‘How far are they away?’ asked Gallia.
‘Seven hundred paces, perhaps more,’ said Vagises.
She pulled her bow from its case and nocked an arrow in the bowstring. ‘Amazons! Aim shots at those whites figures on the hillside.’
‘You are wasting your arrows,’ I told her as she released her arrow at a high angle, the missile arching into the sky and disappearing from view. Seconds later dozens of arrows were flying towards the Romans scrambling up the hill as the Amazons vented their frustration.
‘Excellent idea,’ said Surena, who likewise began taking shots at the soldiers ascending the hill. Soon the front ranks of his companies arrayed in a line behind us were also loosing arrows, which as far as I could tell were having a negligible effect. I nudged Remus forward and then wheeled him about before raising both my arms.
‘Stop shooting!’
Surena gave the order to desist shooting as one by one the Amazons lowered their bows and finally Gallia also halted her efforts. I returned to her side and looked at her half-empty quiver.
‘You might need the rest of them.’
‘At least Crassus would have had to duck his head,’ she sniffed.
Those Romans who had been wading through the marsh had now all ascended the hill, after which those with locked shields in front of us began to inch to their right to follow them, all the time retaining their testudo formation. We sat on our horses and watched them go. There was no point in wasting any more arrows. We might kill a few and injure more but our prize had alluded us and with it the chance of outright victory.
It took at least half an hour for the huge testudo to traverse the slope and join the Romans who had been under Crassus’ command. While they did so I discussed our next move with Surena.
‘We should demand the surrender of Carrhae,’ I said, ‘and after that the other towns occupied by the Romans in this region — Nicephorium, Ichnae and Zenodotium. When the Romans return next year they will find that their defences and garrisons will have been greatly strengthened.’
‘And Syria?’
I looked at him. ‘What of Syria?’
‘We are close to the border, lord, and could raid the Roman province with ease.’
I thought of the strong and high walls of Antioch. ‘We will not be able to storm Antioch or any other town or city. That being the case, the most we could achieve would be to ravage the countryside.’
‘At least that would give the Romans a taste of what they have inflicted on others,’ said Gallia.
I doubted whether we would kill any Romans using such tactics. More likely the only people that would be affected would be poor Syrians trying to make a living.
‘I will consider it,’ I replied.
‘Why aren’t they moving?’ asked Vagises, looking up at the enemy on the hillside.
I looked at the Romans who had formed into a long line of centuries arrayed several ranks deep facing our left flank in the plain below. But Vagises was right: they were standing immobile on the hillside around six hundred paces from us.
‘Perhaps they intend to attack,’ suggested Surena.
In the next few minutes we hurriedly redeployed and swung our line through ninety degrees to face the Roman line, our horse archers manoeuvring their companies into line order to match the extent of the enemy’s frontage. There certainly seemed to be a high level of activity among the Roman ranks, with officers and centurions running around between the centuries and then towards the rear where the white-attired lictors stood out against the green background.
‘I’ll warrant you wished you hadn’t wasted those arrows now,’ I grinned at Gallia, who scowled back at me.
We stood ready to face the Roman onslaught but as the minutes passed the more I realised that such a manoeuvre would at best be ill advised and at worst suicidal. To launch an attack down a steep hill would result in units becoming disorganised and they would have to redress their lines at the bottom, prior to a charge. And even if they launched a charge we would simply withdraw before them. And what then? They would not wish to get back into Carrhae having crept out from there under cover of darkness; rather, they would have to retreat back up the hill. It made no sense.
‘They are not going to attack,’ I said, ‘pass the word to stand at ease.’
‘What are they doing, then?’ asked Gallia.
I patted Remus on the neck. ‘I have absolutely no idea.’
‘I will ride up there and demand their surrender,’ announced Surena with a wide grin across his face.
We all laughed at his proposition, but as sun beat down on us and the Romans continued to stand on the hillside his plan sparked an idea in my mind. I turned to the King of Gordyene.
‘Surena, perhaps we might yet secure an advantage from this curious situation. I would ask you to go to the Romans under a flag of truce and request a meeting with Crassus regarding a peace treaty.’
Gallia, who had taken off her helmet, rolled her eyes. ‘Why don’t you send a squire instead, Pacorus, someone far more appropriate for dealing with the Romans than a king?’
‘I don’t mind, lady,’ said Surena, ‘anything rather than sitting here being bored to distraction. What terms do you demand, lord?’
‘The immediate evacuation of all Parthian territories and a cessation of hostilities between Rome and Parthia for five years.’
Gallia burst out laughing. ‘And ask Crassus to come down and clean Pacorus’ armour at the same time, for you have more chance of achieving that than the aforementioned demands.’
I frowned at her to indicate my displeasure but she waved away my annoyance. Vagises grinned at Surena as he pulled his bow from its case and unfastened the bowstring, before riding forward holding the disabled weapon aloft so the Romans could see that he came in peace. He rode up the grassy slope with some difficulty, his horse losing its footing a couple of times. A group of men left the enemy ranks and came down the slope to meet him, centurions judging by the transverse crests on their helmets. I saw Surena pointing back to where we were sitting and then gesturing with his arms, then one of the Romans left them and went back up the slope to pass through the long line of centuries and stop at a group that included the lictors.
Gallia was clearly bored by it all. ‘We should ride back to camp and then return to Hatra. Hopefully Orodes has had better luck than us.’
‘We have still mauled the enemy and prevented them from invading the empire,’ I reminded her, ‘you are too harsh in your judgement.’
‘You have won a victory but not the war,’ was her unrelenting comment.
I gave the order for the horse archers behind us to dismount as midday approached and the sun roasted our backs, swarms of small flies from the marsh adding to our general discomfort as they plagued both horses and men. Eventually Surena returned with news that Crassus would consider my offer and give his answer presently.
‘He and his men will be gone within the hour,’ said an increasingly irritable Gallia.
I was apt to agree with her but then there appeared to be a great commotion on the hillside as we saw figures running around again and apparently arguing with legionaries in their ranks. I had no idea what was happening and neither did anyone else, but then a small group began to slowly descend the slope and head towards us. There were eight of them, seven attired in bronze muscled cuirasses, red-crested helmets, white pteruges around their thighs and shoulders and red cloaks pinned on their right shoulders. They formed a guard around a bald-headed man of medium height wearing a white tunic with purple stripes and a purple cloak — Marcus Licinius Crassus.
I rode forward with seven companions to match the number of Romans: Gallia, now with her helmet back on her head, Zenobia who carried my banner, Surena, Vagises, Malik, Byrd and Surena’s second-in-command, a sour-faced man with a long scar on the side of his neck called Exathres. As we approached the Romans I saw that every one of their officers had their swords sheathed, a good omen.