‘These Kushan fight well. It was a close-run thing for a while.’ He nodded at Khosrou. ‘Your men were the decisive factor.’

  ‘All that remains is the destruction of that square,’ said Khosrou.

  Already companies were being deployed to block off the Kushan line of retreat, though our horsemen were careful not to stray within range of their bowmen. I was suddenly aware that I was dripping with sweat and looked into the leaden sky.

  ‘It’s going to rain.’

  Like mad men we removed our bowstrings and stored them in leather pouches in our saddlebags. Thousands of men around us were doing the same as a few spits of rain hit us. There was an ominous rumble of thunder above and then the heavens opened. Visibility, before so excellent, suddenly dropped to less than a hundred paces as we were enveloped by a deluge. The unceasing downpour was a welcome relief as I removed my helmet, extended my arms, looked up and closed my eyes to receive blessed relief. I was lost in my own world as the rain increased in intensity and began to soak the ground. Soon a small lake began to form around me as the soil became waterlogged, unable to drain the rain that was falling on it. Tegha moved back and forth as he began to be unnerved by the cracks of thunder overhead and the occasional flash of lighting.

  Movement was all but impossible and as the minutes passed I reflected on the possibility that the Kushan foot soldiers might use the rainfall to attempt to walk past our horsemen. But that would mean breaking up their formation and just as we were stranded in the rain, it would be no easy matter for thousands of foot soldiers to trudge through water and mud. And then the rain suddenly stopped.

  Just as it had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the clouds parted and the sun beat down on the sodden ground. It became very warm very quickly, around me men wiping their lacquer-covered bows with cloths and restringing them. We were all drenched, but in a matter of minutes steam began to rise from our clothes and horses. I stared ahead and smiled when I saw the Kushan square still in place.

  ‘Time to end this,’ I said.

  We plodded across the waterlogged grass, letting our horses thread their own way through the drenched ground. It was an agonisingly slow process but after half an hour our forces had established an unbroken ring around the square. A thin ring admittedly but one the Kushans would have to break if they intended to withdraw back to the east. I wondered how Malik and his Agraci were faring, especially after the downpour. Pray Shamash they were safe.

  I called Jagat forward. ‘I think we should try to entice the Kushans to lay down their weapons,’ I said to Khosrou and Spartacus.

  ‘What’s the use of that?’ snapped Khosrou. ‘We let them go and we will only have to kill them another day.’

  ‘I am of the same opinion,’ said Spartacus.

  Khosrou gave me a rueful smile. ‘I understand. You get them to surrender and then we kill them. Clever, Pacorus, very clever.’

  ‘I never developed the taste for slaughtering unarmed men,’ I told him, ‘and I do not intend to acquire it today.’

  Jagat appeared with his guardians, his thinning hair matted to his scalp. I pointed at the Kushan square.

  ‘I wish you to accompany me to act as a translator. I intend to demand their surrender.’

  ‘They will refuse,’ he said defiantly.

  I beckoned Katana over. ‘They might, but until we ask them we will never know.’

  I jumped down from Tegha and indicated my commander should do the same. I walked with him for a few feet and spoke softly to him. He showed surprise.

  ‘Take three companies,’ I told him. ‘Take care, there might be isolated groups of enemy horsemen in the area.’

  He saluted, remounted his horse and trotted away. I retook my saddle and waved forward Jagat and his guards, walking Tegha forward towards the Kushans.

  ‘If they cut you down, we will avenge your death,’ grinned Khosrou, those of his men nearby raising their weapons and cheering.

  ‘Your words are always a comfort to me, lord king.’

  ‘Are you not afraid?’ Jagat asked me as we neared the locked shields of the Kushans.

  My bow was in its case, my sword was in its scabbard and Jagat was obviously carrying no weapons. There was always a possibility that the enemy, enraged at the defeat of their horsemen, might take revenge on me, but I presented no threat and having been in a similar situation to the Kushans on a number of occasions, I had always been curious to hear what the enemy wanted.

  ‘No,’ I answered.

  When we were around fifty paces from the square a voice called out to us. I halted Tegha and looked at Jagat.

