“Centurio!” Mylitos, breathing heavily, stepped forward.
“Report.”
“Our scouts say they’re only sending in about a third of their force. Mixed cavalry, mostly archers, and foot with scaling ladders,” Mylitos said.
“Where are the rest?”
“Waiting in reserve. They’ve got scouts out working the hills, but Tribunus Syphax and the I Centuria are ensuring they don’t make it back to report.”
Lucius had tried to talk Syphax out of leading the century they’d sent into the hills to hunt scouts and to harry their flanks, but his friend had insisted on leading the operation instead of staying inside the fort and leading the defense. Roma didn’t like her war leaders to develop rusty blades, he’d said. Syphax’s cousin was second only to Trajan in military matters and, in essence, commanded all the legions in the east. Lucius wondered at times if Syphax was jealous he’d not risen as high, though forming an elite unit surpassing all other legions in training wasn’t without its glories. Syphax would never admit to it, and Lucius would never ask. Syphax might be a friend, but he was also his commander, and although they were close, their friendship didn’t rise to that level of intimacy.
“Grab a quick breather. I’ll have fresh horses brought up.” Lucius waved at a nearby legionnaire, who went to fetch a pair of horses that were already saddled and ready to go.
Mylitos and the other scout saluted and jogged off to visit the latrine. He shimmied back up the ladder. The first row of horse and rider could be seen. With lances held high, they were packed in tightly. A cavalry charge wouldn’t do much against their walls, but it worked well to screen the infantry behind them. Another minute and the first lines would be within range of their ballistae. They’d tested the ranges and had set up landmarks so they knew what trajectories were needed for which ranges.
Lucius nodded to the signalman who waved to the ballistae crews. Working as a team, they cranked the winch levelers, pulling back the swing arms and loading the skeins with tension. Once they had it fully cocked, they loaded in the rounded stone balls. He wanted to wait until the Parthians were fully committed before unleashing the ballistae.
Their cohort was meant to be traveling fast, and they lacked the heavier siege equipment a full legion would have. Their three ballistae would get a heavy workout. Every legionnaire that could shoot a bow was on the walls, ready to do their part. And when the Parthians got in close, the rest of the men would fill the sky with their javelins. Then, when the ladders were on the walls, it would come down to bloody work with gladius and scutum.
“Loose!” Lucius shouted.
The ballistae crews pulled the release pins and the swing arms flung their stones down their chutes and into the sky. Squinting, Lucius tried to find the approximate spots where the stones were aimed. One snapped a lance on its downward path before disappearing into the crowd. Lucius didn’t see it hit, but he heard the scream of man and animal. Another smashed through, striking flesh. The third one came in lower, pulping the helmet-covered head of one of the riders in the front row. Lucius winced.
The crews rearmed their ballistae and shot again; they’d keep firing until new orders and ranges were given to them.
“Archers, nock,” Lucius called. “Light. Loose!”
Flaming arrows streaked across the sky between the fort and the Parthians, plunging indiscriminatingly into flesh. More screams filled the space. A few horses, driven past endurance, broke and trampled through their own ranks. One toppled over the edge and off the edge of the trail into the open air and rugged rocks of the cliff.
“Again,” he called.
It didn’t matter how many times he’d heard the screams of pain and terror coming from beast and human, it still made him cringe and fight back a wave of nausea until it all blurred and became numb. Another wave of flaming arrows arced across the sky. It was brutal, but they were outnumbered. If they could force the Parthians to retreat, great, but if not, they had to ruthlessly reduce their numbers any way possible before they met face to face, hand to hand.
The front lines of Parthian cavalry burst into action, dropping their lances and pulling their bows.
“Shields ready!”
The legionnaires who’d been waiting snapped into alertness, bringing their scutum up to form a protective layer of leather and wood between their archers and the incoming arrows. Lucius ducked behind the stout timber at the top of their wall as arrows thudded into the wood below. Some made it over to plunge into scutums, raising a few screams of pain from his people. Flexing his left hand, he felt sympathy pangs. Peeking over the edge, the cavalry continued their dash forward, firing at will.
