#carrhae

With RPC V.2 and V.3 now online, let’s get some Severan provincials…

Roman Province - Mesopotamia

AE18 - 2.79g

Caracalla + Geta 209-211 AD

Carrhae Mint

Obverse AYTO K ANTONEINC ΓETA CE

Bust of Caracalla right, laureate, draped, cuirassed, facing bust of Geta left, draped

Reverse KAPP KΛWNEIA MHTPOΠOΛIC

Star on crescent

Crassus: we will kick their arse with our Superior Roman Military Strategy. What could possibly go wrong.

Parthian Warfare

Parthian warfare was characterized by the extensive use of cavalry and archers. Coming at enemy troops from all directions Parthian riders created confusion and wreaked havoc. They even developed the famous “Parthian shot.” Able to shoot backward at full gallop, the Parthian archer delivered kill shots at pursuing cavalry. Just as essential were their heavy-armored horse cavalry called cataphracts that provided offensive support and assistance in mopping up remaining pockets of resistance with long lances and swords. Taking over the Seleucid Empire, Parthia (247 BCE - 224 CE) controlled territories that stretched from the Mediterranean in the west to India and China in the east and were even a match for the Romans. About Parthia's ability to wage war, Strabo mentions, "they were well adapted for establishing dominion, and for ensuring success in war" (11.9.2).

Parthian Cavalry

Coming off the flat steppe region of central Asia, more than one ancient author mentions Parthian cavalry as essential to their military machine. Consummate in their military tactics and organization the Parthians were also excellent horse breeders and trainers. Strabo says that their horses were superior in "fleetness" (3.4.15). That they were the fastest around meant their riders could chase down the enemy when in pursuit, or escape when pursued. It is likely, as well, like many warhorses of old, Parthian horses were trained to trample enemy infantry or unhorsed cavalry. But the value of a horse's ability to turn on a dime was appreciated early on. Writing in the late 5th and early 4th centuries BCE, Xenophon mentions, in his Art of Horsemanship:

Another point which is necessary to learn is, whether when let go at full speed the horse can be pulled up sharp and is willing to wheel around in obedience to the reins. (section 3)

Maneuvering like today's barrel race riders, the importance of the mounted warrior to whirl about their horse during military engagement - to attack the flank of pursuing cavalry, to change direction to help fellow warriors, or to have the advantage of maneuverability during one-on-one combat with enemy cavalry - would have been fundamental for Parthian cavalry units. Strabo also mentions the other part to the Parthian horse's superiority was "their ease in speedy traveling" (3.4.15). This not only would have helped the aim of the mounted archer delivering kill shots at full gallop but just as important, it meant the rider would not be worn out from riding a choppy gaited horse.

At times Parthian cavalry would have ranged some distances to get to a field of combat. Getting there quick would have been crucial, but getting there on the backs of smoother riding horses meant less fatigued warriors able to freshly engage at a moment's notice. That the Parthian horses were superior to others and key to Parthia's military superiority for such a long time, reveals ownership of a highly organized, closely-held horse industry that produced superior animals while using state of the art training methods.

The far east of the Roman Empire…

Roman Province - Mesopotamia

AE16 - 3.25g

Elagabalus 218-222 AD

Carrhae Mint

Obverse AYT ANTWNEI

Head of Elagabalus right, laureate

Reverse KAP KOΛΛ Π

Star within filleted crescent

A short piece inspired by Crassus's Parthian campaign, the wars that are still fought in the desert two thousand years later, and the idea of armies haunting each other across history.

Everything outside the parentheses fits both generals and both armies.

----

He has never expected the desert to be so cold.

The ground is covered in frost in the morning, and spiders the size of dinner plates rush into their tents for warmth. Their bite isn’t lethal, but it hurts like hell, so the soldiers don’t sleep well. They complain of ghosts in the morning, of another army just like theirs, lost behind the dunes.

The sand and gets into the folds of their armor, their weapons are blunted by the sharp crystals, they eat sand with their dried rations and drink sand in their beer and have to shake it out of their hair every night despite the close-fitting helmets.

What, exactly, are they fighting for?

The pride of the empire, he tells his soldiers.

The hunger of the empire, devouring land after land.

It calls itself a republic still. He curses it and bleeds it dry and takes and takes and takes from it, riches and fame and power, and yet he loves it, he always has, he wouldn't blink before offering his life for it.

The republic has now demanded its sacrifice. It will open him up and read the future in his entrails, and his failure may not even make it to the histories that will be written about this war.

(His soldiers say, they dream of legions, dusty red cloaks and breastplates glimmering in the sunrise.)

(His soldiers say, they dream of legions, a line of heavy machines emerging from the sandstorm.)

They sleep during the day, it is too hot, but not for their enemies, who are vexing them, ceaselessly, picking them off one by one in hunting parties. How do you fight a war when an entire country has turned itself against you?

What will they consider a victory? And how long will it last?

They’ll settle for another vassal state. And gold, he thinks. In any form. In the end, the spoils of war will let the citizens back home breathe just a little easier, he tells himself.

The desert is unforgiving, and he knows that he will be lucky if any soldiers of his will make it back. As for himself, he doesn't expect to. (They meet their enemy in the field, and what was supposed to be an easy victory turns out to be a feint, a trick, so similar to those he had read about before, but somehow, it has escaped him this time.)  

(They meet their enemy in the city, in a white haze of the dust, their best troops still coughing, half-blind, rushing into a wrong district, a trick of the enemy or his own mistake.)

He hopes it won’t cost too many lives, but it is shaping to be the deadliest battle since the last big war of the republic. A general is not supposed to make this kind of mistake.

Little awaits him at home, except for the political intrigues, the games of power, and wars and more wars stretching towards the horizon. They will keep him away from the government. He is safer over the sea. He is tired.

Before he falls, he tries to remember the name of this benighted place that will soon become his tomb.

(He thinks: Carrhae.)