Stooping low to the ground, 400 men raced along the base of the ridge. Quivers across their backs, they gripped their double curved bows in their hands. 800 feet thudded against the packed earth.
With a raised hand, the lead bowman stopped. Arsak instantly shifted toward the hill with the others. He crept up the slope, digging his feet into the dewy grass. Just shy of the peak, he paused at his leader’s signal.
The chief bowman lifted his head over the hill and scanned the space below. Nodding, he ducked down again. He gave the word. The archers retraced their steps as the runners arrived with the horses.
Arsak wrapped his arms around his steed, nearly losing his bow as he mounted. His companions used better form. Every hand moved to his quiver, each taking a handful of arrows. Setting an arrow to the string, they held the rest at the ready. Arsak’s muscles constricted as he waited for the order to follow.
In the late B.C., to early A.D. Centuries, nearly every soldier feared the Parthian archer. Armed with a double-curved bow, and skill to use it, they were well to be feared. Using only their legs to direct their horses, the Parthian could shoot as straight on horseback as on the ground.
The Parthian Empire was one of the most powerful Middle-Eastern empires of its time. In the first Century A.D., its land area amounted to 1,100,000 sq mi, about a third of the area of the continental U.S. The nation of Parthia was located in modern-day Iran, but at its peak, the empire stretched across much of present-day Turkey. Parthia was powerful, but in 58 A.D. another empire threatened to crush their power—Rome.
Bow raised in the air, the lead bowman lurched forward. Arsak dug his heels into his horse’s side. Leaning front, he clutched the horse with his legs as it climbed the slope. He struggled to keep the arrow on the string. Fear gnawed at him. His first battle awaited him on the other side of the peak.
With a roar, the Parthians poured over the crest of the hill. Chills rushed over his body as a huge mass of men mounted the slopes toward him. His hand slipped, sinking an arrow into the ground.
In another moment, his comrades sent their arrows whistling into the air. Hundreds of infantry fell. Arsak and the other archers swarmed down the slopes. He released another arrow, missing the mark again. The gap between the armies narrowed.
Arsak pulled back the string and fired. The arrow pierced a soldier and sent him to the ground. Before he could contemplate his deed, he was plunged into the ranks of the enemy. Scores of men fell trampled beneath the hooves of the horses. The foot soldiers tried to break his advance with their spears, but Arsak jerked his horse around them.
Once beyond the first ranks of auxiliaries, Arsak brightened. But it all faded. Thousands of soldiers with red rectangular shields and glimmering helmets moved toward him. Roman Legions, trained, fierce warriors. Arsak had heard the stories. Now they were before him waiting to slay him.
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