"Brothers, I brought you something to eat." Hilos crawled into the small tent.
The quiet military tent suddenly became lively. Several people who were lying down jumped up and snatched the food from Hilos's arms like hungry wolves.
"Hilos, if you hadn't come, I would have starved to death." Matonis chewed on the half-cooked horse meat. Meat that he usually wouldn't even look at was now an unspeakable delicacy in his mouth.
"I got it from Antonios. Menon had them specially form a team to drag back dead and wounded horses from the battlefield, risking being attacked by the Persians." Hilos sighed, looked at the person lying in the innermost part of the tent, and asked with concern, "How is Davos? Has he woken up yet?"
"He woke up, but he's been in a daze. It's like he doesn't recognize anyone who talks to him, and he doesn't say a word. He seems to be asleep now," Geogris replied gloomily.
"I think he might have accidentally fallen into the River Lethe when he was on Chiron's boat and now has amnesia," Olivos said.
"Shut up!" Matonis reached out to press Olivos's head, but he was pushed away.
Hilos forcefully separated the two and scolded, "We all came from the same town in Thessaly. We are thousands of miles away from our hometown, surrounded by enemies. If we don't unite, I'm afraid we won't be able to go back."
The tent fell silent.
Hilos felt the heavy atmosphere and said comfortingly, "I have seen several warriors who suffered severe head injuries. They were also confused at first, but they will be normal after a period of rest. Maybe Davos will be able to greet everyone with a smile tomorrow morning."
"Davos is considered an old warrior, but he actually fell while chasing!" Olivos said irritably, but when he saw Matonis glaring at him again, he immediately shut his mouth.
"Hilos, did Cyrus the Younger win or was he defeated?" The silence prompted Geogris to ask the question that everyone was most concerned about but also most afraid to face.
Previously, when they returned to the battlefield after chasing the fleeing enemies, they only found the Persian army still there, but Cyrus the Younger's troops were gone. Because it was getting late, neither army had the desire to continue fighting. After a period of confrontation, the Persian army retreated.
The Greek mercenaries then discovered that their camp had been looted. The soldiers were tired and hungry, so of course they didn't have the energy to think about and ask this very important question.
"Cyrus the Younger leads the cavalry. Whether they win or are defeated, he can easily leave the battlefield and reunite with us tomorrow. We'll just fight another battle with the Persian king," Hilos said lightly.
"But the Persian king's army is already much larger than ours. If Cyrus the Younger is defeated, there will be even fewer troops to join us in battle tomorrow," Geogris said worriedly.
"What are you afraid of! We have more than ten thousand hoplites! The Persians are as timid as rabbits! No matter how many people they have, they don't dare to fight us! I haven't had enough killing today. Another fight tomorrow is just right!" Matonis said, encouraging everyone in his own way.
"Even if Cyrus the Younger was defeated, we also defeated their left wing and killed many of them. Tomorrow, they will have even fewer soldiers than today!" Hilos was also full of confidence.
"These damn Persians destroyed our camp, stole our food, and even stole a lot of my silver coins! Tomorrow we will defeat them and take back our things!" Matonis said angrily.
"That's right!" Everyone echoed in unison: "Not only will we take back our things, but we will also take theirs."
"Oh!" Olivos remembered something and said excitedly: "I heard that all of Cyrus the Younger's women were also snatched away, and only one escaped back. It's the woman from Miletus that I told you about last time... as beautiful as Aphrodite.
I heard that Clichus took her into his tent, and he's having a good time tonight! ..." Olivos swallowed and said lewdly.
"Don't talk nonsense!" Hilos warned him.
"Olivos, if you have the ability, go defeat the Persian king tomorrow and snatch one of his women."
"Oh, that's a good idea! Matonis, you're rarely smart."
"Damn Olivos, you want to be beaten again!"
While the few people were talking and laughing, a hoarse voice came from the innermost part of the tent: "Didn't you ever think that Cyrus the Younger was not only defeated! But also killed!"
… … … … … … … … …
Tissaphernes arrived in front of the Persian king's tent. The eunuch Masabates was already waiting at the door: "The king is waiting for you, come in quickly!"
When Tissaphernes handed his sword to the royal guard next to him, he found that this eunuch, the Persian king's most trusted confidant, seemed a little melancholy. He couldn't help but have many thoughts: Could it be that His Majesty is seriously injured?
The tent was filled with a strong aroma of frankincense, mixed with a hint of herbal medicine.
