The Flame of Destiny
Fight in the Field

It took a while for Kallisto and Shida to figure out the irrigation system, but after some experimentation, they knew exactly which sluices to open and close to control the water level in the fields across the bridge. The Kurds drained a ditch and created a perfect, though muddy, hiding place for archers. They flooded the fields close to the river, turning them into a slippery mess and forcing any riders coming from the north onto a narrow path.

It took even longer to convince half of the warriors under her command to dismount and hide in the ditch. The Kurds didn’t like to be separated from their loyal horses. Even Shida protested. “This is not our way.”

“We’ll be back on our horses soon enough,” replied Kallisto, “when we chase after them.”

They planted the spears that they had captured from the enemy infantry at the battle for the bridge in the soft ground and transformed the ditch into a forest of deadly spikes.

“There are more than three thousand,” said a scout breathlessly, “all of them heavily armed cataphracts. They’ll be here in a few minutes. We’re outnumbered.”

“Good,” replied Kallisto, “I’ll send a messenger to Rojan to ask for reinforcements. If he reacts quickly, he can help us in the pursuit.”

“Okay,” the scout said and continued to look at her questioningly. “Basu, I said three thousand, shouldn’t we…”

“You’ve heard our commander,” chided Shida, “we’re not withdrawing! We won’t give up the bridge.”

Kallisto climbed on the levee above the ditch. “What are we fighting for?” she asked the assembled warriors.

“We fight for victory and glory!” they shouted.

“And we fight for our people, our brothers, and sisters!” said Kallisto, “the Kurds were always at the fringes of the great empires. We were outsiders and outcasts, unwelcome at the tables of the great nobles. But that time is over!”

There was loud cheering until Kallisto gestured for silence. “They’re coming. Take your positions!”

“And you,” asked Shida, “what are you fighting for? You’re not even a Kurd.”

“I am now,” said Kallisto, “I consider all of you family. That’s why I fight!”

Shida nodded.

“And because I’m good at it,” she added confidently.

Kallisto hid among the archers in the forest of spears. The other half of the Kurdish warriors retreated from the road and hid behind thick vegetation. It wasn’t long before they heard thousands of trampling hooves in the distance. The enemy was approaching, throwing their best men in the fray to take back the bridge they lost so easily.

Vologast’s riders trotted cautiously through the Tigris mudflats. The bridge was only a mile away but they couldn’t see it yet because distant hedges and thickets blocked their view. The grain had just been planted and the fields were bare and desolate, impossible to hide an army. It was eerily quiet and there was not a living soul around. Yet, Zhubin felt a deep unease.

“Spahbed sir,” Zhubin asked his superior, “do you really think it’s Ardaban’s cavalry that attacked us from the south? How did they get here without us knowing?”

“I have no other explanation. The Bedouins from Arabia would never dare challenge us, they just want to plunder.”

“What about Babak and his son Ardashir,” they also fight the shah?”

“He’s small fry, Gōzihr will take care of him in the east. Anyway, why would Babak help Ardaban? He hates both brothers in equal measure.”

“Watch out, you stupid arse!” Zhubin cursed at a soldier who nearly ran into him. The dry, flat area on which they rode became very narrow as the ditches converged and much of the land was flooded. They rode so close together that the horses smelled each other and became nervous.

“And that warlord from the west, that savage Kurd? He’s good friends with Ardaban.”

“Hah! Then it’ll be an easy fight,” scoffed the Spahbed, “we’re Parthian cataphracts, heavily armed riders, we just run over those goatherders on their little ponies. But if you’re still afraid of these nobodies, don’t worry, spies spotted him riding west from Hatra less than a week ago. He’s heading in the other direction and hundreds of miles away.”

The Kurds weren’t here, that piece of intelligence reassured Zhubin more than he cared to admit. So, it must be some sneaky local Argbed that switched sides, no doubt motivated by a generous promise of gold from the usurper. And all these losses our officers claimed were likely just exaggerations and lies to hide their own cowardice. Perhaps that petty lord just wants to get some concessions from us for getting back the bridge. Well, he’s in for a surprise. There won’t be concessions. We brought our strongest warriors and will make sure he never interferes again.

He looked at the trees in the distance. He had passed this place yesterday and knew the bridge was near. There was no sign of any enemies and except for the mud – had it rained yesterday? – everything looked exactly the same. The riders were too closely packed to his liking but they could fan out nearer to the river. Let’s drive them into the water in one fierce surprise attack he thought and got up in his saddle. “Prepare to charge!” he bellowed.

The ground under Kallisto shook and trembled as the heavy riders passed by only a few feet from their hiding place. She heard the enemy commander order a charge and that only increased the noise and mayhem as the densely packed enemy cavalry accelerated. She watched her men tremble and pale when it dawned on them how many cataphracts there were and how heavy was their armor and large their horses. Kurds were nomads that shared the little material wealth they had and even the richest clan elders couldn’t afford a large warhorse or body-covering metal armor. Kallisto knew that such accouterments had little use in a close fight on a muddy field. She just hoped her men wouldn’t waver because of the impressive sheen.

