The task assigned to Davos and his men was to go to the battlefield and retrieve discarded spears, shields, and even chariots—anything that could serve as firewood for cooking the meat. For this purpose, they were also given an oxcart.
The battlefield wasn’t far from camp. Only after the cavalry had scouted the area yesterday and confirmed that the Great King’s army had withdrawn did they dare send soldiers out to clear the field. Even so, quite a few troops were dispatched, mainly out of fear of a sudden raid by Persian horsemen.
Before they even reached the battlefield, Davos could see from a distance that a patch of sky ahead seemed to have darkened. Countless crows circled overhead, their piercing caws sending a chill through his heart.
When they drew closer, the grassland stretching for miles around was covered in layer upon layer of human and horse corpses. The bodies were thick with flies and insects, and even wolves and leopards were gnawing on the bones. When they saw people approaching, they didn’t flee—just stared from afar, their eyes glinting coldly.
With every step Davos took, he stirred up a cloud of flies, buzzing straight at his face, impossible to swat away.
His face pale, Davos felt his stomach churn.
“Davos, you’ve been through scenes like this many times before. How are you still feeling sick?” Matonis’s concerned tone carried a hint of pleasure, because he felt that even though Davos had changed, he still needed looking after.
“I’m fine… Ugh…” Davos swallowed hard. Memories were one thing—this was the first time he, as a modern man, had witnessed such a bloody, massive battlefield firsthand. But he knew deep down: in this chaotic world, scenes like this would appear before him again and again. He had to adapt.
He released his hand from his nose, forcing himself to endure the stench. He pried apart the bodies on the ground, pulled out the shield pinned underneath, quickly brushed off the maggots, and tossed it onto the oxcart.
When they first arrived at the battlefield, the ox pulling the cart couldn’t stand the terrifying environment either. It kept getting restless and nearly ran into Matonis. Fortunately, Davos came up with an idea: cover its eyes with linen cloth, and it calmed down considerably.
Everyone worked for a long time. The oxcart was full, and each man also carried a bundle.
“Where’s Davos?” Matonis noticed someone was missing from the group.
“Over there!” Olivus pointed not far away. Davos was hurling a javelin at a vulture that was pecking at a corpse, but the seemingly clumsy bird dodged nimbly.
“Looks like he’s training for the javelin throw at the Olympian Games!” Olivus joked.
“Shut up!” Matonis glared at him, then walked toward Davos.
Seeing him approach, Davos casually picked up another javelin from the ground. He was already starting to get used to this harsh environment.
“Matonis, how many archers do we have?” Davos asked, stroking the sharp head of the javelin.
Matonis was completely out of his depth with this kind of question. Fortunately, the observant Georgios answered: “Archers? … I recall Clearchus alone has nearly three hundred Cretan archers… If you count the peltasts who can throw javelins… well, all combined… probably around three thousand.”
“Three thousand. How many peltasts do we have on our side?” Davos asked.
“About four hundred or so…”
“Matonis, it’s a shame to burn these javelins. How about we each equip ourselves with one or two javelins? What do you think?” Davos said after thinking it over.
Before Matonis could answer, Olivus cut in: “But we’re heavy infantry!”
“But when facing Persian cavalry, we heavy infantry can’t get close to them. All we can do is dodge their arrows and javelins!” The reason Davos made this suggestion was because the memories in this body held that regret. While collecting these wooden weapons, inspiration struck him: he knew that in history, another world-famous heavy infantry—the Roman legionaries—were not only formidable in close combat but also terrifying with their javelin throws. That was why he made the proposal.
“Ariaeus has plenty of cavalry,” Olivus said.
Davos smiled. “Better to rely on yourself than on others.”
“Is this an ‘oracle’ from Hades?” Georgios asked eagerly.
Davos smiled but didn’t answer.
“I think it’s a good idea. I’ll talk to Heilos about it when we get back,” Matonis said. He took the javelin from Davos’s hand, turned around, and suddenly hurled it. The vulture that had been still pecking toppled to the ground.
“But Davos, your javelin technique still needs a lot of practice!” Matonis said smugly.
Greek heavy infantry not using javelins was just a matter of tradition and habit. But their javelin skill wasn’t bad—in fact, among the Mediterranean peoples, they were top-notch. Javelin throwing was one of the five events in the pentathlon at the Olympic Games, and Greek boys trained in it at the gymnasium from childhood.
“Great! Not only do we have beef and mutton for lunch, but we’ll have bird meat too!”
“I heard that kind of bird meat isn’t edible, because it comes from the underworld…”
…
Back in camp, the livestock had already been slaughtered, the meat cut into pieces and placed in clay pots filled with water, set on makeshift earthen stoves. Everything was ready.
The men brought back the weapons, chopped them into pieces, and lit the fire to cook the meat.
Matonis told Heilos about Davos’s idea.
Since it came from the “God-Touched One,” Heilos considered it carefully and decided the idea was acceptable: javelins weren’t heavy, and it was perfectly fine for a heavy infantryman to carry two. So he went to find Antonios, hoping to get his support.
Antonios called together the other nine squad leaders under his command to hear their thoughts first. Some were in favor, others opposed. Those against clung to the tradition of Greek heavy infantry and argued that Menon already had five hundred peltasts, so there was no need for heavy infantry to carry javelins. Those in favor argued that although the camp had five hundred peltasts, they were all Thracians, and coordination between the two groups wasn’t very smooth. If heavy infantry had their own javelins, at least they could force the Persian cavalry not to come too close, reducing casualties. The two sides argued back and forth without reaching a decision. Antonios couldn’t make up his mind, so he said, “As long as it doesn’t hinder combat, each squad can decide for itself whether to carry javelins.”
Heilos returned happily, intending to tell Davos the news, but found a group of men drooling as they stared at the bubbling chunks of meat in the pots. The only one missing was Davos.
“Where’s Davos?”
“He said he wanted to go look at the discarded entrails of the slaughtered animals… and something about waste…”
While everyone was puzzled, they saw Davos walking over, holding a bloody sheep intestine on the tip of his spear.
“Hey, take that stinking thing away! It’s ruining our appetite!” The men covered their noses and shouted.
Davos ignored them and instead spoke loudly: “I saw a huge pile of livestock entrails thrown away near the baggage camp, left for the birds and wild dogs to drag off. That’s such a waste! Don’t forget, two days ago we were so hungry we could have gnawed off our own hands. In the days ahead, whether in battle or on the march, we might face hunger again. We should pick these things up and store them, so that if that happens again, we’ll still have something to eat!”
“Can those things even be eaten?” one strong soldier asked.
Davos remembered his name was Martius, a soldier from another tent. His question was exactly what everyone wanted to ask. Greeks mainly ate grains; they rarely ate meat. It was only during this deep incursion into Persia, due to supply issues, that they had started eating meat frequently. Animal entrails not only smelled rank, but without spices and proper cooking methods, they tasted very strong and gamey. So apart from using them for divination, few people ever tried eating them—some even thought eating them would cause poisoning.
“Of course they’re edible! These things are not only very nutritious… I mean, not only can they fill our stomachs, they can also improve our bodies. For instance, they can help us see better at night,” Davos replied confidently.
“Really?! That’s great!” Matonis said happily.
The five men from the other tent looked skeptical.
“Davos is the ‘God-Touched One’! Don’t you know? Before, when he fell on the battlefield and passed out…” Olivus began bragging to them about Davos’s astonishing transformation over the past two days.
Javelin and Food