The Lost Army

  ‘I believe you,’ interrupted Phalinus, ‘but that doesn’t change matters. There are a great number of you, and you are armed. Go to his tent, now, wearing only your tunics. Implore his clemency, and I’ll see what I can do for you.’

  ‘Did I hear you right?’ Clearchus retorted. ‘Implore his clemency?’ He turned to his commanders. ‘My fellow officers, listen to this one! What a request! Would you mind giving these kind guests of ours an answer? I have to leave for just a moment.’

  I was so surprised by his behaviour. Why would he walk away just then, at such a crucial moment? The generals turned to the messengers without batting an eye.

  ‘You’ll have to kill me first,’ replied Cleanor of Arcadia, a formidable warrior with a voice that sliced into you like a sword.

  Proxenus of Boeotia’s tone was more accommodating, but not his words. ‘In our tunics, right? Fine, Phalinus, but maybe you can tell me what will happen to my men if we do such a thing. Will they be . . . butchered? Impaled? Skinned alive? That’s the way they do things here, isn’t it? We’ve seen how he treated his little brother.’

  Phalinus did not react. He only tried to make his request clearer. You could see he was a good negotiator. He was a big man, but very calm and attentive; he weighed his words and didn’t waste a single one. ‘The Great King knows that he’s won because he defeated and killed Cyrus, and you were on his brother’s side. What’s more, you’re in the middle of his territory and so you are his. You’re surrounded. There are canals all around you as well as two wide, impassable rivers, one to your left and one to your right. You have no way out, and if you decide to go out fighting he will send so many soldiers out against you that you’d never be able to kill them all, not even if they offered you their throats for the cutting.’

  Xeno in the meantime had pushed his way into the centre of the group of officers while I lingered behind. He listened to every word, and he even spoke up, despite the fact that he had no authority to do so. ‘Listen, Phalinus, your demands are unreasonable. You can’t ignore the fact that the Persians who faced off against us in the conflict were routed. You cannot expect us to negotiate as if we’d been defeated.’

  ‘Smart boy!’ replied Phalinus. ‘You sound like a philosopher. But you’re delusional if you think you can challenge the greatest empire on earth by trying to reason your way around things. Forget it.’

  ‘Wait a moment,’ another officer broke in. ‘Why don’t we try to come to an agreement? You came to make a deal, right? We’re excellent fighters. We’ve lost our employer, so we’re back on the market. You’ve been having trouble in Egypt. Why don’t you tell your King that we’ll take care of things for him? I’m sure we could do that.’

  Phalinus shook his head. ‘You could take Egypt, all on your own? Oh gods, just who do you think you are?’ Just then Clearchus reappeared and Phalinus turned straight to him. ‘Listen, there’s a lot of confusion here, everyone is saying something different. I need to talk to one person alone, one person who can speak for you all. So, Clearchus, do you want to tell me what you’ve decided? Yes or no?’

  Clearchus drew up close. ‘Listen. I know that we’re up to our necks in trouble. But you’re a Greek, damnit, there’s no one listening to us. Except for the doctor, but he’s Greek too, isn’t he? Can’t you just stop being an ambassador for a moment and give us some advice, from one Greek to another? One man to another? You know, if we manage to pull ourselves out of this shithole we’ll never forget that you gave us good advice, and on the other side of the sea you’ll always have ten thousand good friends to count on if the wind changes. You can never be sure of anything in this world.’

  Xeno had returned to where I was standing. No one had noticed me because my hair was pulled up under a cap and I was wearing a man’s cloak.

  ‘What is he saying?’ I asked.

  ‘I think he’s stalling for time. He’s waiting for a signal from Sophos or Menon about the situation at the Asian camp. He wants to know what Ariaeus is up to.’

  A couple of men standing in front of us hushed us. ‘Shut up, will you? We want to hear what’s going on.’

  Phalinus answered. ‘If there were any way you could get out of this, I would tell you about it, I swear to you. But you can see for yourself that there’s no way out. You can’t head back and you can’t go forward either. Surrender, and I’ll try to put in a good word. You will too, Ctesias, won’t you? The King will certainly listen to his personal physician, the man who saved his life.’

