away (the distance at which a man's head can be made out as a round ball) they began to incline away to the north. Ballista moved to the parapet and called Bagoas to his side. By the time the columns reached the beginning of the wasteland where the furthest tower tombs had once stood, they were moving parallel to the western wall. The third column was now revealed as the baggage and siege train. The nearest column, the cavalry, was close enough for Ballista to be able to see the lighter-coloured spots of the men's faces, their costumes and weapons, the bright trappings of their mounts, the banners above their heads: about 500 paces away, just out of artillery range.
Speaking in Greek, Ballista asked Bagoas if he could identify the units of the Sassanid horde and their leaders.
'Excellent, how very cultured our siege will be. We can begin with our very own View from the Wall.' Although Acilius Glabrio had interrupted in Latin, he used the Greek word teichoskopia' for the View from the Wall. To any educated person in the imperium, the word instantly summoned up the famous scene in the Hiad of Homer where Helen looked down from the walls of Troy and identified each of the bronze-armoured Achaeans come to tear her from her lover Paris and take her home to her rightful husband, the broad-shouldered Menelaus. 'And who better than this delightful Persian boy to play the Queen of Sparta?' Acilius Glabrio smiled at Ballista. 'I do hope our Helen does not feel the need to criticize the manliness of her Paris.'
Bagoas's grasp of Latin might still be rudimentary, and Ballista had no idea if the boy knew anything of the Iliad, but it was obvious that he realized he was being mocked, that his masculinity was being questioned. The boy's eyes were furious. Before he could do anything, Mamurra spoke to Acilius Glabrio.
'That is enough, Tribune. This is not a time for dissension. We all know what happened to Troy. May the gods grant that these words of ill omen fall only on the man who utters them.'
The young nobleman spun around looking dangerous. He brought his well-groomed face inches from that of the praefectus fabrum. Then he mastered himself. Clearly it was beneath one of the Acilii Glabriones to bandy words with sordid plebeians like Mamurra. 'The men of my family have always had broad shoulders.' With patrician disdain, he brushed an imaginary piece of dirt from his immaculate sleeve.
Ballista pointed to the enemy and indicated to Bagoas to start talking.
'First ride some of the non-Aryan people subject to my lord Shapur. See the fur cloaks and long hanging sleeves of the Georgians, then the half-naked Arabs, the turbaned Indians and the wild nomadic Sakas. From all the corners of the world, when the King of Kings calls, they obey.' The boy shone with pride. 'And there… there are the noble Aryan warriors, the warriors of Mazda, the armoured knights, the clibanarii.'
All the men on the gate tower fell silent as they regarded the serried ranks of the Sassanid heavy cavalry, the elite of Shapur's army. Five deep, the column seemed to stretch for miles across the plain. As far as could be seen were armoured men on armoured horses. Some looked like living statues, horse and man clad in iron scales, iron masks covering any humanity. The mounts of others were armoured in red leather or green-blue horn. Many wore gaudy surcoats and caparisoned their horses similarly – green, yellow, scarlet and blue. Often man and beast wore abstract heraldic symbols – crescents, circles and bars – which proclaimed their clan. Above their heads their banners writhed and snapped – wolves, serpents, fierce beasts or abstract designs invoking Mazda.
'Can you tell who leads each contingent from their banners?' Ballista had had this moment in mind when he purchased the Persian youth.
'Of course,' Bagoas replied. 'In the van of the clibanarii ride the lords from the houses of Suren and Karen.'
'I thought that those were great noble houses under the previous regime. I assumed they would have fallen with the Parthian dynasty.'
'They came to see the holiness of Mazda.' Bagoas beamed. 'The King of Kings Shapur in his infinite kindness restored their lands and titles to them. The path of righteousness is open to all.'
'And the horsemen behind them?'
'Are the truly blessed. They are the children of the house of Sasan – Prince Valash the joy of Shapur, Prince Sasan the hunter, Dinak Queen of Mesene, Ardashir King of Adiabene.' Pride radiated from the boy. 'And look… there, next in the array, the guards. First the Immortals, at their head Peroz of the Long Sword. Then the Jan- avasper, those who sacrifice themselves. And see… see who leads them – none other than Mariades, the rightful emperor of Rome.' The boy laughed, careless of the effect his words were having, the punishments they might bring. 'The path of righteousness is open to all, even to Romans.'
