‘But once that happens,’ I said, ‘then you are like a statue, and my horse can assault you on every side and nibble away at you.’
Spartacus slapped Akmon on the shoulder. ‘Can’t imagine any horse wanting to nibble Akmon.’
Domitus laughed. ‘They ‘re fine horsemen, I’ll say that for you. Are all Parthian soldiers horsemen?’
‘Mostly, yes,’ I replied. ‘At Hatra we have a garrison that defends the city. They are foot soldiers. But aside from them my father’s army consists of horse archers and cataphracts.’
‘What’s a cataphract?’ asked Domitus.
‘A man in armour that covers his arms, legs and body who sits on a horse that is also encased in armour, and who carries a heavy spear that takes two hands to hold.’
‘I would like to see one of those,’ he said.
‘You would be welcome to come back to Hatra with me, Domitus, should you so desire.’
He seemed delighted. ‘Truly?’
‘Of course. Parthia has need of good soldiers.’
Spartacus finished the apple he was eating and threw away the core. ‘Are we all welcome in your father’s kingdom, Pacorus?’
‘You, especially, lord,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘He might not take kindly to a band of former slaves invading his lands.’
‘He would welcome all those who fight the Romans, and especially one who saved his son’s life.’
‘Well, Akmon,’ he said, ‘looks like we are going to Hatra.’
‘If we don’t get killed first,’ he sniffed.
‘Death is a constant companion of the soldier,’ I said casually.
‘And the gladiator,’ added Spartacus. ‘Would you have liked to been a gladiator, Pacorus?’
I was aware that both he and Akmon were veterans of the arena and was careful in my answer.
‘I do not think so, lord.’
‘Why not?
‘Because I have no appetite for killing for sport.’
‘Ah, I see, so you do not regard war as sport?’
‘Of course not, lord.’
‘Then what is it?’
I thought for a moment. ‘The highest expression of honour,’ I answered.
Spartacus and Akmon burst into laughter.
‘I’ve never heard it called that before,’ said Spartacus. ‘So you wouldn’t kill just for the sake of it.’
‘No, lord.’
‘But what about that merchant in Thurii whose throat you slit, wasn’t that killing for sport?’
I was indignant. ‘Of course not. He broke his word and tried to have me killed. He did get some of my men killed. He deserved no mercy. I gave him my word, but he broke his.’
Spartacus continued with his questioning, clearly enjoying himself. ‘But you were just a slave to him, and lying to a slave is nothing to a Roman.’
‘I am not a slave,’ I insisted.
‘No, you are far worse,’ chipped in Akmon. ‘You are a runaway slave.’
‘I am not a slave,’ I said again.
‘You are to the Romans,’ said Spartacus.
‘They have no honour,’ I said, ‘no offence, Domitus.’
‘But they do have half the world,’ retorted Spartacus. ‘You see, Domitus, that once you are born into royalty you have a view of the world that is unique from that of all others.’
‘It has nothing to do with that,’ I snapped.
‘It has everything to do with that,’ insisted Spartacus. ‘You fight for honour and glory, Pacorus, which is a dangerous game.’ He slapped Akmon on the shoulder. ‘Akmon and I fight to stay alive, nothing more. Same here, same as in the arena.’
‘But today you fight to avenge treachery,’ I remarked.
‘Not so,’ he shot back. ‘We are going to kill Gauls because they are our enemy. You of all people should be able to relate to that. They did, after all, kidnap Gallia.’
‘But we defeated the Gauls in battle.’
‘True,’ said Spartacus, ‘but their commander is still alive and while that is so we are under threat of attack. Besides, fire and sword is a useful method of intimidating the enemy. We can’t all fight just to please the gods, Pacorus, some of us must bear in the mind the practicalities.’
