The Forgotten Legion

Pacorus pursed his lips. 'I see the lituus is not all you managed to retain.'

Tarquinius said nothing.

The Parthian eyed the gemstone greedily and his right hand moved towards one of his daggers. 'I can take that very easily.'

'But you won't.'

'You are alone and unarmed.' He glanced at his guard. 'There are ten more of my men outside.'

'I would curse you for ever.' Tarquinius' dark eyes glinted in the torchlight as he tucked away the little bag. 'And my cohort might not be too happy either.'

Pacorus swallowed. The blond-haired soldier had helped the column pass safely through the mountains. He could predict landslides days in advance and storms before they appeared in the sky. It was rumoured that he'd even predicted his own side's defeat at Carrhae.

Smiling, the Etruscan walked over to the silk partition that separated the tent into sections. 'May I demonstrate?'

Pacorus nodded.

Tarquinius took down the piece of coloured fabric and wrapped it several times around a square cushion. He paced fifty steps to the end of the long tent, the killing distance that had cut the legions to pieces. Placing it on the floor, he walked back, picking up a deeply curved horn bow and quiver from the wooden stand.

The warrior by the entrance instantly lunged forward, spear at the ready.

Pacorus barked an order and he moved back.

Reaching his host, the haruspex studied the weapon carefully. 'This is very well made,' he commented, testing its draw. 'Powerful too.'

'A good bow takes weeks to build,' said Pacorus. 'The horn and sinew must be just the right thickness and the wood well seasoned.'

Turning towards the target, Tarquinius pulled out an arrow and fitted it to the string. Raising his arms, he paused, half turning.

The Parthian sucked in a breath.

Tarquinius swung away, content the point had been made. He drew back to full stretch, closing one eye and aiming carefully in the dim light. With a grunt, he released. The shaft hissed through the air, landing with a thump.

'Bring it here!' Pacorus shouted.

The guard picked up the cushion, an amazed look on his face. He walked to the commander, bowed and handed it to him.

Pacorus stared, fascinated. The arrow had only penetrated two fingers' depth into the filling. With a gentle tug, he pulled it free. The barbed head was completely covered in fabric.

Silk that was hardly torn or damaged.

The Parthian goggled.

'Wrap half a dozen layers of that over a scutum,' Tarquinius pronounced, 'and you have an army that can withstand any arrow.'

New respect for the haruspex filled Pacorus' eyes.

'You saw Roman discipline at Carrhae before the cataphracts charged. Legionaries are the finest infantry in the world,' said Tarquinius. 'With silk on our shields, the Forgotten Legion will be unbeatable.'

'Those tribes outnumber us.'

'They do not stand a chance,' repeated Tarquinius.

'Why tell me this?'

'My friends and I have no wish to die. We were lucky to survive the last battle.' Tarquinius raised his eyebrows expressively. 'Facing those bows a second time. '

Pacorus was intrigued. Unknown to the Etruscan, his new command from Orodes was a double-edged sword. Historically the horse archers and cataphracts had been able to keep the steppe nomads at bay. But the war with Rome had depleted Parthia's border forces to dangerously low levels and there had been news recently of incursions deep into the empire. Facing marauding tribes with few bowmen of his own had been worrying Pacorus since leaving Seleucia.

The Parthian poured more wine.

'There's your caravan,' said Brennus, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Romulus grinned. Both of them had been impatiently scanning the horizon since Tarquinius' night visit to Pacorus.

Exactly twelve days had passed.

Dust billowed into hot air in the middle distance. It was never difficult to spot movement on the flat plain that had replaced the sand dunes. A long line of camels could just be made out, stretching back into the haze.

Pacorus spotted the animals too and bellowed for the column to halt. The drums beat further commands. Most soldiers had learned basic Parthian orders by now and obeyed promptly. Recognising that new troops would fight best the way they had been trained, the shrewd officer had already learned many Roman manoeuvres from Tarquinius. A day earlier, he had taken the step of arming all the prisoners again. Again, no one but the Etruscan knew why. Despite their initial enjoyment at marching unburdened, the legionaries were proud to carry javelins, swords and shields once more.

Responding to the calls, the cohorts fanned out in a defensive line, six across, three deep, with two protecting the baggage train at the rear. Everyone grounded weapons and scuta, taking sips of water as they waited. Lean and fit, the Roman soldiers had become used to marching in the heat, and exhaustion was no longer an issue. Deep in Parthian territory, few worried at what was approaching.

Some time passed. Gradually the train grew near enough to make out more details. There were about thirty single-humped animals, walking with a distinctive rolling motion. Heavy cloth panniers hung from the sides of each.

'Extraordinary beasts. They can go for days without water,' commented Tarquinius.

Romulus studied them closely as they drew nearer. At Carrhae, the camels had been too far away to see properly.

A party of fifty men accompanied the beasts of burden. Most looked like bodyguards, hired to protect the merchants and their goods. All wore long robes and head-dresses to protect against the sun and most carried a spear and bow. A few wore swords. They showed little signs of discipline. Several scouts rode nervously alongside, their job of reporting the Romans' presence done.

Tarquinius gave them a quick glance. 'Mixture of Indians, Greeks and Parthians. Enough protection against most bandits.'

'Half a century would take them out,' said Romulus.

'There'll be no need,' smiled Brennus. 'Look at them.'

The caravan came to a halt a short distance away and the dust began to settle. Camels roared loudly, glad of a rest.

It was obvious that the newcomers were nervous. Hands gripped weapons tightly, feet stamped on hot sand. Dark eyes shifted uneasily in sweaty faces. There was nothing the traders could do when faced with such overwhelming force. The plain was flat for miles on end.

'I suppose we 're not a common sight,' observed Romulus wryly.

Everyone laughed. Ten thousand legionaries in the middle of Parthia would seem bizarre to other travellers.

Eventually a short man in a grimy white robe began to approach them, his hands held high in a gesture of peace. Three guards followed with dragging feet. Halfway over to the legions, the figure stopped, waiting for a response.

Pacorus glanced at Tarquinius. 'Squad of ten men!' he barked. 'Form up and follow me!'

The Etruscan saluted crisply and led Brennus, Romulus, Felix and seven others to stand in line behind the Parthian. With the legionaries marching to his rear, Pacorus walked his horse slowly across the sand and halted twenty paces from the other party. Tarquinius shouted an order and the files re-formed, facing forwards, scuta at the ready.

The old man in the dirty robe leaned on a well-worn staff, surveying the approaching soldiers. Straggling