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Forty miles south-east of Iustianapolis, Syria
Sextillis 130 AD
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The afternoon sun burnt down on the Roman army of the East, yet the army busied themselves with activity. Dust was kicked up, covering all in a pall of dirt as men, horses and engineers made hurried preparations. Calidus Raeus Vitellius moved amongst the army, checking with soldiers and making sure the officers knew their duties.

He moved to the ridge top and glanced eastwards. The scouts told him they were coming, but he could not see anything yet, as the horizon shimmered and shifted in the blazing afternoon sun. But the Persian main field army of Sanatruces was coming this way. The garrison of Doura Europos had, by all accounts, fallen, but there was little certainty in it, any news emanating from the east had virtually ceased as the juggernaut rumbled with terrifying speed towards Syria.

Raeus had first picked this position out almost a year ago now, on his journey from visiting the Justian legions in Doura Europos to Antiokhea. It was a ridgeline that the major eastern highway passed over, not steeply, but the most obvious high ground for some miles in the surrounding countryside. It emanated on a small flat-topped hill to the south of the main highway, and ran northwards where it made contact with a small tributary of the Euphrates.

The Persians were journeying up the highway; he knew that. So his men prepared the position to make a stand here. The Proconsular Legate knew that this was not a position he could hope to hold for long. Given time, wrapping around the position from the south was not a problem, but it would slow the Persians considerably, buying them that most valuable of commodities – time. So all Raeus could hope for was to give the Persians a bloody nose and to hold their advance here for a while before falling back on Iustianapolis, and then the retreat west would continue, unless help arrived soon.

The Roman army was drawing up on the reverse, western slope of the ridge, so as to be out of sight of the Persian army from the land below. On the eastern side, facing the Persians, the engineers laboured exactingly on anti-cavalry defences. Pits were dug in the ridges slope, caltrops placed down and some sharpened stakes put in place. Raeus knew it would not stop a Persian cavalry charge, but it would hopefully break it up before it hit the Roman lines.

All four of Raeus’ legions, plus the three surviving Justian legions now formed a large line on the backwards slope of the ridge. Septimus Vitellius and his men had fallen back towards Iustianapolis, and the Roman force combined to face off against the royal Persian army of Sanatruces. The loss of two legions clearly angered the Justian Proconsular Legate, who had spoken little to Raeus since his arrival, and largely kept his own counsel. Still, Raeus knew he was a soldier first and foremost, and would do his duty.

A light breath of wind from the North fluttered his cloak, and brought some welcoming relief from the stifling heat. The Justians were drawn up to the north, with their flank anchored against the river. XVIII Augusta held the far left, then V Ferrata and XX Persa Pestis. Then Raeus’ troops made up the right half of the line; II Vitellia and XI Heraclea at the lines centre, and then I Vitellia and IV Iova Alpina on the far right. The Roman cavalry force was deployed extensively on the right hand side, whilst the auxilia provisionally held the ridge top itself in front of the legions, though they would retire behind the legionnaires once the fighting got fierce. In between each legion were rows of stones with painted white caps and black numbers, which Raeus hoped would be very important in the upcoming battle.

A soldier in the uniform of a Seleukid cavalry captain approached Raeus and announced himself in Greek. “Greetings, Strategos. I am Captain Kassanos; we were sent from Basileus Alexandros to assist you, as you see fit.”

Raeus glanced up and down at the Seleukid captain. He was a monstrously ugly man, whose face was covered in warts and wiry hair, which Raeus thought may well be growing out of his eyelids. His fingers were stubby and fat, and the nails bitten till they bled. But he held Raeus’ gaze, as the Proconsular Legate returned, “My thanks, Captain. How many men do you have with you?”

“2,000 companion cavalry, sir,” the Greek captain spoke, slurring the words between his teeth that seemed to be too big for his mouth.

“Good. Take your men and form up with the Roman cavalry on our right. Your men are most welcome, Captain.”

The Greek nodded and Raeus turned back to gaze east again. There was still no sign of the Persians, but they were coming down this highway. And here the Romans would make a stand.

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Several hours later
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The sun had drifted across the eastern sky, and the temperature cooled. Legate Tarqiunius Titus Gracchus slowly walked along the rear of the assembled legion. He stopped occasionally to look towards the east, at the growing cloud of dust where the Persian army now massed. His staff walked along behind the legate making notes as he dictated them.

“Gentlemen, I fear the vanguard of the enemy may be here before nightfall. As you can see, Proconsular Legate Vitellius has picked a very good defensive position.” He turned to one of his tribunes. “Septimus do we have enough water? In this heat we must maintain a good supply of water. If you feel we are short of water then make sure enough is kept nearby.”

The tribune nodded, saluted and walked away. Titus stopped near one of the ballistae assigned to his legion. He approached the centurion in charge. “Are your men ready centurion?”

“Sir we are ready.”
“Good man.” Titus patted him on the shoulder and continued his walk. He stopped and watched as a party of engineers returned over the ridgetop. He smiled knowing that the ground in front of his legion was now strewn with caltrops and anti-cavalry measures. He knew this would slow down the Persian advance but he knew it would not be stopped.

“Gentlemen, looking at that cloud, I feel we have a couple of hours before the enemy get here so please make sure the men are feed and given a drink. They can also rest in relays.”

The Persian vanguard did arrive shortly before dusk. Seeing the Roman auxilia and parties along the ridgetop, the cavalry held up on the plain beneath the ridge, joined by some infantry shortly later, though the bulk of the army did not quite reach the Romans position. The Roman army placed sentries on the ridge, but most men slept soundly that night, confident the Persians would not come till morning.

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The Following Day
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Tribune Mucius Titus Julianus woke up well before dawn and ascended to the ridge to watch the Persian army as Apollo cast his first light upon the world. Although he had heard of the vastness of the Persian army and had wanted to see it for himself, he had not expected an army of the size he saw stretched along the eastern highway in the half-light. The sheer vastness of the Persian force was so overwhelming that Titus was taken aback by the sudden realization that this would be his first battle, and against such a foe.

Titus watched the golden rays light behind the Persian army, glittering brightly off armour and burnished spears. The Tribune glanced across the ridge, where several soldiers and officers had gathered to watch the spectacle. Amongst them stood the army commander, Calidus Raeus Vitellius, who stood impassively, squinting into the Eastern sun and taking in the sheer spectacle of the Persian Grand Army. The sheer number of men, horses, beasts and war machines was stunning; very rarely did any man see such a host, that stretched along both sides of the road as far as the eye could see. In amongst the host, teams of great elephants moved amongst the camp. It was the first time the Proconsular Legate had seen the beasts. Raeus did not flinch in the face of it, but he knew the bulk of the main army would be with them shortly. “Gentlemen, to your positions,” he called along the ridge. “Only spotters on the ridgetop.” He turned and descended back to the Roman camp.