Artaxerxes was lying on his side on the couch, wearing a gorgeous scarlet robe. His naked chest was wrapped in white cloth, and faint red bloodstains could be seen seeping out. A beautiful maid was gently massaging his shoulders, and the physician Ctesias was standing at the bottom.
Seeing Tissaphernes come in, Ctesias immediately took his leave to the Persian king.
Artaxerxes asked him to wait outside the tent, in case there were any changes in his condition, so he could summon him immediately.
Tissaphernes watched the Greek doctor leave the tent before kneeling on one knee and bowing his head, saying, "Your Majesty, I have suffered a defeat and have come to ask Your Majesty to punish me!"
Artaxerxes did not speak. Tissaphernes began to feel uneasy and knelt on the ground without moving.
After a long time, Artaxerxes finally spoke: "You have suffered a defeat, Tissaphernes. But at least you dare to attack. I heard that you led the cavalry around the Greek hoplite line to attack their rear, but you were defeated by their light infantry and were almost hit by a Greek javelin."
"Yes, Your Majesty. You know everything!" Tissaphernes secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
"Compared to those who ran away before even fighting, you are much braver! Get up!" Artaxerxes was still a little dissatisfied with the performance of the Persian army's left wing yesterday. Then he raised his voice: "I wasn't as lucky as you. Cyrus's spear hit me, but fortunately my armor was strong enough, so I was able to take the opportunity to stab him off his horse!"
Wasn't Cyrus the Younger hit by the javelin of the guard Mithridates? Tissaphernes was surprised, but he didn't show it. Instead, he said with excitement and admiration: "Your Majesty, everyone used to say that Cyrus was brave. Yesterday on the battlefield, when we were about to suffer defeat, Your Majesty, you took the great risk that a king should not take, stepped forward, and personally killed Cyrus, the traitor! That allowed us to achieve an incredible victory! Your Majesty, you are worthy of being the King of Kings! You are a born hero!"
Masabates and Ctesias also immediately expressed their admiration for the Persian king's heroic performance.
Artaxerxes's face flushed, and he said angrily: "Cyrus has been competitive since he was a child. As his older brother, I have always let him have his way. Last time at the enthronement ceremony, he tried to assassinate me. For the sake of my mother, I forgave him! I didn't expect my kindness to be regarded as weakness and deceit, and he dared to launch a rebellion!! For the sake of the country's stability, even if he is my own brother, I have to execute him!"
"The king's benevolence is known to everyone in the country! Cyrus is ungrateful, colluding with outsiders and invading the territory. He deserves to be punished! ..." Tissaphernes said passionately.
Artaxerxes nodded and couldn't help but cough a few times. The previous remarks had cost him a lot of energy: "My governor, you have repeatedly exposed Cyrus's conspiracy to me, and you have always performed well in the governance of Asia Minor! When this rebellion is over, I will reward you handsomely!"
"Your Majesty, as the governor of Asia Minor, this is my duty!" Tissaphernes said solemnly.
Artaxerxes nodded, pointed to a large earthenware pot placed on the wooden table in front of the couch with his left hand, and a complex expression appeared on his face: "Inside are Cyrus's head and hands, which Masabates cut off. Take it to the Greek camp and tell them to surrender immediately!!"
----------
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Tissaphernes couldn't help but glance at Masabates, thinking: No wonder this guy looks so grim. If the Queen Mother Parysatis finds out that her most beloved youngest son has been beheaded and his hands cut off, she will never let it go!
"Tissaphernes, do you think the Greeks will surrender?"
"Your Majesty! ... From my understanding of the main Greek mercenary leaders, I'm afraid... it will be difficult. However, perhaps a few would be willing to obey Your Majesty's will!" Tissaphernes said cautiously.
"It would be good to incite infighting among them!" Artaxerxes lightly tapped his chin with his fingers. The rapid charge of the Greek hoplites yesterday still filled him with lingering fear: "...If they are unwilling to surrender, then... expel them from the country. Too many Persians have died in this rebellion! Do not let these rude and barbaric Greeks continue to plunder our wealth and kill our people on my land!" Artaxerxes sighed. He was gentle by nature and disliked conflict, otherwise he would not have tolerated Cyrus the Younger to this point, leading to this great turmoil. Even when Cyrus the Younger raised his army, he hesitated, wanting to retreat eastward. If it hadn't been for the ministers' strong dissuasion and full support, yesterday's battle probably wouldn't have happened.
