The initial alarm gave way to the conviction they were probably the remnants of General Kaniska’s army that Malik’s men had failed to eradicate. Interrogations of the scouts revealed that two parties of Kushans had been encountered, one numbering around a score, the other less than ten men. None of the hunting parties had noted the presence of enemy riders so we dismissed the idea of a large force of enemy soldiers anywhere near us.

  On the third day, I diverted from the march to lead two companies of Duran horse archers to a village that had remained unmolested during our advance to Indraprastha. I took Jagat with me because it was his village we were returning to. We rode into the settlement to see villagers running for their lives, women grabbing children and wailing when they saw dozens of horsemen approaching their homes. Jagat called to them to remain calm and not flee, jumping down from his horse to announce his return. Gradually calm returned to the village, though men and women still hastened to their homes rather than stay and listen to the discourse between Jagat and the horseman with a scarred cheek.

  I untied a leather pouch from one of the front horns of my saddle and tossed it to him. It contained gold coins, part of the treasure gifted to us by Queen Rana.

  ‘For your services.’

  He caught the pouch, opened it and his eyes lit up.

  ‘I would advise you to use it to get out of the Kushan Empire. Your queen may not forgive you for acting as my translator.’

  ‘I am old, King Pacorus. What use would killing me serve?’

  ‘Tyrants rarely think rationally, Jagat.’

  He looked around at faces peering out from doorways.

  ‘Thank you for not burning my village. I know others among you were eager to visit death and destruction upon us.’

  I turned Tegha . ‘Shamash be with you, Jagat.’

  I returned to the army to find it halted and looks of concern on the faces of the other kings.

  ‘We have problems,’ Khosrou told me, ‘our scouts have encountered parties of Kushan horsemen to the north and south.’

  ‘How far away?’ I asked.

  ‘Around thirty miles.’

  ‘One of our parties came across a column of foot soldiers to the north, heading in our direction,’ added Khosrou.

  ‘We must assume it is the same to the south,’ said Malik.

  ‘It would appear that the Kushans have withdrawn their armies from Parthia, uncle,’ said Spartacus.

  ‘That is something, at least,’ I admitted.

  ‘We need to get across the river as quickly as possible,’ urged Khosrou, ‘before we are trapped by enemies marching from the north and south.’

  ‘Not forgetting the foot soldiers following us,’ added Malik.

  We recommenced our journey, setting a hard pace to hopefully put as much distance between us and the Kushans approaching from the north and south as possible. I was comforted that those forces appeared to contain foot soldiers, which would reduce the distance they could cover each day. So, we rode west across a flat landscape littered with the residue of villages we had torched during our arrival in Kushan lands, their charred remains deserted apart from the odd scavenging vulture.

  We covered thirty miles that day and by the late afternoon were confident we would be camping by the side of the Indus before nightfall. Scouts sent north and south returned to report seeing no enemy soldiers, either mounted or on foot, leading us to believe that we had outrun them. No Kushans had been spotted to the rear of the army at any time, and as we slid off the backs of our horses to take a well-earned break we congratulated ourselves that we had achieved what we had come to do. We had drawn Kujula away from Sigal and indeed Parthia, and it appeared that the forces that had occupied Drangiana and Aria had also been recalled, though that was mere conjecture. I walked over to Khosrou who had removed his helmet and was wiping his sweating face with a cloth.

  ‘It will be good to reach the foothills of the mountains and breath some cool air; this humid atmosphere is no good for my chest.’

  I laughed. ‘Indeed, lord. I just wanted to personally congratulate you for thinking up this little enterprise. It has achieved more than I could have hoped for. May I suggest that when we return I lobby for you to be appointed lord high general of the empire?’

  He spat on the ground. ‘You can lobby all you want but the day I become Phraates’ official arse licker is the day I slit my own wrists.’

  I roared with laughter and slapped him on the back. ‘You are ever the diplomat, lord.’

  Then I spotted them, a small group of riders galloping towards us. They were some of Khosrou’s men armed with long spears and wearing their distinctive leather armour and riding their hardy ponies. I don’t know why their appearance unnerved me so but I could not take my eyes off them as they slowed and pulled up their mounts in front of Khosrou. The old king turned and accepted the salute of Kuban who removed his helmet and handed the reins of his horse to a subordinate. Malik and Spartacus had wandered over to hear what Khosrou’s second-in-command had to say. Even before he did so a feeling of dread enveloped me.

  ‘I have just returned from the river, lord, where a great army is camped along the western bank. A Kushan army.’

  ‘How many?’ asked Khosrou.

  ‘Thousands,’ answered Kuban.

  ‘How many soldiers do these Kushans have?’ exclaimed Spartacus in exasperation.

  ‘It must be Kujula’s army,’ I said.

  Khosrou screwed up his face in anger. ‘That Roman slave was right. We should have killed that bastard pigeon keeper and all his birds.’

  It was a cry of futile rage, a feeling that possessed us all as we realised we were like an animal herded towards a trap by an army of beaters, in our case three armies: one to the north, one to the south and one behind us.

  ‘What is your plan, Pacorus?’ asked Malik.