The Persian army formed up on the plateau below the ridge. Sanatruces arrived a few hours after dawn, and immediately set about reviewing the Persian position. Little could be seen of the Roman force; several auxilia cohorts were visible on the ridge top, but all the Persian commanders agreed their was clearly a larger force beyond that.

Out of sight, beyond the ridge, the Romans waited. The air grew hot and stifling quickly in the desert sun. Soldiers were handed water rations, and many waited in formation, resting in whatever shade they could find. Most planted their shields into the soft ground and rested in the shade, but even so, in their armour, the weather was near unbearably hot. Men yanked off their helmets to let their heads breath, their hair matted with sweat and faces caked in dust as officers still moved about the camp.

The sun was nearing it’s zenith, and many soldiers began to question what had become of the enemy beyond the ridge. Many had heard the army had arrived, they could even see the dust cloud they had kicked up. But the quietness beyond was curious, and many looked anxiously to the spotters and auxilia along the ridgetop. Any man caught leaving formation was quickly reprimanded and sent back into position by the centurions. Young boys hurried between the men with waterskins, but they were massively overworked.

Then a shout came from the ridge, the Prefect of II Austuriani, Gauis Tarstus, echoed by several spotters. “Cavalry! Movement below!” Raeus heard the warning and grasped the reins of his steed and vaulted into the saddle. Without even needing to wait for instructions, the legions assembled quickly, literally seconds from the first shout. Raeus glanced across to where Septimus Vitellius kicked his steed into position behind his three legions. The two men exchanged a glance and a nod, and then both issued the order. “Forwards!” The legions advanced on the ridgetop.

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The First Assault
Day One of the Battle
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In the Persian camp below, the horse archers moved. Close to five thousand of Persia’s finest troops kicked their mounts forwards towards the Roman position. These men had not known defeat and were the finest light cavalry in the world – their role against heavy infantry such as the Roman force was drilled and deadly. Glancing up at the ridge, many noticed the Roman light troops disappearing back from the ridge. Presuming this as a sign of retreat, many now kicked their steeds into a trot, to get their first glimpse of the western army and harass them as they pulled back.

The first cry of pain made many of the archers start. A horse reared up suddenly, throwing its rider to the ground. This was soon followed by others as horses along the line began to go down. Many now looked towards the ridge top, scanning the now empty ridge for signs of Roman missiles. But there was nothing. It only took a moment for the shout to go up. “Caltrops! Watch your footing!” The riders glanced to the ground, and sure enough, light reflected off twisted nails embedded in the soil. Each rider slowed his horse to a walk, but still some riders went down. And glancing up, the Roman forces now re-appeared on the ridge top.

Thirty-five thousand legionnaires crested the ridge in a long line, strung over half a mile. Calidus Raeus Vitellius, at the centre of the line, gazed down on the Persian horde below; it was a grim sight, and for many of his men, the first time they had seen the extent of the Persian horde. But to their credit, the men did not flinch at all, but marched stoically on down the ridge. Raeus noted with some satisfaction that already some riders and horses lay scattered on the ridges slope. ‘First blood to Rome he thought,’ but he knew many more men on both sides would die before this was over. Already, all along the Roman line, centurions barked orders to the men. “Present spears! Keep your shields high boys!” As the orders went out, the first arrows began to rain down on the Roman line.

A composite bow in trained hands is a deadly weapon. Made of two types of wood, with a weaker, more flexible wood on the in-frame, the bow has a far greater elasticity than any bow Rome could construct. This spring gave the bow a massive increase in range and a punching power unmatched by all bar a ballistae. In trained hands, an archer could fire off seven or eight arrows a minute with devastating effect. The arrows rained down on the Roman position – many went wide, but most lodged into shields. Even so, some punched through, in some cases skewering the arm that held the shield. Some arrows slipped through, and along the line, cries of pain began to sound. The first horse archers were now clear of the caltrops and began to fire at speed. But they began to falter.

The sudden appearance of the Roman troops meant they were now just eighty yards from the Persian troops. With the caltrops behind them, a speedy withdrawal was very risky, and would cost many horses, and now the spears of the Roman legionnaires pressed on towards them relentlessly. The centurions kept goading their men forwards. “No pila volley! Press forwards!” Beneath their shields, the men sweated but pressed on in an impressive show of discipline. The first horse archers began to hesitate, before a call came from the Persian officers to fall back. Slowly and carefully, the archers turned their horses around and began gently feeling their way back down the slope. Many still turned and fired at the Roman line, but it was a difficult task whilst keeping the horses under control in such a close formation.

Raeus Vitellius glanced to his left towards Septimus Vitellius, and the two men in unison raised their right arms. All along the line, legates and junior officers interpreted the order. “Hold!” The legions came to a halt about twenty yards short of the caltrops, with arrows still rattling against shields. A second later, the next order came. “Withdraw!” The Roman line began to edge back up hill, their shields still held high. Men grunted and cursed as struggled in the heat, or stumbled on the soldiers’ behinds foot, but on the whole, the manoeuvre was performed well. The horse archers did not return, but continued to fire pot shots at the legionnaires.

On the plateau below, King Sanatruces growled with anger. Along the ridge, some horses and men lay scattered and unmoving, either wounded or dead from the fall or by being trampled by others pressing on behind. Some horses limped rider-less back towards the army, whilst others galloped around aimlessly, maddened by pain. The generals around the king looked concerned with the exception of Mazares, who looked on with a studied indifference. Sanatruces fumed to himself; the Romans had brought a larger force than he had anticipated, and had picked a difficult position. It would take some effort to dislodge them. “Clear those caltrops” he ordered firmly.

Mazares interpreted the order, barking orders to another general. “Get some light infantry forward and clear that.”

The King was about to disappear towards his own command tent, but then turned back. “And get some archers firing over that ridge. Punish them.” Mazares nodded and set about organising the army. He glanced up, where the Roman troops, still under light fire from the horse archers, had virtually disappeared over the ridge.

Raeus Vitellius turned his horse as he crested the hill. He turned to an aide, “Withdraw to line one at the double.” The orders were disseminated through the ranks, and the legionnaires turned and jogged back into line, aligning themselves with the white-capped stone marked with a black numeral I. A few arrows still arched over the ridge, but they were wild, blind shots, though some still struck home. The auxilia and several spotters filtered through the legions back to the ridge top. Legates Florianus Julianus and Titus Gracchus approached the Proconsular Legate, followed a moment later by Septimus Vitellius.

