Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 3: Rebirth

“Brothers, I have brought provisions,” Hielos announced as he entered the modest tent.

The previously quiet military encampment buzzed with activity as the few reclining figures sprang to their feet. Like famished wolves, they eagerly snatched the food from Hielos’ grasp.

“Hielos, I would have surely perished from hunger if you hadn’t returned,” Matonis exclaimed, chewing on the half-cooked horse meat. What he normally found unappetizing was now an indescribable delicacy.

“I acquired this from Antonios. Menon assembled a special unit, risking Persian ambushes to retrieve the fallen horses from the battlefield.” Hielos sighed, his gaze settling on the figure in the innermost part of the tent. “How is Davos? Has he regained consciousness?” he inquired with concern.

“He has awoken. However, he’s been in a state of disorientation, seemingly unable to recognize anyone who speaks with him. He hasn’t uttered a word either. He appears to be asleep at the moment,” Giorgris replied with a somber expression.

“Perhaps he took a dip in the river Lethe by accident and boarded Charon’s ferry. Now his memory is gone,” Olivos suggested.

“Silence!” Matonis boomed, reaching out to press Olivos' head and shove him aside.

Hielos forcefully intervened, separating the two men. “We all hail from the same village in Thessaly. We are thousands of miles from home, surrounded by enemies. If we do not stand united, I fear we’ll never see our homeland again,” he declared.

A heavy silence descended upon the tent.

Sensing the somber mood, Hielos offered words of encouragement. “I’ve witnessed numerous warriors sustain severe head injuries. Initially, they appear disoriented, but they return to their senses after rest. By morning, Davos might even greet us with a smile.”

“Davos is a seasoned warrior. How could he possibly fall while in pursuit!” Olivos grumbled irritably. He immediately fell silent upon noticing Matonis glaring at him.

“Hielos, did Cyrus the Younger emerge victorious, or did he suffer defeat?” The unsettling quiet prompted Giorgris to voice the most pressing, yet feared, question on everyone’s mind.

Previously, upon returning to the battlefield after chasing the fleeing Persians, they discovered the enemy forces remained, while Cyrus the Younger’s contingent had vanished. As dusk approached, neither army was inclined for further combat. Thus, after a brief standoff, the Persian troops withdrew.

It was only then that the Greek mercenaries realized their camp had been plundered. Exhausted and famished, the soldiers lacked the energy to ponder or ask this crucial question.

“Cyrus the Younger commanded the cavalry. Whether victorious or vanquished, he could readily rejoin us on the morrow to fight the Persian king anew,” Hielos stated calmly.

“But the Persian king’s army far outnumbered ours. If Cyrus the Younger was truly defeated, then our forces will be smaller tomorrow,” Giorgris expressed with worry.

“What’s there to fear? We still have over ten thousand hoplites! The Persians are as timid as rabbits! So, no matter how many dare to face us, I haven’t had my fill of killing yet! If another battle commences tomorrow, it would be most welcome!” Matonis declared, his voice filled with bravado, attempting to rally the spirits of his comrades.

“Even if Cyrus the Younger was defeated, we annihilated their left flank and slew a considerable number. Tomorrow, their fighting force will be even weaker than it was today!” Hielos countered with equal confidence.

“These cursed Persians desecrated our camp, pilfered our provisions, and made off with a substantial amount of my silver! Tomorrow, we shall crush them and reclaim what is ours!” Matonis declared, indignation coloring his tone.

“Precisely!” A chorus of agreement rose, the men united in their animosity towards the enemy. “We should not only retrieve our possessions but seize theirs as well.”

“Ah!” Olivos exclaimed, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. “I heard they captured some of Cyrus the Younger’s women, with only one managing to escape. That’s the one I mentioned before… a beauty comparable to Aphrodite herself. Word is Clearchus has taken her into his tent! He’s surely in for a delightful night!…” Olivos drawled, swallowing audibly.

“Cease your foolish talk!” Hielos warned.

