The Armenian commander, having got the attention of my two wings, probably believed that his spearmen would at least be able to push back my centre due to sheer weight of numbers alone. But I had a surprise in store. As the spearmen increased their pace and began shouting and cheering to fortify their courage, Vagises’ archers standing behind the first-line cohorts drew back their bowstrings and released their arrows. Two thousand, seven hundred arrows arched into the sky and then fell among the densely packed spearmen, followed six seconds later by a further volley. The Armenians ran into this arrow storm of thirteen and half thousand missiles every minute at around three hundred paces from the legions, the missiles scything down hundreds of men as they pierced shoulders, necks, chests and legs. Cheers were replaced by high-pitched screams and yelps as the front ranks of the spearmen were turned into heaps of groaning, twitching wounded.
Vagises’ men kept shooting their arrows as they emptied the spare quivers they had been issued with, mounds of dead Armenians being created in front of the legions as the missiles easily found unprotected flesh. But as quickly as spearmen were killed or wounded others behind them ran forward to get to grips with Domitus’ men.
Vagises’ archers could only fire over the heads of the centuries in front of them, which meant that their killing ground stopped two hundred paces out from the front rank of legionaries. Those spearmen who had emerged unhurt from the strip of ground that was saturated by arrows now formed up in front of the legions. They had been badly unnerved by seeing hundreds of their comrades being killed by Parthian arrows, but now their officers cajoled and threatened them to reform their ranks and charge the white shields sporting red griffin wings that stood in front of them. And their courage was fortified as the arrow volleys lessened and stopped as Vagises’ men ran out of ammunition and more and more additional spearmen came forward to swell their numbers. As they formed their ranks to charge many raised their weapons and shook them at the silent legionaries, spitting curses and threatening to send them to the next life on the end of their spears. Then as one they issued a blood-curdling scream and hurled themselves forward at the legions, and to fresh horror.
When they were fifty paces from my men there was a blast of trumpets and then the whole first line charged forward, the first five ranks in each century hurling their javelins against the Armenians. Once more hundreds of the latter were cut down by this fresh missile storm and then the legionaries were among them. The ranks that had thrown their javelins drew their short swords and sprang at the stunned spearmen, smashing their shield bosses into faces or bodies to push opponents over, stabbing gladius points into groins, necks and eye sockets as they hacked their way into the enemy.
Now it was the turn of the legionaries to cheer and shout as the Armenian ranks buckled under this terrifying onslaught. They had already been shaken by the arrow storm but had managed to salvage some of their discipline and courage, but now these part-time soldiers collapsed under the unrelenting assault of the Durans and Exiles. Within minutes thousands of spearmen had been cut down, those still living being trampled and stamped on by the advancing legionaries. Hobnailed sandals were smashed down onto windpipes, arms and groins and the air was rent with high-pitched screams. Some Armenians lying face-up had their heads severed as legionaries slammed their metal-rimmed shields down hard on their necks.
Whistles and trumpets sounded and the front-line cohorts halted and reformed as the Armenian spearmen fled in headlong retreat. I nodded with satisfaction. Our centre still held and that attack had cost the Armenians thousands of casualties. The ballistae had been abandoned during the assault of the spearmen but now their crews, who had sought sanctuary behind the first-line cohorts, ran forward to retrieve their machines before the next attack.
I looked over to the right wing to see Gafarn’s horse archers still in their companies adjacent to the right flank of the Durans, but on the left it was a different story. Though Peroz’s men were still extant in their companies there was a large gap between them and the left flank of the Exiles. The Armenian horse archers facing him had obviously enticed him further away from our centre and now there was a yawning gap that could be exploited by the enemy.
I turned and pointed at Zenobia. ‘Ride forward immediately and find Vagises. Tell him to mount his men and bring them here.’
She saluted and shouted at her horse to move, the beast jerking forward as it sped across the ground.
I pointed at the gap. ‘The enemy had lured Peroz further over to the left, you see?’ Gallia nodded.
Vistaspa had also noticed the gap and was manoeuvring his heavy horsemen to meet whatever threat came through it. But as yet nothing appeared and while I was absorbed with what was happening on the left the Armenians launched a fresh assault against our centre.
Perhaps up to ten thousand levy spearmen had been killed or wounded by Vagises’ archers and Domitus’ legionaries but to the Armenian commander they were expendable: farmers and townsfolk who had a minimum of training and deficient weaponry. They were chaff and Armenia would not weep for their lost souls. A far tougher proposition was now approaching the legions: heavy swordsmen.
As Vagises drew up his horse in front of me his men flooded the ground to the rear of the Amazons and then companies peeled away to make the trip to the camel train to replenish their stocks of arrows.
‘They are just toying with us,’ he said, nodding to Gallia beside me. ‘But I have a feeling that the real battle is just beginning.’
‘Your men did well, Vagises,’ I said.
He moved his horse to take up position on my left side and pointed at the widening space between our centre and left flank.
‘I don’t like the look of that.’
‘No,’ I agreed, ‘take two dragons of your men and seal the gap. The rest will stay here with me as a reserve. I have a feeling we may need them.’
He peeled away to consult his officers as there was a great tumult in the centre and the Armenian heavy swordsmen attacked. Just as I had modelled my foot on Rome’s legions so had the Armenians based their heavy swordsmen on the Roman model. Protected by conical helmets with cheekguards, mail shirts and oval-shaped wooden shields faced with bronze or iron, these men carried two short throwing spears that they now hurled at my frontline cohorts before drawing their swords and charging. These men were professional soldiers who were recruited from the Armenian heartlands. They were well paid, well equipped and highly motivated and they numbered at least twenty thousand men.
Just as Dura’s legions were trained to hurl their javelins and then charge at an enemy with their swords drawn, so the Armenians threw their missiles and launched themselves at the legions. Three things prevented them breaking our line. Firstly, they faced soldiers who were even better trained and motivated than they were, which meant that that the first-line cohorts were able to withstand the hail of spears that were thrown at them. Though dozens of legionaries were killed or wounded the line did not break. Secondly, the first-line cohorts that received the Armenian charge were actually the cohorts that had begun the battle as the second line. In the aftermath of the defeat of the levy spearmen Domitus had brought up his fresh second line to take the place of those cohorts that had battled the spearmen. Thirdly, and perhaps decisively, the ground in front of the legions was literally carpeted with dead spearmen, which broke up the momentum of the heavy swordsmen’s charge as enemy units negotiated their way through and over piles of dead men.