Raeus turned to the officers. “Well done men,” his voice was hoarse, “That was well executed.”

“It was indeed, general. I believe casualties across the board were relatively light.” Septimus Vitellius responded, removing his helm to reveal hair matted flat with sweat. “Hopefully that’ll show them they will need a more concerted effort to dislodge us here.”

Raeus also removed his helmet revealing his silvering hair was also plastered to his head. “Just a first probing assault I believe. I think we’ll have to face a more determined effort before too long. But not yet. Legates, get some water and food sent out to the men. Rest them in formation, but have shields ready – they may try to fire on our position again soon.”

Septimus’ horse kicked a little, though he controlled it with an easy flick of the reins. “Agreed…”

They were interrupted by a shout from the ridge again. Gauis Tarstus shouted down to the commanders again. “Infantry coming forward sir...” he paused. “They’re…. They’re clearing the caltrops!”

Raeus raised a hand to acknowledge the support. “My thanks, Prefect.” He turned to the legates. “Deploy your ballistae screened behind the auxilia on the ridgetop. We’ll lay down a bit of fire whilst they work.” The three officers nodded, and aides rushed off ferrying the instructions.

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The Second Assault
Day One of the Battle
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The afternoon slipped away, and the sun dipped in the sky. There was intermittent action throughout the day; Persian archers would fire blind onto the Roman forces with mixed success. Many arrows actually fell short of the position, and whilst the firing went on, the Legions carried their shields high to minimise the damage. Down below, Persian light infantrymen furrowed through the soil, clearing the caltrops. They also came under fire from the Roman ballistae – the one ranged equipment the Romans had that had the range to reach down to them. The crews did their work well, though after a time, they and the auxilia on the ridge came under Persian archery fire, and had to withdraw themselves, leaving the ridge occupied by a few spotters.

The heat of the day faded into a more pleasant evening. The Roman forces stayed in formation, though many men sat now as food and water was brought to them. Many now debated that the Persians would not come again today, whilst officers stood in huddles, discussing thoughts so far, and the worrying, overwhelming size of the royal army.

Raeus Vitellius moved about the officers, trying to keep morale high, which was difficult given the size of the task they faced. Still, he had confidence in the position they had chosen, and he could but hope it would hold.

As the sun began to dip onto the eastern horizon, a sudden, desperate shout went up on the ridge. Gauis Tarstus shouted down “Infantry coming at the double!” The news took many by surprise – though many legionnaires were still in formation, many had to grab their equipment from the ground or find their place in formation as the men rose to their feet.

The Persians had been rather cunning. The infantry screen that had been tasked with clearing the ridge had continued their work but been gradually reinforced by fresh, armed troops. When the time was right, and Sanatruces was certain the Romans would not expect another assault, he had unleashed them forwards, determined to gain the ridge before the Romans, where the men could be then be reinforced to pry the westerners out. The King watched with a rising sense of hope as the infantry scrambled forwards up the ridge, racing for the summit.

The legions began to rumble forwards but it was slow and shuddering. They had not been ready to move, and now their progress was slow and stumbling. Raeus roared them on, “Move! In line – forwards!” The centurions tried to beat men into line as they moved, but their progress was slow.

Gauis Tarstus, Prefect of II Austuriani saw this, and made a quick decision. He was one of the finest light infantry commanders in the Roman army – he had fought in countless engagements and he knew his task. And now he saw he had to act to preserve the Roman foothold. “Auxilia Cohors – forwards!” The men looked surprised but grasped their weapons, and the two cohors to either side did the same, their commanders recognising what he planned to do. They advanced over the ridge as the Persians came up to meet them.

There was no hope of holding them alone; Gauis knew that. The Persians outnumbered the Roman auxilia almost four to one by his reckoning, but they could buy the legions precious seconds to gain the ridgetop, and so, with that reckless hope, he led his men in a desperate charge against them, sword drawn and at the forefront of the line himself.

Men yelled in fury, battle lust or sheer terror as the two forces met on the ridge. There were thunderous clashes as Persian and Roman shields met. Some men were bowled off their feet by momentum, but the weight of Persian numbers alone pushed the Roman auxilia with their light armaments back. They could not hold back the sheer numbers, and like a wave, the light infantry continued up the slope, only slowed by the heroic defenders. Far below, Sanatruces saw his men inch nearer the summit, and began to believe. “Ready the heavy cavalry!” he shouted, and the cataphracts began to arm.

The weight was too much, and the Roman auxilia began to withdraw back up the slope. Almost unnoticed in the carnage, Gauis Tarstus lay dying on the slope, his lifeblood eking away from a fatal wound to his throat, nearing his time to join the Gods. Still the Persians pressed, snapping at the heels of the auxilia who crested the ridge and disappeared over it. The infantrymen were so close to their objective, just metres from their goal. And then the legions broke the ridge top. Far below, Sanatruces cursed as the Roman line appeared. “Draw them back,” he ordered, his voice tight, and he turned away in disgust. Runners went forwards to scale the ridge and get the infantry men back, but that would take several minutes.

The two lines met with a thunderous crash, as the legions locked their shields and held the high ground against the lightly armed Persians, who flung themselves at the Roman formation with a desperate fury.

“Fight men! Push them back; don’t give them an inch!” Sillius Ramirus Flavus shouted to his men as he paced back and forth behind the line. His men responded, heaving their shields forwards to open up a few Persians for killer thrusts. The light infantry stood no chance against Roman heavy infantry here – the legionnaires held the high ground and better training, and now, word of Sanatruces orders began to spread. The Persians broke the engagement and turned, streaming back down the slope again. Centurion Justus Longinus came running over to Ramirus sword in hand.

“I told you they didn’t want any of our legions! Look at them tuck tail and run! Ha! You Cowards!” Justus roared down at the retreating infantrymen.

“This engagement is not over. That was still too easy. They will be back. Get the men back down that ridge. We are falling back before they loose a volley of arrows at us.” Ramirus replied coolly. The orders went round for the men to go back to line one once more. The sun was nearly down now, and Apollo’s last red rays shone over the world. The battle was over for tonight.

The legates of the Roman army met that night, and it was agreed to hold through till the dawn. The Persians could do little in the night, though watchful sentries were posted along the ridge top. The officers’ consensus was that the main assault would come tomorrow. So plans were laid to ensure a repeat of the near failure to get up the ridge did not happen again.