"Your Majesty, you cherish the people of the empire as if they were your own children! Your subject is overjoyed that the empire has a benevolent ruler like you!" Tissaphernes' words were sincere. In fact, it was because of Artaxerxes' character that he gained the support of the vast majority of ministers and nobles, ensuring that even though Cyrus the Younger rebelled, the core areas of the empire did not experience major turmoil.
"Your Majesty, your subject has an idea! ...Why not drive the Greeks north..." Tissaphernes said.
Artaxerxes pondered. He understood that Tissaphernes did not want the Greeks to trample on his territory—Asia Minor—again.
"North..." His eyes lit up, and he thought of those unsubmissive and unruly mountain tribes, such as the Drachians...
Let these barbarians fight each other! he thought, a faint smile appearing on the corner of his mouth.
"I entrust this matter entirely to you! I will await your good news in Persepolis!" After saying these words, he couldn't wait to go home. Because news had arrived yesterday: another riot had occurred in eastern Persepolis. He had to return to the capital as soon as possible to take charge. Moreover, he also began to miss his Queen Stateira.
......
In the early morning, a thin mist permeated the area of Cunaxa, and the entire Greek camp was quiet, with most people still asleep.
Davos walked out of his tent, curiously examining this unfamiliar place.
Yes, he was no longer Davos himself; his soul came from 21st-century world. As a government employee, he had toiled for more than a decade before being promoted to director of the Municipal High-tech Development Zone. Friends held a banquet to celebrate for him, and he drank heavily. When he woke up, he found himself in a strange place, having become a stranger.
He had repeatedly pinched his thigh, just to prove that he was dreaming, and his thigh was still faintly aching today.
After a long night of adaptation, he no longer dwelled on why he was here. His adaptability was considered strong: he entered the government agency with the highest score in the city in the civil service exam, but was sent to a remote and impoverished mountainous area as a village official, where he stayed for several years. Not only did he persevere, but he also won the favor of the county leaders with his outstanding performance and was recalled to take on important responsibilities.
...It's just that his parents, and the girlfriend he was about to marry... were now separated by different times and spaces, with no chance of reunion... He took a long breath, trying to dispel the sadness in his heart.
After walking a short distance slowly, his mood calmed down slightly. He wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes and told himself: Now that he had arrived in a new world, he should first strive to survive here!
Based on the remaining memories of this body,
he knew that "he" was a Thessalian. Two years ago, for the sake of livelihood, the seventeen-year-old him and his companions from the same village went out to work as mercenaries to earn money. And a year ago, conflict broke out between Macedonia and Thessaly, and Macedonian cavalry attacked his hometown, his parents were killed, and his relatives were taken away... Now, he was alone. This time, he was following the mercenary leader Menon to help the Persian prince Cyrus the Younger in battle.
Last night, his companions thought he was asleep, but he had been listening to their conversation. Through their conversation, he learned more. As a good young man of the 21st century, he barely qualified as an angry youth. When he was a village official, he spent most of his time online to get through the lonely long nights. Watering and venting in some military forums had almost become his side job. Therefore, he had learned a lot about historical and military knowledge, and knew that he was probably in the period after the Peloponnesian War.
As for the Greek mercenaries helping the Persian prince to rebel and usurp the throne, which period of Western history did this involve? As a non-history major, it was too much to ask; he really couldn't figure it out. It wasn't until someone mentioned the sentence "Our tens of thousands of Greek hoplites" that it triggered his hidden memories.
Once, someone in the forum touted that to understand ancient Western history, one must read certain books. Among the listed books, one called "The Anabasis" aroused his curiosity: Was there also a Long March in ancient Western history? Because the author happened to be a famous historical figure he knew, he casually checked it online and learned that it came from the famous ancient Western historical event, "The March of the Ten Thousand."
Because Davos vaguely remembered that the rebellious prince in the event died in the chaos due to recklessness, he blurted it out in a moment of anxiety. But he didn't expect that the others more or less held the wish that Cyrus the Younger would win and everyone would get rich together, and they couldn't accept his guess at all.
Faced with one question after another, he, who had just arrived, didn't want to ruin his relationship with his companions, and perhaps he also held a glimmer of fantasy in his heart: Maybe this wasn't that historical event. So, he remained silent.
As a result, everyone broke up unhappily. That night, he didn't sleep well. The unfamiliar environment and fear of the future made him toss and turn, unable to fall asleep.
Early the next morning, he walked out of the tent, facing this strange new world for the first time. What came into view were tents one after another, seemingly endless.
