The Attack of the Artauzus

“Go! Move it!!” Heilos grabbed him and pulled him back. As he took the lead, the soldiers immediately retreated.

The Persian cavalry raised their composite bows and closed in again. Several of them lifted Mitradates’ body, while the others pursued the Greek soldiers. This time, they had learned their lesson—they split into two groups, flanking Davos and his men on both sides.

“Watch the arrows!” Heilos shouted, waving for the soldiers to spread out.

In the middle of the formation, the inexperienced Davos hesitated for a moment, then someone tackled him from behind. A pained grunt followed.

“Olivus!” Davos recognized him from the twisted face of pain, but there was no time to think. Matonis and Georgios on either side quickly grabbed them both, weaving in curves as they sprinted forward.

*Whoosh! Whoosh!* … Over a dozen arrows flew in again, followed by two consecutive screams of agony.

By then, the relief force had arrived. The light infantry column running at the front hurled javelins at the Persian cavalry, then raised their leather shields and continued charging forward. The heavy infantry who followed set up a wall of shields to block the incoming arrows.

The Persian cavalry, barely twenty strong, had no stomach for a prolonged fight. They carried Mitradates’ body and fled swiftly.

Davos finally had a chance to check on Olivus’s wound.

When Olivus saw Davos, he broke free from Georgios’s support.

“Chief… I… I—” Before he could finish, Davos gave him a firm embrace. “Good brother, thank you!!”

Hearing this, Olivus’s usually sullen face broke into a smile. His whole body relaxed, and then the pain hit him. “Ouch!” he yelped.

Thinking he had touched the wound, Davos hastily let go.

“Hey, Olivus, lucky you got hit in the ass—if it had been the front, imagine the screaming!” Matonis taunted.

“Damn you, Matonis, you’re so brave—why don’t you try taking an arrow next time!” Olivus retorted, one hand on the arrow in his rear.

The noise and bickering returned to Heilos’s squad.

In this sortie, aside from Olivus, one soldier took an arrow in the thigh, and another in the back—but thanks to his thick breastplate, it was only a flesh wound.

“Georgios, take Olivus and the others to Helpus and ask him to treat them well!” Davos said, then patted Olivus on the shoulder. “Get proper treatment and come back to fight with us soon!”

“Yes, Chief!” Olivus answered loudly.

“An excellent ambush! We were all worried about you back there—I can’t believe you pulled it off!”

“Right—you killed Mitradates. That’s some revenge for Menon and the others. The whole mercenary army owes you thanks!”

“Timasion and the rest said we were crazy for picking a new leader—let’s see what they have to say now!”

Philistos, along with company commanders Antonios and Capus, came over to congratulate Davos. Amyntas saluted him directly.

The quick-witted Asiastes brought a horse and helped Davos mount.

The soldiers parted a path willingly, shouting victory, welcoming him back to the main formation…

...

“What did you say?! Davos killed Mitradates?!” After hearing the herald’s report, Timasion looked incredulous. “This is wartime—spreading false information is punishable!”

“Davos killed Mitradates!” Xenophon exclaimed. “He came up with a daring plan—and it worked!”

“Excellent!” Hieronymus sighed in relief, then said angrily, “Let’s see who dares to desert now! With Mitradates dead, the Persians will take it out on those runaways!”

Cheirisophus listened carefully to Tolmides’ account. Though he wasn’t fond of the young man, he had to admit he had done remarkably well—even saved the entire army. He knew well that this undisciplined, loosely managed mercenary force wasn’t afraid of enemy attacks; the fiercer the assault, the more they united. But Mitradates’ methods—if allowed to continue—would erode their morale and collapse the whole column.

At that thought, a smile spread across his face, and he said loudly to Tolmides, “Please tell Chief Davos for me that I thank him for his efforts on behalf of the army. And remind him to be careful—the enemy’s attack will likely come soon.”

“What?! Mitradates is dead?!” Ariaeus couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yes, General. His body is right outside the tent,” the guard replied.

Ariaeus hurried out of the tent, followed closely by Artaozus and a trusted confidant sent by Tissaphernes.

Mitradates’ body had been hastily cleaned, but it was still a grisly sight—four or five wounds, a fist-sized bloody hole in his neck still oozing.

Ariaeus bent down to inspect it, but Artaozus had already roared at the returning Persian cavalrymen: “Who did this?! Who?!”

“It… it was Menon’s soldiers. They…” The cavalryman stammered through the entire incident.

“Idiots! Defeated by Menon’s worthless men! You failed to protect Mitradates! Thirty lashes each, then you’ll be demoted to baggage camp laborers!” Artaozus roared in fury.

“Mercy, General! Please have mercy!” Each of the Persian cavalrymen kowtowed and begged for leniency.

Though Ariaeus regretted losing these Greek-speaking horsemen, he had no intention of stopping Artaozus. He ordered the guards to take them away, then said, “Bring a few of the Greek deserters here. I want detailed answers.”

“What more is there to ask? Kill them all, then lead the army to attack the Greek barbarians!” Artaozus shouted impatiently.

“Clearchus and the others are our prisoners now. The mercenaries must have chosen new leaders. We need to first know who they are before deciding our next move,” Ariaeus reasoned, trying to keep his temper.

“You ask if you want—I’m going to avenge Mitradates first!” Artaozus stormed off angrily.

Ariaeus shrugged apologetically at Tissaphernes’ confidant. In name, he commanded the army after Cyrus’s death, but in reality, both Mitradates and Artaozus held their own forces. The two were close friends and often opposed Ariaeus openly and covertly, leaving him constantly hamstrung. Now with Mitradates dead, Ariaeus was secretly pleased. Compared to the crafty Mitradates, the impulsive Artaozus would be far easier to handle...

Though Artaozus was impulsive, he wasn’t foolish in battle. He knew Persian infantry couldn’t stand against Greek heavy infantry, so he selected only two hundred horse archers and two hundred archers, then hastily led them in pursuit of the Greek army’s line of march.

Because Artaozus’s force was all light cavalry and archers, they were highly mobile. By afternoon, the Greeks’ sprawling column came into view.

“Order the men to spread out in a wedge formation and close in quickly!” Artaozus’s eyes gleamed with bloodthirsty light as he gave the order excitedly.

The Persian force was facing Cleanho’s rear guard. The Greeks had expected the Persians to return, but seeing so few enemies, they thought it would be another shouting match, so while they were on guard, they didn’t take it too seriously.

But the Persians rapidly fanned out and closed in, closing to within a hundred meters in the blink of an eye.

Cleanho felt a surge of unease and shouted urgently: “Prepare to defend!”

No sooner had he spoken than Persian arrows rained down, most of them clattering harmlessly against the soldiers’ round shields. However, because the Greek formation was tight, and the heavy and light infantry were packed close together, a few men were hit, mostly light infantry.

“Spread the formation! Heavy infantry, charge!” Cleanho passed the order frantically.

Another volley of arrows came, and more men fell screaming. The formation started to get chaotic, especially the baggage camp behind him. Guards and laborers hurriedly pulled the bellowing oxen and horses to the north side, farther from the rear guard, to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Three heavy infantry companies raised their round shields and charged forward through the rain of arrows.

The Persians immediately withdrew.