“The Persians' disaster is coming!” Matonis laughed loudly, as if the Greeks would actually do such a thing.
“It seems the Persians genuinely want to send us off!” Heilos said, as if he had just realized something.
Perhaps Tissaphernes wanted you to think that. Davos thought to himself but didn't say it. He always felt that Tissaphernes was no simple man. His way of thinking was different from the Greeks of this time. Through his deep contact with the Greek soldiers over this period, he discovered that most of them had grown up listening to their fathers tell stories of how to defeat the Persians. They revered strength, enjoyed face-to-face combat, and even when they used stratagems, they were mostly open ones. When it came to dealing with deceit and scheming, their brains indeed had fewer twists than the Persians.
It was precisely because Davos understood that Tissaphernes was a shrewd politician that he felt a constant unease deep inside. “Xenophon, do you know our march route?”
“Not really. It was decided by Tissaphernes, Clearchus, and Ariaeus after their discussions. But it's certainly not the way we came. Because you know—” Xenophon shrugged. “Your leader Menon took the lead and collected plenty of good stuff along the way. The local Persians hold a grudge against us... Don't worry, we will return!”
Collected? I think it's more like plundering! I'm afraid in the eyes of the Persians, we are invaders! Robbers! Whenever he heard this, Davos felt a bit irritated. He took a quiet breath to calm himself. “Do you know the mountains, rivers, cities, and roads inside Persia?”
“Davos, this is my first time deep inside Persian territory. Apart from knowing a few famous cities from books, like Babylon, Susa, Persepolis, and so on, I don't know exactly where they are...” Xenophon raised a stack of papyrus sheets in his hand and said excitedly, “However, I've been jotting down daily observations. When I get back, I want to write them out so all Greeks can understand the situation inside Persia!”
Davos smiled bitterly: Alright, I know you will someday write a book called 'Anabasis', but it won't solve our urgent problems now.
Where could he find someone familiar with Persian geography? Davos thought worriedly...
...
As time passed, although the Greek mercenaries and the Persian army camped at a considerable distance, their soldiers would often encounter each other when fetching water from the river or gathering firewood. A few words would lead to fights, further increasing the mutual hostility.
A few days later, they reached the Phiscus River and encountered the army led by another brother of King Artaxerxes. He had come to aid the King, but by the time he arrived the war was already over, so he had to turn back with his troops.
Clearchus, fearing trouble, ordered the entire army to be fully armed, with the baggage train protected in the center, marching west in a battle column. This Persian army, however, did not seem surprised at the Greeks' presence here—perhaps they had been informed by Tissaphernes. They continued marching east. At its closest, the two armies were only a few dozen meters apart. With a single glance one could even see each other's features and expressions—the tension was palpable.
Nevertheless, this allowed Davos to see the full picture of the Persian army for the first time: at the front were two-man and four-man chariots, drawn by two or four horses respectively. In the middle of each chariot was a driver responsible for controlling it, while the remaining one or two soldiers were presumably for fighting. One could see long spears inserted in the chariot body, and shields and bows hung on it. There were only about a dozen chariots. He didn't see the legendary scythed chariots (with long blades extending from the wheel axles). But thinking about it, it was obvious—those scythes must be detachable, otherwise they would easily injure their own men during normal marching.
Behind the chariots came the cavalry. Most of the horses were about 1.4 meters tall—noticeably shorter compared to the racehorses Davos had seen in the Olympics in his previous life. They had bridles but no saddles, and certainly no stirrups—only a thick blanket draped over their backs. The riders wore short robes; some had helmets, others only soft caps. They had no leather armor or heavy shields. Their weapons varied: mounted archers were most numerous, followed by javelin cavalry, then lancers, and a few with short maces...
Hundreds of cavalry galloped past, revealing the massive infantry force. After watching for a while, Davos noticed that the Persian infantry marched in a mixed formation: one large-shield bearer (shields as high as a person's shoulder and wide enough to hide a man), followed closely by one spearman, then six or seven archers, and then the pattern repeated. This was very similar to Antonios's description of the Persian infantry battle order: upon engagement, the large-shield bearers formed the first line, raising a shield wall to protect the formation. The spearmen held off enemies coming to fight, preventing them from breaking the shield wall. The archers behind used their bows to inflict heavy casualties. Whether large-shield bearers, spearmen, or archers, they all shared a common trait: light armor or even no armor. Combined with the earlier cavalry, Davos could easily judge: the Persian army was a force with excellent long-range lethality and high mobility, but weak in close combat. No wonder they always lost to the Greeks in pitched battles, because in face-to-face fighting, their infantry were no match at all against the assault of Greek heavy infantry. The Persian army's characteristics were more suited for long-range killing and harassment without closing in, or even for large-scale outflanking maneuver warfare.
The two armies passed each other without incident—a false alarm.
After this small episode, the troops soon entered Media. This land had once nurtured the fierce Medes. The Median Kingdom they founded had once been the nightmare of the peoples of Mesopotamia. But centuries had passed, its glory was no more. Under Persian rule, this region had become somewhat desolate for some reason, and the terrain began to undulate.
Due to the reduced market supply, conflicts between the two armies over resources during encampment also began to increase...
“Davos, these leggings you made... they really work! We walked all day again. In the past, by afternoon my calves would be swollen and I couldn't take another step, but now I don't have to worry about that!” Heilos sat in the tent, untying his leggings while praising.
“Of course! Our Davos is the 'God-Touched One'! Favored by the King of the Underworld, how could his ideas not work! Now quite a few comrades from other squads are also learning to use leggings!” Olivus said proudly.
Davos said nothing. He had heard so much praise like this that he was almost numb. He knew very well that these little tricks he knew from his previous life were merely used to improve the soldiers' marching conditions and increase his influence in Menon's camp, but they would not change the overall situation of the Greek mercenaries at all.
“Davos, these past few days there's been a rumor going around the army that the Persians are going to make a move on us, capture us, and present us as slaves to the Persian King. Do you think... could this be true?” Georgios's voice came from the corner.
This was exactly the question Davos had been pondering. Although there had always been suspicion between the two armies, such a rumor spreading so quickly in a day or two and becoming common knowledge—based on his previous life experience, it was impossible without someone behind it. Was it the Persians? Or our own people? Why spread such a rumor? To break the agreement at Opis? To push the Greeks to the brink of collapse? ...Davos had no clue for now. Facing everyone's concerned looks, he laughed bitterly inside but said calmly, “No need to get so tense. We just need to stay alert. Haven't these days all passed peacefully?”
Just as he finished, someone crawled into the tent.
“Matonis, you've been out fighting again!” Heilos said with a hint of reproach as he saw the bruises on Matonis's face.
Matonis spat out some bloody spittle and said excitedly, “Don't think that just because the Persians are lousy in battle, they're weak in a brawl. It took a lot of effort for me, Martius, and a dozen others to beat off over twenty of them!”
He said, plopping down on his sleeping pad, rubbing his cheek, and said with a mysterious air, “I didn't just go to fight—I also picked up a piece of news.”
“What news?” Heilos asked.
Matonis swept his gaze over everyone and said loudly, “Ahead lies the fief of Cyrus the Younger and his mother. I hear there are many villages there, and they're quite wealthy!”
“That means we can get some good food!” Olivus shouted happily.
The others also got excited. Supplies had been insufficient these past few days, and everyone hadn't had enough to eat.
Suspicion