  Ctesias nodded benevolently.

  ‘See?’ continued Phalinus. ‘He’ll put in a good word for you, you needn’t worry. So, what’s your answer?’

  Clearchus got even closer and Phalinus instinctively took half a step back in order to stay out of arm’s reach. ‘I’d like to thank you for your advice, my friend, I truly appreciate it but, you see, I’ve thought this all through. Showing up in our tunics, on bended knee, begging for clemency . . . I’m sorry, that just doesn’t seem like a good idea. In conclusion, there’s no question in my mind: no.’

  Phalinus could barely disguise his displeasure and he remained in silence a few moments to gather his thoughts. The sun was high and the buzzing of the flies attracted by thousands of rotting bodies was almost unbearable. Swarms of crows had appeared overhead, and several large vultures were circling above waiting for the chance to swoop down and begin their banqueting. Phalinus looked up at the vultures and then at Clearchus, while Ctesias maintained a detached attitude as if he had been sent merely to observe and not to get involved. In the end, Phalinus said, ‘If that’s the way things stand I have to warn you of what you’re up against. As long as you remain here where you are now, a truce will stand between you and the King. If you move, that will mean war. What shall I tell him?’

  Clearchus did not seem upset in the least. ‘What you’ve just said,’ he replied. ‘If we stay here it’s a truce, if we move it’s war.’

  Phalinus bit his lower lip in anger and went off without another word.

  ‘It didn’t go the way he thought it would,’ observed Socrates.

  ‘No. I’d say not,’ replied Clearchus. ‘It won’t be pretty for him when he has to tell the King. In any case, we can’t remain here. We have nothing to eat. Unless we stay strong we’re dead.’

  Just then Agasias and Sophos rode up. ‘Ariaeus was wounded, but he’ll pull through,’ said Sophos. ‘Menon decided to stay down at the camp with Glous.’

  ‘What did Ariaeus say about my proposal?’

  ‘No, he says forget about that – no high-ranking Persian would accept him as king, even if we won the throne for him. But if we join him, he says he’ll lead us out of here. He said to come as quickly as we can if we decide to accept his offer. If we’re not there by tomorrow morning, he’s leaving alone.’

  ‘I see,’ replied Clearchus. ‘Did you run into any trouble getting back here?’

  ‘No,’ replied Sophos. ‘The whole area is very quiet. The Persians are staying out of sight.’

  ‘For the moment,’ Cleanor spoke up.

  ‘For the moment,’ Clearchus admitted.

  He turned to the bugler and had him sound the call for a meeting of his staff. The generals who commanded the large battle units and the battalion commanders rushed over. Clearchus presided over the war council.

  Xeno meant to join me, and was walking in my direction when he crossed paths with Sophos, who was heading towards the staff meeting.

  ‘Come with me,’ Sophos told him.

  ‘But I’m not part of the . . .’

  ‘Now you are,’ replied Sophos curtly. ‘Come on, then.’

  Xeno followed without objecting. I sat down on the ground next to his horse Halys, his servant, his wagon and his bags. It was everything Xeno owned, and I felt it was best not to leave his things unguarded, given the circumstances.

  The meeting went on until late afternoon. Xeno returned with Sophos and they stopped about twenty steps away from me. That was where they parted; Sop
hos took off and Xeno spoke to me.

  ‘Get ready,’ he said. ‘We’ll be moving at sunset.’

  ‘Where will we go?’

  ‘We’re going to join up with the others and then, we’ll see . . . Is there anything left to eat?’

  ‘Yes, I can make some flat bread. There are still some salted olives and a little wine.’

  ‘That will be fine. We’ll eat early, before leaving.’

  In truth there were more supplies in the wagon, but if I’d told him so, Xeno would have invited someone to dinner. Socrates or Agias or both of them. I didn’t want to risk running out of food before we had a way to get more.

