Unexpectedly, the Persian envoy did not again demand the Greek mercenaries’ surrender but instead proposed a truce between the two armies. The embattled mercenaries, of course, welcomed this. After some negotiations, both sides reached an armistice agreement, with the Persians to provide supplies to the Greeks. This was a godsend for the mercenaries, because their food stores had nearly run dry, and they had been preparing to burn and plunder the villages along the way.
Despite the truce, Clearchus did not relax his vigilance. With the Persian envoy leading the way, Clearchus ordered the whole army to march in three columns in a battle formation four ranks deep. Along the route, they kept encountering ditches three to four meters wide, filled with filthy water. The soldiers had to cut down trees to build makeshift bridges. Davos and his comrades, stationed in the baggage camp at the rear guard, had it easy in comparison.
“Look, that’s Clearchus!” Following Olivus’s pointing finger, Davos saw a tall, middle-aged man, stripped to the waist, his bronze skin covered in sturdy muscle and several prominent scars. He was shouldering a freshly cut tree trunk along with the other soldiers. When he reached the ditch, without hesitation he jumped down first, not caring about the mud splashing onto his head, and immediately began repairing the broken wooden bridge.
“Yes, that’s Clearchus! And where is our Menon?!” Matonis sighed, his words laden with meaning.
Even though the conflict between Menon and Clearchus had led to brawls among the troops they commanded, the soldiers were not fools. They saw everything their leaders did and knew in their hearts who was trustworthy and who was capable. There were more than a dozen mercenary leaders, yet Clearchus was always the foremost — and for good reason.
That is the art of commanding troops! Davos kept his eyes fixed on Clearchus, speaking to himself deep down.
As dusk approached, the Greeks reached their destination. The villages assigned by the Persian envoy not only offered comfortable lodgings but also provided abundant food: fruit wine, drinks, bread, dates…
The soldiers could not help but cheer.
For a moment, even Davos was puzzled: Could it be that the Persians had truly been frightened by the Greek heavy infantry and sincerely wanted a truce?
Just as he and his comrades had tested the food, found it safe, and were about to eat and drink their fill, Antonios arrived: “Davos, Menon wants to see you!”
“Now?!” Davos swallowed his saliva.
“Now!” Antonios nodded.
“Don’t worry, nothing serious! Menon just heard that Davos helped solve several problems for us; he’s curious to see him. Maybe there’ll even be a reward!” Seeing the concerned looks on everyone’s faces, Antonios gave his assurance.
Antonios led Davos to a large house in the center of the village and said to the guard at the door: “Menon wants to see Davos. He’s here.”
The guard gave Davos a few curious glances and then said: “Menon is busy with an important matter right now. Please wait a moment.”
After quite some time, there was still no movement inside. Davos remained calm, chatting with Antonios. But Antonios grew impatient: “What business takes so long? I’ll go in and hurry him!” He tried to barge in, but the guard blocked him: “Antonios, do you want me to get yelled at?!”
Antonios glared at him, and the guard finally relented: “Fine, I’m afraid of you. I’ll go check again.” He turned and ran inside.
Soon he came out: “Go on in. Menon is waiting.” But his eyes avoided Antonios’s gaze.
As Davos was about to enter, Antonios gripped his shoulder and warned: “Menon can have a bad temper sometimes. If he says anything to you, don’t argue with him. Just listen.”
Davos smiled and said: “Don’t worry, I’m not a child.”
Antonios nodded. So far, their conversation had deepened his impression of Davos—a young man with a composure far beyond his years. As he watched Davos walk into the house, Antonios suddenly reflected: Hang on, if he’s not a child, then who is? Menon?
He gave a helpless bitter smile. This young man wasn’t easily provoked either. He turned back to the guard and snapped: “Potaxis, you deliberately left us waiting here.”
“Oh, Antonios, you’re a smart man. Who but Menon would do such a boring thing?”
“Hmph!”
“That young man… is he the one you call Hades’s ‘God-Touched One’? It seems to me he understands what’s going on. He even smiled at me just now…”
…
Davos, of course, understood exactly what was happening. From his past life in government offices, he had seen such tactics plenty of times—it was just a show of power. The more someone resorted to this kind of thing, the less confident they were in their own control. Was Menon that kind of person?
Davos curled his lips, crossed the small courtyard, and entered the main hall.
“Commander Menon, soldier Davos reporting as ordered!”
“Come in.” A high-pitched, clear voice came from inside.
Davos strode into the room. In the center of the hall sat a man still wearing a gleaming breastplate, but it failed to add much authority. If he shaved off his bushy beard, his fair-skinned face would be considered quite handsome.
Davos involuntarily recalled some unsavory rumors about Menon, such as the ambiguous stories involving him and Cyrus the Younger’s adjutant, Ariaeus. He suddenly felt a bit tense: Could this man be interested in me…?
Menon was also sizing up Davos: a sturdy body, average height, plain features, still slightly youthful and beardless, yet he carried himself with a unique bearing.
“Hmm… I heard you’re what they call the ‘God-Touched One.’ So I wanted to ask: is this truce with the Persians genuine, or do they have other intentions?” Menon asked in an offhand tone.
“Sorry, Commander. I don’t know!” Davos answered without hesitation.
Davos’s blunt reply caught Menon off guard. Finally, a knowing smile crept to his lips: “Then tell me, can we return safely this time?”
“I don’t know.” Davos’s reply was equally direct.
“Bastard!” Menon flew into a rage and slammed the armrest of his chair. “Aren’t you the one going around the camp claiming to have oracles? Aren’t you telling everyone you know everything? Now you shut up! You fraud!”
Davos raised an eyebrow: “Commander Menon, I was fortunate to survive the battlefield, but I have never claimed to be a God-Touched One. My comrades can testify to that. What others think or say is their own affair, and I cannot control it. As for oracles, I have never spoken of any. Sometimes I chat with my comrades and happen to guess correctly about what might happen next. Whether we can return safely is something you commanders need to worry about. We soldiers merely seek a little comfort and encouragement through talk during our rest.”
After hearing this, Menon’s first thought was that this fellow had a silver tongue. For a moment, he could find no fault to retort. Moreover, Davos met his gaze without flinching, which let Menon see the young man’s boldness.
Somewhat irritated, Menon sat in a daze for a while before waving his hand: “I’ll look into what you’ve said. In any case, don’t go around speculating about the Persians. It affects the soldiers’ morale.”
Davos immediately lowered his head and obediently said: “Yes, sir!”
Menon felt a little better. He grabbed a handful of drachmae and said: “Be that as it may, you did come up with ideas that helped our unit this time. This is a reward from me—Commander Menon. Remember, if you have any good ideas in the future, come straight to me. I’ll reward you again!”
Davos feigned delight and reached out to take the coins: “Thank you, Commander!”
Menon waved for him to withdraw. As he watched Davos leave the room, Menon’s expression remained somewhat blank. Menon and Davos had an employer-employee relationship; Menon had no power of life and death, only the power to dismiss. But to dismiss a soldier with brains—he would be valued in another camp just the same, and Menon would be the one losing out. So Menon only wanted to knock Davos down a peg, to prevent him from spreading his influence in the camp while keeping him under control. But judging from this meeting, it didn’t seem that easy…
Meeting