But that was still a long way off and first he had to help implement Tryphaena’s plan; the initial stage had been accomplished: he had a Parthian army on Armenian soil. Now the second phase was coming to fruition because, as Tryphaena had promised he would, the usurper had come to fight alongside Rome.
Radamistus had brought his army to Tigranocerta.
CHAPTER X
The speed with which Vespasian led Cotta’s II Cappadocia Auxiliary Cohort out of the north gate, had it form up in two ranks, each of five centuries, and then advance towards the siege lines unnerved the conscripts manning them as he hoped it would. Once the centurions’ bellowed commands had died away the eight hundred men marched in silence, their uniform footsteps more threatening than any battle cry, their inexorable progress across the field more ominous than any charge, and their precision drill as their shields came up and their right arms went back in preparation to release their javelins more crushing to the conscripts’ morale than the impact of the volley itself. Before the first sleek point hissed into the Parthian lines the human cattle had stampeded despite the summary slaughter of many of their number by their pitiless officers who soon became overwhelmed by the herd’s terror. They surged north, through the artillery, sweeping away the crews and on towards the Tigris, towards the bridge.
But the bridge was wide enough for only eight men at a time.
Barely pausing to jab the tips of their swords into the throats of those trampled in the panic, the men of the II Cappadocia Auxiliary Cohort crossed the siege lines in good order and drove the conscripts on to the river as behind them the other four cohorts began to march in column out of the north gate. The Romans were abandoning Tigranocerta, leaving it aflame and the citizens defenceless.
The arithmetic of getting more than three thousand terrified men across a bridge just eight paces wide did not work in the conscripts’ favour and many suffocated in the crush. Many more drowned in the deep waters of the Tigris into which they threw themselves in desperation, praying that Apam Napat, the fire god of fresh water, would save them. But the god’s eyes were elsewhere, focused on the Naphtha-stoked fires raging in the city; hundreds were swept away and hundreds were trampled underfoot. Yet hundreds more were shot down on the north bank by the Iberian and Armenian horse and foot archers of Radamistus’ army as they traversed the bridge on the River Kentrites, the remainder of the army, its heavy cavalry, conscript infantry and baggage, following slowly behind.
‘Have your lads cross the bridge and form up on the other side, Cotta,’ Vespasian ordered the auxiliary prefect, ‘and hold it while the other cohorts cross.’
‘Cross?’
‘Yes, prefect, cross; we’re going north and leaving Tigranocerta to the Parthians.’
‘But-’
‘But nothing, Cotta; just hold the bridge so that we can link up with Radamistus.’
Cotta snapped a puzzled salute as Vespasian turned back to see, glinting in the strengthening sun, a wall of iron and bronze appear from around the eastern wall of Tigranocerta; the Parthian cataphracts had come to do battle with the enemy rather than with their own. To the rear of the metallic wall massed the supporting horse archers. At the head of the advance was a rider more sumptuously apparelled than the rest; Vespasian knew that to survive this day he had to talk with him and keep him talking for a while, because if that cavalry charged his auxiliaries, their weight could well sweep them from the field.
Walking fast against the tide of centuries streaming out of the city Vespasian quickly found Mannius at the head of his cohort shielding the evacuation, facing to the east. ‘Have your centurions deploy your men in deep formation facing the heavy cavalry, prefect; and then join me in front of them. Get Fregallanus to join us as well.’ As the centuries manoeuvred into a line eight deep and took up position side by side across the complete width of the field from the gate to the newly abandoned siege lines, Vespasian picked up a dead branch and stood alone in front of them waiting for the advancing Parthian cataphracts with Babak at their head.
Mannius and Fregallanus soon joined him as he watched the slow advance of the heavily armoured cavalry, conserving their energy in order to be able to accelerate to a trot. Behind him Mannius’ cohort had finished forming up and waited in silence. Fregallanus’ cohort faced to the west creating a path between the two units along which the rest of their comrades doubled out of the city, followed by the baggage. They crossed the bridge with all possible haste to the northern bank of the Tigris to the accompanying bellows of centurions who had one eye on the iron-clad menace advancing from the east.
‘Where’s Paelignus?’ Vespasian asked, without taking his eyes from the wall of metal and horse-flesh.
Fregallanus also kept his gaze on the advancing threat. ‘I haven’t seen him since the assault ended. He was by the north gate screaming at his slaves to get the wagon holding all his plunder harnessed up; it looked like he was going to try and buy his way out.’
Vespasian laughed and raised the branch of truce in the air. ‘I would have loved to have seen him try. Well, he’s out now but I don’t suppose he’ll be joining us in negotiating our safe passage; someone like him has no idea of when honour has been satisfied.’ He put all thought of the cowardly little procurator to the back of his mind as Babak, just fifty paces away, raised his right hand in the air. Trumpets sounded along the Parthian line and five paces later the cataphracts came to a halt in unison.
After a short pause Babak urged his armoured mount forward and halted a kontos-length away from Vespasian; he raised his silver-plated facemask inlaid with a bronze beard, eyebrows and lashes. ‘We are in an interesting situation, I think you’ll agree?’
Vespasian shrugged. ‘We have put up a defence of the city against far greater odds and I now consider that honour has been satisfied. Tigranocerta is yours.’
‘And I should just let you walk away with your troops?’
‘If you massacre the Roman garrison after it has surrendered the city in accordance with the rules of war, then Rome will follow you for vengeance, even into Parthia itself. Whereas if you let us pass, the war between our empires will stay confined to a struggle for the mastery of Armenia and your people will not suffer. That is something that your King will appreciate as would his master, the King of Kings, in Ctesiphon.’
Babak smiled, sweat dripping down his face despite the cool temperature. ‘If I kill you now the war will effectively be over.’
‘Wrong, Babak.’ Vespasian pointed north to the bridge over which auxiliaries were marching double pace; beyond it Cotta’s cohort were formed up in a defensive position. ‘I’ve already got enough of my men across to add substantially to Radamistus’ army. By the time you break through this cohort I’ll have extricated most of them. You can expect no help from the north as Radamistus must have defeated the troops you sent up the river on his way down here.’