  Of course I couldn’t stop the aroma of the baking bread from wafting through the camp. Those poor boys were starving. They were twenty years old and had fought like lions the whole day before. Xeno didn’t even need to tell me that: I offered what I could to those closest to us.

  Xeno had nothing to write on and that left us time for conversation, especially after I’d poured him a little sweet wine.

  ‘We’re in terrible danger, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied.

  ‘But there’s something I just can’t understand. The King’s army is so much bigger than ours, why hasn’t he attacked us?’

  ‘Because he’s afraid.’

  ‘Afraid of what?’

  ‘Of the red-cloaked warriors. Legend has them invincible. Eighty years ago a Spartan king named Leonidas deployed the three hundred men at his command at the Fiery Gates, a narrow mountain pass in central Greece. They held off an army of Persians that was even bigger than this one, for days and days. They were outnumbered a hundred to one. These men here are made of the same stuff, and yesterday they overwhelmed the Persian left wing even though it was five times their size. The red-cloaked warriors are larger than life. The mere sight of them is enough to strike terror into their enemies. Cyrus was sure that this small contingent would be sufficient to defeat his brother, the most powerful sovereign on earth. He wasn’t wrong about that. If Clearchus had obeyed his orders to attack the enemy centre, we’d be in a totally different situation right now.’

  ‘Instead we’re in trouble. What will we do?’

  ‘I told you. We’ll join the others and then look for a way out.’

  I poured a little more wine so he’d forgive my insistence. ‘So you think there is a way out?’

  Xeno lowered his head. ‘I don’t know. We’re at the heart of the Great King’s empire. He fears us, but he’s well aware that if we make it back, the world will know that a small group of men managed to get almost all the way to his capital without striking a single blow. Do you know what that means?’

  ‘I think so. That one day a man with the courage and skill to repeat this endeavour could very well succeed. In conquering the Persian empire.’

  ‘That’s right. You know . . .’ he said to me then, ‘do you know that, if you were a man, you could become the adviser to an important person?’

  ‘I don’t want to be anyone’s adviser. I want to stay with you, if you want me . . . for as long as you want me.’

  ‘You can be sure of that. But you should know that you’re joining your destiny to that of an exile. To a man who no longer has a house, belongings, a future. I have nothing.’

  I was about to answer when the bugles sounded and Xeno sprang to his feet, grabbing his weapons.

  At the second blare the men formed ranks. At the third they started marching. Evening was falling over the desert.

  10

  THE SOLDIERS MARCHED in silence for about thirty stadia in the dark, straining their ears at any suspect sound. Clearchus and his officers were well aware that by making the first move they had violated the truce and were at war with the Great King. They were trying to understand where he was and what he had in mind.

  I was sure that he’d already struck camp and left. He’d won the battle, he’d defeated and killed his brother, and had no time now to worry about a small contingent of mercenaries trapped between the Tigris and the Euphrates.

  I looked around from my place on the wagon, searching through the darkness for the shapes of the men passing, bent under the weight of their armour and by the terrible ordeal they’d suffered in the last two days. Their hunger had drained them of all energy, and if they were attacked en masse I didn’t know how they would find the strength to react. It all depended on that brief space that separated them from Ariaeus’s camp. Fortunately, absolutely nothing happened.

  I watched Xeno, riding at a short distance; he showed no signs of apprehension. He was certain that the legend of the red cloaks would keep the enemy away. Maybe that was true, but later he told me something else that was important: the Persians never attack at night; they keep their horses tethered and unharnessed. Maybe he’d read that somewhere, but it turned out to be true, for the whole length of the expedition.

  We arrived about midnight and straight away a meeting was held between our officers and the Asians. Xeno was included for the second time and he found himself face to face with Menon, who had stayed behind with Ariaeus’s troops. They barely acknowledged each other. I wandered through the camp pitched by Agasias’s battalion, which had remained with the Asians throughout the battle. There were fires here and there, most of them going out, and a few lamps being lit.

