Last King of Kings-Chapter 66: When negotiations fail

The Arabs guarding the city walls started reporting that men of all kinds are being lined up in front of the Persian camp, fully in view of the city. They also reported the fact that Persians started to build siege engines, mainly catapults with some siege towers and battering rams. Rostam still didn't like the idea, but that was due to his honourable personality. He as a spahbed saw the need for such methods. After all, of what use is honour to someone, when he lost everything including his own life? When his country is plunged in flames and when enemy raiders pillage and plunder the nation? One may say that he fought with honour, but what does it help? It doesn't change anything. And Rostam understood that. Everyone did – the unfortunate circumstance forced them to.

An envoy with clear message was sent – if they surrender, they may leave and take half the prisoners with them. Should they resist, they shall be mercilessly slayed. No in between. Yazdegerd was nervously walking in circles. Despite the grand speech he made and the decisiveness he showed, he still wasn't entirely sure about it. But should they continue their bickering, they would get nowhere. He had to take the mantle of decision in the moment, not only to finally end the squabble, but also to enforce his authority. But was that the right decision? No one knew, but he had to make the most out of it. He steeled himself as he waited for the Arab response to the offer. And he was preparing for the worst.

"My Shahanshah, the Arabs have sent an answer!"

After a few hours, the messenger came back, bringing the answer from the defending Arabs. Yazdegerd's heart started to beat much faster and he started sweating. Despite that, he made a stern expression and faced the news with courage. It was Jalinus who came to him, taking the message from the messenger to him.

"Jalinus, just tell me, in simple terms. Yes or no?"

Jalinus made a doubtful face but eventually answered. In simple terms.

"No, my Shahanshah."

Yazdegerd sighed. He somewhat knew this was coming. He couldn't see the proud Arabs to stand down and retreat without a fight. Perhaps they even heard about the massacre at Al-Quadisiyyah, where the Arabs suffered a great defeat, so they wanted to avenge their fallen brothers. Ironic as it may be, given the fact that they're the invaders here, the morale and elan the Arabs had cannot be underestimated. Alas, Yazdegerd now had little choice as to what to do.

"Prepare the captives and the siege engines. And call me when you have done that." Ordered Yazdegerd and promptly left. Jalinus simply abided by his orders.

After an hour and a half, Yazdegerd was informed that everything is prepared. He steeled himself and ventured out of his tent, where he was resting. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, at the minor age of 12. But, after all, he was responsible for far more lives than the years he could ever live. And, surprising himself, he coped with that responsibility much smoother and finer than before.

He left the tent and made his way to the front of the encampment, which was facing the city. The prisoners were kneeling down in a line. There were a lot of them – several hundred, perhaps even thousand. They all wore a simple white cloak and were handcuffed. Before them stood the magnificent siege engines, mainly catapults and trebuchets and few battering rams and siege towers.

The Arabs on the walls were observing this tragedy with tearful expressions. Some of them started thinking that it would be better for them to surrender – after all, the Persian demands were pretty light. But alas, it wasn't up to the soldiers and their officers and commanders had orders of their own – the city couldn't fall. They just would have to look away from the massacre that was about to happen. But then, one of the officers noticed something strange. The Persians had next to no rocks and stones, yet so many catapults and trebuchets. Something was wrong. But before they realized what was going on, it was too late.

The first Arab prisoners were already flying through the air, splattering onto the walls, with few actually hitting the ramparts on the wall, killing and injuring the stationed soldiers. Seeing their friends and brothers being launched through the air by the catapults and trebuchets and then being promptly splattered on the wall or the ramparts, they started panicking. The morale plummeted and the soldiers were terrified and traumatized by the splattered remains of their fellow soldiers. Needless to say, it didn't take long for Arabs to completely surrender to Persians.

After only half an hour of this bombardment, the Arabs surrendered. They sent an envoy who was pleading with the Persian spahbed, Rostam, to end this bloodshed. Rostam didn't say anything and simply nodded, as he himself wasn't very happy to do this. No one was. Only a psychopath would be happy to commit something like this. One could say Arabs deserved this, because they didn't submit to their demands, but who were they to order anyone to surrender? After all, the same logic could apply to Persians. What really mattered was that all of this was part of a war the Arabs started, and while that didn't mean they deserved such a massacre, it puts a part of the blame on their shoulders.

After Hira was captured, Yazdegerd sent for the people who originally called this place home. Much had changed in Hira. Every Fire Temple was converted to a Mosque. The administrator's house was made into a makeshift command centre. Although it would take a lot of work to rebuild Hira to the shining Pearl in the desert it once was, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that Hira was in their hands, once again.