exhausted but I felt elated. I caught sight of the tall trees of the date palm grove in the distance and realised that the legions must have pushed the enemy spearmen through it and out the other side. Behind the latter enemy archers were shooting volley after volley to support the hard-pressed spearmen in front of them.