It was a three-hour ride from the camp to the capital, a journey across empty steppe land, past fast-flowing streams and through steep-sided valleys covered in trees. Eventually we reached Vanadzor itself, nestled in a narrow valley and straddling the river of the same name. Atrax had told me that the city had originally been a small settlement on the west bank of the river, no more than a collection of wooden huts protected by a stake fence, but in time the wood had been replaced by stone as trade with Armenia and its southern neighbours had brought a degree of prosperity to the kingdom. That had been over a hundred years ago. Now the city looked sad and forlorn, with crumbling walls and no King Balas to sit in its palace. After his defeat and death the Romans had just walked into the city and occupied it without a fight.
On the plain there were some travellers on the wide track that followed the course of the river north to the city gates, two hauling a small cart loaded with animal pelts, another bowed down with a large sack on his back. Two squat towers flanked the gates. We halted to take stock under some trees by the side of the track where the valley narrowed, around a mile from the city itself. The air was damp and the sky grey, with the tops of the hills wreathed in mist. Balas’ old capital looked a miserable place indeed.
We followed the track that hugged the eastern riverbank and then crossed a wooden bridge over the river itself. The waterway was not wide at this point, around forty feet or so, but the water was dark and fast flowing. Then we headed towards the city’s main entrance, once again following the course of the river. The gates were open, though aside from two guards standing sentry I saw no other signs of life. Then I spotted two helmets on the walls either side of the gates, then more as legionaries came out of the towers to peer at the three mystery horsemen approaching. We trotted on until we were around three hundred paces from the gates, the walls above now crowded with around a score of Roman soldiers all staring at us. I nudged Remus forward a few paces and then stopped. I spread out my arms.
‘Romans,’ I shouted at the top of my voice. ‘My name is Pacorus, King of Dura, and I order you to leave the city you now occupy and return to Italy.’
Nothing happened, aside from a few legionaries looking at each other in bewilderment. The two sentries turned to face us and instinctively lifted their shields to protect their left sides. I drummed my fingers on my saddle. After a few moments a burly centurion appeared at the gates, instantly recognisable by the transverse crest on his helmet, and began to stride towards us. The sentries followed him.
‘Surena,’ I said. ‘Do you think you can drop the big fellow in front with the fancy crest?’
He gave no answer, but seconds later I heard a twang and saw the arrow fly through the air, to hit the centurion in the centre of his chest. He immediately doubled over and fell to the ground. I pulled my bow from its case, strung an arrow and released the bowstring. One of the sentries had dropped his javelin and was bending down, trying to assist the centurion. My arrow went into his shoulder and he crumpled onto the ground. Surena shot another arrow that hit the remaining sentry in the thigh, who screamed and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his wound. I rode forward and shot three more arrows at the men standing on the walls, my arrows clattering off the stone, then I heard a great clamour as they raised the alarm. More Roman soldiers ran from the city and formed a line of locked shields in front of us, those behind using their shields to form a roof as protection against falling arrows.
I turned in the saddle. ‘Vagharsh, time for you to leave.’
He nodded and then wheeled away, galloping back towards the bridge, my griffin banner fluttering beside him. Surena came to my side.
‘Should not we be leaving, too?’
‘Not yet. It’s time to see if you have been keeping up with your training rather than pestering young Viper.’
He was indignant. ‘I wasn’t pestering her. She likes me.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘I was wondering if you could put in a word for me.’
I transferred my eyes from the Roman testudo to Surena. ‘What?’
‘She is in the queen’s bodyguard.’
‘What of it?’
‘Well, you must know her personally.’
I shook my head. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, Surena, but I do not know every person who is in Dura’s army. Even if I did know her, it is not my task in life to provide you with young girls.’
I heard a blast of horns and seconds later horsemen thundered out from the city, a column of Roman spearmen in two files heading straight for us.
We turned tail and galloped back towards the bridge with the Romans hard on our heels, then raced across the aged wooden beams onto the eastern side of the river. Moments later the enemy thundered across the bridge and then swung right to catch us. I leaned forward and urged Remus on, Surena beside me. There was no bravado on his face now as he continually glanced behind him at the enemy horsemen straining every fibre to catch us. We galloped along the track, the edge of the forest a green blur as we made our escape. There were trees on either side of us as we followed the course of the river south through the valley. The Romans were still chasing us as we rounded a bend in the track and came to a fork in the road, taking the track that veered to the left that led away from the river. We headed into the forest, the Romans at the head of their column screaming at us to halt. Then I heard another sound, a series of whooshing noises followed by screams and the shrieks of wounded and rearing horses. I slowed Remus and looked behind, to see a heap of riders and their horses on the track. My men had positioned themselves at the edge of the tree line, giving them an uninterrupted field of fire. They loosed their arrows as soon as the Romans came within range, pouring a devastating volley at the head of the column. There was no need to shoot at the middle or rear of the group — disable the head and the body will crumble. As arrows hit the first files, horses lost their footing and fell to the ground and those following collided into them. Those further back tried to veer left and right or halt, but their momentum was such that though their horses came to a sudden stop the riders were catapulted forward from their saddles. The rear of the column managed to slow their horses and avoid the mounds of men and horses to their front, but as they slowed they came under a withering arrow fire from my men in the trees. Arrow after arrow came from the forest, each one finding a fleshy target. Some of the Romans tried to turn and flee, but my men lined the track for half a mile and there was no escape. And then, where there had been shrieks, squeals and shouts, the only sounds were the low moans of the wounded.
Riderless horses scattered as my men walked their mounts out of the trees. Romans that had been thrown from their horses staggered to the feet, dazed and confused, only to be felled by one or more arrows. Some raised their arms and endeavoured to give themselves up but there was no pity shown to the enemy this day. When all had been dropped, I pointed at Surena.
‘Make yourself useful.’
He nodded, jumped from his horse and went among the enemy. Others of my men did the same, all the time covered by the bows of their comrades. Slitting the throats of a disabled adversary is not a pleasant business, but wounded men can recover to fight another day. A handful of Romans had feigned death, hoping that they would go unnoticed. But not today. While this necessary measure was being carried out Orodes and Atrax rode over to me.