Night March

As the sun began to sink in the west, the soldiers started to organize their equipment.

First, the breastplate—made of multiple layers of linen glued together. It was about five or six centimeters thick, hard yet flexible, but not too heavy. The hem reached down to the thighs, cut into wing-like shapes for ease of movement.

Next, the greaves to protect the calves. The Greek sword was fastened at the waist—a curved blade, sixty-five centimeters long, single-edged, bent like a dog’s hind leg.

The Corinthian helmet could not be worn now, since marching by night made it hard to see to begin with, and this helmet, which only left the eyes and mouth exposed, would narrow the field of vision. Davos, following others, tied his helmet to his two-meter-long thrusting spear.

The thrusting spear was the main weapon of the Greek heavy infantry. The shaft was made of ash wood, the leaf-shaped spearhead of iron, and the butt end was fitted with a bronze spike.

Davos picked up his round shield with his left hand. It was shallow bowl-shaped, wooden on the inside, and completely covered with bronze on the outside, about ninety centimeters in diameter. The shield face was painted with the face of the Minotaur. On the inside was a leather strap that allowed the left arm to be inserted up to the elbow, so the soldier could fit his entire left forearm into the shield, making it not only less tiring but also easier to defend and shield-bash. There was also a small bronze hook on the inner edge of the shield, so it could be hung on the shoulder for easy marching.

Davos held the shield in his left hand and the spear in his right, and could not help but smile bitterly: a modern man transformed into an armored warrior of the ancient West. Yet every cell in his body was seething with excitement, as if cheering, making him realize that it was the muscle memory of this body at work.

He tried a few steps and found himself moving with ease. Despite the tension, there was also some thrill. Every man harbors a warrior’s dream deep inside! That is a legacy passed down in the blood from the days when ancestors lived on raw flesh and blood. Modern people in peacetime can no longer experience face-to-face courage in combat, but Davos, having traveled to this era, now had that opportunity.

While Davos was still getting used to this gear, Heilos reminded him, “You still have something left to pick up.”

Seeing the two javelins and the string of sausages on the ground, he smiled wryly: This was truly a case of reaping what you sow!

He carefully looped the sausages around his chest, afraid that the grease might stain his breastplate.

Just then, company commander Antonios came over and said to Heilos, “We need to go to the baggage camp and work with Mesis.” He nodded toward Davos as he spoke, clearly Davos’s reputation had reached the ears of this company commander, making him dare not take him lightly.

“Who gave that order? Isn’t Menon still with Ariaeus?” Heilos asked in surprise. He was reluctant to operate with the baggage camp—slow-moving and highly dangerous.

“The order came from adjutant Philistos, who is temporarily in command while Menon is away. Last time the Persians broke into our camp, most of the slaves in the baggage train scattered. They’re short-handed now. Mesis specifically requested our squad to help.” After speaking, he glanced at Davos again.

…

“Davos! Didn’t expect this, did you? We meet again!” Mesis laughed loudly, walked straight through the officers and soldiers, and gave Davos a hug.

So it was this fat man pulling the strings! Davos smiled helplessly.

“Everyone else, go fetch the livestock. Davos, come with me,” he ordered.

This fat man was stern and ruthless when you weren’t close to him, but once he got friendly, he became overly warm. Wasn’t this just making him a target of resentment? Davos quickly refused.

The baggage camp had several hundred head of livestock and dozens of oxcarts loaded with goods, as well as many slaves and women.

At the same time, the column stretched for over a mile. And this was just one camp—one could imagine how bloated the baggage train of the entire Greek mercenary army was. Davos observed all this, silently taking note.

Then, in the darkness, the long bugle call for the night’s bivouac echoed over the noisy camp.

Time to set out. Davos unconsciously tightened the ox’s rope, his heart a little tense.

The column began to move. The baggage camp was on the right, the troops on the left, with the officers holding high torches. Under the cold, clear moonlight, the entire Greek army crawled slowly like a fire-spouting dragon whose end was nowhere in sight.

After about two hours of marching, they heard the sound of rushing water ahead. Davos knew: the Euphrates River was near.

