‘That was many years ago,’ stated Gallia.

  ‘Still,’ I continued, ‘he would have given chase and hence left his wagons to catch up.’

  ‘He does not know we are near,’ said Nergal.

  ‘Let us not forget Armenians guard the wagons as well as two Roman legions,’ cautioned Spartacus.

  ‘We might prevail with the right tactics, majesty,’ suggested Kewab.

  Spartacus regarded the Egyptian for a few seconds. He was well acquainted with the Sons of the Citadel course and knew Kewab had recently graduated top. I could see he was curious, as were Gafarn and Nergal.

  ‘What tactics would they be?’

  ‘We lure the Armenians away from the Romans by using the Sarmatians as bait,’ answered Kewab. ‘Send the Sarmatians to raid and goad the enemy, specifically the Armenians. Artavasdes will send his horsemen to destroy them. The Sarmatians will withdraw and lead the enemy into a trap made up of our own horsemen.’

  ‘What if the Sarmatians fail and are themselves destroyed?’ asked Gafarn.

  Kewab shrugged. ‘They are dispensable, low-quality troops who in times of adversity present a greater threat to allies than to the enemy.’

  ‘Ha,’ laughed Silaces, ‘I reckon Pacorus’ man has the Sarmatians summed up.’

  ‘They are my allies and friends,’ growled Spartacus darkly.

  ‘That does not change the soundness of Kewab’s suggestion,’ I said, ‘in any case I’m sure the Sarmatians can retreat most speedily so they should not be in any danger.’

  Silaces, Nergal and Praxima laughed but neither Spartacus nor Rasha thought it amusing. I could tell Spadines and his wretched followers were valued highly in Gordyene. No doubt it was the affinity of outsiders that bound the Sarmatians to the king and queen of Gordyene.

  ‘The plan makes sense,’ said Gafarn, ‘if we can defeat the Armenians we will remove the Romans’ main allies in the region.’

  ‘We have the advantage of surprise,’ I argued, ‘and should take advantage of it.’

  ‘Don’t forget Pacorus has never lost a battle,’ urged Silaces.

  ‘He’s still young and there’s still time,’ grinned Gafarn.

  Spartacus looked at Diana who smiled, and at Nergal and Praxima who both nodded.

  ‘Time to show Phraates, and the Romans, Gordyene is a power to be reckoned with,’ I said.

  Spartacus took a deep breath. ‘Very well, I will speak to Spadines though I have no power over him and therefore can only request his cooperation.’

  The wind had not abated and combined with the clear sky the temperature had dropped markedly. On the way back to our tent Talib questioned me about the discovery of the siege of Phraaspa.

  ‘I gained the information from a very reliable source,’ I told him.

  ‘But Phraaspa is to the east.’

  ‘It is. Tomorrow, when we are entertaining the enemy, I want you to take your scouts and reconnoitre the area around the city.’

  ‘What about High King Phraates, lord?’

  ‘His whereabouts is a mystery to be solved at a later date.’

  Talib bowed and left us and when we reached our tent Gallia also carried on walking.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Have you forgotten I always spend the evening before a battle with the Amazons?’

  I had. ‘That was years ago.’

  She kissed me on the lips. ‘It was all years ago and yet here we are, on the eve of another battle.’

  ‘I will be cold,’ I said pathetically.

  She looked at me with mocking eyes and left me anyway. The night passed slowly as it always did just before a battle. As usual I could not sleep and so went on a tour of the camp, stopping to chat to my men who were either busy gambling or cleaning their weapons. But all went through their pre-battle rituals to satisfy their superstitions and appease the gods. I eventually came across Kewab who was busy explaining the tactics the army would use on the morrow to his officers. They believed it was very auspicious their leader had recently graduated top among the Sons of the Citadel. He was showing them the dagger he had been awarded on completion of the course. I smiled when I saw each of them touch the blade for luck. They snapped to attention when they saw me.

  ‘I would have a word with your commander.’

  We walked a few paces together. ‘I have spoken to Lord Azad and he is in agreement with me. From this moment you are the deputy commander of Dura’s cataphracts.’

