Romulus took it in instantly. Brennus had also been bowled over by a horse and in the time it had taken him to get up, he had been surrounded by the Sogdians who were still trying to break out to freedom. At least ten riders ringed the Gaul, slashing downwards at him with long cavalry blades. He could see that Brennus was fighting more slowly than usual.
'Come on!' Romulus yelled, noting the deep wound on his friend's right arm. His sword arm. 'We haven't got long.'
Felix nodded grimly and together they launched themselves at the warriors, immediately hauling two from the saddle. The men were dispatched with swift gladius thrusts. Their horses turned and bolted, opening up the way through the melee. Romulus snatched a Sogdian lance from its dead owner and shoved it deep into the side of the rider nearest him. Keeping a firm grip on the shaft, he pulled it free as the screaming man fell away out of view. The young soldier used it to kill another warrior before a large Sogdian engaged him. Between sword thrusts, Romulus cast desperate glances at Brennus. The Gaul was holding his own. Only just. There were several new flesh wounds on his arms and face, but strangely Brennus did not seem scared.
Quickly, Romulus hamstrung his opponent's horse, hacking off the man's left arm as his mount went down kicking. Was this what Tarquinius had been sad about during the retreat from Carrhae: Brennus dying alone, surrounded by his own comrades? Fear constricted his throat. This could not be the time. Not Brennus. Not now.
By now, Felix had maimed another Sogdian and three of the others had been killed by legionaries on either side of them. Only the chief and one bodyguard remained. Seeing Romulus and Felix bearing down, the leader barked an order at his warrior, jerking his head in their direction. It seemed he wanted to kill Brennus.
As the Sogdian's trained horse reared up and struck out with its forefeet, the big Gaul smiled, confident he was out of range. But he was close enough for one hoof to catch the front of his helmet. Brennus instantly dropped to his knees, his eyes glazed. With a cruel smile, the chief drew back his lance. In slow motion, Romulus saw what was about to happen. But the bodyguard was between them. Without thinking, he threw himself forward, rolling between the Sogdian's mount's legs. He hoped Felix would see what he was doing and keep the warrior occupied. Romulus came up fast, drawing his dagger.
Incredibly, Brennus had managed to ward off one spear thrust but his reactions were painfully sluggish. The next blow would be the last. Romulus did not pause. He drew back his right arm and heaved forwards, throwing his knife at the small area of exposed flesh above the Sogdian leader's chain mail and below his helmet. It was an impossible shot, aimed at a man on a moving horse, in the midst of a pitched battle.
But the blade flew with all Romulus' force and skill. It flew with his love for Brennus. And drove deep into the chief 's neck. Killed instantly, the bearded warrior toppled from the saddle.
Romulus let out a huge breath. His heart was pounding wildly, but Brennus was still alive.
'Romulus?' Brennus mumbled. He smiled broadly and toppled over, unconscious before he hit the ground.
The young soldier darted to stand over his friend, ready to defend him against all comers. Fortunately the fighting had moved on as the remaining raiders were cut down one by one. He was quickly joined by Felix, who had left the bodyguard in a bleeding heap nearby.
'A fine shot,' said the little Gaul, respect in his eyes. 'Saved his life, I reckon.'
Romulus swallowed, imagining how he would have felt if the dagger had missed. But it had not. He laughed with relief. Today was a good day after all.
By the time the sun had begun to drop in the sky, it was all over. A small number of warriors had managed to break out, forcing through to the river. But the vast majority would never trouble Margiana again. Sogdian corpses were piled in heaps between dead horses. Spear shafts and bent pila jutted from bloody flesh, animal and human. Countless mouths hung slackly, dry eyes stared, loops of intestine spilled carelessly from open bellies. Clouds of flies covered the bodies and the ground was churned to mud, turned red in many places. Overhead, vultures and eagles were gathering.
As his battle frenzy faded away, Romulus found himself deeply troubled by the number of men who had been killed. After all, he had no quarrel with Sogdian tribesmen. But there was little he could do about it. Until he and his friends were completely free, they were soldiers in the Parthian army, and had to fight her enemies. It all came back to Brennus' advice from years before. Kill or be killed.
He kept silent as the legionaries reassembled by the river bank. Brennus and the other injured men were having their wounds attended to while others went downstream to wash off the blood and slake their terrible thirst. Close combat was exhausting work.
