Serenus accepted this with a weary nod. The legionaries had by now removed several planks, leaving a two-yard gap for Strabo and the others. Avso led the way.
‘Let’s get them down and finish them off. We stay together. Clear?’
‘Clear!’
Strabo was at the rear, waiting for Statius and Iucundus to follow the others into the killing area.
‘Watch yourself,’ said Cassius.
Strabo grinned.
‘Fortuna’s friend, remember?’
XXXIV
None of the Palmyrans gathered outside the fort knew what had caused the chaos they now observed. Razir had ordered the front ranks back but all had seen the crush at the gatehouse, the frenzied horses unseating their riders and falling to the ground. Even the five cavalrymen who had managed to escape were either injured or still struggling to control their mounts.
Azaf had no idea why the reverse had been so sudden and dramatic, but the result was precisely what he’d feared. Pacing up and down beside the archers, he forced himself to look away and block out the noise of stricken horses and men. He had to clear his mind; decide how to regain the initiative.
Any common soldier knew that cavalry were most effective when used sparingly against a vulnerable flank or running down scattered infantry. He cursed himself for allowing himself to be persuaded that they might be effective against solid defences with so little room for manoeuvre.
Azaf had long believed that months of uninterrupted success had bred overconfidence within the Palmyran ranks. Despite this awareness, it seemed he too had fallen prey to it, and now he had a costly mess on his hands. General Zabbai would not be interested in excuses. Even so, he might overlook the mistake if Alauran could still be taken swiftly. Azaf had at least lost only a handful of his own men and the day was still young.
Not far away, one of the cavalrymen sat on the ground, his horse circling him, head bowed. Its coat of armour had been pulled clean off and strips of skin torn from its flanks. The rider had removed his helmet and armour and was cradling one arm in his lap. Azaf walked over and saw that the arm had been crushed below the elbow: a pulpy mass of flesh over broken bones.
‘Strategos,’ he said, still gulping for air.
‘What happened?’
‘The horses at the front, they became crazed. It spread. Then they bolted for the gate. I got out, but the others-’
Azaf looked over at the gatehouse. Two of the vertical timbers had been damaged and half of the southern tower had collapsed, leaving a pile of rubble that made escape even harder. Razir and several others were now desperately trying to free the trapped animals and release those behind.
Azaf knew he couldn’t do anything until they had cleared the gate. He ran over to take charge.
Cassius went to check the southern barricade and found Kabir hunched over, watching the killing area through a jagged hole. Every one of his warriors was occupied. Several were carrying injured men to the dwellings, others were helping the legionaries with running repairs or collecting up weapons and equipment.
‘I can’t fault their courage,’ said the Syrian, glancing up at Cassius. ‘Though I fear they might regret leaving the defences.’
Cassius got down beside him and looked out. Despite the flurry of horses still charging this way and that, he could see the small group of legionaries. Bunched together as Avso had ordered, they ignored the main mass of cavalry still trying to make their escape and picked out isolated Palmyrans already on the ground.
The group split in two as they rounded a lifeless fallen horse and closed in on their first victim: the man with the caltrop in his hand. He saw the legionaries coming for him and was just scrabbling to his feet when Iucundus swung the stave down on top of his helmet, knocking the Palmyran out.
The Roman raiding party had attracted the attention of two cavalrymen close to the northern barricade. The riders had managed to stay clear of the melee and in control of their mounts. Incensed by the defenders’ audacity and the failure of their assault, they exchanged a few words, then charged.
‘Look out!’ yelled Vestinus.
The Romans spun round as the Palmyrans bore down on them, lances tilted at the legionaries’ heads. Without their shields, Strabo, Avso and the others were dependent on their agility to avoid the onrushing cavalry. The group scattered.
Vestinus found his way blocked by the fallen horse. As he tried to scramble over it, one of the Palmyrans caught him with a full-blooded thrust of his lance. The blow propelled the legionary ten feet back into the dust, a fist-sized gouge in his thigh.
The others were luckier. They all got clear of the second Palmyran in good time and Strabo and Iucundus were able to make a grab at the horseman as he passed. The Sicilian couldn’t quite get a grip on the saddle but Iucundus made a successful lunge for the Palmyran’s belt. He hung on grimly with both hands and was hauled off his feet. Then the additional weight told and the two of them tumbled to the ground in a heap as the horse bucked away. Somehow avoiding serious injury, they instantly dragged themselves up, each ready to attack the other.
Strabo was at his friend’s side in a moment, first smashing the stave down on to the Palmyran’s wrist as he reached for his sword, then sideways into his head. It was enough to account for the cavalryman, who slumped to the ground unconscious, his legs bent under him.
‘Quickly! Before he returns!’ shouted Avso.
He and two other legionaries sprinted after the first rider, who was trying to turn his horse. The Romans were on him before he could get the animal moving. Avso grabbed the lance just below the point and wrenched it down, pulling the Palmyran halfway out of his saddle. The horse veered away from the other legionaries, tipping its rider on to the ground. He landed heavily on his side, with no chance of defending himself. Avso swung twice at his head, denting the helmet over each ear, then looked down with satisfaction at his fallen foe.
The Palmyrans had finally freed the trapped horses. Under Azaf’s orders, they had cut away at the damaged side of the tower with their swords to create space. They had then dragged the animals out by anything they could lay their hands on — reins, armour, even hair. The stricken beasts managed only a few shaky steps before collapsing.
Bezda had his horse back under control and was now occupied with keeping it on its feet. All around him were injured animals and riders. By staying close to the southern barricade, he had at least kept clear of the caltrops.
He was, however, exhausted. It was a struggle even to lift his arms and manipulate the reins. The movements of his horse were similarly sluggish. He had already resolved to kill the accursed Roman beast, assuming he ever got the opportunity. It seemed an age since he had seen anything through the eyeholes of his mask other than clay walls, wooden barricades and the chain mail of the other riders.
Suddenly the horse in front of him lurched forward. He looked towards the gate and saw that the mass of animals and men was at last breaking up. Most had dropped their lances and many were hunched over their horses’ necks, desperately urging them on before they or the animals fainted. Bezda already knew that the best he could now hope for was to escape with the majority of his men and their mounts still alive.
Behind the surging mass, to his left, he saw the cost of his failure to exploit the breach and press home the attack. He had already counted five fallen men and as many animals when he spied the group of Romans.
The eight legionaries had knocked out or killed every unmounted Palmyran they could see, as well as putting several horses out of their misery. Vestinus and another injured man had withdrawn to the barricades and Avso had ordered two more to drag the unconscious Palmyrans back through the gap in the carts. Now he, Strabo, Iucundus and Statius stood in the centre of the killing area.