Breathing the moist and fresh air, he mustered his courage and walked forward. Occasionally, someone would come out of a tent and greet him, and he would respond with a smile. There were even warriors who knew he was injured who asked about his condition with concern, and he would stop to express his gratitude, taking the opportunity to chat a few words and learn something from others. Obviously, it wasn't because he was some big shot that everyone treated him kindly, but because some of the mercenaries under Menon were Thessalians, and many of them had even fought alongside him for more than two years, and they were all very familiar with each other. So, as he walked, his sense of strangeness gradually dissipated.
Not far away, the neighing of horses and bleating of sheep attracted him forward. In Davos's memory, this large area enclosed by wooden fences in the center of their camp was the baggage camp of Menon's mercenary army. There were not only many pack horses and mules, but also some cattle and sheep plundered along the way, as well as a batch of food distributed to Menon by Cyrus the Younger. Moreover, there were merchants stationed inside, and when passing through big cities, even nearby * * would come here to make money.
When he reached the entrance, a team of guards holding spears stopped him.
"Without Menon's order, no one is allowed to enter!" a short, fat man shouted angrily from behind the guards.
Davos glanced at him, turned around, and walked away; he didn't want to cause trouble. Behind him, he could still hear the fat man scolding the guards: "Next time someone comes, you have to be fiercer, otherwise you won't be able to suppress this gang of thieves! Five sheep have been lost from last night until now. When Menon punishes me, I will punish you!"
It seems the mercenaries are seriously short of food! I wonder how much food the Persian army broke in and stole yesterday. He walked and pondered, and unknowingly, an simple fence made of tree branches and sticks loosely inserted into the mud appeared in front of him, blocking his way. Although there were still densely packed tents ahead, he knew that it was already another mercenary camp.
At this time, the sun had risen high in the sky, the thick fog gradually dissipated, and the line of sight could reach far away. The sky was high and the fields were wide, the wind was clear and the air was refreshing, and he was momentarily intoxicated... He heard his companions say that the city in front was Babylon, and not far away was the Euphrates River: one was the capital of one of the four ancient civilizations, and the legendary Hanging Gardens were fascinating; the other was the mother river of the people of Mesopotamia. But I don't know if there will be a chance to see them?
However, the suddenly boiling camp alarmed the distracted him. A sense of unease welled up in his heart, and he hurried back.
At this time, the soldiers emerged from their tents one after another, with nervous and uneasy expressions, discussing excitedly with each other. The words that reached his ears were all transformed into six words: Cyrus the Younger is dead!
His heart sank: This really is the March of the Ten Thousand event! Doesn't that mean we'll have to spend the rest of our time on the run!
Davos hurried anxiously through the increasingly crowded camp passageway, nearly tripping several times. When he lifted the curtain and entered the tent, he was met with four pairs of strangely expressive eyes.
Compared to the hustle and bustle outside, the tent was quiet.
"Davos, Cyrus the Younger… he's dead!" Olives said in a strange tone, "You guessed it, he really is dead!"
"I've already heard it from others," Davos said, sitting back on his "bed," his mood somewhat recovered.
Hilos looked at this calm comrade-in-arms. As fellow villagers who lived in the same village, they were quite familiar with each other, but at this moment, he felt a sense of unfamiliarity: "Antonios came over just now and said, 'Cyrus the Younger's adjutant, Ariaeus, sent someone to inform us that Cyrus the Younger has died in battle. He is gathering the scattered soldiers, preparing to join us.'"
"Davos, I originally wanted to punch you for keeping me up all night, but I didn't expect you to be right!" Matonis scratched his head sheepishly.
"What should we do next?" Giorgis's words made everyone look at Davos with strange eyes again.
Davos was wondering what was going on when Olives impatiently said, "Tell us quickly! What oracle did Hades give you?"
Davos looked at them in surprise. Only then did he understand why they were acting so strangely; it turned out they believed he had received the favor of Hades, the King of the Underworld.
When the news of Cyrus the Younger's death reached Hilos and the others, they were surprised that Davos had predicted it, so they began to talk about Davos. After synthesizing everyone's opinions, they were surprised to find that almost everyone believed that this youngest companion, who had always been taken care of by them, was very different in behavior and speech after waking up from his coma, as if he had become a different person (although Davos didn't say much last night, the temperament of a modern person was naturally very different from that of an ancient person).
Therefore, they believed that Davos must have been lucky enough to encounter Hades in hell and received the help of the King of the Underworld to return to the human world. Moreover, the way he woke up was a little scary: when they found him on the battlefield, no matter how they called him, he remained unconscious, and suddenly he opened his eyes wide.