  He and the others looked at me, expecting me to spirit up a masterstroke out of nowhere. I was, after all, the victor of Surkh, Susa, Carrhae and Phraaspa whose army had never been defeated in battle. I burst out laughing. What did it all matter now? We were outnumbered, far from home and in real danger of being trapped. How I wish Claudia was with us to conjure up a sandstorm to mask our escape across the Indus. First of all, though, I needed to see the army camped on the other side of the Indus.

  ‘I desire to see the Kushan army myself before I can make any plan,’ I told everyone.

  ‘Good idea,’ agreed Khosrou.

  ‘I’m coming,’ said Spartacus.

  Malik nodded. ‘Me too.’

  We waited until our horses were rested before saddling them and riding them towards the river, a score of my horse archers acting as an escort. No one said anything as we traversed the lush green plain, a herd of water buffalo looking up as we passed them by the edge of a small lake. After an hour, we came across the Indus and halted. At this point the waterway was perhaps five hundred paces wide, the water blue and slow moving. We walked to the water’s edge and I noticed that the level had dropped by two or three feet, which would make a crossing easier. The current also seemed to have eased.

  We stood and studied the opposite bank, smoke from a hundred campfires or more weaving its way into the early evening air. There was no wind and an ominous stillness had descended. I felt a trickle of sweat run down my cheek. The Kushan camp extended north and south for a considerable distance. I could make out elephants at the water’s edge and horses, beside them individuals resembling ants scurrying around.

  ‘They have posted no guards on this side of the river,’ observed Spartacus.

  ‘They have no need,’ I said, ‘Kujula knows we have to cross the river here if we want to avoid fighting those of his soldiers that are on this side of the river. He also knows we won’t be engaging those forces.’

  Khosrou was surprised. ‘We won’t?’

  ‘To do so would mean remaining on this side of the river,’ I said, ‘and we need to get across tomorrow. We cannot attempt to find a crossing place further up or downstream because that would mean coming into contact with either of the armies bearing down on us from the north and south. We cannot withdraw back to the east because another army is approaching from that direction.’

  ‘Caught like rats in a trap,’ fumed Khosrou.

  ‘There must be a way out,’ said Spartacus.

  I pointed across the river. ‘There is.’

  Khosrou guffawed. ‘Straight through them? I like it.’

  ‘Our losses will be heavy, Pacorus,’ cautioned Malik.

  ‘They might be, my friend, but they will be heavier if we stay here.’

  I looked at each of them. ‘Just one man’s opinion. If any of you has a better plan, I will gladly step aside.’

  ‘What time do we attack?’ asked Spartacus.

  ‘Just before dawn,’ I answered.

  No campfires were lit that night to keep our location a secret from the enemy, men sitting with their friends near their horses and chatting about home and family as they cleaned their swords, checked their bows and ate fresh fruit plundered from abandoned farms. The night was clear with a full moon illuminating the landscape, though the temperature had not dropped significantly. I walked among the Durans with Katana and found them in good humour. They had full bellies and I had distributed Dura’s part of the small fortune given to us by Queen Rana among them. This ‘campaign bonus’ had raised their morale considerably, though whether they would be able to spend their gold remained to be seen.

  ‘What are our tactics tomorrow, majesty?’ enquired Katana.

  ‘Simple enough. Your men will be deployed behind the Agraci who will use their spears to break the enemy line, assisted by the arrows of your men. The other contingents will adopt the same tactics.’

  He said nothing as we passed a squad of Durans guarding their company’s horses. They stood to attention and he raised his hand in recognition. We walked on and still he said nothing.

  ‘Speak freely, Katana, I would like to hear your opinion.’

  ‘Moving though water, with no cover and under enemy arrows will mean high casualties. And there is no guarantee we will break the enemy, not without cataphracts.’

  ‘You are right,’ I admitted, ‘but our options are very limited. We cannot stay on this side of the river.’

  ‘It would be better to let the Kushans cross the river, majesty, so we can make use of our mobility.’

  ‘I agree, Katana, but Kujula has no intention of moving. He knows we are the ones who must move, though I am hopeful that he will not expect us to assault his force. The element of surprise may yet give us a chance, albeit a small one admittedly.’

  Katana was unhappy but resigned to crossing the river in a few hours to battle a much larger Kushan force. But if he had reservations Titus Rutilus was a man without a care in the world. I found him practising his sword strokes with a spare spatha , swinging it with abandon and stopping to admire the smooth blade and wooden handle. Though their role was not close-quarters combat, every Duran horse archer was equipped with a spatha and dagger and received training in swordsmanship. He stopped when he saw me and bowed his head.

  ‘Please carry on, Titus.’

  ‘I never thought I would handle one of these again, majesty.’

  ‘If you wish you could ride out of camp this evening, rather than take your chances with us tomorrow. It looks as though we will face daunting odds. You are, after all, free to go where you will.’

  He swung his sword in the night air. ‘Then I am free to stay, majesty, which is what I choose to do.’

  We quit camp an hour before dawn, beforehand watering, feeding and saddling the horses and grabbing a few mouthfuls of fruit and rice and then riding towards the Indus. We moved slowly, nearly fourteen thousand horsemen trotting across the grassy plain, wild animals scattering before us as the companies deployed from column into line.