In the Persian camp, Sanatruces laid his plans. A heavier assault tomorrow would be necessary. If he could prise the Romans out here, then all of Seleukia lay open for him – his cavalry could run the Roman force into the ground. All that he needed to do was crush this army, and Antioch was his. It was this same thought that kept Raeus Vitellius awake most of that night.

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Third Assault
Day Two of the Battle
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The next day dawned cloudier and with heavier skies than the last. The heat was still present, though it was cooler than the previous day. But it was not a muggy, wet heat that was deeply unpleasant, making it only just more bearable than the day before.

Legate Florianus Julianus stood confident amongst his men, the morale of the legion high as they had sustained the only minimal losses over the course of the last few skirmishes. Deployed between Legio XX Persa Pestis and Legio XI Heraclea in the centre of the line of battle, the men felt confident that their flanks would not be threatened; both legions were renowned for their achievements in the past against the Persians.

As the men finished their morning meal, Florianus had them drawn back into formation. He strolled to the ridges summit to look down at the Persian horde once more. He then turned back on his legion as they formed up, and Sentius Tutor came to stand beside him. Legio II Vitellia was deployed in two lines. The first line consisted
of five cohorts making up the left centre of the Roman lines. These men would absorb the brunt of any assault; it was for this reason that the five most experienced cohorts including the Prima Cohort were picked for the first line. The Legion´s Praefectus Castrorum, Sentius Tutor was in direct command of the first line of Legio II Vitellia.

In the second line were the five least experienced cohorts further down the reverse slope of the ridge. They would receive less arrow fire and would be sent forward to reinforce the first line when and if needed. First Tribune Flavius Granius Cumanus was in command of the second line.

Legate Florianus Julianus and Servius Somatius Statius, the Chief Engineer of the Legion, had ordered the Ballistae setup even further down the ridge to fire over the heads of the legionaries and into the Persians if they pushed the Romans off the ridge. The Onagers, the heavy artillery had been left in camp as per the Proconsular Legates’ instructions.

Missing were the 500 heavy cavalry and 500 light cavalry of Legio II Vitellia and the 300 Equites Floriana which had been sent to the right flank with most of the other legi cavalry, where so far they had not been engaged. “Looks like they are deploying for battle,” Florianus commented looking down upon the Persian positions, as large blocks of infantry, cavalry and archers began to gradually form into line on the plain below.

”Looks like it, Legate. You might want to retire to the second line, unless you want to expose yourself to arrow fire, sir.” The Praefectus Castrorum replied as. “I’m sure a Roman Legate on a pretty white horse will draw a great deal of attention.”

Florianus took one more look at the huge block of Persian archers beginning to
spread out into thin lines behind the infantry. “Understood. I will see you in
camp tonight then.” Florianus said, saluting the Praefectus Castrorum
with his sword. Turning his horse, he and the Adiuvators made their way
back down the ridge behind the second line where they could overlook the
battle and command the legion.

Raeus Vitellius was on the ridgetop once more. The first day had gone well, but now, clearly, Sanatruces was making a determined, concerted attempt to prise the Romans out. A large line of infantry, including blocks of the heavy infantry formed up, with serried ranks of archers behind them. On the Persian left, horse archers and large numbers of light cavalry lined up, with smaller blocks of heavy cavalry interspersed within the infantry. It was not even half of the total grand army, but it was a formidable host. Raeus’ kept his gaze stern – the one consolation was that the Immortals and elephants were being kept out of this assault.

Satisfied he had seen all he needed to, the Roman general kicked his steed to the Roman right flank, where the cavalry waited. He moved amongst the officers, ensuring all knew their duties well; they would be called into action today. Captain Kassanos was there; if anything, Raeus swore the Seleukid had got even uglier. His skin was reddened in the sun, but he carried the casual ease of a warrior who knew his duty. He assured Raeus his men would do all they could. The Proconsular Legate then kicked along the line, addressing each Legate in turn, and making sure they knew their duty. He was with Tarqiunius Titus Gracchus when a barrage of horns sounded beyond the ridge; there was to be no subtlety or surprise about this assault.

“Legate, your men know their duty. Lead them to glory, Titus.”

The legate saluted briefly. “Good luck, general. May Mars protect you.”

“And you, brother.” Raeus raised his arm for the whole army. “Forwards!” he cried, and the legions marched on the ridge top once more.

The legions moved on the ridge top, arriving to set up a line on the summit. The Persian horse archers had now spread out from the left to take the whole ridge front, screening the whole line of infantry. Seeing this, many officers already began to bawl orders. “Shields high!” The arrows began to fall and pepper the Roman formation once more as the archers did their deadly work once more. Normally durable and quite reliable, the lorica segmentata of the men was cut through like tissue paper; the sturdy shields of the Roman legions were battered to an almost unbearable extent, arrows piercing through some and striking men among their various appendages.

“Cavalry!” Raeus called. “Get some cavalry down there!” He turned to an aide. “Go get some cavalry down there! Send the Seleukids and the legionary cavalry down there!” The aide nodded eagerly and disappeared, but a second later, Raeus saw it was unneeded. And he saw a sight that almost took his breath away.

Kassanos had acted without orders. The Seleukid cavalry officer had seen the danger, and sword drawn, he roared his companion cavalry down, leading some of the legions horses down with him. The horse archers in front of the Roman right fell back from him, and Raeus saw him control both his horse and his unit with a virtually impeccable touch. He appeared glorious now – not the ugly, wart faced man he had met, but a true warrior. His helm contained a beautiful facemask that hid all that, and his armour seemed to gleam even in the grey overcast weather. Tassels fluttered behind him as he sawed the reins of his horse, controlling with such delicate, gentle touches. He held a hand high, directing his men with arm movements as he rode one handed. It was a glorious sight as he soared along the front of the Roman army, driving the horse archers back and drawing fire onto his own men.

But there was only so much the allied armies cavalry could do, for they could not be everywhere at once. The Persian horse archers knew their roles well and they pressed on where they could, firing deep into Roman lines. This, coupled with the archers beyond them made the amount of arrows a torrent, and men paid.

Raeus glanced up at the skies, and in patches they appeared black as the shafts fell. It was stunning that so few men fell, but the Roman forces were taking a hammering. “Order a withdrawal along the line,” Raeus called to a nearby aide. “Just onto the reverse slope and out of sight!”

The legions went back beyond the ridge whilst the cavalry did what they could to hold the horse archers at bay, but still some arrows fell on their positions. The archers seemed to retreat and charge, firing at their pursers and then falling back further only to unleash another storm of arrows. A few spotters were left on top of the ridge; brave men who faced down onto the horde below. The one consolation for Raeus was there could only be so many arrows in the all world.

