We walked our horses forward in a line as the Romans adopted a similar formation, Crassus directly opposite me. At a distance of twenty paces from each other the two groups halted as if by mutual consent and stared at each other. Epona flicked her tail, Remus chomped on his bit while Surena swatted away a fly that was pestering him.
I raised my right hand. ‘Greetings Marcus Licinius Crassus, Governor of Syria and consul of Rome.’
Crassus showed me a faint smile, though he looked very tired and slightly nervous. He raised his right hand in return.
‘Greetings King Pacorus, son of Varaz of Hatra, Lord High General of the Parthian Empire.’
‘It is with regret that we meet under such circumstances,’ I said, ‘but I hope that we may yet depart as friends.’
‘Friends do not make war on each other,’ retorted Crassus.
‘Or invade each other’s territories,’ snapped Gallia.
The high-ranking Roman officers looked angrily at the helmeted figure wearing a mail shirt beside me but Crassus nodded knowingly.
‘I do not think that we have been introduced,’ he said to Gallia. ‘You know my identity and I suspect I know yours, but perhaps we may be formally acquainted.’
Gallia snorted in contempt but fortunately her cheekguards masked her disdain, but then she slowly removed her helmet to reveal her face.
‘I am Gallia, Queen of Dura,’ she announced, fixing Crassus with steely blue eyes.
Crassus pointed up at me. ‘Twenty years ago your husband came to my house in Rome and during our conversations he talked of your beauty, and even though it was two decades ago I can see why he was so eager to talk of your splendour.’
Gallia was unmoved by his flattery. ‘Ten years ago your dog, Lucius Furius, came to my city and tried to take it. Just like you his army was defeated and he himself was killed.’
The other Romans with Crassus bristled at her words but Crassus raised his hand to quieten them. I frowned at Gallia but she was unapologetic and continued to taunt Crassus.
‘Have you come to beg for your life, governor?’
Crassus did not rise to the bait but I could see that his officers were livid at the effrontery being shown to their commander.
‘I have come here because your husband requested a parley. But perhaps you would rather shoot me down with your bow, warrior queen of Dura?’
Gallia reached behind and pulled her bow from its case, prompting the Roman officers to draw their swords and close around Crassus.
‘You think I would not, Roman?’ hissed Gallia.
Crassus gently pushed his officers away and clasped his hands in front of him. ‘Your reputation as a slayer is know throughout the whole world, lady.’ He spread his arms wide. ‘If you wish to kill me then here I am. A famed archer such as yourself will have no difficulty hitting me from such a close range.’
‘There will be no violence!’ I said firmly. ‘We are not here to fight but to determine once and for all the border between the empires of Parthia and Rome.’
Gallia sneered at Crassus and replaced her bow in its case. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Zenobia pass my standard to Byrd who sat next to her but thought nothing of it.
‘Do you hold the authority to determine such a thing?’ asked Crassus mischievously.
‘I am lord high general of the Parthian Empire,’ I replied, ‘entrusted by King of Kings Orodes to negotiate with the enemies of the empire.’
Crassus looked around. ‘And where is King Orodes?’
‘Chasing what remains of the Armenian Army back north,’ remarked Surena, his subordinate stifling a laugh.
‘And you are?’ snapped Crassus, cracks appearing in his composure.
‘Surena, King of Gordyene,’ announced Exathres, ‘the scourge of Armenia.’
Crassus’ eyes narrowed as he studied Surena.
‘Artavasdes is not his father,’ I said, ‘his brother was defeated and killed before the walls of Hatra and now High King Orodes campaigns in Armenian territory. Your ally has been emasculated, governor.’
Whether he had heard of the crushing Armenian defeat I did not know, but even if he had not and did not believe me he knew that his own army had been destroyed and also that Artavasdes was unable to offer him any immediate aid.
‘Your slave state has been crushed,’ gloated Gallia.
‘And now you seek to make me a slave, is that it?’ said Crassus with irritation. ‘Is that why you insist I stand on my feet while you all sit on horses?’
He was right: it was an insult for us to be in our saddles and speak down to him. He was, notwithstanding his defeat, still the governor of Syria.
‘Vagises,’ I said, ‘please let the governor sit on your horse.’
An unhappy Vagises slowly dismounted and then led his horse towards Crassus. His path was blocked by one of the governor’s subordinates, who pushed him aside roughly and tried to grab his horse’s reins. Vagises, his right hand tangled in the leather straps, pushed the man away with his other arm as his horse began to panic and back away. But the Roman, like the other officers, was still holding his sword and without thinking lunged forward and drove the blade through Vagises’ back. Or perhaps he was thinking and had had enough of being taunted by enemies on horseback, one of whom was a woman.
I cried out in anguish as blood came from Vagises’ mouth, he fell to his knees and then pitched forward to lie face-down on the ground. I heard a hiss by my right ear and saw Gallia’s arrow go through the bronze cuirass of Vagises’ killer and then saw Zenobia kill another Roman. Crassus turned-tail and began running back up the slope as Malik’s horse bolted forward and he sliced open a Roman helmet with his sword. Zenobia dropped another Roman with an arrow in his thigh, the man yelping in pain before he was silenced forever by Surena’s sword. Byrd’s horse reared up on its hind legs and threw him to the ground with a loud crack.
Zenobia put an arrow in another Roman as a second ran at me and tried to ram the point of his gladius under my cuirass and into my belly, but I drew my spatha and whipped it down hard onto his forearm, the blow shattering the bone and reducing the limb to a useless bloody pulp. He uttered a high-pitched scream and then rolled around on the ground in pain before Malik jumped down from his horse and silenced him. The last Roman officer was killed by Surena and Exathres, who manoeuvred their horses either side of him and then rained down blows on his head and shoulders, inflicting terrible wounds on his neck and face, notwithstanding that he was wearing a helmet. They laughed as they toyed with him, alternating sword blows to stab and slash him. His gladius was knocked from his hand when a downward strike by Exathres sliced open his knuckles, then Surena used all his strength to deliver a sideways sword strike against the side of the Roman’s helmet, which knocked him to the ground. Half unconscious, he tried to crawl away but Exathres jumped from his saddle, kicked the man hard in his side and then stamped on his back. The Roman made no movement as Exathres stood over him, grasped his sword with both hands and held the point against the rear of his neck, before thrusting the blade down.
I heard another twang and saw the figure of Crassus stagger a few feet as Gallia’s arrow hit him in the back. He had managed to run around a hundred paces before he was hit but he got no further. On the hillside above the Roman soldiers stood impassively in their ranks and made no attempt to save their general. How low their morale must have been.
‘Go, bring me the head and right hand.’
I turned to see Exathres regain his saddle and then gallop forward to where Crassus was crawling forward on the ground. Surena’s lieutenant jumped from his saddle, pulled out his dagger and slit Crassus’ throat, then proceeded to hack off his head with his sword, and all the while the legionaries above stood as witnesses to the violation of their commander’s body. I had no stomach for this. I turned and waved a group of Dura’s horse archers forward.