We did not see the Armenians first but rather heard them — a low, rumbling sound to the northeast that slowly got louder as the enemy approached.
‘Kettledrums,’ I mumbled to myself.
If there was one thing that I had come to loathe it was kettledrums, which always reminded me of the armies of Narses and Mithridates, though they were both dead. As soon as I heard that awful drumming sound my mind conjured up images of the pair, sitting on their horses mocking me. The Durans and Exiles had been sitting or lying on the ground and when they heard the annoying racket some stood up and peered into the distance. Most, though, continued their rest or conversation with their comrades. They had heard it too many times to let it bother them and had become expert at using it to judge how far away the enemy was.
Minutes later a group of horsemen galloped through the gap between the legions and Gafarn’s horse archers on the right flank, most of whom were also sitting on the ground beside their mounts.
Byrd and Malik brought their horses to a halt in front of me and raised their hands in salute. I saw that their horses were both sweating from a long gallop. Their arrival was a signal for others to gather around us as the figures of Domitus, Vagises and Chrestus strode from the ranks of legionaries ahead and Gafarn left his horse archers with a company of bodyguards following him. And from the Carmanians rode Peroz and fifty other horsemen with Vistaspa also riding from his cataphracts. He joined Gafarn and the prince of Carmania as they drew level beside Malik, their escorts remaining fifty paces away.
Byrd uncorked his water bottle and took a sip. ‘Armenians half an hour away.’
‘Numbers?’ I asked, though I already knew that they greatly outnumbered us. Domitus, bareheaded, nodded at Malik as he stood in front of Remus next to the sweating Chrestus.
‘A hundred thousand foot and fifty thousand horse,’ replied Byrd without emotion.
Domitus pointed his cane at me. ‘I thought you said we would be outnumbered four to one? I make it six to one. You sure you didn’t count some of the enemy twice, Byrd?’
Byrd patted his horse on the neck. ‘You take my horse and count them for yourself if you no believe me.’
‘We’ve seen enough armies to be able to estimate their strength, Domitus,’ said Malik.
Domitus raised his cane to salute his old friend and then looked at me. ‘You still want to fight them?’
I looked at Gafarn in his cuirass of steel scales and helmet adorned with Hatra’s crown. ‘It is your city and your crown, brother.’
Gafarn may have found the demands of kingship taxing but today his face was a mask of determination. It was as if he could finally dictate events rather than them ruling him. ‘We fight. They will arrive soon and it would be a grave discourtesy not to be here to greet them.’
‘Good,’ I said, ‘the Armenians have treated Parthia with contempt for too long.’
I looked at Domitus and Chrestus. ‘I am afraid that your men will be acting as the seawall against which the Armenian waves will crash. You will have Vagises’ archers for support but it is imperative that you hold their attack.’
‘You are certain they will attack, majesty?’ asked Vistaspa.
I smiled. ‘If I had one hundred and fifty thousand men under my command I would wish to sweep the enemy from the field. They will attack, especially when they see how few we are.’
I looked at Gafarn and then Peroz. ‘You must use your horse archers to goad the enemy so they will launch their horsemen against you. Once they do withdraw to allow Lord Vistaspa to commit his cataphracts. The heavy horsemen of Hatra and Dura are the empire’s finest and nothing the Armenians possess can match them. When Lord Vistaspa charges with his cataphracts the enemy’s horsemen will be shattered, then Peroz and Gafarn will commit their horse archers.’
Vistaspa nodded approvingly and Peroz looked thoughtful.
‘Remember, lord prince, goad the enemy, entice him to attack. Use the tactics you have learned at Dura.’
‘Yes, lord,’ Peroz beamed.
I next addressed Vagises. ‘As soon as the legions are engaged in a mêlée get your men mounted and pull them back to my position here. They will act as a reserve just in case events take an unexpected turn.’
‘You mean if we get our arses kicked,’ said Domitus.
‘In which case,’ I added, ‘the horsemen will act as a shield to allow the legions to retire to the city.’
Domitus slapped Vagises hard on the back. ‘Don’t worry about us; we’ll be dead most likely so you and your horse boys don’t need to concern yourselves with our safety.’
Peroz was horrified. ‘My men and I will never abandon you, Lord Domitus. We will never dishonour our homeland by fleeing.’
Domitus squinted at Peroz. ‘You remind me of Orodes and Pacorus with all that nonsense about honour.’
‘You honour me, general,’ smiled Peroz.
Domitus looked at him and shook his head. ‘See what I mean.’
The kettledrums were getting louder and the horizon was now filling with small black shapes as the Armenians approached.
‘To your positions,’ I said, ‘and may Shamash be with you all.’
Peroz and Gafarn raised their hands in acknowledgement and then galloped back to their men as their escorts grouped round them. Vagises and Chrestus were deep in conversation as they made their way back to the legions deployed in the centre, while Domitus took off his helmet and brushed its white crest.
‘You take care of yourself, Pacorus,’ he said.
‘I will take care of him, Domitus,’ replied Gallia.
Satisfied that the crest looked presentable, he replaced his helmet on his head and raised his cane at us before ambling back to take command of his men.
‘He looks as though he is taking an afternoon stroll,’ remarked Vistaspa, though not in a mocking way.
‘He is the finest soldier I have ever met,’ I said. ‘One day mothers in Parthia will tell stories to their children of Lucius Domitus, the Roman centurion who forged the army of Dura into an invincible weapon that put all of its enemies to the sword.’
I heard the shrill blast of trumpets and saw ten thousand legionaries hoist up their shields and javelins and form ranks as the Armenians flooded the ground to the front of the army like ants swarming from a huge nest. The infernal din of kettledrums filled our ears as the enemy manoeuvred into position. Spearmen clutched their weapons, archers tested bowstrings, slingers pulled lead shots from their pouches and horses scraped impatiently at the earth as tension and foreboding gripped tens of thousands of men who were about to fight the Battle of Hatra.
Chapter 16
I knew that we were greatly outnumbered but also knew that every one of the soldiers who faced the Armenians was a professionaclass="underline" a man who spent every day training with his weapons and learning drills until they became second nature. My old tutor Bozan, now long dead, had always stressed the importance of training.
‘Train and train until you carry out drills unthinkingly,’ he used to say, ‘so fighting becomes instinctive and your weapons become extensions of your arms. Train hard, fight easy, boy, that’s the secret.’