  I soon noticed a little group of soldiers who were pointing in the direction of a certain tent, and as I got closer I understood why. The lamplight was casting the shadow of a beautiful naked woman, who was bathing inside, onto the thin fabric of the tent.

  ‘What’s there to look at! Leave her alone and get out of here!’ I exclaimed loudly, hoping they’d take me seriously. I knew instinctively what was about to happen. At first none of them seemed to have heard me; a few of them even started to approach the little pavilion, snickering under their breath. I knew that things were about to take a turn for the worse and thought I should start yelling, but after a few steps they stopped, exchanged a few words and headed off in different directions.

  Perhaps they thought that if I’d told them to go away, I had the authority to do so.

  I walked up to the pavilion and called out, ‘If you don’t put out that lamp, you’ll be getting unexpected and very undesirable visitors.’

  ‘Who’s that? What do you want?’ replied an alarmed female voice. My accent sounded strange to her, I’m sure, and she couldn’t understand who I was, but she realized that I was a woman and this must have reassured her somewhat.

  ‘I just wanted to warn you: you can see you’re naked from outside and there was a group of men gathered here watching the show. I guess you can imagine what was coming next.’

  ‘I’m getting dressed,’ replied the voice.

  ‘Can I come in now?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  I entered and saw one of the most beautiful girls I’d ever seen, or ever would see, for that matter. She was blonde, her eyes were amber-coloured and she had the body of a goddess. Her skin was soft and silky, soothed by the rarest and most precious ointments, ready for the most aristocratic caress.

  ‘You must be the one who escaped Cyrus’s tent naked when the Persians arrived,’ I said, observing her attentively.

  The girl smiled. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘The men were talking about it, and then when I saw your shadow projected onto the tent I remembered.’

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘My name is Abira. I’m Syrian.’

  ‘Are you a slave?’

  ‘No, I’m here with one of the men taking part in this expedition. I came of my own free will.’

  The girl looked at me slyly with a curious expression. ‘Are you in love with him?’

  ‘Is that so strange?’

  ‘You are in love then,’ she said, nodding. ‘Sit down. You must be starving. There’s something to eat here.’

  I could tell she wanted company, perhaps female company in particular. It couldn’t be easy for such a beautiful wo
man to find herself in the middle of a camp with tens of thousands of young, violent men, many of whom had already seen her naked. She opened a chest and offered me a piece of bread with a slice of goat’s cheese.

  I thanked her. ‘You are very beautiful. You must have been the friend of someone very important . . .’

  The girl looked down. ‘You’re observant, and clever as well.’

  ‘Maybe even the most important.’

  The girl nodded.

  ‘Cyrus?’

  Her eyes clouded. ‘How horrible . . .’ she said with a tremor in her voice.

  ‘Were you his woman?’

  ‘One of the many in his harem. But he’d often call me to come and keep him company. He treated me with respect, with affection, maybe even with love. He gave me beautiful gifts, he liked listening to me. He’d always want me to tell him stories, fables . . . he was like a little boy, sometimes, but other times he was hard as steel, completely inscrutable.’

  ‘What happened to you yesterday?’

  ‘I was in the prince’s tent when Artaxerxes’s soldiers came. They were going wild: killing, burning, pillaging. Some of them burst into our tent and threw themselves onto the other girls. Two of them grabbed me by my gown, but I loosened the belt and the buckles and ran off, naked.’

  ‘You managed to get to our garrison.’

  ‘I ran like I’ve never run in my whole life. When our troops counter-attacked that evening and drove the Persians out, two of the other girls were found dead. They were raped for hours and hours, until they died.’

  I couldn’t stand that story, thinking of what an atrocious end those girls had come to. I got up and looked outside. Everything seemed quiet. We were safe, now. At the end of the field I could see a big tent, all lit up inside, where the staff officers were meeting. Xeno was there as well, and I kept asking myself why Sophos had insisted on getting him involved with the high command, Xeno, who wasn’t even a soldier. Why had he accepted? Had Sophos promised him something in exchange? What, exactly? And in exchange for what? I wasn’t allowed to ask, but I had to know and I would use any means necessary to find out.