When everyone was at a loss, this comrade-in-arms who had received "divine help" obviously became their lifeline.
Davos found it somewhat amusing to receive such a special encounter. In this ignorant era, the Greeks did not regard gods as supreme beings like the Persians, but they were still very superstitious, and every aspect of their lives was closely related to the Greek gods. However, Davos did not dare to nod and admit it, because he only knew that there was such a historical event, but he did not know the detailed process.
"What oracle! I just like to think of the worst possible scenario in everything, so that I can be prepared for danger."
What do you mean, you like to think of the worst possible scenario! What kind of person were you before? Don't we know? A silly boy who only knew how to fight actually knows how to think! If it's not divine favor, what is it! Otherwise, how could even the tone of his voice change! It seems that Hades told him to keep it a secret?! The four men exchanged meaningful glances. From childhood, they had been influenced by their parents' daily stories about the gods, which taught them that the gods were fickle and had many complex taboos. For safety's sake, they no longer asked, but looked at him with expectant eyes.
These eyes were similar to the eyes of the poor mountain people when Davos was a village official, hoping that this college student could change the face of the mountain village. But I, like you, don't know what to do? Davos sighed in his heart, and suddenly an idea struck him, and he asked, "Do you know a person named Xenophon?"
The four men shook their heads.
"Are you saying that Xenophon can help us?" Olives couldn't help but ask.
Davos smiled and said nothing. He felt a little strange: since the internet said that Xenophon led this great retreat and even wrote a book,
How could no one have heard of him? He should be a mercenary leader!
"Where is Xenophon from? Is he in our team?" Hilos asked.
"He… probably is. He… should be Athenian." Davos still knew about Xenophon's birthplace, after all, Xenophon was an ancient Western writer, military strategist, and a disciple of Socrates.
"When I have time, I'll ask the people in the other camps," Hilos said solemnly.
"Don't let it be someone from Clearchus! Otherwise, we won't be able to find him!" Giorgis said. The relationship between the two leaders, Clearchus and Menon, was very bad, which led to the mercenaries under their command also hating each other.
"Isn't it just fighting! Let's fight! We Thessalians are not afraid of this group of bastards from Chersonese!" Matonis said a little excitedly.
"Who are you going to fight?" The curtain was opened, and a person came in, it was Antonios.
Through the memories of this body, Davos knew that this was their centurion. However, after all, they were mercenaries. Except for being the ultimate authority during combat, he had no authority at other times. The people in the tent were still sitting or lying down, and no one stood up to salute.
"We are telling jokes," Hilos said.
"The outside world is in chaos. You can still joke here, not bad! Not bad!" Antonios said half-jokingly and half-seriously.
He looked at the people in the tent, and then said to Hilos: "Menon asked me to tell you squad leaders to comfort the brothers. Cyrus the Younger just died in an accident, his troops are still there, so our strength and Persia's weakness have not changed. When we meet with Cyrus the Younger's adjutant, Ariaeus, tomorrow, we will have at least 30,000 people! Then we will defeat the Persian king! Haha, there will be more benefits next! Maybe we will… we will support a new Persian king!!"
Antonios was satisfied with the surprised expressions of the crowd, and prepared to turn around and leave the tent, but was stopped by Hilos: "It's okay to comfort the brothers, but you have to let them eat! From last night until now, everyone has only eaten some raw horse meat, and they are still hungry! There is no news from Melcistus. If there is no food, I can't guarantee what will happen!"
"That's right! That's right! If there is no food, we will not do it!" Everyone took the opportunity to shout.
Antonios patted his stomach embarrassedly and said: "I am also hungry. Now, the entire military camp is short of food. Menon is urging Melcistus to find a solution, and he himself went to find Proxenus, I heard that his camp suffered less losses yesterday. Even if the food comes, there will not be much for each person, so everyone should bear with it for a day!" After Antonios finished speaking, he hurriedly left the tent.
Hilos sighed and said to everyone: "I'll go and see another tent." After speaking, he also went out. This squad leader of his manages nine people, and five of his subordinates live in the adjacent tent.
Before, he had been entangled in the affairs of his previous life and this life, and he had not realized that he had not eaten anything. After everyone made such a fuss, Davos's stomach also began to growl.
He had no choice but to learn from the others, wrapped in a woolen blanket, lying on the "bed", so as to reduce physical consumption.