A little something I did for a competition over at another forum. Note that this is not to be taken as pure history - it is mainly my experience from a Rome: Total War mod, Rome: Total Realism.



The obtuse noise of horse hooves bearing down on the ground slowly began filling the lush valley. As more and more of the animals and their riders descended down the hill, the high grass slowly weltered, the rainwater from the previous rain dripping to the soft, wet ground. Alerted by the coming danger, many lizards and bugs skittered to the opposite direction to avoid being crushed under the heavy mounts of the advancing soldiers.

Slowly, the open hill-surrounded field filled with Parthian warriors. The first to come were the lightest and the fastest ones, three thousands of the famous Parthian horse archers, well-known for their accuracy, and even more so for the Parthian Shot. Following them were the Parthian Sparabara*, five hundreds of them

And finally came what was truly the most fearsome part of the Parthian Army – the armored Kataphraktoi*, the ‘Completely Armored’. The rising sun danced on their polished chainmail, and each and every one of them shone like a star, and their charge was indeed similar to a falling star – beautiful, yet destructive.

On the opposite end of the valley, the Parthian Foes were assembling – the Baktrian Hellenes, emerging from a narrow mountain pass. Six thousands disciplined Pezoi*, one thousand one hundred light Sarissaphoroi*, seven hundred deathly Sarmatian Horse Archers, one hundred famed Hetaroi*, and ten fearsome Indian Elephants.

The expression of dread filled many a Parthians’ face upon sighting those enormous beasts. Such creatures were unusual for them to face – the Parthians themselves were yet to begin employing war elephants on the field, and encounters with such an awe-inspiring force on the battlefield were few. Only a few in the nomads’ ranks remained relatively calm, mostly the most seasoned warriors and the Parthian Hellenes.

One such Parthian Hellene, under the name of Antiochus, shot a look of slightly distinguished disgust at his nomad comrades. He was used to elephants, as he had fought many times alongside the beasts, and once even against them, one of his most fearsome experiences – no one would want to find himself face-to-face with such an enormously furious and enormously large creature, which was fed with fermented wine to further increase it’s rage! The only thing that was between certain death and Antiochus at the moment was his sarissa pike, which at the time looked just a little more than a simple wooden stick he used to play with when he was a child.

Slowly, the Baktrian Hellenes arranged themselves for battle. The Pezoi arranged themselves in the usual sixteen-ranks-deep phalanx, leaving the Parthians a three hundred seventy five-ranks-wide wall of iron speartips to deal with.

As the Sarissaphoroi and the Indian Elephants took their positions at the flanks of the phalanx, the Parthians also began deploying themselves, or at least putting a finishing touch to their formation, as they had advanced in battle order.

The Parthians’ entire formation was anchored on the five hundred Sparabara, arranged in a line four-ranks-deep. On the flanks were the Horse Archers, two thousands on both the right and the left.

And behind them, were the Kataphraktoi, amongst them Antiochus, who was currently begging Zeus mercy for what he was about to do – charge at his fellow Hellenes.

After the two forces arranged themselves for the conflict, everything came to a halt.

The Baktrians were under orders to annihilate this force, which was to cover Arsaces’ the First advance into Baktria. In order to truly do this, the Baktrian general decided to rely on a tactic that was as old as Phillip II of Macedon – let the enemy come at his phalanx, then halt them by advancing the Pezoi Phalangites, forcing the enemy to retreat, then roll them up with his cavalry and elephants.

The Parthians, on the other hand, were under orders to halt the Baktrian force they would face for as long as they could, in order to allow Arsaces I to cross into Baktria and successfully strike at the heart of Baktrian power – Alexandria Herat. So, they had no need to attack just now.

Antiochus shifted in his saddle slightly. This whole waiting was getting unbearable – first, they march for several weeks through the mountains, and when they finally come into battle, it appears they’ll have to wait until someone decides to make a move! Of course, there was the slight plus that the longer they waited, the further the elephants were from him. Still, his Hellenic blood called for a victim to his lance, and his horse seemed to be very eager to charge forth.

