‘And I would prefer if you obeyed orders, just this once.’
The others laughed.
‘It is twenty miles through the pass,’ I continued, ‘and another forty to the Roman lines. We leave at midday, rest tonight and then ride south to arrive at the Roman lines at midnight. That is when Spartacus will attack. He cannot break through without our aid; so tell your men to ensure their horses are fed and watered, their bowstrings tight and their quivers full.
Burebista, your dragon will assault the Roman camp that Godarz informs me will be in our path.’
‘That’s right, said Godarz, pointing at the map. ‘If Crassus has eight legions and his lines are about thirty miles in length, then each legionary camp will be two miles apart. We will move down the Popilian Way and ride right past the first camp, whose men will be manning the first two-mile section of the palisade, or thereabouts.’
‘So,’ I interrupted, ‘Burebista, your dragon will detach and deploy to our left flank to cover the camp while the rest of us concentrate on killing as many on the watchtowers and ramparts.’
‘How far back from the defences will be the camp?’ asked Burebista.
‘About half a mile,’ replied Godarz.’
‘But remember, Burebista, you and your men are to keep them penned into the camp, nothing more.’
‘Like shepherds.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And take care to keep out of range of any catapults or archers they may have. Don’t give them any easy victories.’
‘It is our victories that are easy, lord,’ said Burebista, and the rest of my officers growled their approval. A few slapped him on the back. They were such good men.
‘Very well, then,’ I said. ‘Go back to your men and make your preparations. We leave in three hours.’
The Lametus River begins its journey high in the Sila massif before winding its way to the Tyrrhenian Sea. The valley through which we travelled bisected the Sila Mountains and made our task easier. Byrd had sent six of his men out before the main column struck camp, and he himself decided to ride with me as hundreds of horsemen, the cavalry of the army of Spartacus, began their journey to save their general. The air turned cooler as we rode up into the high valley, with thick pine forests either side of us, and higher up snow covered the tops and slopes of the mountains. A hundred yards ahead rode a dozen of Burebista’s spearman, while Gallia was beside me and her Amazons behind us. Gafarn, Godarz and Diana rode with us, while Nergal was commanding the rearguard.
‘No Romani in these parts, lord,’ said Byrd, ‘too cold. My men have seen nothing since we arrived.’
His horse was a shaggy brown mare with broad shoulders and a matted mane, the appearance of which never ceased to irritate Godarz.
‘Your horse needs a good groom,’ he said disdainfully. So could Byrd, but I said nothing.
Byrd shrugged. ‘Horse draws no attention to itself when we are sniffing out Romani. She blend into surroundings.’
‘Parthians like to have their horses immaculate,’ I said.
‘I not Parthian, lord,’ he said.
‘Where are you from, Byrd?’ asked Diana.
‘Cappadocia, lady.’
‘Will you go back there?’
‘No, lady. My country is under Romani rule.’
‘Byrd is coming back to Parthia,’ I said to Diana. ‘Aren’t you, Byrd?’
‘Yes, lord.’
‘You will be a royal scout?’ asked Gallia.
‘No, lady. I sell pots.’
‘Pots?’
‘I no soldier, but can read terrain well enough, and I have a debt to pay the Romani.’
‘What debt?’ Gallia asked.
Byrd did not answer, but instead kicked the sides of his horse and rode forward.
Gallia was perplexed. ‘What did I say?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘His family was killed by the Romans.’
As we climbed higher into the valley we dismounted and led our horses over ground littered with stones and tufts of grass. The uneven ground slowed the carts and Nergal had to allocate men to push and pull them over obstacles, which slowed the rate of advance. The afternoon sun waned as the sky began to fill with grey clouds, and after two hours snowflakes began to appear all around us, settling on our cloaks and horses. A light breeze began, creating swirling clouds of flakes that blew into our eyes. We were no longer climbing, and after a further hour leading our horses through the snowflakes we came to the cold, fast-flowing waters of the Lametus thundering towards the western sea. The flakes were getting larger as we followed the course of the river and began our descent. I looked behind me to see the first few ranks of the Amazons, and after that nothing save white. It was snowing heavily now, and as I led Remus he frequently tossed his head to clear the flakes from his eyes. Gallia was beside me, leading Epona who was now covered in white.
Two hours later we camped among the trees of the lower Lametus valley, putting the carts under the trees and erecting canvas sheets between the branches to make covers for the horses. Once we had ensured that the beasts had been rubbed down, fed and watered, we put up our tents and ate a sparse meal of biscuit and wine.
‘What do you think about the night before a battle?’
Gallia and her women had camped near to me in a clearing in the woods, which was now deathly quiet as darkness and the cold gripped the land. The snow had stopped falling, but enough had descended from the heavens to blanket the whole valley. She sat on the floor in my small tent with her knees drawn up to her chin, and looked at me with those enticing blue eyes. Even in the freezing conditions she still looked beautiful.
I was combing my hair, a practice that the non-Parthians among us found hilarious, especially the Germans whom I doubted had ever clapped eyes on a comb, never mind use one.
‘How I will conduct myself in combat. Will I be a credit to my family and my city?’
‘Do you worry about your men?’
I thought for a moment. ‘Not really. If I have done my job properly, then they don’t need my thoughts. My old mentor had a phrase, “train hard, fight easy”. I know that my men, and indeed your women, are well trained and know their task on the battlefield. That being the case, I have every confidence in them.’
A sentry pulled back the flap of the tent and handed me a cup of warm wine, then passed one to Gallia.
‘All is well?’ I asked him.
‘Yes, highness, even the owls are sleeping tonight.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Vagharsh, lord.’ It was a Parthian name, and his long black hair and olive skin also revealed his place of origin.
‘What dragon are you in?’
‘Your own, lord.’
‘How long have you been riding horses?’
‘Since just after I could walk, lord.’
‘And using a bow, lance and sword?’
He thought for a moment. ‘I was given my first bow when I turned five.’
‘And what do you think about before you go into battle, Vagharsh?’
He did not have to think about a reply. ‘To acquit myself well, lord, and also that I be granted a good death.’
‘Thank you, Vagharsh.’ I looked at Gallia as he left. ‘You see, I need not concern myself while I have men such as him riding beside me. And what about you, my love, what do you think of.’
‘Killing Romans.’
I laughed. ‘You should never hate your enemies, it clouds your judgment.’
‘Easy for you to say, you enjoyed their hospitality for but a blink of an eye.’
‘I was a slave,’ I said indignantly.
‘But only for a short time. Some in this army were slaves for decades and they would rather die than go back to that existence. That is why they fight so well for Spartacus, because they have no fears about dying to stay free. I myself was sold and then displayed in the slave market like an animal, where fat, ugly men drooled over me. Then they bid for me so I could become their plaything and they could indulge their degenerate fantasies. I loathe them all, and if they all had but one throat I would slit it without hesitation.’