Domitus formed his men into four huge columns, two of Durans and two of Exiles, each one ten men across, and then directed them into the city via the breaches in the wall. I dismounted, acquired a shield and joined one of them with Domitus standing beside me in the front rank. News of the death of Drenis had spread through the army to produce a mood of grim determination among the men.
As soon as the ballistae had stopped shooting the columns advanced across no-man’s land, the men in the first five ranks with their swords drawn and those following clutching fresh javelins brought from camp. The columns had been issued with torches but the flames in and around the breaches made by the fireballs cast the corpse-filled ground in a red glow and allowed us to pick our way through the bodies. When we reached the walls our eyes beheld fresh horrors and our nostrils filled with the nauseating aroma of roasting flesh as we stepped over dead Thracians.
We moved into the city, past charred and disfigured bodies, to find that the enemy had fled. Seleucia is divided into two halves: north of the main street that runs from west to east is where the palace, temple district and government officers are located; to the south is where the crowded dwellings of the citizens are sited. After a quick assembly of senior officers half the Durans secured the area around the gatehouse while the rest undertook a sweep of the population’s homes to search for enemy soldiers. The Exiles pushed on towards the palace that overlooked the Tigris and the harbour area at the river.
The stone bridge across the river was secured easily enough, Domitus deploying men on both sides of the structure to ensure no one escaped the city. Ctesiphon was within striking distance but I decided to wait until Seleucia had been thoroughly searched before we captured the court of the king of kings and its treasury. I stood with Domitus on the western side of the bridge staring at the black waters below.
‘Mithridates is not here,’ he said. ‘He probably ran away as soon as the fighting started.’
He looked across the river.
‘He won’t be at Ctesiphon either.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said, ‘we will organise a pursuit in the morning.’
But I was troubled by the thought that we would not be able to follow Mithridates, especially if Tigranes launched an assault against Hatra. If that happened I would have to take the army back north and Mithridates would be free to create mischief in the eastern half of the empire once more.
At that moment a legionary, a member of the Exiles, arrived with news that Kronos’ men were being shot at from the palace. I slapped Domitus on the arm.
‘Or perhaps Mithridates is trapped in the palace.’
Though I had been in the saddle since the early morning and had fought a battle during the day, any tiredness left me instantly at the prospect of cornering Mithridates. The messenger escorted us to where the Exiles were taking up positions around the palace prior to an assault.
Seleucia’s palace was built in the Greek style reflecting its heritage. A large, square building, it was enclosed within a strong circuit wall that had square towers at regular intervals along its length. These towers had tiled roofs and square windows fronted by wooden shutters, from which archers, slingers and spearmen could launch missiles at an attacker. The large and impressive gatehouse on the south side of the wall also had wooden shutters on each of its two storeys above the huge twin gates to rain down missiles upon a foe.
Though Ctesiphon was thought of as the greatest palace complex in the empire, Seleucia’s royal residence was also an impressive structure. Its east wing housed the vaulted throne room, the south wing the royal suites whose floors were decorated with rich floor mosaics and columned courtyards. The banqueting hall was located in the west wing, while in the north wing there was a high, open veranda that gave spectacular views of the Tigris to the north of the city. Around the palace were granaries, barracks, stables, armouries and storerooms.
We found Kronos three hundred paces from the gatehouse giving directions to his senior officers. His men were deployed in their centuries all around the wall beyond the range of enemy missiles. They carried no torches now so as to deny the foe any aiming points but they were still visible in their white tunics and carrying white shields sporting griffin wings. Kronos dismissed his officers before we reached him.
I looked at the walls that appeared empty of any soldiers. In fact I could see no torches on the walls and no lights beyond them.
Domitus read my thoughts.
‘Looks deserted.’
‘It is not,’ replied Kronos. ‘I sent a couple of centuries forward to the gates but they were shot at before they got near them. The enemy are behind those shutters.’
‘Did you lose any men?’ I asked.
Kronos shook his head ‘They were in testudo formation. One man broke an ankle when they fell back. I have sent for the ram to smash those gates open.’
In addition to the ballistae that Dura’s army had gained when I had defeated a Roman army before the walls of my city, at the same time it had also captured a battering ram. This ram comprised a large tree trunk that hung from chains fixed to the top of a sturdy arched frame. Over this frame were fitted wooden boards, protected by hide, clay and finally iron plates. The thick roof was designed to defeat enemy missiles and the clay was a fireproof barrier. The ram was mounted on four large wooden wheels to allow it to be pushed forwards and backwards. On the end of the tree trunk was a massive iron head cast in the shape of a snarling ram that the troops had nicknamed ‘Pacorus’.
Men standing either side of the log operated the ram, which had leather straps fixed to it that allowed them to pull it back and then hurl it forward to smash the iron head against the target.
After their experience at the walls, what was left of the enemy was clearly weary of our machines and so had hidden themselves in the gatehouse and in the towers. It was suddenly eerily quiet as we waited for Marcus and his ram.
‘Do you think Mithridates is in there?’ asked Kronos, tilting his head towards the palace.
‘I hope so,’ I replied, though I did not think so. In addition to being a murdering wretch the stepbrother of Orodes was also a coward and my gut told me that he was long gone.
I heard a crack and felt a slight breeze on my face, which was then showered with liquid. I heard a groan and saw with horror that an arrow was stuck in Kronos’ neck. He collapsed to the ground.
‘Shields, shields!’ screamed Domitus as he grabbed Kronos’ right arm and began to haul him away from the walls. I took his other arm and we pulled him across the ground as a century of men rushed forward and formed a wall of shields around us.
Blood was spurting from the arrow wound as Kronos looked up at me and tried to smile.
‘Don’t talk, keep still,’ I told him.
A medical orderly knelt beside him, took a bandage from his bag and applied it to the wound in an effort to staunch the flow of blood, but the arrow had penetrated too deeply into his neck and Kronos was dead within seconds. The fountain of blood subsided as life left the commander of the Exiles and I stared in disbelief at my dead comrade. This was the man who had marched all the way from Pontus when that kingdom had fallen to the Romans; who had helped me raise a legion of his exiled countrymen and forged them into an élite fighting formation. He had fought beside me at Dura, the Tigris, Babylon, Makhmur and Susa and had not suffered a scratch. And now a single archer had killed him.
Domitus commanded the orderly to remove the arrow from the wound and then had the body covered with a white cloak and taken to the rear where it would be cremated alongside Drenis when the fighting was over. They would burn with Mardonius, whose body I had ordered to be removed from the walls. My hatred for Mithridates burned with a white-hot intensity for what he had been responsible for at this place. I vowed to hunt him down even if it meant going to the end of the world to find him.