‘Did not see him,’ replied Byrd.
Domitus had strolled over to us. He nodded at Byrd and Malik.
‘I assume that Mithridates is approaching.’
‘His army is,’ I said, ‘but whether he is with it remains to be seen.’
‘How long before our guests arrive?’ asked Domitus.
‘Half an hour,’ said Byrd.
Orodes rode up dressed in his scale armour and helmet, behind him his bodyguard of two hundred and fifty men from Susiana and behind them five hundred Durans. Orodes’ banner of an eagle holding a snake in its talons was carried behind him.
‘I was beginning to think that you were going to miss the battle,’ Domitus said to him. ‘Then all that fancy armour and ironmongery would be wasted.’
‘Very droll, Domitus.’ Orodes never had much of a sense of humour on the eve of battle. In his eyes slaughter was far too serious for levity.
I pointed to the two legions drawn up in front of us. ‘When you see the horse archers coming through their ranks, Orodes, that will be your signal to advance and attack.’
‘And you had better be quick,’ smiled Domitus, ‘because my lads will have likely killed most of them by the time your horse boys arrive.’
Orodes frowned. ‘I am fully briefed as to the battle plan.’ He looked at me. ‘I am concerned about Surena, Pacorus. Are you quite sure he is up to the task you have given him? If he fails you lose half your cataphracts.’
‘He will not fail, my friend,’ I reassured him.
‘Well, then,’ said Domitus, ‘we had better get ready. The gods protect you all.’
He shook hands with all of us and then walked back to where a knot of his senior officers was waiting for him a couple of hundred yards away. I offered my hand to Orodes.
‘Shamash be with you.’
He took my hand. ‘You also, my friend.’
‘I will go and impress upon Surena the importance of obeying orders, Orodes, to assuage your concern.’
Accompanied by Byrd and Malik I rode over to the left flank to where Surena and the rest of my heavy cavalry were waiting on their horses. Surena was surrounded by his five company commanders and like him their helmets were shoved back on top of their heads to save their brains being roasted. He was gesticulating to them with his arms. He stopped when we approached.
‘Hail, lord,’ he said.
‘Greetings, Surena. Is everything in order?’
‘Yes, lord,’ he beamed, no doubt excited by the imminent promise of glory.
I turned in the saddle and pointed at the legions. ‘When you see the horse archers withdrawing through their ranks, that is your signal to advance past the foot and swing right to take the enemy in the rear.’
‘Right up their arses,’ said Surena, producing grins from his officers, all of them in their twenties like him.
‘Just keep your heads and keep your men under tight control,’ I said sternly.
Actually I was being unfair, since most of them had fought for me against Mithridates and Narses before, as well as against the Romans. They were officers because they were good leaders and their men respected them. I indicated for them to go back to their companies. They bowed their heads and did so. I turned to Malik and Byrd.
‘If you would give us a moment, please.’
They nodded and rode back to Orodes, leaving only Vagharsh, Surena and myself.
‘Now remember, Surena, victory depends on you and Orodes fulfilling your roles.’
His smile disappeared. ‘I will not let you down, lord.’
‘I know that. I will see you after the battle. Stay safe.’
He saluted and then looked ahead as horn blasts came from the horse archers deployed in front of the foot. The army of Mithridates was here at last.
I rode forward to the first-line cohorts of the Exiles. Trumpet blasts alerted the men to the enemy’s presence and thousands of men hoisted up their shields and javelins and dressed their lines as centurions and officers barked orders and ensured that their formations were ready. In the distance the men of the Duran Legion did the same.
