“Lord Prince,” Zenobia said, deftly bringing the stallion to a halt. Small rocks thrown by the horse’s hooves skittered into the tent. “Are you and your men prepared for battle?”
Aretas looked up from the scroll he was studying, his face bland and his kohl-rimmed eyes languid. He was freshly shaven, and his beard was now only a sketch of dark hair along his lip and cheekbones. A trapezoid had been painted in a dark-red ink on his forehead.
“Of course,” he said in a polite voice. “I am prepared, as are my assistants.” A hand wrapped in a glove of fine steel links over soft leather indicated the hooded men. “My tagma are riding into positions even now. The infantry ar-ithtnoi are soon to follow. Is there ought else you require of me today?”
Zenobia frowned but controlled her temper. “Can you repel the efforts of the Persian magil Can you master them and their powers?”
Aretas smiled, a wintry thing that touched only his lips and. did not crawl up to his eyes, which were cold and dispassionate. He opened his right hand, the fingers uncurling like a claw. A dark light spilled from between his fingers, rippling with lightning.
“I think that I will do as honor demands,” he said, and banished the glamour. “Rome will prevail this day, I think. The Persians did not expect us to field such strength of men.”
A dangerous glitter entered Zenobia’s eyes at the mention of Rome, but she let it pass.
“Then, if all do their duty, we shall have victory this day,” she said, and saluted the Prince. “Tell your dekarchoi to await my signal before they commit to the battle. We must prepare our Persian guests for such a meeting first!”
Aretas inclined his head and stood. Zenobia nodded back and turned her horse and galloped away. From the bluff, as they rode down onto the field, Ahmet could see that the army of the desert cities had managed to reach the plain. The bluff formed the right wing, with Aretas’ cavalry tagma clustered in a dull red mass at its foot. In front of them, a hundred yards down the slope, the Nabatean infantry arithmoi formed a line of blocks of spearmen, archers, and slingers reaching to the west. More cavalry“, these lighter armored, trotted past behind the infantry to take up positions at the far right end of the Nabatean line.
Zenobia and her officers, including a pack of Tanukh, rode along the length of the line. Her Bactrian guards, now kitted out in furs and heavy armor, rode in a block around her, their lances socketed into cups at their right stirrups. At the center, two great blocks of infantry-one of the Pal-myrenes who had joined them at Emesa under the command of Zenobia’s brother Vorodes, and the other formed of the cohorts of the cities of the Decapolis under Akhimos Galerius-were slowly gathering. Zenobia rode past and shouted instructions at Galerius, the commander of the De-capoli arithmoi. He waved back at her and then resumed his argument with the commanders of the various bands of city militia.
Behind the gangs of infantry, clad in shields and carrying spears, was a motley collection of mercenary horsemen- the expatriate Persians in full lamellar mail from head to toe and cone-shaped helmets, the Indian knights in bright tabards and glittering chain mail with long bows that stood up their saddles. Another band of Axumite javelin men ran past, down the road, heading for one of the avenues that had been left between the blocks of infantry. Zenobia took up a position on a rise to the left of the road, fifty or sixty yards from the mercenary horse. Ahmet was pleased beyond measure that they had stopped for a moment, for it gave him an opportunity to relax against the constant fear of being thrown from the horse.
Farther to the left of Vorodes’ infantry, a great block of Palmyrene knights stood at the ready. Clad in half-armor for the riders and felt barding studded with metal plaques for the horses, the assembled nobles of Palmyra, Damascus, and the other cities of the Decapolis anchored the western, or leftmost, end of the line. Beyond them, the Tanukh light horse was a haze of small bands of riders screening the knights and the flank of the army.
Zenobia stood up in her stirrups and stared out over the battlefield. Unobtrusively Ahmet supported her legs, her thighs firm and strong under his hands.
“That is Shahin’s banner, all right, and his usual flock of pretty birds are with him.”
The Persian army had drawn up on the near side of the shallow stream in a shallow crescent. From the greenery along the banks at the eastern end of the plain, it seemed that there was a marshy area along the streambed. The Persian line began on the far right with a wedge of medium cavalry. From where he sat astride the stallion, Ahmet could barely make out a thicket of lances strapped to the backs of the riders, their tips gleaming in the morning sun, and dull armor. The horses seemed unarmored, and the men were holding bows at the ready, resting on their pommels.
Next, the center of the Persian line was composed of four blocks of infantry-first a rank of spearmen with wicker and leather shields, then archers, then more spearmen. Though the bands of men were not as precisely ordered as a Roman army, there were sharply defined breaks between each block. Behind the infantry, almost at the ford where the road crossed the stream over a broad wooden bridge, there was a great green tent, and before it, mounted on a shining white horse, was the small figure of the enemy commander. His armor reflected the sun with a golden glow and around him his companions were brightly attired in silks and jewels. Behind him, a great standard with a white wheel on it had been hung from a tall pole. Two parasols shaded the enemy commander, each of green silk.
“They seem better suited for a hunting party and picnic than battle,” Ahmet mused.
Zenobia snorted. “At Nisibis, when the Boar smashed the army of the Eastern Empire and opened the road to Anti-och, Shahin had command of the right wing-it is said that he and his cronies spent the day in a pleasant feast while ten thousand men died on the field of battle. He is the King of King’s cousin, and well beloved of Chrosoes, but he is a poor leader of men. While he holds command, we will win the day.”
To the left of the Persian spearmen, there were two large wedges of heavy cavalry-and these men, Ahmet could see, were clad in mail from head to toe, as were many of their horses. Many banners danced in the air above the Persian horse. Finally, a hundred yards in front of the Persian army, many lightly armed archers in kilts and metal caps were deployed in a long line. The black men, the Blem-menye who served Zenobia, had also advanced before the line of the Palmyrene army, and now the air between the two hosts was briefly marked by the sparkle of arrows in flight. A few men fell, but Ahmet could see no great purpose in their action.
“Odd…” Zenobia whistled and one of the Tanukh couriers pushed his horse through the throng of Bactrians deployed around the Queen. He grinned saucily when he pulled his horse alongside Zenobia’s.
“Gadimathos, I see no light horsemen to screen the Persian line from our archers. Where are they?”
The Tanukh shrugged easily, his lean brown face wrinkled in a smile. “The Lakhmids are afraid to face the true men, the Tanukh. They refuse to fight.”
Zenobia shook her head in dismay. ‘.’Go to ibn’Adi and Al’Quraysh and tell them to watch for the Lakhmids. They must be somewhere about-send out scouts to cover the flanks. They may be trying to ride around our line.“
The Queen reached back and squeezed Ahmet’s leg as the command troop cantered forward. “Worry not, priest, soon the battle will begin in earnest and you’ll forget your fear of riding!”
Ahmet held her a little tighter and she laughed, her voice gay. They turned and rode back along the length of the Palmyrene line at a slower pace.
“Why is the absence of these Lakhmids a cause for concern?” Ahmet was confused.
Zenobia frowned again and pointed back to the west, where the Persian knights were lined up. “Without their own horse-archers to protect their heavy cavalrymen, our Tanukh will spend the day shooting at them with arrows. The heavy horse cannot catch these desert raiders, so they’ll do nothing but bleed! I had heard that Shahin had employed a tribe of the Lakhmids to provide him with light horse for scouting and such work in battle. Another mistake. If they are not here, that will cost him dearly.”