The Flame of Destiny

Mesopotamia, North of Euphrates, Roman Empire

Eight thousand Kurdish warriors and twice as many horses rode along the shores of the Euphrates River that was still swollen with the spring’s melting water. The Kurds were known for their lightning-fast journeys, but now they trotted at an unhurried pace and rested in open fields. They leisurely bought supplies at the markets that townsfolk organized for them while chieftains sampled local specialties.

Some officers became impatient and grumbled more openly. “Why are we riding west?” asked Shida as she watched Arak buy a whole pig at the market. “The war’s in the east?”

Arak shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s enjoy the calm while it lasts,” he said munching on a boiled pig’s ear.

On the fourth day, Rojan led the horsemen off the main road at an unremarkable spot. They rode away from the river, along small, abandoned trails through woodlands and scrub.

At first, Shida felt relieved. Finally, we’re going somewhere she thought. But as they rode for hours through thick vegetation, she became worried. She expected an ambush behind every turn. “We’ll soon enter the lands of the Caesars,” she said anxiously, “when will you finally tell the men about your plan?”

“They’ll find out soon enough,” said Rojan dryly, “and by the way, we’re already in Roman territory according to my estimation.”

Shida frowned. “Any sign of Kallisto? She’s been gone three days already?

“Perhaps she abandoned us,” said Arak, “you didn’t exactly welcome her back with open arms.”

“Of course not, I banished her remember,” said Rojan coldly, “did you want me to get on my knees and thank her?

“That would’ve been a sight,” grinned Arak, “reminds me of the good old days when you were smitten by her.”

“Oh shut up,” snorted Rojan.

“I don’t understand why you sent her,” remarked Shida, “we’ve got plenty of experienced scouts in our ranks. I could have gone.”

“You’re much too valuable,” quipped Arak, “and this avoids awkward discussions about the Madig’s authority and breaking tribal laws when she starts bossing everyone around.”

“These discussions will come sooner or later,” warned Shida.

“It was her own idea,” sighed Rojan, “she mentioned something of being acquainted with a geographer that showed her the ancient maps of Herodotus and Ptolemy. She speaks fluent Greek and managed to pick up Latin and Aramaic.”

“She’s full of surprises,” whistled Shida.

“Yea, that’s what I’m afraid of,” said Rojan

“Quiet,” Arak hissed, “can you hear that sound?”

“A singing arrow,” said Shida, “it came from the west. Friend or foe?”

They left the trail and rode deeper into the forest, toward the sound, the Kurdish vanguard trotting dutifully with them. The trees were small and far apart in these dry lands which left space for dense bush and undergrowth that even their tough horses found hard to navigate. After a while, they arrived at a large open space. In the center of the clearing was Kallisto with two Kurdish scouts and several local villagers. Behind them, a dozen camels grazed calmly.

“Basu Kallisto,” greeted Arak and bowed his head.

“Finally,” said Kallisto, “you took your time…”

“I’m glad you’re here,” replied Rojan coolly, “we rode slowly and stopped often, like mercenaries looking for a new assignment, not like an army going to war.”

Kallisto nodded.

Rojan jumped off his horse, “have you found everything we need?”

“Sure, local guides that know the best crossing, nine thousand feet of strong rope and four wide vessels.”

“How far is the crossing?”

“An hour’s ride to the south. The current is strong this time of the year, but the river flows slowly in the bend where it’s wide and deep.”

“Good,” thought Rojan. Deep water brought its own challenges but it was less risky than a torrent of ice-cold water. “Let’s start with the preparations. I want to be on the other bank before dawn.”

They used the rest of the daylight to prepare the ropes. These were divided into long lines to which shorter strands were attached. The ropes were carefully rolled up and loaded onto the carts.

Leaving the forest clearing at nightfall, the first riders reached the crossing in complete darkness. The pale moon glittered on the water that flowed solemnly through a wide bend. The whole scene was eerily quiet.

“The nearest village is several miles out,” said Kallisto reassuringly.