  I offered him my hand. ‘My congratulations.’

  He faced me with mouth open and eyes wide. He gripped my hand and shook it.

  ‘Thank you, majesty, it is a great honour.’

  He was still shaking my hand rather too enthusiastically when I laid my left hand on his arm to indicate he should stop.

  ‘You have earned it on merit, which was confirmed by your advice at the meeting earlier. I pray the gods will smile on us tomorrow. Shamash be with you.’

  I turned and walked away but stopped and turned to face him.

  ‘What god do you follow?’

  ‘Anhur, God of War and the Slayer of Enemies, majesty.’

  ‘Then may he watch over you tomorrow.’

  The camp was stirring before the first rays of the sun peaked above the mountain crests in the east, a cold, windy morning making cataphracts glad they would be encased in scale armour with tubular steel armour on their arms and legs. Squires saddled their masters’ horses and fitted them with scale armour suits to cover their bodies, heads and necks, with metal grilles over their eyes to protect them from missiles. There was little chatter and no panic, just an ordered calm as forty-one thousand men and women checked their horses, weapons and equipment and reported to their commanders.

  The irascible Spadines and his bunch of near-do-wells left camp just as an orange sun rose above the high peaks in the east. Each man was armed with one or more javelins to hurl at the enemy in an effort to goad him. Spartacus had told Spadines he and his men were the bait to lure as many enemy horsemen away from the main body so they could be destroyed. He appeared to relish the task and rode out of camp in high spirits. I did not trust him but Spartacus and he seemed to have some sort of common bond. Who was I to judge the company my nephew kept?

  After a sparse breakfast of cold water, biscuits that were harder than my sword blade and cured meat the kings and queens assembled at Spartacus’ tent. This time we gathered inside the structure to finalise our plans.

  ‘Where is your scout, uncle?’ was the first question he asked.

  ‘On an important mission,’ I replied evasively.

  He unrolled a map on the table and pointed to the north of the lake.

  ‘The enemy are around ten miles away and their vanguard should be almost parallel to the northwest corner of the lake. We will follow Lord Spadines and halt to form on the lower slopes of this mountain, called Mishodagh, there to await our prey.’

  Gafarn and Diana exchanged proud expressions. I nodded; their son had turned into a fine king and commander.

  ‘We should use the cataphracts to engage those of the enemy the Sarmatians lure away,’ I said. ‘We want as many dead as possible and I wish to conserve our arrows for later.’

  ‘For when we engage the two legions,’ said Silaces.

  ‘Yes, once they lock shields and form square they will have to be whittled down.’

  Praxima grinned at Gallia. ‘Just like old times.’

  ‘Just like old times,’ Gallia agreed.

  ‘Thirty-one thousand horse archers should be able to destroy two legions,’ said Silaces.

  ‘Thirty-one thousand, six hundred, lord king,’ stated Rasha, ‘you forgot the Vipers and Amazons.’

  Silaces looked far from amused but kept his counsel as Gallia, Rasha, Praxima and Diana froze him with their stares.

  ‘Let us get it over with, then,’ said Spartacus, picking up his helmet from the table.

  Outside the tent Valak and Claudia were enjoying a touching moment, staring into each other’s eyes in the midst of thousands of men girding themselves for battle. I remembered Dobbai’s words.

  ‘You are with me today, daughter, stay close.’

  Valak pulled away from her bowing to his king and me when Silaces appeared. Alaric showed her to her horse and the King of Elymais looked into the sky and sniffed the air.

  ‘Perfect conditions.’