The river at night was dark and deep, stretching out as if infinitely wide and infinitely deep, inspiring great fear. So the column quieted down, as if afraid of disturbing the river god.

At this point, the formation naturally shifted: the baggage camp marched along the left bank of the Euphrates, with the troops on the outside, protecting the property of their camp. Clearly, the leaders had some experience with night marches. Davos observed this, silently learning.

Menon’s unit was at the very rear of the entire column. Of course, this was not what Menon wanted; in fact, he had sent a message asking for his unit to be placed in the middle. But the leaders were all dissatisfied with Menon. At the start of the march from Asia into Babylon, Menon had scrambled to be the vanguard to impress Cyrus the Younger, looting and burning, reaping plenty of benefits. Now that they were retreating, he wanted his soldiers to march in the middle to avoid attacks and reduce losses. How could he expect to have all the good things for himself? So they unanimously decided to put his unit at the rear. This was told to Davos by Menon’s trusted subordinate Mesis, giving him some insight into Menon’s character.

At that moment, the army’s herald, Tolmides, finally reached Menon’s unit and relayed the order: “We have joined up with Ariaeus’s forces ahead. The leaders are currently deliberating with Ariaeus. Halt, remain on guard, and await further orders!”

The quiet column immediately stirred:

“Finally, we can rest a bit!”

“We’ve been marching for two hours! I’m exhausted!”

“Me too. Leading an oxcart is so tiring! We can’t stay with the baggage camp tomorrow!”

“Right! Let’s talk to the company commander tomorrow.”

“Let’s go now!”

Seeing the soldiers chattering, Davos stood up and said loudly, “Brothers, please quiet down! Brothers! I am Davos!”

To his surprise, his shouting was more effective than Company Commander Antonios’s. The soldiers in the baggage camp stopped their noise, wanting to hear what this 'God-Touched One' had to say.

“How about I tell you a story to relieve the boredom? What do you say?”

“What story?”

“It’s called… Ali and the Forty Thieves.”

“Sounds good! Go ahead!”

So Davos cleared his throat and began to tell aloud: “Once upon a time, in a small town in Ionia, there lived a family…”

Gradually, the baggage camp fell completely silent. Even the pack animals stopped braying. Soldiers, slaves, and women alike listened intently. They envied Ali’s good fortune in accidentally discovering the thieves’ treasure; they laughed at Ali’s brother for shouting the wrong password at the cave entrance; they tensed when the thieves found Ali’s house; they cheered at the slave girl’s cleverness.

When the story ended, everyone still wanted more:

“Ali sure is lucky!”

“He’s lucky because he had a clever, beautiful Persian slave girl!”

“Right! I think he should buy her freedom and make her a free woman! After all, she saved Ali!”

“Idiot! He should take the slave girl as his concubine. That way, she can keep helping him!”

Everyone buzzed with discussion.

“Davos, is there really a cave filled with gold and silver treasures?” Even Mesis couldn’t help leaning close to Davos to ask.

Antonios, looking at Davos’s back ahead, couldn’t help sighing, “Heilos, your village has produced quite a talent!”

“Are you talking about Davos? Of course! He’s the ‘God-Touched One’! I’m even thinking of giving him my squad leader position.”

“Squad leader?” Antonios smirked. A mercenary leader frequently replaced and replenished his soldiers, but the mid- and high-ranking officers in command were mostly trusted subordinates who weren’t easily swapped—that made it easier to control the unit. Antonios had been with Menon for five or six years, and from receiving assignments had met many Greek and Persian dignitaries, so he had some experience judging people.

After a day of observation, he found Davos steady and composed, nothing like a nineteen-year-old boy. He did things methodically, treated people with humility and courtesy, was articulate, and the soldiers liked being around him. Moreover, he often came up with ingenious ideas that solved problems others couldn’t solve; during the march, Antonios had even seen Davos helping someone carry a shield or pushing a cart. A person like that—even if young—could earn trust.

If his combat command ability were also decent, then such a charismatic and capable man would have immeasurable prospects. If he also had enough wealth, he could easily become a qualified mercenary leader! Antonios thought about this, then thought about Menon: what would he do when he learned that someone like this had suddenly emerged in his camp?