‘Kill them all!’ he screamed.
Gallia nodded approvingly as his men either shot down the Romans, hacked them to death with their swords or rode over those who lay prostrate on the ground. I ordered the cataphracts to accompany me north and turned my back on the scene of slaughter as my ears were assailed by the wails and screams of dying men.
As we travelled towards Carrhae we came across whole centuries of disarmed Romans, marching in step and in their ranks, being escorted south by half-companies of Duran horse archers. The Romans were surrendering in droves, though a few still had some fight left in them. Halfway to Carrhae Vagises returned to report that his men had trapped around two thousand Roman legionaries on a hillock nearby. Spartacus behind me let out a groan when he saw that the commander of my horse archers was holding a pole topped by a silver Roman eagle. He noted Spartacus staring longingly at it and held it out to the young prince.
‘You want it?’
‘Certainly not,’ he snapped. ‘It is worthless if another has taken it.’
Vagises shrugged. ‘I didn’t take it; I found in lying on the ground. Still, it’s a nice trophy. There’s another one on that small rise ahead, though you might have to fight them for it.’
I turned to look at Spartacus and saw his eyes were wide with excitement. ‘Very well,’ I said, ‘it looks as though you have the ear of the gods after all, Spartacus.’
He handed my standard to Zenobia mounted beside Gallia and drew his sword as I nudged Remus forward. I looked at the eagle being carried so casually by Vagises on my left side.
‘My men have taken two more of these,’ he said. ‘The Roman Army is on the verge of collapse.’
I could hardly contain my excitement. To have not only turned back the Roman invasion but also shattered their army was nothing short of a miracle, one that I had Dobbai to thank for. How else could this marvel be explained? The sounds of thousands of horses’ hooves snapped me out of my daydreams as Surena’s men flooded the road in font of us to gallop on towards Carrhae, skirting groups of Roman soldiers trudging in the opposite direction.
‘We killed them all, lord,’ he announced proudly as Vagises moved his horse aside to allow him to join me. He saw the eagle that Vagises held.
‘You should give that to young Spartacus so he can marry Rasha.’
‘I will take my own or none at all,’ insisted Spartacus.
‘There is one but a short distance away,’ I said to Surena, ‘guarded by nearly half a legion. That is where we are heading.’
‘Is Crassus there?’ inquired Surena.
‘No horsemen,’ replied Vagises, ‘most likely he is in Carrhae by now.’
‘If he gets back to Syria he will raise another army to invade Parthia next year,’ said Surena.
That much was true. Losing an army might be an inconvenience and a stain on his honour, but for a man of Crassus’ wealth it would be only a temporary setback. If he raised another army and mounted a second invasion of Parthia then he could still achieve ultimate victory as well as avenge the death of his son.
But for the moment our thoughts were occupied by the two thousand Roman legionaries who had taken possession of a small rise of ground about five miles south of the town. Why they had stopped rather than press on to the sanctuary of Carrhae no one knew. Perhaps many wounded among their ranks had slowed their march or, more probably, they had become lost in the dark and strayed from the road that led north. Whatever the reason they were now being surrounded by horse archers as Vagises’ men circled them like angry wolves.
The commander of my horse archers rode to where I sat with Gallia and Surena observing the Romans, who had formed a shield wall on all four sides of their ragged square and had also locked shields over their heads in anticipation of volleys of arrows.
Vagises halted his horse and raised his hand. ‘Pacorus, the commander of the camel train informed me earlier that he has few quivers left. We used a prodigious quantity of arrows yesterday that has nearly exhausted our supplies.’
‘How many do we have left?’ asked Surena.
‘Whatever your men and mine carry at this moment plus an additional two quivers,’ answered Vagises.
‘That few,’ I said. ‘Perhaps we should demand the surrender of these Romans rather than waste more arrows. We still have to deal with those Romans who have reached Carrhae, after all.’
I heard a groan of frustration behind me and Gallia laid a hand on my arm.
‘I think you should fight these Romans, Pacorus.’
‘Why? What is so special about them?’
She glanced at Spartacus behind us.
‘Some have to fulfil their destinies, my husband, just as you have fulfilled yours.’
I looked at Spartacus, who because he wore the uniform of a Hatran cataphract had an open-faced helmet. I saw his eyes full of pleading.
‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Vagises, your men will soften them up first, but controlled shooting. Tell your commanders to be frugal with their arrows. We may need them in the days ahead.’
Gallia, her face largely hidden behind the closed cheekguards of her helmet, nodded at me.
‘Rasha will love you even more.’
‘Not if Spartacus gets himself killed she won’t.’
But Spartacus was not thinking about death or mortality, only glory and his beautiful young princess. After I had given the order for half the cataphracts — five companies — to deploy into battle formation he rode to join the front rank as the horse archers began to attack the Roman square. To break such a formation is not easy and even though Dura’s horsemen were among the best trained in the empire I worried that the cataphracts would come to grief when they made their charge. The customary tactic was for the horse archers to shoot against all four sides of the square, with the heaviest concentration of missiles being directed against one of those sides, which would be the predetermined target for the heavy horsemen. The attacks against the other three sides were diversions only.
His company commanders under strict orders not to waste arrows, riders charged at the Roman shields with empty bowstrings and then swung right to ride along the wall of shields to discover if the enemy had retained their javelins during their retreat. The lack of missiles thrown from the square seemed to suggest that they had not.
The five companies of cataphracts earmarked for the attack were arrayed in a line facing the south side of the square, but I passed the word that their actual assault should be against its eastern side. The Roman commander would have seen the heavy horsemen lining up and would have deduced that they were going to assault his men once the archers had finished their work. Most likely he would have stripped legionaries from the other sides of the square to reinforce the one that faced south, but Vagises’ horse archers were subjecting the eastern side to the heaviest volleys of arrows. His men were now riding parallel to the shield wall, loosing their arrows at a range of below thirty paces, the slim steel heads going through scutums with ease, though whether they were piercing flesh was impossible to tell.
I raised my hand to the commander of the half-dragon of heavy horsemen that was waiting patiently in three ranks, the butt spike of every kontus driven into the earth beside each rider and helmets pushed up on every head. It was already very warm and they were roasting in their heavy scale armour; to sit in the sun wearing a full-face helmet would only increase their discomfort.
But now the signal was given to move and so lances were plucked from the earth and helmets pulled down as five hundred men rode forward a few paces and then as one wheeled right into column formation, riding parallel to the south side of the square. The commander galloped to the head of the column as it turned again, this time left, to take it parallel to the eastern side of the square, all the time the horse archers continuing their shooting and doing their best to mask the movement of the cataphracts.