Chapter IV: Paper Elephants
Fall, 269 BC
Siege lines were drawn around Maracanda, and The Black Quivers wintered encamped about its walls. Arsarces was biding his time, letting the garrison weaken, and allowing him to focus on other matters. Over four years had passed since the Parni had invaded Parthia and taken Nisa. Knowing his brother was a dependable but not an imaginative administrator, Arsarces communicated policy direction to Tiridates even while on campaign. Revenues were not where they should be, as taxes were not being universally paid. Arsarces penned him a letter, ordering universal taxation to be implemented, payable by labor if need be. War is costly, if not much in lives so far, very much so in coin. This led him to the second matter that needed attending.
Arsarces tasked Nur-Ayya The Spy with hiring two companies of mercenary infantry. His four units of spearmen, lightly armoured as they were, were likely to be insufficient under a hail of fire from the city’s towers. It took time, but Nur-Ayya returned with two mercenary companies of ax-wielding Bactrian hillmen. By early spring, siege ladders were constructed, the mercenary companies had drilled and were integrated with Arsarces’ army, the garrison had to be running low on supplies, and Arsarces’ battle plan was set.
The Battle for Maracanda, Spring, 268 BC
Marcanda’s garrison was down to just one unit of spearmen, two companies of barely armed townsfolk, and some slingers. Reinforcing them were to units of heavy horse, respective bodyguard for Eustorgius (former commander of Ares’ Terror) and Prochoros (Dread of Deimos). A small force, but enough to man the towers – and if Arsarces’ infantry were unable to open the gates, his hundreds on horse would be of no use at all. Accordingly, Arsarces planned a feint.
Three infantry units, including both mercenary companies, were to place ladders in an attack on the south-western corner of the city. To the west, Arsarces ordered his horse skirmishers to array themselves, making the enemy think the western gate was intended point of entry.
Meanwhile, Arsarces and the melee cavalry approached the city concealed by tree cover, from the south.
Hidden from the enemy, and waiting, he watched a single unit of Parni spears march a ladder up to the southern wall. Success was theirs, and theirs only, to determine.
Luck was still with the King of Kings. The enemy had fallen for his plan. The southern wall lay virtually undefended, and Parni spears soon took them.
Arsarces and his horse dashed from the tree line to the soon opened gates. With vastly superior numbers, the enemy were easily dispatched.
Maracanda was won, and her walls now protected Arsarces from any Bactrian attack. To the north-west, his uncle Timgiratee was following orders, marching at best speed to the un-walled settlement of Bukhara.
The Bactrians, like Parthia, had rebelled against their Seleucid masters. And the Bactrians, like northern Parthia, had afforded Arsarces and his tribe an opportunity to expand without garnering the ire of the Seleucids and their subservient states. But a great pride was swelling in the Parthian people – for their young king who had brought them to a new home, and who was now winning great glory, a pride for his Achamaenid lineage and for the old ways. A return to the teachings of Zarathustra was on the rise, and Hellenic ways were being cast aside in favor of those of old Persia. Maracanda would need to grow along the same lines. Arsarces commissioned a shrine in the city. He then sent Nur-Ayya The Spy to the south, to report back on any Bactrian movements and as to the size and disposition of forces in Baktra, the enemy capital. And, Arsarces waited for word from his uncle in Bukhara.
The Battle for Bukhara, Fall, 268 BC
Timgiratee sat atop his horse with the town ahead of him and his cavalry around him, trying his best not to show his anxiety. He had not seen battle in the invasion of Nisa, as he had been put in charge of defending the women and children. This would be his first fight, and he had a horrendous aversion to the sight of blood.
The Children of the Parni was a small army, but more than enough for the town garrison – only four units of real soldiers, two of spear and two of slings, and the rest an armed mob. Timgiratee split his forces, assigning his three spear companies to charge up the middle while he and the cavalry attacked in parallel by the hill at the north end of town. The two would meet in the town center and have the enemy surrounded. But to get to that center, there would fighting. And if there was fighting, there would be blood. Timgiratee gulped. Then, with a quick prayer to the gods, he signaled the advance.
Parthian spears clashed with Bactrian shields, and the reverse, but the advantage in numbers lay in Parthia’s favor. The garrison lines thinned in time, and broke as the men ran to regroup in the town center.
Timgiratee, riding through the undefended north end of town toward that same town center, could hear the clashes and the war cries, and the thought of all that blood made him very queasy indeed. His bodyguard the Median cavalry turned south towards the market, where enemy slingers and the armed mob stood waiting. The untested (and nauseous) general let out what might have been intended as a war cry, but came out more as a squeaky whine, and charged forward.
A member of the armed mob lay right in Timgiratee’s path, and he readied his sword. Closing his eyes at the last moment, he swung and felt flesh give under his blade. He peeked open his eyes to look at the now used blade, and saw…Nothing? The blade was unblooded. Encouraged, he kept his eyes open as he slashed at the next foe. Nothing! Unbelievably, neither man nor blade sported blood.
“Why is there no blood?” Timgiratee asked his closest bodyguard. “I thought wars were bloody?”
“I don’t know if it’s the work of Ahriman or the Spenta Mainyu, but that’s the way it is, general. Men bleed at all other times, but never in battle.”
Timgiratee shrugged, accepting it must be the work of higher powers than man. And, stomach at ease, got back to killing with new vigor. Bukhara, and with it the rest of Transoxania, fell to Parthia.
Weeks later, back in Maracanda, Arsarces received a package from Nur-Ayya The Spy. As was the spy’s wont to do, there were no words - only a picture. But the message was simple: the feared host of Bactrian arms gathering to the south was just that - a fear. Arsarces smiled. Bactria is but a paper elephant, imposing but insubstantial.