  The ground was mostly sparse grassland extending from the shore of the lake, over the plains and up on to the mountain slopes before giving way to forest higher up. It was still breezy but there were no tell-tale dust clouds kicked up by thousands of horses to give away our approach. The kings and queens rode together in the van, a screen of Gordyene horse archers in front to protect against nasty surprises. But the gently undulating terrain and lack of trees on the plain gave excellent fields of view so the mood was relaxed and confident. After less than half an hour we reached the lower slopes of Mount Mishodagh looming up on our left. Spartacus called a halt and signalled the army to deploy along its southern slopes. A sense of urgency now permeated the air as we rode up the gentle slope to have a panoramic view of what we hoped would be the battlefield. To the south was the glittering surface of Lake Urmia. Immediately below us was a shimmering line of cataphracts, the sun glinting off whetted kontus points, burnished helmets and steel scale armour. In the centre of the line stood the five hundred men of Hatra’s royal bodyguard commanded by Prince Pacorus, magnificent in their scale armour made up of overlapping rectangular polished steel plates, their white horses similarly attired. To their right stood Dura’s dragon: a thousand cataphracts led by Azad, the only difference between my heavy horseman and Hatra’s being mine wore full-face helmets instead of the open-faced variety. To the left of Prince Pacorus was deployed another dragon of Hatra’s cataphracts; in total two thousand, five hundred of the empire’s finest horsemen standing ready to charge the enemy.

  Half a mile away, on our right, were the army’s horse archers, ready to push on and engage the main force of Armenians and Romans once the cataphracts had done their work. Spartacus’ medium horsemen, soldiers whose main weapon was a spear, stood in a dense mass to our right while Valak and his bodyguard were to our left along with the Vipers and Amazons. Behind us the banners of Hatra, Dura, Gordyene, Mesene and Elymais fluttered in the breeze.

  ‘They have taken the bait.’

  All heads turned to the left after Spartacus spoke, to see two groups of horsemen galloping towards our position. I felt a tingle of excitement run up my spine as I saw an undisciplined bunch of riders – Sarmatians – being pursued by a much larger and more organised group: Armenians. Spadines and his men were riding as though they had a winged demon snapping at their heels but the Armenians were still closing fast. Artavasdes or whoever was advising him was no fool – he had sent light horsemen to catch the raiders: skirmishers wearing no helmets or armour and mounted spearmen.

  On the Sarmatians rode, passing the immaculately dressed cataphracts, whooping and cheering the line of armoured horsemen and raising their weapons in the air. The Armenians following failed to notice the cataphracts moving forward, hundreds of kontus points dipping as they moved into a trot, canter and then a gallop, the rumble of the iron-shod hooves of their horses pounding the earth reached our position as we sat and admired the finest sons of Hatra and Dura in action.

  The line was still immaculate when the cataphracts smashed into the Armenians, hitting most in the flank but some head-on who had wheeled right at the last minute. It made no difference, there was a loud bang and hundreds of Armenians were skewered and unhorsed. The kontus was held on the right side with both hands to control the long lance. Because of its length it out-reached any spears carried by enemy horsemen so rendering them almost useless.

  Diana squealed with delight and I raised a fist and cheered as the cataphracts shattered the enemy, rode right through them, reformed, about-turned and attacked again with their close-quarter weapons: axes, maces and swords.

  Spartacus turned in the saddle.

  ‘Now’s your time, Rasha.’

  Shrieking with delight his wife dug her knees into her horse and cantered down the slope, followed by the Vipers. Gallia pulled her bow from its case and turned to her women.

  ‘Amazons!’

  She too rode down the slope with the Amazons following.

  ‘You stay where you are,’ I commanded Claudia, looking behind me. To find her gone.

  Praxima grinned at Diana as they both rode after the six hundred female horse archers now riding to sever the escape route of those Armenian horsemen fleeing the cataphracts, determined to get back to their own army.

  ‘Do something,’ I shouted to Gafarn who just held out his arms helplessly.

  There was a series of whooshing sounds as the Vipers and Amazons reached the plain and swung right to confront the perhaps two or three hundred Armenians galloping at them. The women walked their horses forward and began shooting their bows. One, two, three volleys were loosed, the Armenians riding into the arrow storm engulfing them. The female horse archers shot volley after volley. The Armenians went down. Unarmoured horses collapsed and writhed on the ground after throwing their riders. As the remnants got closer to the Vipers and Amazons the women halted their horses and took careful aim at the enemy riders, shooting them from the saddle. Some men were on foot after being thrown from the saddle. These were hunted down and killed by groups of women, their bodies pierced by three or four arrows before they fell. When it was over the women all raised their bows in the air and hollered their war cries, which resembled a long wail of a rabid banshee. I shuddered but smiled when all around me Spartacus’ medium horsemen and Silaces’ bodyguard raised their weapons and cheered in salute.

