The Divine Healer?

After Athens’ defeat in the Peloponnesian War and the brutal rule of the Thirty Tyrants, thoughtful Athenians more or less realized there were flaws in their system. But no one had ever before spoken as Davos did, completely repudiating Athenian democracy. His thunderous words struck like a bolt of lightning, leaving Xenophon stunned for a long moment, his composure crumbling. “… Then is Sparta… the best?”

“Sparta?!” Davos sneered. “When they decided to turn their own kin into helots—referring to the Messenians—it was doomed never to truly be strong! Spartan warriors may be brave, but a few thousand of them have to keep down a slave population ten times their size. Their city-state is like a volcano; once it suffers a major defeat, that volcano will erupt.”

“Davos, Sparta is the most powerful city-state in Greece right now!” Olivus cut in.

“Then let’s wait and see how many years its power lasts!” Davos replied confidently. He vaguely recalled that not long after, war would erupt again in Greece, and Sparta would be defeated by the rising Thebes, thus falling into decline.

“Is this an oracle?” Several of his tent mates looked amazed.

Davos smiled but said nothing.

“Then which city-state has the best system?” Xenophon asked, unwilling to drop the matter.

Davos gave him an equally mysterious smile.

On the surface, Xenophon seemed to have regained his calm, but inside his mind was churning. What he had believed and trusted for decades had been shattered by Davos’s words. That he did not completely lose his composure was thanks to years of teaching from Socrates, which had made him better than most at learning and independent thought.

Too unsettled to stay any longer, he needed to go back and ponder what Davos had said. So he took his leave.

As he was about to go, Davos asked casually, “Xenophon, have you ever commanded troops before?”

“I served as a cavalry squadron leader,” Xenophon replied hastily.

Watching Xenophon’s receding figure, Davos’s expression turned serious. As a student of Socrates, Xenophon’s knowledge clearly far surpassed that of his tent mates. But as a newly arrived Athenian with no great reputation and little experience as a mercenary—still only an adjutant to Proxenus—how could Xenophon possibly lead this retreat?!

Remembering that the *Anabasis* was written by Xenophon himself, Davos couldn’t help but wonder: had Xenophon taken credit for others’ achievements?

“Davos, are Athens and Sparta really that bad?” Unlike the others, who were lost in the clouds, Heilos had clearly understood and was even more confused.

Davos nodded and sighed. “In peacetime, both Athens and Sparta would live well enough. But this is an era where if you don’t strive, you perish!”

Heilos seemed to half-understand, and couldn’t help asking the same question as Xenophon: “Then across the Mediterranean, is there any city-state with a better system than Athens or Sparta?”

Davos looked at Heilos’s curious, eager eyes, then turned his head. On the horizon, the setting sun was casting its last rays before sinking, dyeing the clouds red. He thought of the Mediterranean world to come: wars erupting one after another, powerful states rising and falling like a revolving lantern, until the arrival of that great emperor—Alexander—whose dazzling light would illuminate the Western world for more than two thousand years…

A surge of boldness rose in Davos’s heart. This time, he did not refuse to answer. Instead, he said firmly, “Not now. If you and I can stay alive long enough, maybe one day you’ll see it!”

…

Early in the morning, Davos was still half-asleep when he heard a commotion outside the hut.

“He’s awake! He’s awake! My nephew has woken up!!” Antonios burst into the room, overjoyed, and threw his arms around Davos. “Thank you! Thank you! Yaxistes is alive!!”

Davos was not yet fully awake. Muddled, he asked, “Really?”

“Really!” Helpus, who had followed close behind, said excitedly. “Yaxistes is conscious! His fever isn’t as high as yesterday, either. He’s still very weak, but he can drink the bread porridge. Davos, the method you taught us really works!”

Faced with Helpus’s admiring gaze, Davos finally felt the weight lift from his heart. Suppressing his excitement, he said calmly, “Though Yaxistes is out of danger, we can’t let up. Keep taking care of him the way I said, so he can recover as soon as possible!”

“Yes!” Helpus replied respectfully.

“Davos, there are a lot of people outside who want to see you,” Heilos said as he entered.

“Oh, Capus and his men. They heard that Yaxistes had woken up. They were all astonished and insisted on coming to see you. They probably want your help,” Antonios said with some shame. Davos had spent so much effort saving his nephew, even praying to Hades, and now, before he could repay him, he might be bringing more trouble.

“Capus?” The name didn’t ring a bell for Davos.

“Another heavy infantry squadron leader in our camp,” Heilos explained.

Davos thought for a moment, then immediately stood up. “Let’s go out. Don’t keep them waiting.”

Surrounded by the others, he walked out of the hut.

“Look, Davos is coming out!”

“This is Davos? He’s so young!”

“Don’t let his youth fool you—he’s a true God-Touched One of Hades! Otherwise, how could he have woken up Yaxistes? You and I both saw how unconscious Yaxistes was before.”

“Davos, one of my men is injured like Yaxistes—burning with fever and unconscious. I beg for your help!”

“I have a wounded man too…”

“And me…”

The small yard was packed with people, waving their arms frantically, their shouts rising like surging tides, wave after wave.

Faced with a scene on the verge of chaos, everyone tensed up—except Davos. In his previous life, as a cadre promoted from the grassroots, he had dealt with petitioning masses many times, whether in townships or county seats. Once, while serving as a village head, he attended a meeting in town and found that villagers, angry over land expropriation, had surrounded the town government demanding answers. The leaders all hid, but he stepped out to face the crowd, armed with hoes and clubs, and managed to calm them down. This little scene here was hardly a challenge for him—especially since, from his perspective, it was a good thing.

He raised his hand and called out, “Everyone, please be quiet!”

“Quiet! Quiet!!…” Antonios and the others helped shout.

The crowd gradually settled.

“I am deeply grateful for your trust!” Davos said, his voice emotional. “We are all comrades who fight together and face death together! We are all good brothers who can confidently entrust our right sides to our companions for protection! If any brother is injured, I will bring Helpus and do our utmost to treat him. We will never abandon any wounded man!!”

Helpus, hearing his own name, was deeply moved.

Hearing this, the soldiers in the yard were even more grateful.

“Wonderful! Thank Hades!”

“Thank you, Davos! You are our savior!”

“Davos, you are the best of brothers! Whatever you ask in the future, I will do everything in my power for you!”

In this era, soldiers dying from infected wounds was a common occurrence, a nightmare that plagued armies. Now Davos gave them hope. And he was so generous and kind—how could they not be moved?

“Davos! Davos!” The shout echoed long and far over Menon’s camp.