Still, no matter what were Antiochus’ hot blood and eager horse suggesting, the action did not come for more than half an hour. By then, the Baktrian general had gotten ill-patient, and decided it was time to end this tiresome wait.

Thus, the ears of the Sparabara and the horse archers captured the faint sound of a horn, and the yell in Greek for the Pezoi to advance. Antiochus and the other Kataphraktoi, however, heard only a slight buzz, as their heavy helmets distinguished most of the noise, allowing only very limited hearing.

Slowly, the phalanx move forth, as did the horsemen and elephants. Antiochus swallowed heavily, as the sight was truly unnerving – a wall of pikes, accompanied by hulking elephants and horsemen, all moving towards them.

The Parthian general, Orodes, responded by quickly sending out the order for his horse archers to move and outflank the enemy formation. Thus, at first slowly, then gaining greater and greater speed, the masterful Parthian archers took off, the hooves of their horses sinking slightly in the wet ground.

Seeing the action finally begin, Antiochus thanked the Olympians, gripping his kontos* tighter. At the same time, however, his heart plummeted down to his heels – no doubt, the Kataphraktoi would soon have to charge, he included. And Antiochus bore little love for the hectic Kataphraktoi Charge, preferring phalanx warfare over it. He should’ve considered himself lucky, as a few generations ago, the same phalanx warfare was much, much more chaotic.

Antiochus cursed under his breath as the Sarissaphoroi on the Baktrian right broke off to pursue the Horse Archers. Even though he was fighting for the Parthians, and was a Parthian-Hellene himself, his heart lay with the Baktrians, and he could only curse the foolishness of this general, for he had just exposed his right flank, endangering the entire phalanx.

The elephants, however, did not move from the side of the phalanx, and for that Antiochus could be only thankful – if the elephants were sent off, there would be nothing between the Kataphraktoi and the Baktrian phalanx, save for the Sarissaphoroi and the small number of Hetaroi, as the Sarmatians had galloped off to pursue the Parthian archers.

The Parthian-Hellenes who shared Antiochus’s view of things could only sigh and lower their eyes as the Parthian horse archers took off in a feigned flight. Every Parthian knew what would now follow – the Parthian Shot.

Indeed, soon enough, the Parthian archers shifted in their saddles at full gallop, and released a wave of arrows from their fearsome composite bows towards the Baktrians.

Most of those arrows did not hit the Sarissaphoroi themselves – no, the Parthians were aiming for the horses. Indeed, a series of loud wails followed as many of the horses fell, crushing the Baktrian-Hellenes under their weight.

On the other flank, the things looked better for the Baktrians – while many of their Sarmatian mercenaries were claimed by the Parthian Shot, the Sarmatians were nomads, just like the Parthians, and soon answered with their own volley of arrows, less effective, though still damaging.

The Pezoi of the Baktrians sped up their pace, and were soon nearby the Sparabara, who quickly retreated – with their much shorter spears and wicker towershields, the Sparabara did not stand a chance against the well-drilled Phalangites.

The Pezoi continued pressing forward, with the intents of annihilating the Sparabara. However, in their pursuit, they did not notice that they were turning left more and more, and opening their vulnerable flank to the Kataphraktoi.

As the Baktrian-Hellenes opened up more and more, Antiochus sighed, leaning forward slightly. Sweat was already gushing down his spine and brow – in addition to the stress of the upcoming charge and the heavy enclosed armor; he was also worried about the Indian Elephants that were slowly beginning to walk around the Phalanx to cover the flank.

However, Orodes, as it appeared, was also not blind, as, from the corner of his eye, Antiochus noticed that a portion of the Horse Archers were hurrying towards them, having dealt with the Sarissaphoroi, who were now either crushed under their horses or trying to flee the battle on foot.

As soon as they got within range, the Parthian archers stopped, preparing to fire a volley at the Elephants. Indeed, soon came a series of whooshes, and a cloud of arrows again went up into the sky, before falling down on the elephants.

The arrows were not enough to kill the enormous beasts, even if they got a few of the javelineers on their backs, and even one mahout. However, the pain from the arrows hitting at their side was enough to scare and upset the elephants. And the next thing the Pezoi knew, around three elephants battered into their rear, while the others began running off into all directions, their mahouts attempting to drive a spike into their brain to stop them from causing more harm to the Phalangites.