Septimus Vitellius kicked his horse within shouting distance of Raeus. “We need to keep out of sight!”

Raeus shouted back through the whirling noise. “We can not let them gain the ridge yet! We still need the high ground!” A noise behind him made him whirl.

Maximus Appus, Raeus’ chief of staff for the last twenty years, made a groaning noise and slid from his saddle, an arrow embedded in the side of his torso. Hadrius Cinna, Raeus’ chief bodyguard, leapt from his horse and dropped to a knee beside him. “He is alive, sir.”

The Proconsular Legate looked down with an almost quizzical expression on his face. “Very well, get him to the surgeon quickly.” He turned back to Septimus with an air of studied indifference. “Keep the shields high – we will hold here for now!”

The barrage continued for several moments; the cavalry came back. The Persians now fired blind, so range was less of an issue. It was when the fire slackened that the shout from the ridge came; “Infantry advancing!”

Some arrows still fell, but the legions jumped to, now keen to actually get in front of their enemy rather than suffering death from the skies. There, they saw the Persian infantry coming in great blocks up the slope, with cavalry moving to engage the Roman right flank. Raeus smiled grimly; this was a far better state of affairs than the constant harassment of the perfidious horse archers.

The lines crashed into each other with another roll of thunder as shield met shield and two and huge bodies of men pressed hard against each other. There was shouting, screaming, and terror in there; not as the heroic epics would have it; Raeus knew that much. It was actually surprisingly difficult for two men, similarly armed with a weapon and shields to kill each other. You could spend twenty minutes facing the same man, with neither man having the room to use his weapon, never mind to deadly effect. It was only when armies broke and ran that the truest carnage of battle took place. And so men heaved and pressed, and hoped for an edge.

Managing to gore a Persian before him, Tribune Mucius Titus Julianus receded deeper into the Roman formation to search for any weaknesses in the line of Persians before his cohorts. After mere seconds of searching, he noticed that a captain of the light infantry had engaged in the front line himself.

Seeing this as an opportunity to boost his men’s moral, and not wanting to lose his chance, Titus pushed his way through the lines in order to engage to captain. He braced his own shield into line and pressed against his adversary. However, at once Titus realized that his opponent was a better fighter than he had anticipated by his calm demeanour, wiry strength and the fluidity of his movements. In a flurry of motion, Titus blocked the Persian’s first blow, stunning the Persians sword arm but sending a jet of pain shooting up the Tribunes arm. Taking the chance, Titus stabbed above his shield at the Persians’ shoulder, cutting deep into the flesh. The captain grimaced, but recovered, pressing his shield back against Titus, attempting to heave him backwards. Finally, Titus blocked the Persians’ blade with his shield and was able to deliver a fatal blow around the captains’ shield, pressing into his chest with his sword. Heartened, the legions cheered his success but still the Persian line would not budge.

The Persians pressed in waves over the next two hours. The infantry would come in waves, falling back and allowing the horse archers and archers to continue their work. The heat sapped the strength of men, and the fighting became desperately tiring. Raeus wiped the sweat from his brow. The Persian assault showed no sign of breaking the Roman line, but in return, the Persians had such numbers that a break appeared unlikely. Raeus could see the cavalry on the far right fighting repeated running battles with the Persians, and though they were pressed, there was no danger of a break there, although some Persian cavalry were engaging the flanks of IV Iova Alpina, though to little discernable effect.

Sillius Ramirus Flavus walked through his lines, that had now been thinned by the repeated Persian attacks. He noticed one of his men in the second rank with his shield on ground, kneeling and gasping for breath.

“There is nothing down there for you. Stand up soldier!” Ramirus barked as he walked over.

“Sir, I’m tired I can’t….” The soldier began to speak but was cut off by a sharp kick in the side.

“GET UP SOLDIER OR I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF!” Ramirus bawled.

The soldier stared into Ramirus’ eyes, seeing his anger and the tight grip he held on his sword. The soldier rose to his feet unsteadily and grabbed for his shield.

“Each of you is responsible for the man to your left and your right!” Ramirus called above the din of battle. “If he falters because he is tired you will be made to suffer. We are Romans; not children - you will fight no matter how many times they charge the line!”

The battle continued till just before noon, before the Persians withdrew once more, this time to the foot of the ridge and the positions they began the day in. The Romans withdrew behind the ridge once more. The order for line four was sent out, and the forces pushed further back down the ridge, away from the summit. Men went forward to fetch wounded comrades – the casualties were on the light side – for all the conflict, neither side had really dealt the other a heavy blow. Raeus Vitellius drained some water from a soaked skin into his mouth and went to find his chief of staff.

Maximus lay amongst some of the other wounded men – his thin, leather armour had been peeled back, and a bloody wound was patched on his side. He was still conscious, though his skin was pallid. Raeus grabbed the shoulder of a nearby physician and indicated Appus with a movement of his head. “Will he live?”

The aged medic squinted and tried to remember treating the man – hundreds of men had passed before him today. “Yes, he will live. I would not expect him to fight again today though.”

Completely out of character, Raeus nearly burst out laughing. The idea of the small framed Appus fighting was not far short of comical. He thanked the surgeon and stepped next to Appus’ stretcher.

“Are you feeling well, Maximus?” the Proconsular Legate asked, kneeling next to his long time aide.

“I have felt better, sir. But I will be back at work in no time, I assure you.” Maximus wheezed a little.

Raeus shook his head. “There will be no need for that. I am sure the line will hold without your Herculean efforts,” he responded with a smile. “I must go though, the men will need me.”

“Good luck then, sir. I know they all believe in your ability to lead them.”

Raeus smiled wanly and left without a word. His mind raced with details as he stepped back towards the Roman line, where water and some food was now being consumed. But already, arrows began to fall once more, so the shields went up again.

----------
Fourth Assault
Second Day of the Battle
----------

The Pesian infantry scrambled forward, with the horse archers again kicking out before them. The fourth assault was nearly identical to the third, except these men were fresh troops. Sanatruces watched keenly; he had taken the opportunity to send fresh troops forward after the initial assault had failed. He knew the Romans had no such luxury, and he hoped to wear them down. If they ran or any discipline broke on the ridge top, then he knew he had them.

Sanatruces was now perched atop his own fine horse, bearing the ram’s head ornament atop his head that he was so fond of. It had been this ornament, he believed, that had finally granted him victory at Dura Europos after such an embarrassingly long siege. Beside the Persian King was Mazares, perched on his own horse and relaying messages to the various officers under him; passing on the messages of the King to the advancing army.

