A stone's throw to the north, a crippled centurion is yelling at us to drop our weapons before the Parthian heavy cavalry decide we're taking too long to surrender. I pull hard again at my left hand. No use. It remains pinned to my shield by an arrow. I drop the sword from my right hand and signal compliance. The man beside me does not have so much as a scratch, but hours of thirst overcame him and he collapsed during the battle. He remains dehydrated and semi-conscious, but quite feverish. I've not been able to stand for some time because of two arrows embedded in my left foot. All around, i see men dropping weapons for the first time. We had come into battle completely demoralized by so many frightening omens, but none had given up during the actual battle. None had surrendered that first day. This morning, only the wounded remain on the battlefield. All who could still walk are gone. A Parthian cavalryman picks up our fallen eagle from beneath a pile of dead.

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Arrow Barrage Without End

Lances point at our dusty faces. The Parthians holding them drip almost no sweat through their armor. These people seem used to this heat. Others drink water behind them but only very casually, and still further behind them their horses also drink. The morning air is becoming quieter as fighting subsides. Amid the clouds of desert dust, i see shining cloth the likes of which i have never seen before. Colors so vibrant. Reds. Greens. Banners held aloft by Parthian men of war. I hear one of them babbling loudly as another pushes hard to remove two Roman bodies off his lance, a reminder of their previous attack.

We were all surprised by the power of the enemy cavalry. Our swords had glanced off their armor, armor which covered them completely from head to toe. Only their eyes were exposed but none of us could make use of that tiny vulnerability. Such heavy use of armor we had only heard of but one which most of us had never encountered. Here we were yesterday, pinned down. I watched our men get speared by the dozen, helpless to stop the giant war horses. These horses wore armor from chest to hoof. Enormous animals that simply did not exist in the Republic. Horses strong enough to carry this much armor.

Our phalanx should have held, but the combined arrow barrage and heavy cavalry proved beyond Crassus' amateur tactics. Pompey would never have led us into something like this without proper offensives in mind. In fact, Pompey would never have permitted our invasion of the Parthian territory at all. The Parthians had done Rome no wrong and even asked why we were pillaging their lands. Crassus, the greedy old fool, only answered them with an insult. There was never any other motive for him than treasure, all that Parthian wealth.

We saw men yesterday run down by cavalry mainly when we broke formation to free up our fighting hand. It was tight under the tortoise shell formation with shields locked to keep arrows off. Crassus had ordered us to wait under there until the Parthians had ran out of arrows. They did not run out. I watched horse archers sending volleys to back their charging heavy cavalry. Spent archers were continually replaced by fresh ones. A massive camel train in the distance dumped thousands of arrows onto archers that had galloped back to reload. We waited under shields for their barrages to stop. We waited. And waited -. I gag from the dryness of my throat.

Han Dynasty tile showing "Parthian shot." China was aware Parthian horse archers could shoot backwards with high accuracy. Rome became aware, too, after the Battle of Carrhae.

The tortoise formation did work. It was not intended to work for hours in midday in a desert, though. The heat and fatigue brought men down. Holes formed as men fell unconscious. Arrows came in through those holes. Holes formed as tired arms dropped their overhead loads. Arrows came in through those holes, too. I look around and i don't see the seven legions that marched onto the battlefield yesterday. I see dead and wounded by the thousands --- on our side. The enemy seems untouched.

Once the Parthians had ridden off to their encampment last night, Crassus took the able-bodied towards the fortress at Carrhae nearby. There is no word on whether or not they made it. Perhaps they will regroup and try a counterattack. Perhaps. As for us, we know we must be left behind. The dust blows again into my eyes, but I reach out for the water being offered by our captors.

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Marcus, our ragged centurion, was marching us slowly northeast to our new home. I've never seen the old man look so content. He is a heavy set giant from Germania and retains all the power of his large hands, so he is pulling one of the tent carts behind him. Gaius in front of him had just bought us something called tea. He was told it held great medicinal value for the noble classes, so he paid for several small bags and kept on explaining to my wife how to prepare it. Her family had never bothered to try it before.

Our outpost had been well fed thanks to the success of a number of local shops. By royal decree, we were actually allowed to get paid, so we were hardly ever inside the fortress. The townspeople were generous to us as we built structures for them all over town. Otherwise, we would have been an idle lot in the garrison now that the Huns were happy with the imperial treaties. Peace gave everyone the opportunity to work hard and actually see something for it in return. Farmers and craftsmen all.

Last week Gaius bought us meat for the first time since our march began. We had been saving our coins by purchasing millet and vegetables, but one village was selling pork so cheap we just could not resist. Some of us have acquired a taste for strange meats with soya bean sauce, but my preference is pork. We must be careful with the firewood since this area is becoming more and more of a desert the farther we go along. My wife's sister had taught her to cut the meat and vegetables into tiny pieces to allow cooking with only a small fire.

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Day 61, New Horses

I remember, once upon a time, these great horses bore another set of riders who held the point of their spear to my chest. As i lay wounded long ago in that faraway desert, an armoured hand kindly held out to me a drink of water. Perhaps it was that act of kindness that allowed many of us to appreciate being alive at all. Perhaps it was that act of kindness that allowed many of us to look forward all these years. To always look forward. To never give up on the hope of someday having the chance to live as we were meant to live. In peace. With wives. And children. And a home.

The horses pass. The dust starts to settle. Marcus pulls back onto the trail and we all follow behind as Gaius begins planning tonight's meal out loud in an almost singsong manner. My wife looks at Gaius' wildly gesturing arms. She looks at me with the flowers in her hair fluttering in the light warm breeze, and we both laugh.