Rojan rode up and down the river bank to check for himself then gave his instructions. Soon the river bank buzzed with activity. The horses were tied to the short pieces of rope that were attached to the long lines. A handful of young warriors swum to the other side taking one end of the long line with them.

As soon as they arrived, they started pulling the line, dragging the horses into the water. Swimmers accompanied the nervous animals.

Rojan took a small boat and went into the river to encourage the others. “Come on,” he shouted, “the first is the most important.”

They had already crossed the Tigris River several times in this way and managed to surprise Roman legions which were unbeatable if they had the time to deploy in battle order. But this time it was different. With Vologast’s spies everywhere, they had to cross in total darkness and it was the faster-flowing, ice-cold Euphrates swollen by meltwater from the Caucasus Mountains. There were a thousand things that could go wrong, Rojan thought grimly.

“What are you doing,” asked Shida when she saw Arak walk around with what seemed to be a whole pig.

“Watch and learn,” he replied assuredly as he tied the stuffed pigskin to the back of his horse and sat on it. “I filled this with straw and then had it tightly stitched.”

To Shida’s surprise, the pig skin floated even when Arak and his horse were in deep water, giving them the extra buoyancy to keep comfortably afloat.

The horses in front had barely covered a tenth of the distance when the water was so deep that their hooves no longer touched the ground. Floating and swimming, they were still able to advance, but the current became ever stronger. When they reached the middle of the river, the entire line with the boat and the front horses started to drift downstream. They had to move their legs frantically just to stay afloat but that didn’t stop them from being drawn further and further away by the current which was unexpectedly strong in the middle of the river.

The men on the other side had to pull the horses against the current. They braced themselves with their heels in the muddy banks and pulled at the line with all their might. But they were too few. One by one they were dragged into the water by the force of the mighty river.

Rojan saw the unfolding disaster from his little boat. “Hold on!” he roared and jumped into the water. He swam to the other side with powerful strokes and ran to the men. “Come on,” he shouted, taking the rope with both hands, “don’t give up now.”

Under his command, the men tried again. They pulled as hard as they could and managed to stop the drifting. Then they pulled it in, inch by inch.

The line was still getting longer as more horses and warriors entered the water making it even heavier and thus harder to pull. Rojan felt as if his arms were being ripped off his body. “Hold on,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. The rope burned in his hands.

Kallisto urged the men on from the other bank. “Make the horses swim upstream,” she cried, “compensate for the current.”

That was easier said than done. The current was very strong.

On the other side, Rojan was about to give up, his arms felt like lead weights.

Just then Arak reached the shore and jumped from his pigskin contraption, his clothes were warm and his gear was dry. “Let me help you,” he shouted and attached the rope to his saddle. With the help of Arak’s horse, they pulled the line in.

“Almost there,” shouted Rojan. At last, the horses at the front of the line found solid ground under their hooves. They were no longer dragged by the current and could help in the effort. When the first group safely reached the other side, men fell panting on the ground.

“Come on boys,” said Kallisto impatiently, “we’re not done. This was just the first group!”

Her commands were not welcomed by the weary officers that still had to get used to her return, but they grudgingly continued the work.

The next group was easier to pull across because they had the strength of the horses on the other bank to help. Still, it was backbreaking work. The Kurds toiled tirelessly in the moonlight while the villagers sailed back and forth with their boats to bring arrows and other supplies to the other side.

[Picture desert crossing]

As the sun rose above the horizon, the army was safe across the river and riding south at a good pace.

The transition from the ice-cold river to the dry, hot desert was punishing, even for the tough Kurds. “It’s only one full moon after winter,” complained Arak, “and the heat in this place is already unbearable.”

“It’ll get a lot warmer,” replied Kallisto. “Too warm for the horses to travel fast. As soon as we’re deeper into the desert, we’ll rest until the sun sinks below the horizon. At night the temperature is pleasant and with the stars as a guide it should not be a problem to find our way.”

With renewed courage, the Kurds rode through the empty desert on their way to do battle.