Our quivers were made from cowhide and were large enough to hold thirty arrows, with a hide flap that could be drawn over the top to protect the contents from rain. When mounted we carried the quiver on our left side, which was held in place by a strap over our right shoulder. In this way a rider could pull an arrow from his quiver with his right hand and string his bow in the same movement. The cases for our bows were also made from cowhide, and when riding were attached to the left side of the saddle.
We had our horses and their riders, but there was still the question of whether horses and riders could be turned into cavalry capable of taking the fight to the enemy.
‘Impossible to say, highness.’ Nergal had regained his positive attitude since the outburst over women joining the cavalry. He sat with a leg draped over the arm of a chair in the voluminous dining room. It was part of a large villa ten miles from Vesuvius that I had requisitioned as my headquarters. It had obviously belonged to a rich Roman, having many rooms, a courtyard, garden and colonnade porticos on all sides. He was obviously enjoying his position of rank and in truth he had assumed his responsibilities with vigour.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘the first thing we must do is see if they can ride, then we’ll move on to weapons handling and drills.’
‘Does that include archery?’ asked Nergal.
‘We’ll have to see how they shape up. There’s a big difference between fighting on horseback with a sword and spear and shooting a bow from the saddle.’
‘What about the women?’ he asked casually.
‘What about them?’ I really didn’t want to discuss Gallia and her friend, if truth be told. I was, I had to admit, slightly embarrassed. ‘They probably can’t even ride, so they will drop out at the first stage. They are friends of Spartacus, though, so there’s no point in alienating him.’
‘You didn’t consider that when you and Crixus were squaring up to each other.’ Gafarn could always be relied on to say the most awkward things. ‘But then he doesn’t have a body and a face like a goddess.’
Godarz smiled and Nergal laughed.
‘Shut up,’ I snapped.
‘The truth unpalatable? Besides, now I am free I can say what I like.’
‘Your tongue,’ I said, ‘has always been free with advice and comments. It appears that the rest of you has caught up with it.’
‘What does it matter,’ chipped in Byrd, ‘if they want to kill Romani that should be enough.’
Nergal shrugged and the matter was closed, for the time being. I had grown to like Byrd. He said little and he must have been lonely, being the only one of his people among us and being able to speak only a little Latin, but he never grumbled and was becoming a valuable member of my horsemen. I had told him that he could come and live in Hatra when we got home, if we got home.
The next day all the volunteers were assembled on a broad plain half a mile from the main camp at Vesuvius. It was early morning, as I didn’t want the horses to be tired unnecessarily. The Dacians I had no concerns about. Their cavalry was similar to that of Parthia, and they used a bow like ours. There were over a hundred of them and I was going to form them into a company under the leadership of a fierce black-haired warrior called Burebista. Actually all the Dacians appeared fierce, and Burebista had told me that they believed that death in battle would earn them a place in heaven with their god, Zalmoxis. As they were horsemen, they knew all there was to know about caring for their mounts, and I had already allocated them a bow each.
Rome had an insatiable appetite for foreign conquests, and her armies had reaped a rich harvest in former enemies turned into slaves. Fortunately for Spartacus and myself, ex-soldiers can easily be turned into soldiers once again, and so it was with the slaves who were now flocking to his standard, and so it was with the Dacians who were now riding under my command. I had given them the wild horses that we had tamed, and they rode them that morning as if they had been riding them for years. The Thracians were also good horsemen, though they bred their horses for racing and their horsemen were light cavalry. They mustered two hundred men under a dour fellow called Rhesus, though I learned that Thracians did not actually use saddles but rode on saddlecloths only. As such they used spears and javelins on horseback and wore no armour. Rhesus assured me that this did not prevent them from being good fighters, since they killed their enemies before they could get within striking distance. However, I told him that he and his men would be using saddles from now on. Like us, he and his men had been captured during a battle against the Romans, and had spent the last year being forced to work as field hands, chained up every night in stinking pens, woken every day before dawn before enduring endless hours under a hot sun. They burned with a desire to water the soil with Roman blood. They evidently had no problem serving under a young foreigner, as Spartacus had informed them that I had captured a Roman eagle and that I had obviously been sent by Dionysus himself.
‘Who’s Dionysus?’ I asked.
‘He’s the god of the here and now, lord,’ explained Rhesus ‘the god who holds life and death together. He is the bringer of liberation who will strike madness, wildness and terror into the Romans. Raised by Zeus, himself, he was. Spartacus’ lady is one of his trusted servants on earth.’
‘Claudia,’ I said.
‘Yes, that’s her. She’s a priestess of Dionysus. She can tell the future.’
I was skeptical. ‘Really?’
‘Told us you would be coming.’
Now I was curious. ‘How so?’
‘Said that a rider from the east would come, one who would spit metal, one who would be mounted on a white horse. The son of the wild boar.’
My blood ran cold, for Varaz, my father’s name, meant ‘wild boar’. I dismissed it as a coincidence.
I had given Gallia the chestnut horse that Spartacus had presented to me, and to her friend I had given a grey mare. They were both reliable, calm mounts, though I still had my doubts about the womens’ riding ability. That morning I was disabused of my opinion. They were both fine riders, at one with their mounts and just as good as the men, at least when it came to horsemanship.
After the riders had been put through their paces, the horses were rested and their riders dismounted and sat in groups on the ground. The day was getting hotter and I wanted all the horses back under cover, so I told Nergal to instruct the company commanders to return to their abandoned Roman homes that now constituted their bases. I took the opportunity to ride Remus over to where Gallia and Diana were walking their mounts back to Vesuvius. I caught up with them and dismounted.
‘A fine day, ladies,’ I said.
They stopped and both looked at me. Gallia was as radiant as ever, even after two hours of riding, and she smiled, though not at me.
‘He’s beautiful,’ she purred, extending her free left hand at Remus, who moved his head towards her hand and put his ears forward. Sure signs that he liked her. Why wouldn’t he? She was gorgeous.
‘His name is Remus,’ I said.
‘You have a good eye for a horse, Prince Pacorus,’ said Gallia, rather coolly. ‘So have we passed the test for your cavalry?’
‘The riding part, yes,’ I replied. ‘But there is more to fighting on horseback than being able to ride.’
‘Of course,’ she said. She stopped and looked at me, her eyes the clearest blue.
‘Would you like to eat with us tonight? A small gathering: Spartacus, his wife, and we two.’
I thought my heart would burst out of my chest with delight. I smiled uncontrollably at her. Diana laughed and Remus, obviously picking up on my emotions, snorted. Gallia gently stroked the side of his head.