When the last of the heavy riders had passed, she gave the signal to attack. The archers crawled out of their hiding places and climbed to the higher ground. Before the riders could react, they unleashed a shower of death and destruction from behind.

“Don’t save your arrows!” cried Kallisto, “no hesitation, no mercy.”

The Parthian riders and their horses wore heavy armor that protected them well, but the archers were close. They aimed at the weak spots on the legs of the riders and didn’t spare the horses that weren’t as well protected from behind. Many were hit before they knew they were under attack. More still lost their balance in the ensuing chaos. “Keep shooting,” cried Kallisto, “aim for the horses, don’t let them regroup.” If the Kurds lost the initiative, the more numerous and better-armed Parthians would easily overwhelm them. Mercy was something they could ill afford.

[Picture Kallisto]

“Stay with me,” the old Spahbed shouted. Despite the chaos, he managed to turn some of his best troops and get them into battle array facing the archers. “Charge!” he bellowed and rode directly at Kallisto.

Kallisto didn’t wait for the enemy cavalry to hit her forces. She ordered the archers to go back into the ditch where they hid among the spears. “Draw swords,” she commanded. She had equipped most of her warriors with Roman gladii, the best weapon for close-quarter killing. Others carried the more familiar pointed battle axe they called sagaris.

As the Spahbed approached the ditch, he saw the forest of spears glittering in the evening sun. He tried to stop the charge, but it was too late. The riders were at high speed and were close behind him.

They rode into the ditch like a herd of lemmings. Horsemen were pierced by the spears. Others were shot by the archers. Most just slipped or bumped into each other. The Spahbed and many others were taken down and mercilessly finished by Kurdish swords and axes. Cheers rose from their ranks.

But they cheered too soon. The battle wasn’t over. Zhubin, the enemy’s second in command, had kept his cool. Much of the cavalry was still with him on solid ground and he ordered the warriors who had lost their horses to form a wall around the remaining cavalry with their shields.

From his massive warhorse, the sarlashkar had a good view of the battlefield. The Kurdish fighters were surrounding the last men in the ditch, trusting and slashing with their vicious Roman short swords. That fight was already lost. But a new danger was on the way. He saw how a large group of Kurdish horsemen emerged from behind the vegetation to block his retreat. He had to act quickly or they would be trapped.

Without another thought, he gave orders to turn around and launch a full-scale frontal attack on the Kurdish horsemen that were coming to block his retreat. “Come on noble horsemen of Parthia,” he cried, “you are invincible cataphracts. Pulverize this barbarian rabble!”

Shida saw the cataphracts approach her light Kurdish mounted archers at full speed and ordered her forces to form a battle line. She gritted her teeth. There will be many victims here, she thought, but at least I can weave ten more braids tonight.

In the distance, someone waved her arms wildly to draw her attention. “Shida!” Kallisto called out as loudly as she could, “step aside. Let them escape.”

Shida was disappointed but quickly dispatched new orders and the nimble Kurdish cavalry swerved aside, just in time to clear a passage for the onrushing Parthians. Zhubin saw the opening and ordered his men to go through at full speed. “Cowards,” he sneered, “let’s ride them over.”

Kallisto bit her lips as she watched how some Kurdish stragglers were impaled by the lances of the thundering Parthian cavalry. Acceptable losses, she thought but that was not a term she liked to use.

“Pursue them,” shouted Kallisto, “but keep your distance.”

She knew the Parthians could retake the advantage if they recovered from their confusion and turned around. But she was determined never to give them the chance and rushed the archers back to their mounts.

On their small horses, the lightly armored Kurds easily kept up with the heavily laden cataphracts. They remained in close pursuit, never letting their guard down, but never confronting them in close combat. They killed and captured dozens of Parthian stragglers and wounded hundreds with their bows. “We hunt like wolves,” said Kallisto, “we let our prey exhaust itself and bleed to death.”

Zhubin kept his men together and didn’t let the core of his cavalry bleed to death. Reinforcements are close and the open terrain sloping towards the river, favors our larger horses, he thought as he prepared to turn around for a counterattack. He had lost many men but could still rout the Kurds with a determined charge.

Just when he was prepared to turn around for a blistering counter attack, the Kurds broke off the pursuit. Before Zhubin realized what happened they had disappeared from view back to the river. He cursed in frustration and called off his plan. “I don’t want to run into a new trap,” he snarled.

“You did what?” Pedram almost shouted. It was late in the evening, but the weary commanders were still discussing the aftermath of the battle in the torch-lit command tent. In the distance, there were cheers and music from the victorious warriors. Despite their exhaustion and orders to remain vigilant, they couldn’t let this victory pass without a celebration

“My orders were to hold the bridge,” said Kallisto, “that’s what I did.”