  ‘He says that is close enough.’

  ‘Tell him I am King Pacorus of Dura and I am here to avoid further bloodshed.’

  Jagat did as instructed and laughed when a reply came.

  ‘He says that if you wish to avoid bloodshed then withdraw.’

  ‘Whom am I addressing?’

  Jagat relayed my query and a name was given to me.

  ‘General Kaniska.’

  ‘Tell the general that his horsemen have been beaten, that there is no escape and that he has a simple choice – concede defeat and march back to Indraprastha with his men, or die on this waterlogged ground.’

  Jagat relayed my offer but the general was defiant, knowing that even without his horsemen he still, judging by the frontage of the sides of the square, outnumbered us. We returned to an unhappy Khosrou, eager to restart the battle.

  ‘Have patience, lord,’ I said, ‘we will not have to use up any more arrows today.’

  Khosrou’s patience began to wear thin as we waited for the return of Katana and his men, all the time the heat rising as the midpoint of the day approached. And still the Kushan square remained immobile. Spartacus received a visit from his commander enquiring as to the delay.

  ‘I was wondering that,’ snapped Khosrou. ‘Let’s attack and get it done with.’ He looked at me. ‘And don’t tell me to have patience. We are here to kill the enemy not wait until he dies of old age.’

  The arrival, finally, of Katana put an end to his grumblings, though he was spitting blood when he saw my men marshalling a herd of cattle towards us.

  ‘What in the name of the gods is this?’ he bellowed in exasperation.

  Katana rode over to me and saluted.

  ‘Apologies for the delay, majesty, it took more time than anticipated to round up enough cows.’

  ‘Cows!’ exclaimed Khosrou.

  ‘My lord,’ I said to him, ‘indulge me a little longer. You are in for a pleasant surprise.’

  I mounted Tegha and accompanied Katana as his men herded the cows in a line towards the Kushan square, the words of Jagat ringing in my ears.

  ‘This is sacrilege, King Pacorus, the gods will have their revenge.’

  They might but this encounter needed to be brought to a speedy conclusion. So three hundred Duran horse archers approached the enemy, safe in the knowledge that the Kushans would not shoot at us. Ropes around the cows’ necks kept the animals close to our horses as we halted around fifty paces from the locked shields of the western side of the square. There was absolute silence among the enemy but I could feel the eyes of the front-rank spearmen on me.

  ‘Jagat, you will be my interpreter again.’

  ‘I will not.’

  ‘Ready,’ I shouted.

  Three hundred bows were raised.

  ‘Loose!’

  Three hundred arrows shot forward into the shield wall, my men aiming above the top rims of shields to strike faces. Hideous high-pitched screams came from the spearmen as arrows went into eye sockets, shattered teeth to exit the back of throats and broke cheekbones. Not all the wounds were fatal but they fragmented the shield wall as men collapsed to reveal those standing behind. My men could shoot up to twelve arrows a minute and every arrow, shot from the stationary position, was finding its mark.

  ‘Stop,’ I commanded.

  To their credit the Kushans, unable to retaliate for fear of harming the cows, pulled back the dead and wounded and replaced them with fresh men to present an unbroken wall of locked shields once more. The silence had been replaced by moans and screams from those Kushans who had been wounded, the sound unsettling the cows.

  ‘You can act as my interpreter or see more men die, Jagat,’ I said, ‘the decision rests entirely in your hands.’

  He came forward on his horse. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Convey this message for me.

  ‘General Kaniska, you and your men have fought valiantly but there is no need for further bloodshed. If you yield and your men lay down their weapons, then I, King Pacorus of Dura, pledge that their lives will be spared and they will be allowed to go where they will. Or we can stay here and fight each other until only one of us is left alive. You have five minutes to decide.’

  Jagat conveyed my offer and less than a minute after he had finished the shield wall opened and a burly brute wearing a cuirass of overlapping steel discs appeared to confront me. He had a thick neck, close-cropped raven-black hair and carried a large sword in his right hand. He said something to Jagat in a deep voice.

