On we rode, a thousand riders deploying into line as we spread out across the desert floor. Ahead were riders fleeing for their lives, men in scale armour and others in leather cuirasses and helmets only — the remnants of the spearmen. I shouted at Remus to move faster and his powerful frame responded, his legs kicking up the earth as he closed on a man without spear, shield or spear who was clutching the neck of his horse. I pulled my bow from its case, drew an arrow from the quiver and nocked it in the bowstring. He turned round to glance at his pursuer as I released the string and the arrow shot through the air and hit him in the back. He yelped and then fell from his saddle. In front of me I spotted a large man in scale armour sporting a black horsehair crest in his helmet. His horse was lame. I raced past him, turned in the saddle and shot an arrow that pierced his eye socket. On we went, shooting at enemy horsemen and killing men who were on foot whose mounts had been killed in the mêlée. The companies fanned out to fell as many fleeing enemy horsemen as possible.
The army of Mithridates was finished; the last of his troops were being slaughtered in the final act of the battle. Already I was planning an assault on Seleucia and then Ctesiphon, whose garrisons would be scythed down like ripened crops in the fields. Mithridates would flee to Persepolis but I would follow him. My engines would batter down its defences and then I would put an end to him and Narses forever. There would be a proper king of kings on the throne and Dura would once more be a part of the empire. I raised my eyes to the heavens, stretched out my arms and gave a mighty cheer of triumph. Shamash had granted me a great victory and I vowed to build a grand temple in his honour in my city to rival the one that stood in Hatra.
I heard frantic horn blasts to my left and right and look around. My horsemen were slowing, some had stopped and were pointing ahead. I pulled on Remus’ reins and also slowed him. I looked ahead and a chill went through my soul. It cannot be; it must be a mirage, a trick of the desert heat. The entire horizon was filled with black shapes: riders on horses and foot soldiers armed with spears carrying large shields. I slowed Remus to a halt.
There were thousands of them as far as the eye could see. In the centre of their vast line the sun glinted off scale armour — more cataphracts. The entire mass was moving at a steady pace, no more than a walk so the foot could keep up with the horsemen. It was as if a great black wave was rolling across the desert floor towards me. I sat, transfixed and appalled by the sight I beheld. And then the gods revealed their cruel nature, for in the centre of the approaching line, barely fluttering in the slight northerly wind that had now picked up, I saw a great yellow banner. And upon that banner was the symbol I come to loathe — the black head of Simurgel, the bird-god of Persis.
The army of Narses had come.
Chapter 4
Frantic horn blasts hastily assembled the horse archers and then we turned and galloped back to the rest of the army. I remained behind until the last remnants of Dura’s riders had been located and ordered to withdraw, and then rode back in their wake. I kept glancing back, expecting to see parties of horsemen leaving the enemy ranks to pursue us, but they did not break their steady, remorseless advance. There was no need, they knew that Dura’s army would be exhausted from having fought one battle, and there was no need for them to rush. I had walked straight into their trap. Narses must have known that even with greater numbers a straight fight between my army and his would probably result in him losing. So he had sacrificed one army; allowed it to be cut to pieces, safe in the knowledge that he had enough men to launch a second force against Dura’s tired and weakened soldiers. Ruthless and very clever. As I shouted at Remus to move faster Dobbai’s words were ringing in my ears. I had underestimated both Mithridates and Narses and now faced paying a heavy price.
The horse archers must have ridden five miles east from the army in their pursuit of the dregs of Mithridates’ army, and by the time they got back to where the legions were gathered in their ragged ranks their horses were sweating and tired. Domitus had pulled back his men about a quarter of a mile from where the mêlée had taken place. A long, thick line of dead men and horses marked the spot where the fighting had been the fiercest. Hundreds of his men lay on the ground helmetless, others leaning on their rested shields, joking and talking with their comrades. I had stumbled upon a scene of near serenity, spoiled only by the carpet of offal that had been dumped on the desert floor. The air of calm was shattered as the horse archers retreated before the advance of Narses’ army.
At first the men looked at each other in confusion, then put on their helmets and scrambled to their feet as I rode to find Domitus and Orodes. Soon trumpet blasts were coming from the ranks of the cohorts as officers and centurions joined their units and reorganised their men. Around two hundred paces behind the foot the cataphracts lay resting on the ground, squires busily unburdening their horses of the scale armour that had served them so well in the battle. Behind them were the beasts of the camel train loaded with spare arrows. They stopped and looked in confusion at each other and their masters as I halted among them when I spotted Domitus talking to Orodes, Malik and Byrd. Orodes, like many of the horsemen, had taken off his scale armour and had dumped it on the ground beside him. A squire was leading a camel to begin loading both his and his horse’s scale armour onto the beast’s back.
‘What in the name of Jupiter is going on?’ said Domitus, two of his metal discs having been knocked off his mail shirt in the fighting.
I halted Remus and jumped off his back. ‘The army of Narses approaches. We have been well and truly duped.’
Byrd was appalled that his scouting skills had let him down. ‘Impossible, we rode to the banks of the Tigris itself. There was no other army.’
‘It is true, Pacorus,’ added Malik. ‘We saw no other enemy.’
I allowed myself a smile. ‘My friends, of course you saw nothing because there was nothing to see. Mithridates and Narses are masters of deception. They allowed us to see what they wanted us to see. The second army was probably hidden on the eastern bank of the Tigris, or perhaps in Seleucia itself.’
‘How many do they bring against us?’ asked Orodes, who looked tired and drawn, though mercifully unhurt.
‘Thousands,’ I replied. ‘The point is that we do not have the energy to fight a second battle.’
Domitus was nodding his head approvingly. ‘Clever, very clever. They allowed you to slaughter one part of their force so you could wear yourself out, and then they come with fresh troops to finish you off.’
‘When you have finished admiring the enemy perhaps you might like to get the legions back to camp,’ I said.
‘You are running from them?’ Orodes was mortified by the idea of retreat.
I walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘My friend, much as I would like to fight your brother….’
‘Stepbrother,’ he reminded me.
I continued. ‘As much as I would like to fight him, and Narses, if we do we die. He has held back his horse archers and they bring more cataphracts and thousands of foot.’
‘Tired men cannot fight another battle and win,’ added Domitus.
Orodes looked dejected and said no more.
‘Well, then,’ said Domitus, ‘I’d better get the camp organised.’
He took a swig from his water bottle, replaced the cork and then strode off.
‘Domitus,’ I called after him, ‘ensure that no water is wasted. We will need every drop.’ He raised his hand in acknowledgement and then was gone.