The Parthians were some of the finest horse archers in the world. After fighting them for years, he was still amazed at how many arrows they could put into the air while at a full gallop and still maintain accuracy. Unfortunately, horse archers weren’t the best against fortified walls. They were nearly within range for their next tactic.
When horses tumbled to the ground, spilling riders, he closed his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the sound from assaulting his ears. They’d found the field of shallowly buried stakes hidden by loosely filled dirt. The torn-up ground soaked with rain couldn’t hold the weight of the horses. The muddy slop tripped the horses, breaking legs, and dragged horse and rider onto the stakes.
The lines not currently mired in the muck ground to a halt, bunching up as commanding officers tried to organize something from the chaos. Before they could, Syphax and the bulk of I Centuria burst out of the woods, the momentum of coming off the hill plunging them deep into the back lines of the Parthians. When their lances broke, they freed their spathas and went to work with the longer swords. However, their trap hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed.
“Centurio…” someone nearby said.
“I see it.” He turned, looking for the signal officer. “Cornicen, blow immediate withdrawal.”
The cornicen answered by putting the large, curved horn to his lips and blew the orders out over the wall. Stopping for a few moments, he repeated the horn call. Lucius found Syphax in the scrum and watched, waiting. On the third blow of the signal, the Tribune barked out the orders and got the cavalry retreating in an orderly fashion.
With the century disengaging, Lucius returned his attention to the incoming Parthians. The kataphraktoi had entered the engagement. With horses covered in armor and their riders totally encased, a wall of steel bore down on Syphax. If they were caught between both forces of Parthians, they might as well be in a meat grinder. When the last of the Romans disappeared back into the woods, Lucius breathed a sigh of relief.
Their cavalry wasn’t as heavily armored, but they were quick and had spent the days exploring the area and knew it well enough to avoid contact with the extra heavy cavalry who’d have been unable to easily move through the dense trees, not without abandoning their long lances.
“Ballistae! Marker range one, shoot at will!” Lucius yelled. He looked down the wall. “Archers, don’t waste shots on the downed horses and riders. Aim at the infantry.”
Once the stone balls started falling among the kataphraktoi, they turned around since they no longer had a target to charge at. Soon, in dribs and drabs, then in an increasing flood, the infantry and remaining horse archers broke and ran toward their own lines.
“Ballistae, cease shooting,” Lucius called. “Cornicen, sound advance for the I Centuria.”
After the horn call sounded over the battlefield, Lucius gave the archers a few more moments to take shots at the fleeing Parthians before calling them off, unwilling to risk hitting his own men as they returned to the battlefield.
Syphax swept out of the trees and plowed into the retreating Parthians, cutting them down in huge swaths. At the far end, the kataphraktoi were trying to reform to provide cover but couldn’t keep a line moving through the disorderly retreat of their countrymen.
“Call out withdrawal.” Lucius saw movement in the back of the Parthian line and didn’t want to risk his friends if the enemy moved up archers to screen their retreat.
The cornicen played the retreat. On the second call, their cavalry spun around and made for the trees again.
“Blow advance for the II Centuria and then bring the I back inside.” Squatting down at the edge of the walkway along the top of the wall, he cupped his hand next to his mouth. “Zyraxes, you feel like getting muddy?”
“No,” the centurion of the V Century replied, a ripple of chuckles from his century following the pronouncement.
“Too bad. If you see anyone that looks like a nobleman, bring them in for questioning. Put the rest down.”
Zyraxes saluted and relayed the orders as the gates swung open to let them out. At the side gate, Syphax, the primus pilus, and his century filed in. Sliding off his horse, Syphax tossed the reigns to a nearby legionnaire, grabbed an offered waterskin, and joined Lucius on top of the walls.
Syphax took a deep drink from the skin, before wiping the dribbles from his beard. “How are things looking up here?”