Both men now watched keenly; the advance was progressing well, and there was no sign of the Roman return to the high ground. The horse archers and archers kept advancing, but some of the cavalry were now drawing near to the summit, and still the Romans were not visible. “Perhaps they have fallen back,” Mazares breathed, so quietly that only the king besides him could hear.

Sanatruces leant forwards keenly on his horse, a predatory smile upon his face. “The horse archers are not to break the ridgeline. This could be a trap.” The command was unnecessary, for already, the archers kicked back down the ridge, allowing the horde of light infantry to lead the way. The captains of the formations roared them on, and the men now ran to get to the summit as quickly as possibly. And the king smiled as the first men reached the top, screaming a war cry as they reached the high ground. And then the gods took them.

The seven legions were not gone. They waited barely thirty yards down on the reverse slope of the ridge. The two Vitellii commanders had decided after the last engagement that to minimise the Persians ranged threat, that they would sacrifice the high ground to keep out of sight from the archers. And now the first rank readied their pila, and the centurions roared. “Volley!”

At this range, it was almost impossible to miss. The javelins almost cleared the ridge of Persians, men going down screaming, as they punched through armour and shields. Already, the centurions roared orders. “Rotate!” The first rank of infantrymen stepped back, allowing a whole rank of fresh legionnaires to step forwards. These men readied spears as the weight of Persian numbers pressed fresh men to the summit. “Volley!”

The second volley took down as many men again, but still the Persians pressed forwards, the men pressing from behind forcing the men forwards, as they stumbled and tripped on the fallen bodies, and down towards the Roman line.

Legate Tarqiunius Titus Gracchus turned to the ballistae crew besides him. “Centurion…….NOW!”

The crews obeyed and ordered the ballistae to fire. The heavy bolts landed amongst the milling horde adding to the carnage. Many men remained on the ground, making the ridge top a charnel house as the bodies piled up.

“XI Heraclea! Lock shields!” he roared, and already the first rank of legionnaires thrust their shields forwards in a line and readied their swords for the impact of the Persian infantry. The noise as the two masses of men met rose like thunder, and the din of battle resumed.

On the plateau below, Sanatruces had seen the fate of the first ranks of the assault, but now he spoke quickly. “They have given up the high ground… Instruct Arbaces to advance with his Cataphractoi and secure a place on the top of that ridge, and accompany them a contingent of mounted archers. As for the infantry… send what we have deployed up the hill, and commit the reserve of Immortals to reinforce them- under your personal command,” Mazares nodded, and began to gather fresh forces to assault the Roman lines.

The Persians pressed in waves over the coming hours. The light infantry would recoil and re-commit in patches, allowing heavy infantry to commit in areas, and cavalry charges. The Roman and Seleukid cavalry were virtually continually engaged in running battles, though the Persians impact was kept to a minimum since the Romans now sheltered behind the ridge. Archers on the other side of the slope would fire blind over the ridge in between infantry commitments, but their fire was sporadic and inaccurate. Raeus Vitellius rode up and down the line checking on the men’s morale. The line showed no danger of breaking as the afternoon slipped away – the legions held firm and the Persians did not have the ability to throw the Romans back. On the ridgetop though, the Roman general watched a formation of Persian Cataphractii forming up behind the lines, straining from his saddle to look down on the Roman lines, judging where best to strike.

Legate Carus Florianus Julianus watched as the legionaries in the first line engaged a fresh Persian wave of light infantry. While the second line held their shields up high to catch any falling arrows from the Persian archers, the first line was holding firm as expected. The constant attacks by light infantry were causing casualties, but the legions were able to dish out far more in return. However, as soon as one man went down, two more stood ready to take his place. Riding along behind the second line, Florianus saw First Tribune Cumanus. “Cumanus, reinforce the second cohort with a century from the seventh cohort!” He called out as he continued to ride along
the line.

Looking over his shoulder he noticed a young Adiuvator flinch as some arrows landed nearby. “Damnit, you will not see the arrow that hits you! If you are that scared ride with your shield up high like a Germanic warrior!” Florianus shouted raising his shield up high to demonstrate.

Turning, the legate spotted Proconsular Legate Reaus Vitellius with his staff riding in his direction. He did not salute the superior officer so as not to gain the attention of the Persians. “It’s raining a little heavily here, sir!¨ Florianus reported with a wide grin referring to the Persian arrows.

Reaus maintained his usual stern expression, and answered coolly, “We held the line in heavier ‘rain’ than this, legate. It appears they are bringing up some Cataphractii, probably going after Legio XX Persa Pestis or going to try to break through between your two legions. Make sure your left is prepared to repel cavalry.”

Florianus nodded. “Understood, I´ll take care of it, sir.” He said, turning around and riding back down the line followed by his Adiuvators - his Tribunes were all deployed along the line and the Equites Floriana were fighting on the right flank with the rest of the army´s cavalry, so these were the only officers with him.

Arriving at the fifth cohort, he found its commander, a Tribune with large wound in his left shoulder, who was being held up by his Optio as he attempted to give orders. “The Persians are bringing up Cataphractii. Report to the surgeons, Tribune, I will take command here,” Florianus informed him as he dismounted to join the men of the fifth cohort.

He watched as the formation of Persian Cataphractii spread out along the ridge, and a moment later, the light infantry before them withdrew. The captain of the cavalry held up his arm, and let it fall, his men committing to a gallop at once – they did not have long to gain speed before hitting the Roman line. It was a old Parthian tactic which the Persians had inherited, waves of infantry attacks to weaken a formation followed by a charge of Cataphractii. As the Persian cavalry began to close in, Florianus called out the order that they had practiced time and time again at the camp outside
Tyre. “Fifth, repel cavalry!” He shouted.

The first rank dropped instantly to its knees, forming a low wall with their shields and sticking out their spears forwards. The second rank placed their shields above those of the first rank, also bracing their spears. No horse, no matter how well trained, will charge at full tilt into a wall of spears, and the charge lost its momentum. Florianus felt the thud as several Persian Cataphractii beat their swords down onto the Roman shields, which was followed by the shrieks of wounded horses as the Romans drove their spears forward into the defenceless creatures. The Persian officers barked a command to fall back and find a new area of the line to attack. “Third and fourth ranks, release pila!” Florianus cried out. The second rank too dropped to their knees as in turn both the next ranks threw their pila at the retreating horsemen, taking many riders from the saddle and horses reared up in pain. “Well done!” he roared.