  Malik’s men, who had no discipline and whose idea of warfare involved bellowing war cries and charging headlong at the enemy, were placed in front of my Duran horse archers, who would shoot over their heads to provide missile support. Ideally, I would have placed groups of horse archers among the front ranks of the Agraci, but such tactics relied upon high levels of training and discipline, qualities quite alien to the average Agraci warrior. I had begged Malik to impress upon his men the importance of silence during our approach and he had ordered his warlords to restrain their warriors. But I knew when his men saw the whites of the enemy’s eyes they would not be able to ignore their instincts.

  In the centre were Khosrou’s ten thousand soldiers, divided into two lines, each one containing five thousand-man blocks. On the left were the twelve hundred horsemen of Gordyene, also arrayed in two lines. Out battle line had a length of two miles, moving slowly across the plain toward the Indus, which was around four feet at its deepest point.

  Dawn breaks quickly in northern India and as the first rays of the sun peeked above the eastern horizon behind us my heart sank when I saw those rays reflecting off thousands of spear points – the enemy was waiting for us.

  How the Kushans discovered we were coming I did not know, only that we were now faced not with charging through an enemy camp but breaking Kujula’s battle line. There was no turning back; the only way was forward. True to form the Agraci increased their pace, breaking into a canter that we had no choice but to follow. As we neared the river the Margianans on our right also increased their speed, splashing into the water to enter the Indus beside us. I nocked an arrow in my bowstring as Tegha pushed his way through the gently flowing river. The Agraci were now hurling abuse at the enemy, raising their spears as they called the Kushans ‘sons of whores’, ‘eunuchs’, ‘boy lovers’ and ‘women’, all designed to rile the enemy and totally wasted as the Kushans did not understand what was being shouted at them.

  I looked anxiously into the brightening sky, expecting it to be filled with arrows shot from the Kushan longbowmen. But instead the enemy sent his horse archers into the river to disrupt our attack that had already been slowed by having to wade through the water. The first I realised what was happening was when riders among the Agraci in front of us began to fall into the water, their horses shrieking and collapsing into the river as arrows hit them. Our response was immediate: loosing arrows over the heads of the Agraci. One, two, three, four and more. Volley after volley to strike unarmoured riders. I glanced right and saw the air filled with missiles as the Margianans copied our tactics. Through gaps in the Agraci line I could see Kushan horse archers tumbling from saddles into the water. I heard shrill horn calls and saw enemy riders turning their horses. No arrows were now coming from the Kushans in the water as they fell back to the right wing of Kujula’s army.

  ‘On, on.’

  I heard Agraci warlords screaming at their men to move forward, having been halted by the horse archer attack. I glanced at Katana beside me who shook his head in frustration. He knew as well as I did that we were still in the water and had yet to reach the main enemy battle line, which we had to break through if we were to reach safety. We could not outflank the enemy because their unbroken line of spearmen extended beyond the end of our own left flank, and I assumed it was the same on Spartacus’ flank. So we had to try to hack our way through their centre.

  It was futile.

  As arrows arched high into the sky to fall among us, shot by the longbowmen behind the ranks of Kushan spearmen, the Agraci tried to spear and slash their way through the enemy spearmen on the gently sloping riverbank. But the spears of the enemy were long and it was all but impossible for men on horseback to even reach the men who held them. Black-clad Agraci milled around at the line of unbroken Kushan shields, those armed with spears trying to stab at the faces of the soldiers in the front rank. But behind the shield wall were skirmishers who hurled javelins with deadly accuracy to spear Malik’s men. My horse archers tried to lend a hand but it was difficult to shoot through the fleeting gaps that appeared among the Agraci and even harder to hit enemy soldiers crouched behind long, narrow shields that protected just about the whole of their bodies. We were forced to bunch up with the Agraci to escape the Kushan arrows falling into the water behind us.

  Like sheep we had been herded against the impenetrable barrier of the Kushan shield wall, which was being assaulted with gusto by the Agraci, to no effect. The Durans and I were now at the water’s edge, the shield wall entrenched fifty paces back from the river. We were now stationary and trying to shoot at the enemy when gaps appeared. We had abandoned trying to shoot holes in the shield wall and instead launched arrows over the spearmen to hopefully strike those standing behind them.

  ‘They’ve stopped shooting arrows.’

  Katana, ever alert, was looking into the sky, which was suddenly empty.

  ‘I thank the gods for that at least.’

  But the gods regarded bloodshed with relish and if they were at work it was entirely for their own amusement. Above the sound of men grunting, horses whinnying and the clatter of weapons clashing was heard the sound of horns coming from the left. They were sounding a charge, that much I knew, and craned my neck to peer towards our flank. Where suddenly hundreds of men on horseback appeared.

  Cobra banners fluttered among them, the same motif decorating the rawhide stretched over their wicker shields. They were light horsemen wearing no armour and only a turban for headgear. But they carried javelins as well as swords and within minutes they were hurling their missiles to strike unarmoured horse archers.