Gallia rolled her eyes as he bowed his head and left us.
More agreeable company was Spandarat who appeared shortly after, his wild hair and beard matching his unruly appearance. He winked at Gallia with his one eye and sat himself down without asking permission, then helped himself to a cup of water.
He grimaced as he tasted the liquid. ‘No wine, then?’
‘I find that wine dulls the senses,’ I said sternly. ‘It is best to have a clear head in battle.’
He roared with laughter. ‘Nonsense, a man fights better with a belly full of wine or beer inside him, ain’t that right, princess?’
He winked at Gallia again who stuck out her tongue at him. She liked Dura’s lords and they liked her. It was a sort of unholy alliance between them: the rough-and ready frontiersmen who lived hard lives and their queen who tolerated no nonsense.
‘Are you and your men ready, Spandarat?’ I enquired.
He shoved a great lump of cheese into his mouth. ‘Me and twenty thousand others itching to get to grips with the enemy.’
I nodded. ‘Excellent. You and the other lords will take up position behind my horse archers.’
A hurt look spread across his face. ‘Behind them?’
‘Don’t worry,’ I assured him. ‘You will get a chance to empty your quivers.’
My lords were fearless in battle but totally undisciplined. They were like a bee. They had a powerful sting but could only sting once. On the battlefield each lord led his retainers oblivious to what was happening around him. Once committed the lords would charge headlong at the enemy in a great disorganised mass; their commitment thus required expert timing.
With Surena still absent, no doubt long dead, the command of the horse archers presented something of a dilemma. Ideally Orodes would lead the cataphracts, leaving me free to direct the whole army.
‘I would esteem it an honour if you would command Dura’s horse archers this day, lord prince,’ I said to Orodes.
Before he could answer Gallia spoke. ‘I will lead the horse archers so that Orodes may command your cataphracts.’
I looked at her and then Orodes, who said nothing.
‘Makes sense,’ said Spandarat with a mouthful of cheese, who then stood and nodded to me. ‘I will go and inform the other lords. They will be as chuffed as a bull in a herd of young cows.’
After he had left Orodes and I put on our scale armour. The short-sleeved, thigh-length hide coats were thick and heavy, made more so by the iron scales riveted onto them. Split up to the waist to facilitate sitting in the saddle, the hide itself was thick enough to stop a glancing blow from a sword or spear. The best hide for scale armour was made from the skin of a water buffalo. This being the case, Nergal’s officials in Uruk purchased these animals from the Ma’adan. They were then slaughtered and the skins sold to the armouries in Dura, Media, Atropaiene and even Hatra.
Next came the leg and arm armour — overlapping steel rings that extended from the shoulders to the wrists and from the thigh down to the ankles. Orodes wore an open-faced helmet with cheekguards and a neck flap and I wore my Roman officer’s helmet with its goose feather plume.
We walked outside to where Orodes’ squires held his horse and Gallia held Remus’ reins. Both animals wore their own suits of scale armour that covered their bodies, necks and heads, with metal grills over their eyes. The squires assisted the Prince of Susiana and myself into our saddles and then handed us our lances, the hafts as thick as our wrists and tipped with a long spearhead at one end and savage butt spike at the other. My own kontus sported a pennant showing a red griffin on a white background, that of Orodes an eagle clutching a snake.
I rode with Gallia and Orodes at the head of the army as it made a leisurely march south towards the enemy. We were approximately ten miles from the walls of Babylon and roughly the same distance east of the Euphrates. We were riding across the hard-packed earth of the desert but Vardan and my father were travelling over the cultivated ground north of Babylon, fed by the waters of the great river, which had now been despoiled by the enemy. The mud-brick homes of the villages in the immediate vicinity of the city had been destroyed and their inhabitants no doubt dragged off into slavery. Babylonia had no fortified outposts such as existed in my own land or the Kingdom of Hatra. It would have thus been easy for enemy riders to appear as if by magic to pillage the villages.
I took no chances when it came to our own security, sending parties of horse archers ahead and into the desert on our left flank to ensure we were not attacked from those directions. After snatching a couple of hours’ sleep, Byrd and his men were again in the saddle and scouting far and wide. My fears were allayed somewhat when the army of Mesene — five thousand horse archers — flooded the eastern horizon and provided security for my left flank. Nergal had been camped further north of our position and it had taken him and his men longer to assume their battle positions. With the Babylonians on my right flank and the Hatrans beyond them, the combined armies of four kings made an impressive sight and numbered over two thousand, seven hundred cataphracts, thirty-eight thousand horse archers, a thousand Babylonian mounted spearmen and Vardan’s royal bodyguard of five hundred men. And in the wake of my own army came a thousand camels carrying spare arrows; my father had a similar camel train transporting spare ammunition. Nergal had informed me that he also had a thousand camels for the same purpose.
The day was mild and sunny with only a few white, puffy clouds dotting an otherwise clear blue sky. There was a slight westerly breeze that barely troubled the banners of Dura and Susiana carried behind us as we trotted southwest so as to close up on the Babylonians. I deployed my cataphracts on the left of the Duran line, with the horse archers to their right and the lords and their men directly behind the latter. It would have been better if all the kings’ heavy horsemen were grouped together so they could deliver the killer blow against the enemy when the time came, but my father would never have agreed to this unless he, or Vistaspa, was given command over all of them, something that I would never accept.
When Nergal’s companies had dressed their lines on our left he and Praxima rode over to be with us, his banner fluttering behind them. As Nergal had formerly been my second-in-command and had raised and trained my own horsemen I had no fears that his Mesenians would not perform well this day.
‘Do you think Narses will give battle?’ asked Gallia.
‘He has no choice,’ I answered, ‘unless he wishes to give himself up and submit to our mercy.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Orodes. ‘But he may request a parley.’
‘To what end?’ asked Nergal.
‘To attempt to sow disharmony within our ranks.’ Orodes looked at me. ‘He already knows that the kings of Babylon and Hatra do not share Dura’s desire to see him destroyed.’
‘I shall not speak to him,’ I announced. ‘I have no interest in hearing his voice.’
‘He should be killed,’ said Praxima.
‘Some sense at last,’ I replied.
Orodes was most unhappy. ‘It is custom for all parties to be present at a parley, in the hope that bloodshed can be avoided.’
‘If we avoid bloodshed this day,’ I said in irritation, ‘then that will mean that Narses and his army will have escaped, which means that he and it will be free to attack another Parthian kingdom. Have you forgotten Gotarzes so quickly, Orodes?’
Anger flashed in his eyes. ‘Of course not!’
‘You forget yourself, Pacorus,’ said Gallia in rebuke.
I held up my hand to Orodes. ‘Forgive me, my friend, I did not mean to offend you.’
His amiable disposition returned. ‘No offence taken.’
We rode on in silence, but the thought of Narses slipping through our fingers was like a knife being twisted in my guts.
My mood was further darkened when a rider came from my father with a letter reminding me that our objective was to secure entry to Babylon via the Ishtar Gate and that I was to support the attack by ensuring that the left flank of the army was secure. I sent him back to my father with the reply that I was quite capable of securing his flank.