Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 2: The death of Cyrus the Younger (2)

Clearchus observed the enemy’s center, noting its increased density, and perceived that their left flank extended beyond his own. Despite his unwavering support for Cyrus the Younger from the outset, he was not inclined to blindly follow orders. Consequently, he firmly rejected the proposal: “Your Highness, my counsel is to first vanquish the enemy’s left wing before engaging their center; this approach would be considerably more prudent.”

“I am acquainted with Artaxerxes, grasp the intricacies of the Persian army, and understand your Greek phalanx intimately! Have faith, my comrade, your soldiers will undoubtedly overcome Artaxerxes’ forces! Though their numbers are greater, it shall prove futile. We shall prevail over Artaxerxes!” Cyrus the Younger attempted to sway him.

Clearchus resolutely shook his head. “Your Highness! I beg your pardon, but I cannot permit the phalanx’s flank to be exposed to the enemy’s ranks!”

A frown creased Cyrus the Younger’s brow as he fixed his gaze upon Clearchus, yet time was insufficient to formulate his next words of persuasion. To issue a forceful command was out of the question, as Clearchus commanded mercenaries, not his own men.

“Very well, proceed as you deem fit!” Cyrus the Younger turned his horse, abruptly pulling on the reins, and rode back.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

As the opposing armies closed to a distance of approximately 500 meters, the Greek contingent commenced the hymn of Ares, the god of war, advancing with measured steps.

Upon completion of their chant, the two forces were less than 200 meters apart.

“Ares!!!” the soldiers roared in unison, breaking into a jog, their pace quickening with each stride… “boom! Boom! Boom!…” The thunderous footsteps of tens of thousands of Greek hoplites converged, their momentum akin to lightning piercing the oppressive darkness of night!

Save for a few chariots that blazed through the Greek formations, leaving behind cries, severed limbs, and ultimately vanishing into silence, the Persians opposite stood frozen. Their arrows remained un-shot, their shields un-raised, utterly intimidated by the approaching, overwhelming steel tide of the Greek phalanx.

When the armies were no more than a dozen meters from each other, the Persian line buckled, turning to flight.

The Greeks were taken aback by the swiftness of their triumph. Fueled by their exhilaration, they pursued their retreating foes with increased fervor.

Initially, officers like Hielos repeatedly cautioned their men: “Maintain formation, do not advance too rapidly! Hold the line…”

However, the disciplined ranks dissolved as all Greeks, swept up in the fervor of victory, gave chase.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cyrus the Younger, positioned at the center, had not anticipated such a rapid victory on the right flank, leaving him momentarily astonished.

“Cyrus the Great, Long Live!!!” His retinue began brandishing their spears, erupting in cries of triumph.

“Your Highness, shall we follow their lead?” Artapatus inquired.

He merely shook his head, his gaze fixed forward, towards his left.

He harbored a profound conviction: the elimination of that singular individual was the sole path to securing the ultimate crown.

“Messenger! Instruct Ariaeus’s left wing to halt their advance and prepare defensive positions!” Cyrus the Younger issued an immediate command. He fully understood that his formidable strength lay with the Greek mercenaries; with their triumphant engagement on the enemy’s left, there was no need to hastily commit his own left wing, which was demonstrably outmatched, against the enemy’s right. A swift defeat there would complicate matters considerably. It was far wiser to delay, allowing ample time for the return of the pursuing Greek mercenaries, thereby ensuring victory was within his grasp.

Yet, as he patiently awaited the enemy’s approach, the opposing center unexpectedly ceased its movement.

Soon, his expression shifted as the enemy’s center began to divide, with the left section altering its course toward the left flank.

“This is not good! They intend to strike the Greeks!!” Artapatus exclaimed.

The scattered Greek hoplites, caught in their enthusiastic pursuit, would face utter disarray if assaulted from the rear by the enemy, potentially reversing the tide of battle.