Within the ranks of I Vitellia, Sillius Ramirus Flavus stood with his hand on the back of one of his men, egging him on to push harder against the Persian he had entered a shoving match with. An aide pushed through the ranks towards him, calling his name.

“Sir, sir, Legate Gaius Flavianus orders you to get down to the 3rd cohort at once.”

“Aren’t those Titus Julianus’ men?” Ramirus yelled to be heard over the din of battle.

“No, sir. Titus Julianus is down by the 2nd cohort. The 5th are Marcus Tullios’ men – he has been wounded and taken to the rear.” The aide replied.

Ramirus took three men and his personal bodyguard to accompany him. He ran parallel to the line to the fifth, and pressed his way towards the front rank. In a flurry of motion and a sudden surge, the legionnaire before him went down, and suddenly Ramirus was face to face with the Persian infantrymen. Ramirus acted instantly and in an instant plunged his sword into the torso of the Persian. He heard a gurgle as the soldiers’ blood filled his mouth and he collapsed to the ground. That was the first man Ramirus had ever killed.

Ramirus had no time to dwell on this as another Persian was almost on top of him with his sword raised high in the air. Ramirus was taken aback and began to raise his sword to try block the blow when Cassius tackled the man to the ground, pulling his pugio and thrusting it into the Persians chest.

Cassius scrambled back to his feet as other Persians began to press on, grabbing his sword off the ground “Get your head back into the fight, boy! You’ have killed your first man, but there are other uses that your father has taught you!”

Ramirus gripped his sword tightly as the next Persian pressed onto him, Ramirus pressing forwards himself, thrusting his sword up under the soldiers’ ribs. Cassius stayed at his side and the two held the line. The fighting was ferocious and Ramirus himself had to hold the line for some minutes as the lines behind re-organised.

Mazares hesitated to commit his precious Immortals to the assault when the Cataphractii were repelled, and although the strengthened flow of arrows from the freshly brought up archers were pouring steadily upon the defenders below, he received orders to call off his imminent assault on the worn Persa Pestis.

The afternoon passed. Reports came back to Sanatruces, and eventually, in disgust, the Persian king called off the assault. The Roman legions cheered as the Persian infantry slowly retreated back down the ridge, securing the wounded as they backed down and continuing the bombardment of the legions below with arrows. Persian archers remained, peppering the line with arrows, but the Romans fell back to ‘line four’, the farthest line of stones from the ridge, so that many arrows now fell short of the Roman lines and the fire from Persian arrows was ceased. As dusk fell, and the last light of the second day left the world, Sanatruces sat in his command tent. The generals gathered around him, and the full opulence of the eastern court was present, and dancing girls disturbed the periphery of the officers’ vision. Sanatruces and Mazares alone seemed unmoved by the harim that surrounded them.

“They are stubborn,” Sanatruces mused, but with a heavy edge on his voice. “We need to dislodge them. Get them in more favourable ground where we can bring our strength to bear. This… ridge… this defensive war is not for me, Mazares. Not for me at all. We must pry them from this position… Perhaps I have underestimated these Romans.”

“Sir, we can get around them.” Mazares now spoke evenly. Several miles to the south here, we can wrap around their flank. Get in behind them and wrap them up. The scouts found it this afternoon.”

Sanatruces nodded. “Yes. Good. We will make that happen.” He pointed to the nearby Arbaces, one of his most seasoned commanders, “Take a large cavalry force south and find this pass at first light. I want you to assault the Romans, or press on them as they retreat. Take both Cataphractoi, archers, and Clibanarii. I want these Romans broken, I shall not remain tied up here when I rightly should be at the walls of Iustianopolis by now.”

----------
The Roman Camp
Nightfall
----------

"AAHH, Where did you learn to sow?" Ramirus sat on the ground with his knees drawn up, getting a wound in his upper arm tended to by one of his soldiers. He moved uncomfortably as the legionary did his best to keep the line straight. He looked up briefly as Titus Julianus walked through the camp. "Titus,over here," Ramirus waved his other arm in the air.

Hearing his name, Titus turned around to see his fellow Tribune. "Ave, Ramirus" Titus said as he smiled at the sight of the soldier doing his best to sow straight .

"Ave Titus," Ramirus extended his hand, shaking Titus'. "You did a fine job out there today, the men are all talking about that captain you gutted."

Titus released Ramirus’ arm. "Thank you, I hear you were every bit as good as me,” he spoke with a wry smile.

"We gave those Persians a good licking today, huh. I am almost mad we will have to sneak out of here, I don’t like leaving a job unfinished." Ramirus said peering down at the stitch work on his arm.

"Well, when the reinforcements arrive no one will be saying that we left our job unfinished." Titus spoke firmly.

"Yeah, I’ve heard Imperator Varro was coming, but I think if we get another crack at them we can chase them all the way back to Persia." Ramirus stood as the legionnaire finished, wiping the blood off his arm and looking at his wound. "I was thinking of asking the Legate for a chance to ride with the Cavalry.”

"Cavalry won't win this war for us," Titus spoke, glancing at a couple roman equites cleaning their horses. "Roman infantry will surely be the way to win this war."

Ramirus smiled. "Ah, you’re right. I like the hard hand to hand fighting better anyway, not chasing horse archers back and forth." Ramirus chuckled.

Slightly stunned by Ramirus' words, Titus replied, "I never thought of you as a cavalry man myself, but to each his own." He grinned slightly at the end.

"My father was the patron of the VII Hadriana. My brother and I were raised around the legion. My father believed skill on a horse was essential for any Roman. I can not say I disagree. I would only suggest it because I had some ideas for using the cavalry to harass them as we pull back." Ramirus spoke as the two strolled amongst the camp.

"Ah, I did not know of your previous experience with cavalry. I am an infantry man through and through, while only being on horseback in a couple occasions."

"You get used to it the more time you spend on horseback." The pair walked back towards their respective units. "Remember Titus, keep your men quiet tonight and I will see you in the morning." Ramirus stuck his hand out again to his friend.

Taking the hand, Titus replied, "I'll remember. See you in the morning and do not get yourself killed anytime soon," before leaving to go see to his men.

Meanwhile, in the pomerium of Raeus Vitellius, the seven legates of the Roman army met. The mood was quiet – a few braziers provided some heat in the chill evening air, and cast a flickering yellow light over the officers. An aide ran through some figures for the gathered generals.

“Casualties are reported at around fifteen hundred dead, and roughly twice that wounded, though most of them should be battle ready again soon.”

Raeus was not sitting at the conference table, but paced around. “And the Persians?”

“Hard to be exact, sir, but our count puts their dead between three to four.”

