He cursed himself again. It was his own vain heart, his own pride that had spurred him to attack. He had wanted his name to be added to the annals of the prophets. He had wanted songs of this victory to be chanted by the priests in the halls of the monastery. Now, if he survived, the council would order his name scratched from the records. He would be purified through pain, and then ritualistically sacrificed before the entire brotherhood.
Only the Eye mattered now. Whether the battle was won or lost, the Eye must be recovered and carried to safety. Perhaps Horus would be merciful and give him a slave’s allotment in the afterlife.
The First Prophet looked up at the gold banner waving above the tent inside the infidel’s formation. The Eye must be in there. It was the only explanation for the vigor of their defense. He then looked at his own bodyguard, sitting atop their mounts. They were stouter warriors than the rest – a score of veterans who had each killed infidels before. Motioning for them to dismount, he called them to him. As the black turbaned warriors gathered around, brandishing curved swords and impervious to the din of battle around them, the First Prophet prayed fervently that their final act in this world would not be in vain.
XIV
There were corpses lying all around Lucius, corpses of Alexandrians, of Watchers, and of camels. Through wave after wave, somehow, Demetrius’s royal guard had managed to retain order in their ranks. Massive holes marked the line of shields in many places, but those that still stood, stood firm.
The black riders were being cut down. They had obviously been trained to fight from their mounts, and they had been trained well. More than once, Lucius only narrowly avoided the stabbing spear points and spikes from above. The camel riders handled their beasts like true masters. But no number of drills could condition a camel for the carnage of a large scale battle, with the thick aroma of blood in the air and the corpses of man and beast piled two and three deep. A few of the giant beasts remained steady, even as others of their kind were vivisected by the long pikes. Many lost all of their training in that moment and broke, ignoring the punishing strokes from their riders.
As the ranks of camel riders began to thin, many continued to fight ferociously. A thrown spear caught one of the pikemen near Lucius in the eye, sending the man reeling backwards. Lucius grabbed the man’s shield and plugged the gap just as a zealous rider spurred his mount toward it. The large shield made the animal pause, and that was enough to allow a pikeman to drive his blade into the beast’s breast. Two more sarissas jabbed up at the rider, dodging his shield and slicing into both sides of his belly. Bloody entrails spilled out of the black robed figure from two gaping wounds, and he toppled from his saddle.
Lucius caught sight of Demetrius, just as the Alexandrian captain slashed one of the black-turbaned warriors across the eyes. Demetrius was now several paces away from Lucius, but it seemed he had been everywhere at once throughout the engagement. His men were fighting well, much as they had on Pharos weeks ago. Now, as then, Demetrius’s steady head was seeing them through. Darting to each troubled spot as fast as he could hack his way there, he inspired his men, led them, fought beside them, and filled the gaps with whatever he could find, even enlisting camp slaves and artisans, who did not need much prodding since their own lives depended on the success of the defense.
Lucius had known a few officers like Demetrius over the years – not many, but he had known a few. Every legion had them, the few unshakeable ones that held everything together when fortune went the other way, the few whose minds were clear and focused even with the viciousness of battle all around them.
Just then, a spear came over the top of Lucius’s shield, taking him by surprise. It sliced past his ear, drawing blood. The missile had been thrown by a nervous-looking black-clad warrior only a few steps away who was now fumbling to draw a sword from his belt. Instinctively, Lucius rushed the warrior, bounding at him in two giant leaps. He drove his gladius deep into the warrior’s abdomen until he felt the man’s blood running down the blade and over his hands. Another dismounted warrior appeared to Lucius’s left. Lucius rammed the shield into the man, knocking him backwards to trip over the legs of a slain camel. A quick downward stab into the warrior’s exposed neck severed an artery and set the man squirming as he tried to stem the flow of blood with both hands.
The riders were attacking in ones and twos now, and were more easily dispatched than the mass onslaught of the first waves. Lucius had that feeling that a seasoned soldier gets when he senses the enemy is about to run. At least, he had that feeling until he heard a cry ring out from the line to his left.
At a weak spot in the line, where only a handful of Alexandrians manned the gap, a sortie of a dozen or more dismounted warriors streamed over the camel carcasses in front of the Alexandrians. These warriors seemed more skilled than the rest, and hacked at the guardsmen with curved swords that looked as though they could cut a man in two with one blow. Within a few heartbeats, the exhausted pikemen were hacked to pieces by the chopping swords. Lucius shouted the alarm back at Demetrius, but the captain was too pressed on his own side of the formation to hear it.
The black-robed warriors had penetrated the lines, and now Lucius fully expected them to turn in one or both directions to attack the ranks of pikemen on the flank. Much to his surprise, they did not. One of the warriors wore a black robe that differed slightly from the others in that it contained subtle inlaid patterns of violet spirals. This man was apparently some kind of leader, because he quickly collected the others to him and, with the sweep of his sword, directed them to rush the royal tent.
With a wild battle cry, they charged forward with swords held high above their heads. Before Lucius could grab a handful of guardsmen to help him, the troop of back-clad warriors had already entered the tent. Lucius and the royal guards sprinted after them, Lucius only imagining what horrors Arsinoe was experiencing at the sight of the crazed zealots slashing at her with the big swords. The tent had already been torn to shreds by the arrow barrage, and he guessed that in itself must have sent her into hysterics.
Lucius reached the tent door and entered to find four of the camel warriors twitching on the royal carpets as they clutched gaping wounds in their bellies. The remaining warriors were facing down Arsinoe’s two bodyguards, whose giant swords were striped red with fresh blood. Arsinoe and Ganymedes were behind the bodyguards, along with a quivering cluster of handmaids hiding amongst the tent furnishings. The big black men had made short work of the first four camel warriors through the door, but now the remaining warriors attacked in a cleverer manner. On a signal from the leader, they came at both big men from all sides at once. One giant black arm slashed with the wide blade sending a black turbaned head flipping into the air, but the unfortunate warrior’s comrades took advantage of the move and drove their swords into the giant’s groin and thighs. The big man dropped to the ground in agony, where he was quickly beheaded by three hacks of the camel leader’s khopesh. The other giant fared little better, managing to fell two before he met the same fate. Lucius and the men with him burst into the tent, and rushed at the camel warriors. Ten of the warriors turned to ward them off, while the leader and another moved slowly toward the frightened queen. Lucius had discarded his shield outside and now held his gladius in one hand and his pugio in the other. He parried a blow from one warrior, hacked high with his gladius to force his opponent’s shield up, and then struck close in with the dagger, splitting the man’s ribs and piercing his left lung. Another warrior came at Lucius from the right, but a lightning quick, back-handed sweep of the gladius knocked the attacker’s sword aside, and another stroke half-severed the man’s arm at the elbow.