Fall of Empires

Chapter 20

Theophanes and Isaac watched from the edge of the trees on the far left of the Persian lines, a couple of stades from the river bank. It had been horrifying to see the Roman cavalry set upon by the Savaran knights. The Persians had broken from cover on both sides of the narrow swath of open ground on either side of the dirt road leading from the stout wooden bridge spanning the Saros River. Shahrbaraz himself had been unable to resist joining in the pursuit of the Romans as they had fled back towards the bridge. They had watched him run one horseman through the back with his lance and then stave in the head of another with his mace before taking up his bow and loosing shaft after shaft until his quiver was empty. He had ridden back to where they waited amongst a gaggle of mounted junior officers with an expression of savage joy on his face, shouting out orders for the archers and the fierce warriors of Daylam to advance upon the bridge.

‘We have them now.’ Shahrbaraz stood up in his stirrups to get a better view of the action. ‘Half of their cavalry is away, the other half is in chaos. If we can cross the river now we shall over-run their camp.’

‘My God,’ Isaac pointed at a huge warrior who was striding to the middle of the bridge, swinging a double-headed battle-axe whose blades flashed in the sunlight. ‘Look at that fellow, he is a Goliath.’

The man stood head and shoulders above his compatriots, none of whom were small men. They formed a barricade of shields behind him as he taunted the Romans, daring any man to come against him.
‘The men of Daylam are the finest foot soldiers to be found in all the lands of the Great King,’ Shahrbaraz explained. ‘This man is a great chief among them.’

Theophanes could not imagine anyone having the courage to ride against such a foe, but then thundering towards the bridge, seemingly oblivious to the hail of arrows, came a man on a tall bay horse. His armour and that of his steed shone golden and a purple cloak fluttered out behind him. Isaac was bouncing up and down in his saddle like an overexcited spectator in the hippodrome.

‘It’s the emperor, Theophanes. It’s the emperor himself.’

Theophanes could hardly believe his eyes as the emperor  pulled his horse up just short of the murderous swing of the axe before giving a sharp tug on the reins. His horse reared and lashed out with his front hooves and the warrior reeled backwards as Heraclius urged his mount forward once more, swinging his sword with such force as to sever the man’s head cleanly and send it tumbling through the air into the river. The Roman cavalry on the far bank let out a roar as they rallied and charged to join their emperor. Heraclius did not wait for them. Spurring his horse on, he crashed through the wall of shields and began laying about him at the warriors of Daylam, who were still in shock at the death of their talismanic leader. All around him men fell and the Persians were soon falling back in disarray as the Roman cavalry surged forward in spite of the hail of arrows, inspired to insane bravery by the example of their emperor.

‘Look at your emperor.’ Shahrbaraz also seemed lost in admiration for the reckless courage he was witnessing. ‘Look how he spurns the blows and arrows like an anvil.’
‘My emperor,’ Isaac murmured. His expression was one of rapture. Theophanes had never seen him look that way, like a man experiencing a revelation.

Shahrbaraz turned to the nearest messenger. ‘The Savaran must attack now, we may cut down or capture the emperor of the Romans and hasten the end of this war.’ Theophanes felt a rising nausea. He did not think he wanted to witness the conclusion of this fight. Isaac looked for all the world as though he might seize a weapon and run Shahrbaraz through.

The general turned back towards the river and his eyes widened in shock. He raised his hand to call back the messenger and then shouted out urgently.

‘Fall back! Fall back, the Huns have returned.’

Theophanes spun in his saddle to see a tide of horsemen surging along both sides of the river from the north.

‘Where did they come from?’

‘They must have found a ford up river.’

Shahrbaraz was frantically waving his arm to direct his army to retreat. The Persian horse archers, their missiles all but exhausted, were making haste back to their own lines.

Theophanes wondered why the Persians seemed to show such dread at the arrival of these scruffy looking troops on their shaggy little ponies but then a great cloud of arrows began to rise into the air. The riders loosed their bows effortlessly and with a terrible speed and efficiency. Theophanes could not imagine the skill it must take to be able to be able to handle a bow at the gallop. Many of the retreating Persians went down under the storm of arrows as the Huns wheeled around in a maelstrom of thundering hooves, allowing each man to ride to the front in turn and loose several shafts in a blur of movement before wheeling around to the rear again. As the Persian host began to retreat, Heraclius was bellowing at the Hunnic commander, whose timely arrival had surely saved the day, not to pursue them. He had lost enough men already.

A mournful falling note from a horn carried across the field of battle to where Theophanes and Isaac remained beside Shahrbaraz and a handful of his officers as those Huns who had ridden in pursuit were recalled.  The Persian general would be the last to retreat. Shahrbaraz was watching Heraclius, who was sitting on his horse a little way from the rest of his exhausted cavalry, surveying the carnage of the field, which was littered with bodies. The groans of the wounded could be heard now that the din of battle had faded, sounding for all the world like the lowing of cattle. Around the bridge the corpses were heaped in a wall of mangled flesh.

Shahrbaraz raised his hand in the Roman Emperor’s direction. After a moment’s hesitation, Heraclius returned the gesture. Then Shahrbaraz wheeled his horse and announced.

‘We have exchanged fierce blows. There is no more to be gained here now that the fox is roused from his den. We shall fall back to the camp and keep a strong watch tonight in case he tries any of his tricks.’

The general urged his horse into a brisk trot and his companions and Theophanes dutifully followed him.

‘I think I shall remember these sights as long as I live, Isaac,’ Theophanes declared, contemplating the dead strewn across the churned up ground. There was no answer. ‘Isaac?’

Isaac had not moved. He sat on his horse still looking back towards the emperor.
‘Isaac! Come on,’ Theophanes shouted.
Isaac turned and looked at him, not speaking, as if in a trance. Then he slowly raised his hand in farewell, dug in his heels and spurred his horse towards the Roman lines.

‘Isaac! What are you doing?’ Theophanes yelled. ‘Come back.’

Shahrbaraz had ridden back to join him.
‘Your friend has chosen a path of honour.’ The general spoke softly. He placed his mailed hand on Theophanes’ shoulder and whispered. ‘Go, Theophanes. Go and join your emperor.’ Theophanes stared at Shahrbaraz open-mouthed. ‘Give him my regards, from one warrior to another.’

Shahrbaraz gave Bucephalus a slap on the rump to send Theophanes  on his way, careering towards the Roman lines. As he began to gain on Isaac, Theophanes tensed in the saddle, expecting an arrow to come whistling through the air and thump into his chest at any moment. He hoped that they would be well received. Whatever happened, he thought to himself, Isaac had done the best thing. He was sure of it.