‘He is deaf and dumb, profoundly so. He guards me when there is a need for discretion, giving me the absolute surety that my words will never be repeated. So, Marcus Valerius Aquila, my message to your legatus is this: you ask me to rein in Narsai, lift the siege of Nisibis and cease the harassment of legitimate Roman interests in Adiabene? I will not. I cannot. To do so would be to attract the ire of the kings I reign, while to condone Narsai’s act of undeclared war is to provide them with evidence that my desire for revenge on Rome is undimmed by the years. Indeed, my son’s defeat and capture, and his humiliating return to Ctesiphon, make it doubly important for Narsai to triumph. I will be compelled to provide assistance to his army, and to confirm his command of the army of Media while Osroes remains unfit to resume command. Nisibis will fall, eventually, when the grain stores are emptied. It may take a year. It will happen nonetheless. And I will accept the tributes that will be bestowed upon me, and smile as I ride my horse through the city’s gates in triumph. And now that you understand my response, and the reasons I must make it, tell your legatus that if he chooses to march his men away I will see that their safety is assured.’
‘If we will pass under a yoke, leave without our weapons and swear never to step on Parthian soil again?’
Arsaces smiled gently.
‘Of course. And I imagine that the soil of Osrhoene would be included in that oath as well.’
Marcus nodded.
‘I understand you, Majesty. When shall I leave?’
The king waved a dismissive hand.
‘Soon. I have suggested to my son Vologases that he escort you back to Nisibis with a detachment of my Immortals. Not only will it be a good deal faster than working your way back up the river, but that way I can ensure that you are delivered to the gates of Nisibis unharmed, and that my message reaches your legatus without any interference from the more exuberant of my subjects. I shall make a formal farewell to you before you leave, and renew my gratitude to you and your companions. And return that sword you mentioned earlier today. After all, I am a man who honours his word.’
12
Scaurus closed the message tablet and handed it back to his clerk.
‘The enemy are on the move, it seems. Which means, as we expected, that Narsai expects the mud to have dried sufficiently for his infantry to advance across it and take our makeshift wall. Our task is remarkably simple, but may prove to be the greatest challenge we’ve faced since we left Antioch. I expect every one of you to provide our men with an example of the virtue and discipline that built us an empire and have kept it intact, despite the best efforts of our enemies to take large parts of it away from us. We cannot afford to take a single step back, gentlemen, because if we do, then we’ll be fighting in the streets of the city.’
He paused and looked round at them.
‘And we all know how that will end up against superior numbers. Talk to your men, gentlemen, and tell them that they’ve broken these barbarians once and they can do it again. Tell them that they’re the best soldiers in the world, and that these Persian animals will have to kill every last one of us before we’ll surrender that reputation by leaving thousands of women and children at their mercy. Julius?’
The first spear stood and looked around him at the officers gathered around the table.
‘We don’t have long, so I’ll keep this short. You’re all the sons of men immeasurably richer than your soldiers can even imagine. For them, wealth means having enough silver in their purses to fill their bellies, drink themselves half stupid and stick their dicks up something warm and wet. Your men don’t care about who the emperor is, or who gets seated where at dinner, they worry about the real problems in life. And right now they’re stood waiting for an army of sun-worshipping heathens with twice their strength to come at them with fucking great long spears. What fighting skills can you gentlemen add to their strength?’
He paused, looking around him.
‘Not much, if the truth’s being told. You’re all good men, but there’s not one of you I’d call an old-fashioned hero, born to hold the blood-slicked hilt of a notched sword. But you can give them one precious gift, if you have it in you.’
The silence stretched out until it seemed certain that someone would ask the question.
‘Equality. Today, just for a few hours, you have the opportunity to see the world from their point of view. You can fight alongside them, kill with them and risk dying with them. If they see you taking your part in the slaughter that’s going to win or lose this battle for us, they’ll fight with you and perhaps even fight for you, if you’re really convincing.’
He shook his head.
‘Enough. Just go out there and share the dangers that your men are going to be facing, and perhaps the men fighting with you will be moved to give that part of themselves they usually hold in reserve. For some of them that will include their lives, so don’t insult them by asking them for anything you’re not willing to give yourself.’
He paused and looked round the room again.
‘Make the legatus proud, and you’ll have done enough to earn my respect. Now, as to how this battle will be fought …’
With the briefing complete, the officers went back to their cohorts with serious expressions, while Scaurus, Julius and Petronius climbed the walls to stare out at the enemy formation marshalling to the city’s north, just outside bolt-thrower range.
‘It won’t be long now.’
Scaurus nodded at his first spear’s comment. The ditch in front of the Parthian siege lines had been filled with earth, and the flat ground behind it was packed with rank after rank of Median infantry who had been formed into a column fifty men wide and two hundred men deep, their spears and helmets winking in the sun. To either side looser formations of dismounted horse archers stood ready to advance, while at the infantry’s rear a compact block of shining armoured figures stood perfectly immobile. A horn blew, and with commendable precision the spear men started their march towards the fortress’s shattered walls, the archers walking easily alongside them with their bows strung and arrows nocked. Scaurus nodded at Petronius, who looked across the gap at his own senior centurion and pointed a finger at the enemy. The senior centurion’s gruff voice grated out a command over the distant rumble of marching boots.
‘Bolt throwers! Target, enemy infantry! Shoot!’
With a twanging thump the first bolts arced down into the leading Parthian ranks, punching one- and two-man gaps in the marching column. For every spear man killed by the missiles’ eviscerating impacts, a dozen more were sprayed with the blood of a man who had been walking beside them a moment before, but for all the horror that was being visited upon them, the column’s pace didn’t falter.
‘They’ve got discipline, I’ll give them that.’
Scaurus nodded grimly.
‘I can’t argue with you on that, First Spear. Archers, Prefect?’
Petronius raised two fingers, and the response was instant.
‘Archers! Target, enemy infantry! Loose!’
The legatus pursed his lips as the Hamians rose from the parapet’s cover and launched their first volley, arrows whipping out from the walls and hanging in the air for a moment before plunging down into the advancing Parthian line, hundreds of shafts peppering the raised shields or flicking between them to kill and maim the unwary and unlucky. The officers had debated which would be the best target for their bows, but in the end a blunt statement from Julius had ended the discussion.
‘It won’t be archers who win this fight, it’ll be infantrymen, and they have ten thousand to our five. Every Parthian spear man we kill with an arrow is one less man in the fight for that wall, and every man we wound is another obstacle in their way as they try to get bodies forward. Our archers have a parapet to hide behind, and the men on the wall have thick enough shields to keep the enemy arrows off. There’ll only be one rule in this fight – if we kill enough of their infantry then we win the battle, and probably the entire campaign.’