“But why did you have to slaughter these noble Parthian cataphracts?” insisted Pedram.

“I didn’t slaughter them,” protested Kallisto, we killed only a few hundred. And we captured over a thousand. What do you expect? We’re at war.”

“You lured them in a trap for Ahura Mazda’s sake! This was the cream of the Eastern nobility. We fought beside them not so long ago. I already know what’s going to happen. They’re going to hate Ardaban for this. They will say he brought savage barbarian mercenaries, they’ll say the army was led by an outlaw. It won’t help you.”

“Enough!” said Rojan, “these weren’t children, but supporters of the usurper. Do you think they would have shown us any mercy? Let’s rejoice in our victory today. Then we concentrate on our next moves.”

They agreed that their priority was to fortify their position. Although they inflicted heavy casualties while suffering just a few, they were still outnumbered by Vologast’s army on the northern bank.

They also discussed the captives. They had captured tens of thousands. “These aren’t warriors,” said Kallisto, “they’ll be our King’s future subjects. We should just take their weapons and let them go.”

This time it was Pedram who lacked compassion, “we can’t do that. They’ll return and fight us. And what about the officers?”

“We’ll keep the officers captive,” said Rojan, “maybe we can get a ransom or exchange them against prisoners in the future. The underlings have to swear an oath never to take up arms against Ardaban before we let them go. Parthians are an honorable people, they will keep their oath.”

The others weren’t so sure but didn’t object.

“We must inform Ardaban of our victory as soon as possible,” said Rojan, “together with his forces we can close the noose around Vologast and force him to surrender.”

“How do we get to him?” asked Shida. “Vologast still controls most of the northern bank.”

“I can go with a scouting party,” said Arak, “but it will be dangerous.”

“No,” said Kallisto firmly. “He won’t believe you. I’ll go, I’m Ardaban’s advisor, he’ll listen to me.”

Pedram nodded eagerly, but Rojan objected. “That’s not possible,” he almost shouted, “you’re needed here. It’s too dangerous.”

“I know it’s dangerous,” replied Kallisto soothingly, “that’s precisely why I must go, no one knows the road to Ctesiphon better, and we’ll need to send someone with authority to convince Ardaban and his nobles about our improbable victory and plan for next steps.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Arak, “with twenty of our best warriors. Nothing will happen to you.”

“No,” replied Kallisto, “I must go alone, it will less conspicuous.”

“Please don’t go,” insisted Rojan who became increasingly worried, “imagine what they’ll do if they capture you after today! To Vologast’s men, we are savage barbarians. They won’t show any mercy.”

“I know, but I can’t send anyone through the peril that I caused. I’ll go myself and leave before dawn.”

“Be careful then,” he said.

Later that evening Rojan took Kallisto’s hand and led her into his private tent for the first time since she had come back. “I meant what I said, please be careful out there. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I will,” replied Kallisto softly, more pleased by his show of concern than she was ready to admit, “but I have to do it. We have a duty to our people and our King.”

“I know,” he said gently stroking her long black hair, “sometimes I wished we could just care about ourselves for a while.”

Kallisto tensed under the gentle, warm touch that she had missed for so many years. “That time will come soon, my lion.”

“Please forgive me for doubting you earlier,” said Rojan sincerely.

“Don’t be concerned. Only a fool rides into battle without doubts. You have to carry the burden of the final decision and the lives of your men, while I’m just an advisor.”

“I didn’t mean just today,” whispered Rojan, “I meant about our daughter. You carried the heftiest loss a mother can carry. I know you meant her no harm and did what you could to protect her. Alas, fate was against us.”

Kallisto nodded. She saw his sincerity and just wished his realization had come sooner. She had drifted further away than ever during her lonely years. She had secrets before, and she hoped their love would eventually be strong enough. Her time in exile and the loss of her child had widened these scars on their love and she wasn’t sure if they could ever be healed, even if she managed to love him as intensely again as before.

“One more battle,” sighed Rojan, “and then we’re free. We’ll fill this yurt with little princes and princesses.” His hand stroked her neck.

“I’m not ready for that,” Kallisto replied pushing him away, hiding her tears in vain, “I still feel the pain of our loss as if it happened yesterday.”

Rojan put his strong arms around her. She shivered under his warm hug, “I feel the hurt too. I can only hope that peace and time will help cure the incurable.”

“Sometimes I believe she’s still alive,” Kallisto sobbed, “and we’ll see her again one day, but I know it’s foolish.”

“Don’t cry my love,” he soothed her, “look up to the sky. She’s the brightest among the stars. There’s no pain and sorrow in heaven. She smiles at us from the other side of the Chinvat Bridge.”

Kallisto nodded and buried her face in his chest. The memory was still too painful.

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