“Artaxerxes, how dare you alter formations mid-battle! Have you truly forgotten my willingness to seize the initiative, despite my inferior cavalry numbers?!” Cyrus the Younger scoffed, reaching a swift decision. He raised his spear, pointing forward: “Order the right wing to accelerate! Cavalry, with me!”

“Your Highness, pray, don your helmet!” An attendant hastily presented his helmet. With it donned, Cyrus the Younger surged forward, his attendants flanking him, striving to keep pace and ensure his protection.

Over 800 cavalrymen formed a wedge formation, charging directly toward the Persian king’s central army.

Artagases, the commander of the Persian king’s central troops, didn't anticipate Cyrus the Younger’s daring assault at this precise moment. He scrambled to deploy his cavalry as an interception force. However, their army was in the midst of a positional change, and the vast, rotating formation of infantry obstructed the cavalry's path. Forcing thousands of horsemen through the narrow gaps in the ranks proved a formidable task. Compounded by the charging cavalry, Cyrus the Younger had already closed the distance to the Persians.

With a thunder of hooves, the hastily assembled cavalry defense of the Persian army was instantly shattered.

Then, like a razor-sharp blade, Cyrus the Younger's cavalry sliced into the Persian king's turning central troops.

Cyrus the Younger, renowned for his bravery and ferocity, was a man who once hunted black bears single-handedly. It was only natural that his cavalry and followers were warriors of similar mettle. Instead of wasting their spears against the backs of their fleeing foes, they utilized their horses' high-speed charge to breach and pulverize enemy formations. (This tactic was necessary at a time before stirrups, as a charging rider striking with a spear had to release it immediately to avoid being thrown off by the resultant force.)

Already demoralized by the defeat on the left flank, the leading Persian infantry broke into a rout, and Cyrus the Younger's cavalry relentlessly pursued them. Suddenly, amidst the swirling dust, Cyrus the Younger's eyes fell upon the Persian king's chariot. The initial collapse of the Persian central troops' left wing had created a significant breach, naturally exposing the Persian king, who was positioned in the rear.

“Left!!” Cyrus the Younger exclaimed, his excitement palpable. He swung his spear, bypassing the Persian central troops who attempted a rescue, and drove obliquely towards the rear ranks of the Persian king's forces. Dozens of cavalrymen followed in his wake.

“Quickly! Protect the King!!” Artagases, the Persian king's imperial guard general, bellowed as he took the lead, engaging the nearby enemy cavalry and intercepting their advance.

Undeterred by the encircling enemy, Cyrus the Younger drew his Greek sword, tightening his legs around his horse's belly. Seizing the opportune moment, he deflected Artagases' fierce spear thrust with the weapon in his right hand. He then extended the sword in his left, and with effortless grace, aided by the horse's momentum, severed Artagases' neck.

With extraordinary skill and horsemanship, Cyrus the Younger dispatched several more opponents. Soon, his pursuing cavalry caught up, blocking the escape of other enemy riders. The only figures remaining between him and Artaxerxes, the Persian king, were the royal guards encircling the chariot. He could clearly discern the fear etched on his brother’s face.

Recalling his own imprisonment and believing Artaxerxes occupied the throne that rightfully belonged to him (a notion entirely in Cyrus the Younger's mind, as the old Persian King had never considered him a successor), a burning rage ignited within his chest. “Artaxerxes!” he roared, hurling the spear in his hand. Amidst gasps of shock, the projectile flew through a gap in the royal guards and struck the Persian king square in the chest.

The Persian king cried out and tumbled from his chariot.

A wave of chaos erupted as the soldiers witnessed their king fall. Cyrus the Younger, his vengeance finally unleashed, let out a wild laugh, envisioning the Persian crown already his. Yet, he failed to hear the urgent shouts from his cavalry behind him: “Your Highness, watch out! LOOK OUT!!…”

His triumphant laughter ceased abruptly. A javelin, launched from the chaotic fray, struck him directly in the eye.

Without a sound, Cyrus the Younger slumped from his horse, defeated…

↑Hoplite were citizen-soldiers of Ancient Greek city-states who were primarily armed with spears and shields.