So he had brought his Sarmatian jackals with him, mercenaries who delighted in killing and devastation. Still, nothing could diminish the extent of the Parthian victory that was unfolding or Surena’s part in it.
Sunset was creeping upon the world now, the sky filled with red and orange hues as Armenian swordsmen formed an all-round defence directly in front of the legions, once more formed into two lines with the Durans on the right and the Exiles on the left. Surena’s medium horsemen and horse archers, working in conjunction, were busy trawling the battlefield for pockets of Armenians, spearing any injured they came across and surrounding and then destroying any groups of enemy soldiers who tried to resist them. The Sarmatians, meanwhile, had taken up position behind the enemy swordsmen, while Silaces’ men were arrayed on the Armenian left flank and the returning Peroz lined up his men against the enemy right flank. Thus were the Armenians and their commander now completely surrounded.
The number of dead men and animals was not as great as the butcher’s bill of the dreadful battlefield of Susa but there were still tens of thousands of slain scattered across the ground, along with the corpses of hundreds of horses and camels.
An eerie quiet descended over this field of carrion as men thanked their gods for still being alive and drank greedily from water bottles, while the Armenians contemplated their fate. It was regarding the latter that I sent riders to the various contingents to gather the kings and commanders together to decide our next course of action.
I stood behind the second line of Durans with Gallia as the Amazons sat on the ground next to their tired horses. Domitus ambled over to us tapping his vine cane against his thigh, his sword back in its scabbard. Behind us Vagises, having returned with Vistaspa’s men, was organising his companies to take up position behind the legions, ready to move into the space between the first and second lines once more should we need to shoot at the Armenians, not that we had many arrows left.
Domitus, now relaxed and very happy, slapped me on the arm. ‘You are one lucky bastard. I never thought we would beat them.’
I winked at Gallia. ‘Now he tells me.’
Domitus took off his helmet and examined the dent near the crest holder.
‘You remember that ritual we took part in all those months ago?’ he said to me. ‘I thought it was all nonsense but, looking around today, I think that old witch knew what she was talking about.’
He smiled at me and amidst the carnage was genuinely happy, basking in the victory that the army that he had created had made possible. And died as the lead pellet struck the side of his head. He dropped like a stone as the slinger who stood no more than two hundred paces away reached into his pouch for another missile. Perhaps he meant to kill me, or Gallia, but he had no opportunity to loose another pellet before Gallia killed him with an arrow that struck him in the chest. Where he had come from I did not know. Perhaps he had been knocked unconscious and lay on the ground as fighting raged around him, or maybe he was very brave and wanted to kill a senior enemy commander before he himself was killed, or perhaps he was sent by the gods to exact payment for our victory. But whatever the explanation he had slain my friend and the man who had been my right arm.
I knelt beside the body of Lucius Domitus and felt his neck for a pulse. There was none. I heard hooves and saw Surena on his horse. He looked down at the body of my friend and then wheeled his horse away. Within minutes the slaughter had begun.
I had no interest in the aftermath of the battle as I organised a party of Durans to take Domitus to one of the wagons for transfer to Hatra, but Surena thought otherwise. Word quickly spread through the ranks of the Durans and Exiles that their commander was dead, and then among Dura’s horse archers and the soldiers of Hatra, Gordyene and Elymais. Soon the remnants of the Armenian Army were surrounded by soldiers who had vengeance on their minds, a sentiment encouraged by Surena who rode up and down the lines exhorting them to slay the enemy.
Then the horse archers began shooting, not rapid volleys but rather aimed shots that found their mark. Thousands of arrows were loosed at the Armenians from all four sides and soon there were heaps of dead on the ground in the half-light. No quarter was asked for or given as archers methodically moved their horses nearer the rapidly shrinking square of Armenians. Finally the archers ran out of arrows and the dreadful hissing that had enveloped the square died down as the shooting ceased, to be replaced by groans, whimpers and cries of wounded and dying men. And then the legions attacked.
Gripped by a cold fury over the loss of their commander, the officers and centurions had had difficulty in holding their men back. But now, as the horsemen who had been deployed in front of them retreated, the Durans and Exiles marched forward. They did not forget their training and retained their ranks as they stepped on and over dead and dying men on the ground in front of them to get at those still living.
There were perhaps six or seven thousand Armenian soldiers still standing, though many of those were wounded and a few had no weapons. As the Durans and Exiles advanced against the pitiful remains of the enemy square, the cataphracts lined up on one side, Surena’s medium horsemen opposite them and the Sarmatians sealing the square. The Armenians were caught in a giant trap as the legionaries threw their few remaining javelins and then charged with swords drawn uttering blood-curdling screams.
There was no battle as such, just a methodical slaughter as the legionaries stabbed and hacked men to pieces. Some Armenians threw down their shields and weapons and ran, only to be cut down by horsemen with spears, axes, maces and swords. Some fell on their knees and begged for mercy but they found none, only death meted out by Parthian weapons, or at the hands of Surena’s Sarmatians. It was dark by the time the killing stopped, the foul stench of blood and gore filling the air and our nostrils and infusing our clothes. It was perhaps the greatest victory that the Parthian Empire had ever enjoyed over its enemies but I would have gladly swapped it for the life of my dead friend.
As the last remaining Armenians had their throats slit I stood with Gallia by the wagon that held the body of Domitus. We were joined by Gafarn, Vistaspa, Peroz and Silaces. Guards held torches to cast our faces in a red glow as Gafarn lifted the cloak that had been placed over the body and laid a hand on Domitus’ shoulder.
‘Farewell, my friend. He was the best of us.’
I had nothing to say to any of them and they stood in an awkward silence until I saw the figure of Alcaeus approaching leading four legionaries carrying a stretcher. My chief medical officer looked downcast and dragged his feet as he ordered the men to load the body they were carrying on the wagon.
‘Wait,’ I ordered.
‘It is the body of Thumelicus,’ said Alcaeus, ‘he would want to make this final journey with his friend.’
Gallia walked over to the stretcher and kissed Thumelicus on the forehead, then ordered the men to place the body next to Domitus.
‘I heard he charged headlong into the enemy ranks,’ said Alcaeus, ‘wanted to avenge the death of Domitus all on his own. By the time his men reached him he had been cut down, though they say he killed many before he fell. I will miss him.’
‘I too. How many others have we lost, Alcaeus?’
He stretched his back. ‘Not as many as I thought we would. Just over four hundred dead at the last count and six hundred wounded among the legions; I do not know what losses the horsemen have suffered.’
The lights of Hatra on the horizon were our guide as we made our way back to the city — a bedraggled column of exhausted men leading tired horses with their heads down, mules pulling wagons and camel drivers urging on their beasts. The Durans and Exiles marched in stoic silence, the golden griffin and silver lion both covered as a mark of respect for the loss of their general. Behind us we left a patch of ground covered with tens of thousands of dead men. I walked with Gallia, Gafarn, Vistaspa, Silaces and Peroz but not Surena, who decided to camp near the battlefield rather than just outside the city.