  ‘This is General Kaniska, lord.’

  I jumped down from Tegha and tilted my head at the general, who looked at the line of my horse archers and their bovine companions. Kaniska looked me up and down and pointed at the cows, speaking in his native tongue to me.

  ‘The general demands that you take the cows out of danger.’

  ‘He will agree to my terms?’

  Kaniska squared up to me and the archers nearby raised their bows to point the arrowheads at the thickset Kushan.

  ‘Stand down,’ I ordered.

  This seemed to please the general who cracked the semblance of a smile. He said something else to Jagat.

  ‘The general will agree to march from the field if the cows are released now.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘I would advise against that, majesty,’ said Katana, ‘there is no guarantee if we do so they will not use their bowmen against us.’

  ‘That is a chance I am prepared to take. Take the cows away and do not harm any. And do not let any of Khosrou’s men near them; they might try to eat them.’

  Katana and his men, with the cows in tow, departed to leave me in the company of General Kaniska, Jagat and his two guards. It would have been easy for the general to order his men to surge forward and cut me down but what benefit would he have reaped? The death of a foreign king and the certain destruction of him and his men. Instead he ordered his men to stand down and begin stacking their shields and weapons.

  ‘Queen Rana will not tolerate an invasion of her lands,’ Kaniska informed me through Jagat.

  ‘As we do not tolerate an invasion of Parthia,’ I replied.

  ‘Queen Rana is a dangerous enemy to make for she is the sister of the emperor himself. My advice, Parthian, is to flee back across the Indus while you still can.’

  I thanked him for his advice and wished him and his men safe passage back to the queen’s city.

  There was still six hours of daylight left, enough to oversee the destruction of the Kushan shields, bows and spears. Officers were allowed to keep their swords but the rest of Kaniska’s men would surrender their blades, which would be thrown into the nearest lake.

  I sat on Tegha beside Khosrou and Spartacus as great plumes of smoke rose into the warm afternoon air from the bonfire of Kushan weapons. The enemy soldiers were tramping away disconsolately to the east, heads down and shoulders slumped. The great column of defeated and demoralised men must have numbered nearly twenty thousand, all vanquished by a herd of cattle. For that reason, it had been one of the most unusual battles I had fought in.

  Khosrou was still unhappy. ‘They will march back to Indraprastha where they will be re-equipped.’

  Parties of Agraci were now returning to the battlefield, their horses blown and lathered in sweat, their riders similarly tired. A drawn but happy Malik came to our stand of banners and reported he and his men had chased the Kushan horsemen for miles.

  ‘We had to stop when the heavens opened but the plain is littered with Kushan dead.’

  ‘You have done well,’ Khosrou complimented him. ‘Pacorus got the enemy to surrender and now we have to watch them march away.’

  ‘But without their weapons,’ said Spartacus.

  ‘Weapons can be replaced,’ Khosrou informed him.

  ‘It does not matter,’ I told them all, ‘Indraprastha is only a day’s ride from here and I intend to reach it before General Kaniska and his army of weaponless soldiers.’

  ‘To what end?’ asked Khosrou.

  ‘There is a great treasure there,’ I said, ‘one that will compel Kujula to leave Parthia.’

  Chapter 10

  That night both armies rested; our own jubilant, flushed with victory and having suffered light losses, the Kushans beaten, defenceless and cast down into the pit of despair. It was a surreal situation, a red glow coming from the campfires of the Kushan camp perhaps five miles away and another diminishing red glow nearer – the dying embers of the bonfires of enemy weapons and shields. The stacks of weapons had become funeral pyres as we cremated our dead – three hundred slain, a remarkably light figure compared to the losses suffered by the Kushan horsemen who were left to the lions and wild pigs who roamed the plain. We suffered around the same number of wounded, a few of whom would die of their wounds in the days to come but most carried only broken arms and cut limbs. All would have no option but to ride east with the rest of us. We could not spare the men to escort them back across the Indus.

  Khosrou and many of his Margianans were roaring drunk, their king listening to Malik relay how he and his Agraci left a trail of Kushan dead for miles. Spartacus was also consuming large quantities of alcohol plundered from nearby villages. I drank none.

