I had no time to look for Crassus the younger as a Roman lunged at me with his spear that I only avoided by grabbing one of my saddle horns with my left hand and collapsing down Remus’ right side, before hauling myself up once the rider had passed me by. Other cataphracts closed around me, hacking at Romans with their swords, maces and axes to great effect. I saw one of my horsemen clash swords with an opponent and sever his blade before thrusting his sword point into the man’s face.
The second and third ranks entered the fray, Romans lunging at armoured horses and riders with their spears and cataphracts thrusting their long lances into exposed horseflesh. Horses writhed in agony as kontus points were thrust into their guts, fell to the ground and threw their riders. One man, face-down on the ground, had the butt spike of a kontus thrust into his back that shattered his spine before he could rise. Dismounted Romans tried to get near our horses to stab them under their scale armour, their riders keeping them away with lance thrusts. I saw a Roman with a kontus embedded in his belly, gripping the lance with one hand as he thrust his spear into the scale armour of his opponent. Incredible bravery!
I heard hisses and a whooshing noise and knew that Vagises’ horse archers were now assaulting the legionaries who had accompanied the horsemen. The ranks of the latter were gradually being whittled down as Dura’s new swords were cutting through steel and iron with ease. Half a company was now grouped around me and I felt totally useless, being unable to fight anyone. Some cataphracts had discarded their lances and armed themselves with a sword in one hand and an axe in the other, using the pointed end of the later to embed them in Roman shields and then yanking the owner towards them before splitting his helmet with a downward sword strike.
The initial charge had destroyed the Romans’ first rank, the mêlée had inflicted further losses on the enemy and our numbers were beginning to tell. I did not see any Syrian horsemen and suspected most had fled after the first clash, and the archers were also nowhere to be seen. A horseman came to my side, his sword and mace smeared with blood. He pushed his helmet back on his head to uncover his face.
‘We are scattering them, uncle,’ said Spartacus, his breathing heavy from the exertion of battle.
Suddenly arrows began falling from the sky, hitting horses and men but fortunately not piercing our scale armour.
‘Put your helmet back on,’ I commanded him, before giving the order to sound recall.
I saw Romans still in their saddles jerk in pain as arrows hit their backs, legs and pierced their horses as we disengaged and hurriedly pulled back. In the confusion of the mêlée our whole line had rotated so that we actually rode to the north. As the companies reformed around their commanders I saw that Vagises’ archers were snapping at the heels of the leavings of the Roman horsemen and the locked shields of the legionaries, herding them towards the hillock that we had originally occupied.
‘Pacorus.’
I turned to see Vagharsh wilt in the saddle, two arrows stuck in him, and then fall to the ground. I jumped down as he tried to rise, clutching the banner and using it as a prop. He fell back down as I knelt beside him and Spartacus leaned down and grabbed the banner to hoist it aloft once more.
I cradled Vagharsh’s head as blood oozed from the wounds to his chest and belly. He looked up and smiled.
‘I never would have thought that I would die at the hands of Parthian arrows.’
His face blurred as my eyes filled with tears. ‘Hold on, my friend, hold on.’
He smiled once again as teardrops fell on his face. ‘We will meet again, my friend, but for the moment I must depart from your side. It has been an honour.’
Gallia jumped down from Epona and knelt down, her face full of despair, as Vagharsh looked at her, smiled ever so faintly, sighed and then closed his eyes. I closed my eyes and growled through gritted teeth as another Companion left this life.
I ordered a company to guard his body as I mounted Remus and assessed the current situation. I ordered all the company commanders to report to me after a roll call had been taken as Vagises’ horse archers lapped round the Romans who had now taken possession of the hillock. Crassus’ square remained in the same position, for the moment undisturbed by our horse archers, but now the son of Crassus and several thousand of his soldiers had been separated from the main body and were isolated on the hillock. A decisive moment in the battle had been reached.
Vagises and Surena, his lion banner fluttering behind him, rode to where Spartacus held aloft my standard as cataphract commanders reported their losses, which were remarkably light: twenty men killed and fifty-three others wounded, none seriously. I saw a look of horror on Vagises’ face as he halted his horse and stared at the body of Vagharsh on the ground, four dismounted cataphracts standing guard over it.
‘Bastard Romans,’ he hissed, not realising that it was arrows shot by his own men who had killed him. I saw no reason to reveal the truth.
‘We have a battle to win before we can grieve,’ I told him. ‘It is time to unleash a hailstorm against the Roman square lest Crassus is tempted to rescue his son.
I turned to Surena. ‘I would be eternally grateful if you would destroy those Romans occupying my hillock.’
A devilish smile crept over his face and he slammed his knees into his horse’s sides, causing the beast to rear up on its hind legs, and then he bolted forward back to his waiting companies. Vagises followed him and then veered away to his waiting dragons of horse archers. Within minutes horn blasts echoed across the gloomy battlefield and horse archers once more began loosing arrows at all four sides of the square. To my left the Romans on the hillock faced the full wrath of two thousand horse archers as Surena’s men shot what was left of the command of Publius Crassus to pieces.
Having destroyed the Romans’ Syrian archers — those few still alive being confined to the hillock — our horse archers could now ride closer to the front ranks of the enemy square on the plain, riding parallel to the locked shields, each rider loosing around five arrows a minute before peeling away to reform in his company. The horsemen stayed out of javelin range but shooting at a distance of around fifty paces they ensured that every arrow struck its target. And the pace of their horses was a quick canter — there was no need to gallop — further aiding accuracy. Seven thousand horse archers were assaulting Crassus’ square, shooting an average of twenty-eight thousand arrows every minute at his men.
I heard the sound of cheers resounding across the plain and realised that Surena had destroyed the Romans on the hillock. Groups of horse archers began redeploying to take part in the assault against the main Roman Army as others began herding a long line of Roman prisoners away from the battlefield. And all the time Crassus and his men were easy targets for our archers.
‘Here comes the conquering hero,’ remarked Gallia as Surena came galloping towards us, holding what appeared to be a spear in his hand.
As he and his bodyguard got closer I realised that there was a severed head on the end of the shaft he was holding, blood covering the wood and his hand.
‘Behold, lord, I give you Publius Crassus,’ he shouted at the top of his voice so my officers grouped behind me could hear, ‘son of Marcus Licinius Crassus, who unwisely brought an invading army into Parthia.’
I stared at the lifeless eyes of the man I had liked. ‘You should have accepted his surrender, Surena.’
‘Unfortunately, lord, he took his own life but some five hundred of his men did give themselves up. Do you want me to kill them?’
‘We will decide what to do with them after the battle is over.’