“Good.” The Proconsular Legate thought the ratio acceptable given the time they had bought. The biggest loss was that of Gauis Tarstus on the first day of the battle, but it could not be avoided. He turned to the gathered officers; all were present and looked at him eagerly, except for Septimus Vitellius, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Well done today gentlemen, the show of discipline was impressive. Be prepared for a withdrawal tomorrow. Sooner or later the Persians will find a way around this position and we will have to fall back.”

Ciriacus Caelius spoke up. “It is a shame to be abandoning such an excellent position…”

“It is,” Raeus shrugged. “But we have to keep this army in the field. Fresh Roman forces will arrive in time; already Antonius Terpus is on his way to join us, and I’m sure more will follow. We do not have the manpower to hold back Sanatruces’ army yet.” He glanced up at Septimus Vitellius. “Would you concur, Proconsular Legate?”

Septimus stirred quickly as his reverie was disturbed. He carried a great weight on him as he thought of what lay ahead. “Indeed,” was all he managed in response.

Raeus noticed his colleagues’ quietness and knew what ailed him. They could fall back on Iustianapolis, but there was the Justians home, their families and their homes. For them, there was nowhere left to fall back to. It was to make a stand, and to quite probably face their deaths. Raeus’ jaw set tight in the flickering torchlight as he struggled with the same decisions.

----------
The Following Morning
----------

The Persian cavalry departed at first light. Raeus watched the twenty thousand horsemen, disappear southwards. Turning to his temporary chief of staff, he observed, “Time to pull back I feel.”

“Ursus Hispaniorum! Ursus Hispaniorum!” ¨ The men of Legio II Vitellia had chanted time and time again as they repelled Persians attacks the previous day. But now the legions war cry could not be heard as the men quietly prepared to depart. Great care was being taken as not to alert the Persians over the intended withdrawal.

Legate Carus Florianus Julianus and Praefectus Castrorum Sentius Tutor walked briskly along the line of over five thousand legionaries formed up to march west. Florianus sweated in the desert sunshine as he reviewed the men. “We’ll put some distance between us and the Persians today, they will hopefully not be after us straight away. I am afraid our men will view this withdrawal as a defeat.”

”It does not matter how they view it, sir. A few volleys of arrows
from the Persians and they will be themselves again.” Sentius Tutor
chuckled before lowering his voice. “We suffered fewer casualties than expected. The Persians did not commit to a draw out battle this time.” He said grimly, expecting something far worse the next time.

”Yes indeed, Sentius.” Florianus said quietly as an Adiuvator arrived on foot before them. He had not heard word from Praefecous Equitum Aristocles Pamphilos, nor any other Equites Floriana or Legio II Vitellia cavalryman which had been assigned to the army´s right flank.

”Proconsular Legate Vitellius orders Legio II Vitellia to take the van on the march,” the Adiuvator reported, as he waited for some indication that Florianus had understood him. With a nod from Florianus the Adiuvator about turned and headed back to the Roman command centre.

The two officers made their way to the head of the legion. ”Alright, get the prima moving.” Florianus ordered the Primus Pilus quietly. The other nine cohorts had orders to follow the cohort in front and to keep as silent as possible.

Florianus turned back to Sentius Tutor as legionaries began to march
past the pair. “If this does not work out, we can always go to
Trapezus and try to establish our own state.” Florianus joked.

”Yes and you know what happened last time a man named Florianus Julianus went to Cappodica and tried that.” Sentius said as he slapped the patrician on the shoulder, something he could only get away with due their friendship and since no one seemed to be watching. “No, my dear Legatus Julianus, you, I and Legio II Vitellia will just have to defeat the Persians.¨ He added as he walked away and joined the column of marching legionaries.

The Legate of Legio II Vitellia stood there with his arms crossed for
sometime until the last of the legionaries passed him and he saw the
column of the next legion coming up. “Yes we will.” He muttered to
himself before falling in behind his legion and marching along on
foot.


The Roman force had mobilised inside four hours, drawing back as quietly as possible from the ridge, with a large cavalry screen thrown out to the east and south, covering their retreat. For some hours, there was no sign of any Persian pursuit, though by the late evening, Persian horsemen had begun harassing the retreat from the south and eventually west. Archers plagued the rearguard of the marching column, and the occasional outburst of cavalry struck the men in sporadic patches. As the column moved on, the harassment of the rearguard slowly ceased and the cavalry contingent retreated back to the army's main body.

In amongst the main army body, Raeus Vitellius kicked his horse to ride besides Florianus Julianus. “Your men fought well yesterday, legate. My compliments.”

“Thank you, sir. All Iberians you see. Born to fight.” Florianus replied with a faint smile.

“Indeed.” Raeus’ expression seemed distant and vague. “You have proven invaluable since you have been here with us, legate. I now know Tacitus Vitellius’ word of you was true.”

“I am glad, sir. We can all only do what we can.”

Raeus nodded, but his eyes were fixed on the sun as it now sank below the western horizon. “You are a brave man, Florianus. Only a fool or a coward would claim he is never afraid, but you have the strength of character to overcome those fears. We shall all need to find that in this coming conflict.”

His commander’s unusual mood struck with the legate. “Thank you, sir. I…” he was interrupted by a messenger riding down the column. A Greek of Seleucid descent, in the royal armour of Alexandros’ personal guard.

“Proconsular Legate Vitellius, word from Basileus Alexandros!” the man spoke quickly in accented Latin. “Shapur’s army of Armenia has crossed the Euphrates, heading west towards Apameia. We are re-positioning to meet them.”

Florianus glanced at his commander once more, who did not even acknowledge the news at first. The allied defence of Iustianapolis had almost been broken before it had begun.
------------------------------

----------
Scenario Results:
----------

Roman forces gained a minor tactical victory in terms of casualties, but failed to ultimately stop the Persian advance.

Roman casualties of around 1,437 men killed in battle, spread evenly amongst the legions. An additional 239 killed during the withdraw.

Persian casualties of around 3,500 dead, mainly light infantrymen.

Shapur’s army of Armenia has crossed the Euphrates, and is now forging west across Syria. The Roman army is being forced back to Iustianapolis pursued by the main Persian army. King Alexandros and the Seleucid Army have left their position in Iustianopolis to go pursue the direct defense of Antiokhea and key Seleucid cities surrounding the capital.

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Written by: Calidus Raeus Vitellius, Carus Florianus Julianus, Tarqiunius Titus Gracchus, Sillius Ramirus Flavus and Mucius Titus Julianus

Editted by: Sol Invictus