Davos saw the massive wound on the soldier's belly, so deep he could even glimpse the intestines inside. He knew the man's chances were slim, but he couldn't bring himself to give up. Turning to the soldiers beside him, he said, "Quickly, take him to the medical camp in Menon's camp. Tell them Davos sent him."
"Medical camp?"
"Oh, I know where it is!" someone answered. The soldiers lifted the wounded man and started to cross through Clearchus's camp, heading south. The others stood there at a loss, staring at Davos.
Davos urged them anxiously, "Go immediately and inform the duty officers in every camp that the Persians have broken their oath and are slaughtering Greek soldiers. The leaders who went to the parley have likely been captured by the Persians. Tell them to assemble the troops and prepare to fight!"
The soldiers immediately ran off toward their respective camps.
"Davos, what's happened?!" At that moment, Xenophon reached the camp entrance.
Davos quickly gave him a brief account of what had occurred.
Xenophon's face darkened, his eyes full of regret. "I warned Proxenus before, but he wouldn't listen, and I didn't insist... Sigh, so Proxenus might be..." His voice faltered, choked with emotion.
Davos nodded silently.
Xenophon stared at the Persian cavalry charging back and forth ahead and said loudly, "We should muster the whole army at once! Attack the Persian camp and rescue Proxenus and the others!"
"That's not a good idea!" A strong, middle-aged man walked over as he spoke. "The soldiers have fought the Persians many times before, yes, but we've been at peace with them lately. If you suddenly want to go to war with the Persians now, the men won't accept it easily, let alone besiege their camp."
"At the very least, we should drive off those Persian cavalry in front. Maybe we can still rescue some of the men who are still out!" Davos reminded.
The man shot him a glance and asked, "Who are you?"
"Davos, a soldier in Menon's camp."
"It's the officers' business to decide what to do, not a soldier's place to give orders!" The man snapped angrily.
Davos knew better than to argue and fell silent.
"Xenophon, return to your camp at once and tell Agasia to bring his men over immediately." He ordered Xenophon.
Xenophon acknowledged and turned back. Davos followed him and learned from Xenophon that the man was Timasion, Clearchus's adjutant.
The muster in Clearchus's camp was slow. The soldiers trickled out of their tents lazily, chatting among themselves while donning their armor, clearly unaware of the danger. Timasion rushed forward, cursing and striking them, and managed to scrape together about five hundred men.
Davos and Xenophon hadn't even left Clearchus's camp when officers from other camps arrived with small contingents of soldiers. They included: Cleanho from Agias's camp, Xanthiparis from Socrates's camp, Agasia from Proxenus's camp... Menon's camp sent the most men—Adjutant Philistos, Company Commander Antonios, Capus, and others. Among the soldiers, of course, was Heilos's squad. Their arrival gave Davos some confidence.
When they gathered, some officers still didn't know exactly what had happened. Several company commanders from Menon's camp, led by Antonios, demanded that Davos explain the situation, arguing that he had witnessed the whole affair.
Timasion and some other officers were astonished. Why did all the officers from Menon's camp treat an ordinary young soldier like Davos with such respect?
Others looked at Davos with curiosity, because some of the soldiers who had gone back to spread the news had loudly proclaimed: The God-Touched One of Menon's camp, Davos, had tried to stop Clearchus and the others from going to the Persian camp for talks, but the leaders ignored the 'oracle' and suffered disaster. The story spread quickly.
So, facing the crowd's complex gazes, Davos calmly and briefly explained what had happened.
The officers quickly reached a consensus: drive off the Persian cavalry in front of the camp immediately, so that the soldiers still outside could return safely.
The soldiers began to form ranks. Davos returned to Heilos's squad. Just then, Antonios, standing at the front of the formation, shouted, "Davos, come to the front!"
Davos was taken aback.
Then Capus started calling for him too.
"Go on." Heilos gave him a gentle nudge of encouragement. His comrades looked at him with excitement.
Davos understood. His heart pounded faster, but he didn't refuse. He pushed his way forward with difficulty, and the soldiers willingly made way for him.
"Your place is here." Antonios pulled him to Philistos's left—the very front of Menon's contingent—and said seriously, "We might have to negotiate with the Persians later. We'll need your guidance!"
Antonios then said to Philistos, "Phili, take care of him for us."
Philistos answered without hesitation, "Leave him to me, no worries!"
Standing for the first time in the position of a phalanx commander, Davos felt both excited and awkward. He turned his head to look at Philistos, who happened to be looking at him too, offering a gentle smile.
Davos had contacted Philistos a few times before and had learned a bit about him through Antonios and the others. He had formed an initial impression: this forty-five-year-old Thessalian was a good-natured man skilled in military affairs but not one to seek fame or profit. It was easy to understand—Menon, with his strong desire for control, would never pick someone equally ambitious as his adjutant. After all, Menon was often away, mingling with Persian nobles and taking on mercenary contracts. Someone had to manage the camp's affairs, and over time, there was a danger that the soldiers might recognize only the adjutant and not the commander. That's why Philistos, with his easygoing temperament, was Menon's carefully chosen adjutant. At this moment, it certainly worked to Davos's advantage, because Philistos had no objection to a young man like him standing in the commander's position and was even friendly about it.
The Greek mercenaries arrayed before the camp numbered about seven hundred heavy infantry and two hundred light infantry, with the heavy infantry in front and the light behind. As the bugle sounded, the phalanx began to advance slowly. The Persian cavalry did not press forward but instead withdrew. The clamor of battle gradually died down, and the dust ahead began to clear. From time to time, dust-covered Greek soldiers stumbled back to the camp in disarray, but there were more groaning comrades and corpses on the ground. The soldiers' grief and fear were growing.
"Enemy approaching," Philistos said in a low voice.
Ahead, a Persian formation appeared, moving slowly toward them. Davos felt both nervous and excited: was his first battle about to begin?
When the two sides were about two hundred meters apart, a troop of cavalry from the opposing side charged out and halted in front of the Greek line. A herald shouted in Greek, "Listen, you Greeks before me! Let your generals and officers come forward and hear the King's decree!"
A stir ran through the Greek phalanx. The officers murmured among themselves, but not one stepped forward. The sight of the recently attacked soldiers was still too fresh in their minds, and the Persians' earlier broken oath made them wary.
The Persian repeated the call. Still, the Greek formation remained still.
Just then, a man stepped out of the formation, holding a bronze shield and a thrusting spear, and walked unhurriedly forward.
"Who is that?! What nerve!"
"That's Davos from our camp! The God-Touched One of Hades!"
"Really?"
"Oh, he's young!!"
...
Soldiers from different camps buzzed with curious talk. The officers were still hesitating when Philistos strode after Davos—he had promised Antonios and the others to keep Davos safe. Then Xenophon also stepped out of the formation. If young Davos dared to go forward, how could he lag behind?
"This is utter madness!" Timasion cursed, masking his own embarrassment, and strode forward as well. Then Xanthiparis, Cleanho, Agasia, and a dozen other officers all followed.
Davos had done this not because he had no fear of Persian cavalry attack, but because he knew that when the mercenary army faced great calamity and the soldiers were panicking, only those who dared to take risks and shoulder responsibility could win the soldiers' support—even if they forgot his youth and inexperience.
He walked slowly, always watching his flanks out of the corner of his eye. Only when he saw the other officers catching up did he breathe a little easier. Only then did he notice that his hand, clutching his weapon, was slick with sweat.
Emerging Talent