“Olivos. You must defeat the Persian king tomorrow and capture one of his women.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant notion! Matonis, you demonstrate flashes of brilliance occasionally.”

“Damn you, Olivos, are you inviting another beating!”

As the men engaged in conversation and laughter, a raspy voice emerged from the back of the tent. “Do not presume Cyrus the Younger only suffered defeat! He is dead!”

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

Tissaphernes arrived at the Persian king’s tent. Masabates, the eunuch, was already positioned at the entrance. “The king awaits you. Enter quickly!”

Upon relinquishing his sword to a nearby royal guard, Tissaphernes noted a somber expression on the face of the Persian King's most trusted eunuch. 'Is His Majesty gravely wounded?' the thought crossed his mind.

Entering the royal tent, a rich aroma of frankincense, blended with several herbs, immediately assailed his senses.

Artaxerxes reclined on a couch, adorned in a resplendent scarlet robe. His bare chest was bandaged with white cloth, through which a faint trace of blood was visible. Attending him were a beautiful maid gently massaging his shoulders and the physician, Ctesias.

Upon Tissaphernes's arrival, Ctesias promptly excused himself.

Artaxerxes instructed the physician to wait just outside his tent, ready to be summoned should his condition change.

As the Greek physician departed, Tissaphernes knelt, head bowed, and declared, "Your Highness, I beg for your punishment for our defeat in battle!"

Artaxerxes remained silent, causing Tissaphernes to grow uneasy, and he knelt still, not daring to move.

After a significant pause, Artaxerxes finally spoke, "You suffered a defeat, Tissaphernes. Yet, you at least engaged in the fight. I am informed that you outflanked the Greek hoplites with your cavalry, striking their rear, only to be repelled by their peltasts and narrowly missed by a Greek javelin."

"Indeed, Your Highness. You are aware of all that transpired!" Tissaphernes breathed a sigh of relief.

"You displayed far greater courage than those who fled before the battle even commenced! Rise!" Artaxerxes, expressing some dissatisfaction with the performance of the Persian left wing yesterday, raised his voice, "My fortune was not as great as yours. Cyrus's spear found me, but thankfully, my armor proved formidable, granting me the chance to strike him down!"

Tissaphernes registered surprise, recalling that it was the guard Mithridates who had actually speared Cyrus the Younger. However, he concealed his astonishment, responding with evident admiration. "Your Highness, Cyrus was always lauded for his bravery. Yet yesterday, on the battlefield, as we faced a potential defeat, Your Majesty, taking a risk far beyond that expected of a king, personally vanquished the rebel Cyrus! This secured us an astonishing victory! Your Highness, you are truly the king of kings! Bravery is inherent in your very being!"

Masabadi and Ctesias quickly echoed Tissaphernes's praise for the Persian king's valorous actions.

A flush rose to Artaxerxes's face as he spoke with evident indignation, "Cyrus has consistently claimed victory since our childhood. As his brother, I consistently showed him leniency. Even when he attempted to assassinate me during the recent ceremony, my forgiveness was granted for our mother's sake! Yet, I never anticipated he would mistake my kindness for weakness, betray my trust, and dare to initiate a rebellion!! For the stability of the empire, his execution was a necessity, despite our fraternal bond!"

"The King's compassion is recognized throughout the entire empire! Cyrus, blinded by his own ambition, is guilty of colluding with foreign powers and invading the empire's territory..." Tissaphernes declared with fervor.

Artaxerxes nodded, then coughed a few times, having expended considerable energy in his speech. "My Satrap, you have repeatedly alerted me to Cyrus's treacherous schemes, and your administration of Asia Minor has consistently been exemplary! Upon the resolution of this rebellion, your loyalty shall be richly rewarded!"

"Your Majesty, as the satrap of Asia Minor, this is merely my sworn duty!" Tissaphernes responded with solemnity.

A complex emotion flickered across Tissaphernes's face as a large earthenware pot was placed on the wooden table near his left hand. "These are the head and hands of Cyrus, severed by Masabadi. Convey them to the Greek encampment and demand their immediate surrender!!"