With this threat eliminated, and several elephants disrupting the Baktrian phalanx, the horn was blown by Orodes himself, calling the Kataphraktoi to the decisive charge.

Driving his spurs into the sides of his horse, Antiochus grit his teeth preparing for the impact.

As slow as the Kataphraktoi were with all the armor their horses had to carry, the Pezoi were quite close to them by now. Thus, Antiochus was given the chance to curse the fact he was so eager to do battle as his horse carried him towards the fray…

By Zeus and all Olympians… A thought hit his brain like having fallen from the sky. Shall I ever see my dearest Eulalia again? Shall I ever touch my pots, my clay with my own hands? Shall I ever get to see the birth of my son?

Slowly, the image of his pottery appeared in front of his eyes, triggered by Antiochus’ loose imagination. How he used to work there… Make his beloved pots…

However, that image of near-perfect past was cut short by cruel present.

Antiochus’s kontos collided with a bronze breastplate. As the Kataphraktos had not regained enough sense of the world around him yet, he didn’t let go of it soon enough, and his hold on his horse was not strong enough, the Parthian-Hellene was sent flying off of his horse, the remnants of his lance in his hands.

With a loud ‘thud’, the heavily armored Hellene slammed against the ground, his head colliding against a rock and sending him into pitch-black darkness.

***

“Father?” A voice asked. Antiochus could see some sort of a bright light behind his closed eyes.

Slowly, he managed to open his heavy eyelids, only to be blinded by the bright sun that was shinning above him. With some difficulty, he managed to force his hands to lift him off the cold ground.

Strange… All his armor was gone, and there was no battle going on nearby. No lance in his hands, no elephants. Only a grey tunic on his body, and light sandals on his feet.

“Father, are you alright?”

Antiochus turned to see the source of this voice, and what he saw was a boy, maybe slightly older than ten summers. On the child’s face, he could recognize some of his own features.

“Father, you fell asleep…” The child smiled slightly. Antiochus returned the smile – this was his son.

“No, it was just a dream… Just a dream.”

Suddenly, a heavy slap came to his face from nowhere.

***

“Antiochus! Wake up! Wake up, by Ares! This isn’t no dream, wake up!”

Slowly, Antiochus again forced himself to open his eyelids, which were even heavier than before. He could again feel the weight of his armor on him, and a wooden stick, still grasped by his left hand.

A series of lighter slaps came to his face, forcing the Parthian-Hellene to turn his head to this assailant. What he saw was a well-known face – tanned, with slightly gaunt features.

“…Theophilos?”

“By Zeus, you’re alive! I was afraid I’d be left amongst those nomads.” Theophilos exclaimed happily, offering Antiochus a hand to get up. Antiochus grabbed the offered hand, then aided Theophilos in his attempts to lift him up.

“What the hell happened? I remember that my kontos snapped, and I hit the ground… Then nothing.”

“I was afraid you were in Hades… Theophilos laughed, then wiped the joyful expression off of his face.

“The battle’s over, Antiochus, we and the nomads prevailed. The last of the Baktrians fled the field some half an hour ago. It’s a miracle you weren’t crushed by one of those rampaging elephants, or stabbed by a passing Baktrian.”

“We… Won?” Antiochus frowned, then pressed his hand against his temples. His head hurt like it was hit by Heracles himself.

“Yes, we won! Orodes ordered us to get ready to march again. He lacks orders what to do now, but most the nomads seem to think that we’ll head south, to meet with Arsaces and his forces. Or press on east and lay siege to Sogdiana, but that’s just mad talk. We don’t have enough food to last long enough for that.”

“Ohh…” Antiochus nodded slightly, though immediately began regretting the action – it seemed like ten maces had hit his head.

“Come on, let’s go. I’ll help you get that armor off. Then we can offer our thanks to Dionysus with some wine.” Theophilos laughed again. Antiochus managed to let out a weak smile, before leaning against the shoulder of his comrade and slowly taking off towards the Parthian camp.



Dictionary