  ‘Why so morose, uncle?’ he asked, sitting himself beside me by the campfire, laughter and cheering all around. ‘We have won a great victory.’

  ‘We have won nothing,’ I told him. ‘The purpose of invading the Kushan Empire was to draw Kujula away from Sigal and Parthia. Our task is only half-completed. You should order your men to cease their drinking.’

  He smiled like an idiot. ‘Are you mad? Claudia told us that the enemy flounders before Sigal so our loved ones are safe. The gods are with us.’

  He stood and raised the waterskin filled with drink. ‘The gods are with us!’

  Those within earshot, drunk and some barely able to stand, cheered wildly before many collapsed into slumber. I left them to carry out an inspection of the perimeter, which was guarded by sentries that were fortunately sober. The night was pleasantly warm, the sound of crickets drowning out the revelries of thousands of men in camp. Sullen guards, who had earlier drawn lots to decide who would lose out on the festivities, challenged me rudely when I approached them. I raised my arms and declared my identity, to receive a gruff reply. I was pleased they were in a bad mood. It meant they would not fall asleep but would rather reflect on their misfortune.

  I kept an eye on the glow coming from the Kushan camp in the distance and wondered if General Kaniska was tempted to try a surprise night attack. He still commanded upwards of twenty thousand men and outnumbered us. The thought irritated me like a stone in my boot. I was now completely alone, having wondered beyond the perimeter. Clouds overhead meant it was pitch black beyond the light cast by a hundred campfires. As I did not want to step on a snake or twist my ankle in a hole in the ground I retraced my tracks.

  ‘Wandering around in the dark, son of Hatra?’

  I spun, drew my sword, stumbled and fell flat on my back.

  I heard tut-tutting but could not see anyone.

  ‘Anyone could come along and slit your throat. What would the chronicles say? The King of Dura met his end on some unnamed plain in India after a bout of drinking.’

  I scrambled to my feet. ‘I am not drunk.’

  I focused my attention on the source of the voice and could barely make out a dark shape a few paces away. It looked like a wraith from the underworld and I should have been chilled to the core, but instead felt reassured as I recognised the voice of an old friend.

  ‘Khosrou was always a fool but I suppose he serves a purpose.’

  ‘He is a stalwart ally.’

  There was a cackle. ‘Stalwart? He’s good at butchering nomads but lacks the intelligence to be anything more than a mediocre king. It is no coincidence that he rules a land of endless, empty steppe. It is much like his brain.’

  ‘How are you?’

  Another cackle. ‘The same as the last time you asked me. You are still a hopeless romantic.’

  I was desperate to ask about my family trapped in Sigal. ‘I worry that I have done the wrong thing.’

  ‘Crossing the Indus was a bold move, Kujula will take your bait.’

  I was elated. ‘Then Sigal is safe?’

  This time a chuckle. ‘If you want to know about Sigal, then ask.’

  ‘Are my family safe?’

  ‘How should I know? I am here, not there.’

  ‘Have you come to torment me?’

  A sigh. ‘Have you so little faith in Claudia? She grows in knowledge and power, son of Hatra. But there is a price to pay for what she has achieved. There is always a price. Just remember that you are responsible for what has come to pass.’

  ‘Me? Was I responsible for Kujula invading Parthia or the machinations of Phanes, which prompted the Kushans into believing they could absorb the eastern half of the empire?’

  A second sigh. ‘Have it your own way. You still intend to keep Phraates on Ctesiphon’s throne?’

  ‘I do.’

  She laughed mockingly. ‘You don’t need me to torment you when you are perfectly capable of doing that yourself. Take care, son of Hatra, keep Spartacus on a short leash for his ambitions will set the empire aflame.’

  And then she was gone. I would have given a fortune in gold just to spend a few more minutes in conversation with her but there was only the sound of crickets and the muffled revelries of men living life to the full. I felt alone and apart from my friends and the soldiers I commanded, an outsider looking in. In that moment, all I desired was to be back at Dura with my wife and family.