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ahead. The foremost soldiers held aloft the
Drafsh-i-Kavyan
– the huge gold and silver Sassanian royal flag, stretched on crossed timbers. The herald cantered up, drawing reinbefore Roderic and Victor. Unfurling a scroll, he proceeded to read (in passable Greek) its contents in loud and contemptuous tones: ‘Tamshapur – most noble and illustrious of all the servants of the King of Kings, Protector of the Sacred Flame, and terror to all enemies of the Empire of Iran, out of the great goodness of his heart deigns to show mercy to the Romans who, in their deluded obduracy, have dared to come out in arms against him. Lay down your weapons as a token of surrender, and your lives will be spared. What answer shall I take back to the all-merciful, the ever-victorious Tamshapur?’
    â€˜You may tell your master this,’ responded Roderic in mild tones. ‘Provided he undertakes to remove himself and his troops from the Diocese of Oriens and return forthwith beyond the Euphrates, then Rome is prepared, this once, to overlook such unwarranted and unprovoked invasion of her territory. If not, we will find ourselves compelled to deal with him severely.’
    For a few moments, the herald stared at Roderic. Then, finding his voice, he snarled, ‘On your head be it, Roman. Learn then, the fate of any of your men unlucky enough to survive the coming battle – a reckoning you will have brought upon yourselves.’ And, wheeling his mount, he spurred back to his party.
    Carried by several soldiers, a large wooden cross, to which was bound the Roman prisoner taken earlier, was swiftly erected before the Persian group, its base slotting into a massive timber support. Bundless of brush-wood were piled around the shaft, and – before any of the horrified Romans could intervene, ignited. Laughing, the Persians withdrew, while Roderic, Victor, and a detachment of his comrades raced to rescue the victim. Too late. A roaring column of fire shot upwards, enveloping the prisoner, who shrieked and writhed against his bonds – before a well-aimed arrow mercifully cut short his agony. As the Romans returned to their position, Victor noted that fury and grim determination had replaced earlier expressions of apprehension on the men’s faces. ‘If that was supposed to be an object lesson intended to intimidate us,’ he observed to Roderic, ‘I rather think it may have backfired.’
    The ground began to tremble as, round the bend in the defile, the Persian van appeared, fronted by a dense mass of elephants – enormous beasts, with wrinkled grey hides and formidable-looking tusks.
    â€˜Africans, I’m afraid, sir,’ said the
vicarius
to his commander. ‘Note the huge ears and saddle backs; Indian elephants have smaller ears and areround-backed. They’re also more docile than their African cousins, who tend to be exceedingly ferocious in attack.’
    â€˜Thank you, Victor; just what I wanted to hear. Well, we can only hope that our men keep their nerve and remember the drill we’ve tried to teach them.’ Aware that horses were panicked by the smell of elephants, the two men dismounted and had their steeds taken behind the lines.
    A brazen clang of trumpets rang out and the elephants advanced, gradually picking up speed. Faster and faster they moved, trumpeting wildly, huge ears spread like sails, as they rolled towards the Romans like a vast grey billow. Surmounting each animal, and secured by chains, was a squat crenellated turret in which stood two mahouts. ‘That Polybius fellow had better be right,’ muttered Roderic grimly, then gave a sharp nod to Victor. The
vicarius
raised a whistle to a mouth gone suddenly dry, and blew a loud blast. (He had found that, in the din and confusion of battle, a whistle’s shrill note was more easily distinguished than a trumpet call.)
    Striding among the men, the
campidoctores
or drill-sergeants shouted orders, and