Pacorus was delighted. While his guards collected the booty from the dead, he sat on his stallion, gazing happily at the carnage. 'Many casualties?'
'Thirty or forty killed,' replied Tarquinius. 'Few dozen injured, but most will survive.'
'An outstanding victory!' declared the Parthian, his arrogance returning. 'Orodes will be pleased with my tactics.'
The Etruscan chuckled to himself.
'Other tribes will hear of this.' Pacorus waved his hands excitedly. 'Make them think again before threatening Parthia.'
There was a pause before Tarquinius spoke. 'The king of Scythia is a determined man. News of our success will not halt his plans to invade next year.'
Pacorus' smile disappeared. 'You have seen this?'
'And an attack by the Indians will follow soon afterwards.'
'With elephants?'
'Yes.'
The commander blanched. 'Normally we drive off those monsters with volleys of arrows.' His voice tailed off. Only a few dozen of the Parthian guards were archers.
Tarquinius stared east, waiting.
'Have you a plan, soothsayer?' The tone was pleading.
'Of course.' Tarquinius' dark eyes bored into him. 'But there will be a price to pay.'
There was silence as Pacorus stared at the piles of Sogdian bodies again. Without the haruspex, he would have no chance against new waves of invaders.
'Tell me,' he said heavily.
Late that evening, hundreds of celebrating legionaries packed the parade ground just inside the camp's north gate. As soon as the ramparts and defensive ditches had been built, Pacorus had rewarded his men with an issue of local spirits. The alcohol was disappearing fast as the victorious soldiers let the tensions of battle slip away. To fill their empty bellies, whole sheep were cooked on spits over great fires at one end of the open area. The bemused guards stood watching, content now that the prisoners had fought bravely for Parthia.
Roars of laughter, loud conversation and singing competed to drown each other out. Drunken figures fell unnoticed to the ground while their companions wrestled each other or played dice. It was the first time in many months that the Romans had had a real reason to rejoice, and they were going to make the most of it.
The men of the Forgotten Legion had no idea what the future might hold. It was probably death, but tonight they did not care.
The surgeon had stitched Brennus' wound and now a heavy bandage covered his upper right arm. It would be weeks before he could fight again but it did not mean he could not enjoy the night with a few cups of spirit. Beside him, Romulus swigged his allotted measure happily, remembering the night in Publius' tavern. And Julia. Neither man had drunk much when Tarquinius appeared at the edge of the raucous gathering. Beckoning to them, the Etruscan led the way to the eastern gate. They followed curiously. Sentries saluted and waved them through the portal with broad smiles. Nobody would question the haruspex after the stunning victory that day. Everyone knew it was thanks to Tarquinius.
The three friends walked in silence along the river bank until they were a good distance from the marching camp and the sounds of revelry. A gentle breeze cooled the sweat on their faces and ruffled the water flowing past. It was a beautiful night with a clear, glittering sky. Far to the east lay a range of snow-covered peaks, visible now the heat haze had gone.
'The Qilian mountains,' said Tarquinius, halting by a grassy knoll. He flopped down, patting the ground beside him. Comfortable in each other's company, the soothsayer, warrior and young soldier sat back, watching shooting stars pass across the heavens. Spending time with his mentors at this time of day was a routine that Romulus had grown to love.
'Remember when I told you it took years to become a great fighter?' said Brennus suddenly.
Romulus nodded, recalling his burning desire to be the best in the ludus. So that he could kill Gemellus. An age ago, in Rome.
The Gaul threw a massive arm round his shoulders. 'I was watching you fight today,' he said with a smile. 'You're nearly there. A year or two and you'll be better than me.'
Romulus was astonished. 'I could never be as strong as you.'
'Not as strong, maybe. But more skilful.' There was real respect in Brennus' eyes.
Romulus met the look squarely. 'Much of it is thanks to you.'
Brennus tightened his grip. 'You're like a son to me,' he growled.
Emotion welled up inside Romulus and he hugged the Gaul fiercely.
In the darkness they could not see Tarquinius' face. But Romulus did not care. He felt huge relief that Brennus was still alive. Still with him.
For some time no one spoke, and they listened happily to the bats that were swooping and diving over the river. The land was at peace, delivered from the Sogdians by the Forgotten Legion's courage.
Having witnessed Brennus survive against all the odds, Romulus imagined returning to Rome one day and finding his family. It seemed possible now.