Train hard, fight easy. That is what my old tutor and former head of Hatra’s army, Bozan, had taught me. Train hard so that in battle every drill becomes instinctive, performed without thinking. Train hard so that drills are bloodless battles and battles are bloody drills, nothing more. Train hard so that the hordes of enemy soldiers charging you, yelling blood-curdling screams, do not cause you to turn tail and run for your life; rather, you wait until they are within fifty paces before hurling your javelin into their densely packed ranks. Then you go to work with your sword as the enemy steps over the dead and dying javelin-pierced front ranks to get at you. Train hard so that it becomes easy, almost pleasurable to stab your short sword into enemy bellies and thighs, to thrust the sword point over the top rim of your shield into an enemy’s face. To stab and stab without thinking, knowing that your blade will find the right targets as if by magic. But it is not magic; it is hours, days, months and years spent on the training fields to perfect your skills, to hone them to such a degree that your weapons become a part of you, living, breathing instruments that obey your will instantly and without question.
I turned to Vagharsh.
‘Time to show them what they are fighting for,’ and dug my knees into Remus.
He reared up on his hind legs and then raced forward. Vagharsh followed at a gallop as my griffin banner fluttered beside him. We rode from left to right along the front of the Exiles and then the Duran Legion, legionaries banging their javelins against their shield rims and shouting ‘Dura, Dura’ as we passed them by. Pure theatre but they loved it. We passed Domitus standing ahead of the Duran Legion, a solitary figure with a white crest on his helmet. He drew his gladius and clutched it to his chest as I thundered by. And behind him ten thousand men steeled themselves to earn another silver disc for the Staff of Victory.
I rode to where the horse archers were drawn up in two ranks five hundred paces in front of the legions and galloped to the centre of the line. I halted and walked Remus forward a few paces. There, filling the horizon, was the army of Mithridates — thousands of men on horses moving forward. There was no foot as Byrd said, only cavalry. I squinted and tried to make out what types of horsemen we faced. I could see spears and shields and the sun glinting off scale armour. They appeared to be a mixture of cataphracts and mounted spearmen. Their frontage was unbroken, suggesting they were deployed in one great mass.
I turned and called forward the senior officer of the horse archers as the enemy blew horns and kettle drummers banged their instruments. Among the front ranks of the enemy I could now make out dragon windsocks and great banners displaying the symbol of Susiana — the eagle clutching a snake — the same standard that Orodes, the true heir to the throne of that kingdom, carried.
‘On my signal we will advance,’ I said to the commander. ‘Your men are prepared?’
‘Every man knows the plan, majesty,’ he replied.
I nodded and he returned to his men.
‘Time for you to retire, Vagharsh.’
The banner he carried had been a present from Dobbai before I had even taken up residence at Dura. When I was not on campaign it hung behind the dais in the throne room in the Citadel. To many in the kingdom it was a sacred object imbued with magical powers. As such I was also careful to ensure its safety on the battlefield, and the life of the one who carried it. Vagharsh rode through the horse archers and back to the Duran Legion as I pulled my bow from its case and held it aloft. To my left and right three thousand men replied in kind, raising their bows in the air.
The din from the enemy ranks increased as they got nearer. They were perhaps a quarter of a mile away now.
Moving at a steady pace I saw that the centre of their line was composed of cataphracts, the men bringing down their great lances to hold them with both hands by the sides of their horses. They were obviously going to charge us. It made sense. We were, after all, only lightly armed horse archers. I dug my knees into Remus’ sides and he broke into a canter, then a gallop. The men behind me followed. The distance between us and the enemy narrowed as I nocked an arrow, drew back the bowstring and released it, then whipped another arrow from my quiver. I nocked it in the bowstring and released it. The enemy were around six or seven hundred paces from me now as I pulled a third arrow, shot it and then yanked on Remus’ reins to turn him left and then left again. The enemy had broken into a gallop and I could hear their war cries as I yelled at Remus to move faster as I tried to outpace them. The other horse archers had also about-faced and were riding full pelt towards the legions as though demons were snapping at their heels. Remus, wild-eyed and straining every sinew in his powerful frame to outrun the enemy, thundered across the ground and headed towards one of the gaps between the cohorts. I prayed to Shamash that because the cataphracts and spearmen were heavily armed we would be able to widen the gap between them and us. But it would be tight.