  The first phase of Kewab’s plan had worked to perfection. The second part would be much more difficult.

  We left our hilly viewing position and rode east, towards the enemy army, the cataphracts reforming their lines and following the thousands of Parthian horse archers flooding the plain. We left behind a ground covered with dead and dying Armenians and their horses. Spadines and his renegades went among them to rob the dead of anything of value and kill those still breathing. Whether we would see them again or whether they would take themselves off to their new homeland with their spoils I did not know and did not care. They had fulfilled their function.

  Prince Pacorus enjoyed a rapturous reception when he returned to his parents, Spartacus clasping forearms with his brother, Rasha kissing him on the cheek. Azad came with him, delighted after an almost bloodless victory.

  ‘That was easy enough, majesty,’ he said to me.

  ‘Kewab is alive?’

  ‘Alive and well, it was just like a training exercise.’

  Spartacus’ chief scout rode up and halted his horse.

  ‘Armenian horse and foot are deploying to face us, majesty,’ he informed his king.

  ‘Numbers?’

  ‘Seven, eight thousand.’

  ‘What about the Romans?’ I asked.

  ‘They are further to the south, majesty.’

  ‘We should try to split them,’ suggested Nergal, ‘it is easier to defeat two parts of an army than one that is whole.’

  I agreed and so did Spartacus, Gafarn and Silaces. We could now see the Armenians ahead, a black mass filling the plain to our front. They had obviously spotted us.

  ‘There is one more thing, majesty,’ said the scout, ‘there are dozens of wagons on the road running parallel to the lake, a huge column of ox-drawn and horse-drawn carts stretching north and south as far as the eye can see.

  ‘The Armenians intend to act as a shield to enable the Romans to form a giant square,’ I said, ‘within which they can shelter Mark Antony’s siege train.’

  We still had the mountain on our left and on our right the northern shore of the lake.

  Nergal pointed ahead. ‘If the Armenians manage to form a line between the mountain slope and the lake they can hold us long enough to allow the Romans to reinforce them.’

  ‘What about the siege train?’ asked Gafarn.

  ‘Nergal’s right,’ I said, ‘if the Armenians hold the line the Romans can reinforce it with one legion and still have the other one free to escort the siege train to Phraaspa. If that happens the city will fall and whoever is inside will be lost, Phraates and what is left of his army, most likely, will be killed.’

  ‘Or captured to be paraded through Rome,’ offered Silaces grimly.

  I looked at Pacorus and Azad. They both knew what had to be done.

  ‘We will attack the enemy line with the cataphracts,’ said the Prince of Hatra.

  ‘This fight will be a lot harder,’ warned Azad.

  ‘My lance-armed horsemen will lend their support,’ said Spartacus.

  Azad wheeled his horse away. ‘Time is of the essence.’

  Pacorus raised a hand to his parents and followed him, while to our front the enemy line thickened.

  The second phase of the battle was about to begin.

  The enemy army presented a dazzling display of red, yellow, purple and blue flags and dragon windsocks. In the centre was a huge white flag sporting a purple six-pointed star – the symbol of Armenia and the spot from where King Artavasdes would direct the fight. The wind buffeted banners on both sides as it left the mountains and filled the plain, the pennants on each replacement kontus issued by squires to their masters flapping wildly as Pacorus and Azad went among their men to call for one last effort to win the day.

  I rode with Spartacus, Gafarn, Silaces and Nergal towards the enemy line to get the measure of the enemy. The Vipers and Amazons provided our vanguard as we cantered forward. They stopped when dozens of slingers began shooting stones and lead pellets at them, bringing down a score or more horses. Then arrows from foot archers joined the missiles of the slingers and the horse archers withdrew.

  Rasha and Gallia galloped to where our banners fluttered behind us.

  ‘There is a screen of slingers and archers along the front of their army,’ said Rasha.