Out of the swirling dust kicked up by many thousand horses, enormous grey shapes loomed. One, two, three… Ballista counted ten of them. Bagoas literally jumped for joy, clapping his hands. 'The earth-shaking elephants of Shapur. Who could think to stand against such beasts?'
Ballista had seen elephants fight in the arena but had never himself faced them in battle. Certainly they looked terrifying, not altogether of this world. They had to be at least ten foot high at the shoulder, and the turrets on their backs added yet more height. Each turret was packed with armed fighting men. At the bidding of an Indian who sat astride behind their ears, the elephants moved their great heads from side to side. Their huge tusks, sheathed in metal, dipped and swung from side to side.
'Frightening, but inefficient.' The experience in Turpio's voice was reassuring. 'Hamstring them, or madden them with missiles. Kill their drivers, their mahouts, and they will run amok. They are as likely to trample their own side as us.'
The Sassanid army had halted and turned to face the city. A trumpet rang out, clear across the plain.
From the left a small group of five unarmed horsemen appeared, moving at an easy canter. In their midst an enormous rectangular banner embroidered in yellow, red and violet and embedded with jewels that flashed as they caught the sunlight hung from a tall crossbar. The banner was topped by a golden ball, and bright strips of material streamed out behind it.
'The Drafsh-i-Kavyan, the royal battle flag of the house of Sasan.' Bagoas almost whispered. 'It was made before the dawn of time. Carried by five of the holiest of mobads, priests, it goes before the King of Kings into battle.'
A lone horseman appeared from the left. He rode a magnificent white horse. His clothes were purple and on his head was a golden domed crown. White and purple streamers floated out behind him.
'Shapur, the Mazda-worshipping divine King of Kings of Aryans and Non-Aryans, of the race of the gods.' Bagoas prostrated himself on the battlements.
When Shapur reached the Drafsh-i-Kavyan standard at its station in front of the centre of his army, he reined his horse to a halt. He dismounted, seemingly using a kneeling man as a step. A golden throne was produced and Shapur sat on it. A large number of other men ran about.
'Enemy numbers?' Ballista threw the question open to his consilium gathered on the roof of the gate tower.
'I estimate about 20,000 infantry,' Acilius Glabrio answered promptly. 'Then about 10,000 heavy cavalry, 8,000 of them Sassanid clibanarii and 1,000 or so each from the Georgians and Sakas. There seem to be roughly 6,000 barbarian light cavalry at the front of the column, maybe 2,000 each from the Arabs and Indians and 1,000 each from the Georgians and Sakas.' Whatever one thought of the young patrician, it could not be denied that he was an extremely competent army officer. The estimates mapped almost exactly on to those Ballista had made.
'The Sassanids' own light cavalry?' The northerner kept the question short, business-like.
'Impossible to say,' answered Mamurra. 'They are scattered all over the countryside burning and plundering. There is no way for us to estimate their strength. However many there are, the majority will be on our side of the river. There will be just a few across the river – the nearest ford is about 100 miles downstream and we have commandeered every boat for miles. They will not have committed many men across the river.'
'What the praefectus fabrum says is true,' said Turpio. 'We cannot know their numbers. At Barbalissos there were somewhere between five and ten light cavalrymen to every clibariarius, but at other times their numbers have been said to be about equal.'
'Thank you,' said Ballista. 'So it seems the enemy have somewhere between 40,000 and 130,000 men to our 4,000. At best we are outnumbered ten to one.' He smiled broadly. 'It is very lucky for us that it is a bunch of effeminate easterners who get scared at the sound of a noisy dinner party let alone a battle. We would not want to fight anyone with any bollocks at these odds.' The army officers all laughed. Demetrius tried to join in.
Ballista noted that the baggage train had caught up with the other columns, and that its first task was to erect a spacious purple tent just behind the centre of the army. The tent, which could be none other than Shapur's, was