We tramped through woodland teaming with life. I saw boar, wildcats, deer and heard the tap-tap-tap of a woodpecker, which ceased abruptly as we neared him. Above us, through the trees, I saw sparrow hawks, falcons, redshanks and ducks. White butterflies with grey spots on their wings fluttered around us, and at one time a huge brown bear lumbered out of the undergrowth and stared at us with its small black eyes set in a massive head. Then he grunted and disappeared back into the bushes. The sun-dappled forest was a beautiful place, so different from the sun-bleached land of Hatra, and I could understand why a people would want to live within it.
After three hours at a steady pace, two horses galloped up to the head of the column. It was a dust-covered Byrd and one of his scouts, a man with a sallow complexion and sunken cheeks who looked as thin and haggard as the horse he rode. Byrd looked concerned.
‘Gauls coming this way.’
‘How many?’ asked Spartacus.
Byrd shrugged as he looked at the soldiers behind us. ‘More than you.’
‘How far away?’ said Akmon.
‘Mile and a half, maybe less,’ he replied. ‘You turn around and go back?’
‘No, Byrd, we advance to meet them,’ said Spartacus, determinedly.
Byrd exhaled loudly. ‘Best place is here. Track narrows further on, no room to spread out.’
I looked around. Though there was around fifty yards or so of clear ground either side of the track until the trees began, it was hardly the best place to fight.
‘They could flank us by moving through the trees, lord,’ I remarked. ‘And they know this country better then we do.’
Spartacus stared at the track ahead, which narrowed considerably three or four hundred yards from where we had halted. Akmon was scraping the earth with his foot while Domitus had drawn his sword and was examining the blade. Spartacus turned to me.
‘Pacorus, I want you and your archers to run ahead and find a good place to hide. Spring an ambush and then get back here as fast as you can. If we annoy them enough they might forget about flanking us and come straight at us in a rage, like most Gauls like to fight.’
‘Yes, lord.’
I went to where my archers had been marching as Domitus began getting his two cohorts into line to span the clearing. Gafarn stood at the head of the column.
‘Gather round,’ I shouted.
The men shuffled into a semi-circle around me. They were a mixture of Parthians, Dacians, Thracians and Spaniards, all of them excellent archers.
‘We are going to run ahead and ambush a war band of Gauls that is heading towards us. The plan is that we hide, we shoot as many as we can, and then we get back here as fast as our legs will carry us. No heroics, just make your arrows count.’
Five minutes later, sweating and out of breath, we melted into the oak trees either side of the track, fifty archers on one side and the other fifty on the other. We had barely concealed ourselves when I heard the crump of feet upon the ground and peered round the thick trunk I was using as cover, to see a mass of Gauls marching towards us. I was nearest to them, with my men spread among the trees behind me. I glanced across to Gafarn who was behind a tree and stringing an arrow in his bowstring. He nodded at me, his face calm and hard. I glanced back at the Gauls, a dense but disorganised column of men with long moustaches and hair drawn into points. Some wore helmets and carried brightly coloured shields, none had armour save one or two who were mounted. They were about five hundred feet away, moving slowly, shields by their sides and spears resting on their shoulders.
I shot from slightly behind and to the side of the oak tree, aiming at a bare-chested Gaul who carried an axe in his right hand and wore red, baggy trousers. There was no wind and the distance was around three hundred feet; it was an easy shot. The arrow hit his belly and he slumped forward onto the ground. Seconds later several dozen arrows began to hiss through the air, each archer waiting until he had a clear shot. The Gauls were not marching in ranks; those at the front of the column, six or seven men, were all felled by arrows, then those immediately behind them were likewise hit, and another ten or twelve were struck before the enemy halted. For a few seconds they were stunned, like a man who has taken a heavy blow on the head. I shot another four arrows before they rallied, a burly warrior with a spear and shield, his face a mass of swirling blue tattoos, pushing through the mound of dead and wounded in front of him and charging forward with his spear levelled. He screamed as he ran towards us, and in an instant hundreds of warriors were racing down the track.