“Will Persia, too?” Asiastes asked curiously.
“What about Greece?” Mariji immediately turned his head and shot back, unwilling to be outdone.
Davos looked at them both, half-joking and half-serious: “If you live long enough, you might see it in fifty years.”
“Is this an oracle?” Asiastes asked excitedly.
Mariji clearly did not believe it.
Davos smiled and did not answer further. If his butterfly wings were too weak to change the course of history, then in a few decades (he could not recall the exact years), Alexander of Macedon would conquer mainland Greece, then destroy Persia. Since the Greeks did not consider the Macedonians of the north to be their own kin, in a sense, he would conquer the two most powerful forces of the Mediterranean at the time.
…
Over the next two days, the Greek mercenaries continued their swift march without incident.
Until the third day, when Tissaphernes’s army appeared.
By then, Davos had essentially deployed the mercenaries’ fifty-man light cavalry squad as scouts. After all, Persian cavalry were individually stronger; in one-on-one combat, the Greek horsemen were no match. So they operated in groups of five, never straying too far from the main force, ranging only two or three *li* around. As soon as they spotted Persian troops in the distance, they immediately reported back.
“Persians are coming! Prepare to defend!”
“Pass the order from Cheirisophus: prepare to defend!”
The messengers quickly wove around the perimeter of the massive phalanx, relaying the commands.
The Greek mercenaries had adopted a hollow square formation, with the baggage camp protected at the center, so they could not change formation before making contact with the enemy. Instead, they ordered the baggage train to gather inward, while the soldiers raised their shields and spears, heightened their alertness, slowed their marching pace, and maintained the integrity of the formation.
Soon, the Persians appeared directly behind the column. From the high-floating banners, the soldiers recognized that Tissaphernes had arrived. The Greek mercenaries had routed him easily during the Battle of Cunaxa, so they did not take him too seriously.
Then, a second force emerged on Tissaphernes’s left flank. As the line advanced, the Greeks’ hearts tightened—this was another army of no fewer than ten thousand men! The emblem on their banner was familiar to all: Orontas, the satrap of Armenia, had arrived. This, too, had been expected by the leaders.
Next, a third army appeared on Tissaphernes’s right flank, also at least ten thousand strong. The raised banners sparked recognition among the Greeks.
“Oh, I remember! That’s the army we encountered on the road, said to be led by the Persian king’s brother!” Asiastes shouted.
“This army, which was supposed to be marching in the opposite direction from us, is here! It must have been following us secretly all along. Tissaphernes has harbored ill intentions toward us for a long time!” Philistos said gravely.
Davos nodded stiffly, his hands gripping the reins tightly.
Among Tissaphernes’s forces was also the remnant of Cyrus the Younger’s army, led by Ariaeus. The four armies converged in a grand spectacle, spreading out in a wedge formation and slowly closing in on the Greek forces…
The seemingly endless, densely packed tide of men was the largest the Greek mercenaries had seen since the Battle of Cunaxa. Last time, they had Cyrus the Younger to rely on, and the mercenaries only held the right wing. Now, facing the entire Persian army, every man could not help but feel some nervousness.
Despite the tension, the Greeks knew that only through bloody battle could they secure a way out. Cleanho kept his eyes fixed on the enemy’s advance, watching the distance. When the enemy entered slinger range, he immediately issued the command: “Slingers, ready!”
The slingers throughout the rear guard began whirling their slings. At over three hundred meters, the accuracy and force of the stones would be somewhat reduced, but the Persians were so numerous and so densely packed that almost every stone that landed drew a cry. The center of the Persian line fell into disorder, and their advance nearly halted.
“Lord satrap, the enemy’s attack is too fierce! Should we temporarily withdraw and let the flanking forces press forward first?” one of his adjutants suggested to Tissaphernes.
Tissaphernes’s face was equally grim, but he refused without hesitation. Although the king had appointed him as the overall commander of the plan to expel the Greeks, with Orontas only assisting, and the king’s brother Sithiers lending a hand as a courtesy, Orontas was a satrap of equal rank and the king’s son-in-law, while the other was the king’s own brother. If Tissaphernes himself did not exert full effort, how could he expect them to help wholeheartedly? Moreover, they were close to the king. If they privately reported his performance to Artaxerxes, the good impression he had painstakingly built in the Persian king’s mind would be ruined.
Tissaphernes gave the adjutant a fierce glare and immediately ordered: “Speed up the advance! Keep closing in!” This time, he had massed nearly fifty thousand troops. He had plenty of men! If the Greeks wanted to compete in ranged firepower, then let them compete—see who could shoot more accurately, who could endure longer! He had no intention of engaging the Greeks in close combat anyway. After the Battle of Cunaxa, the sight of the Greek heavy infantry charging and easily shattering the Persian left wing had happened right beside him, leaving a deep impression.
The Persians advanced with screams and rapid steps. Tissaphernes even sent his personal guards to supervise the battle, cutting down any deserters to warn the rest of the army. Under these circumstances, the Persian flanks also quickly encircled the mercenaries. Because the Persian forces were so numerous and the mercenaries were in a square formation, the Persians stretched their line until they nearly surrounded the entire Greek force.
Davos had already dismounted, and his horse was led to the baggage camp at the center of the square. Facing the approaching enemy, he was no longer as tense as at the beginning: “Raise the shield wall!”
Asiastes and his two messengers relayed Davos’s command throughout the left wing.
The four-rank heavy infantry companies began to close ranks, drawing together, round shield overlapping round shield, quickly forming a long bronze wall. The round shield of the Greek heavy infantry was a marvel among the infantry of the Mediterranean states. Each shield was a meter in diameter, with a wooden core clad in bronze, and it was not held by hand but worn by passing the entire forearm through two grips on the back. This made it easier to hold and less likely to slip. Because it was large and sturdy, arrows could rarely pierce it.
The archers, who had been lingering behind the heavy infantry, quickly pressed close to the shield wall to reduce the damage from enemy arrows. After the complete annihilation of Artaozus’s six thousand men, the Cretan archers among the mercenaries had not only exchanged their bows for Persian recurve bows but also selected soldiers skilled in archery from the heavy infantry and peltasts to join the archers. This brought the mercenary archer count to five hundred, dispersed among the rear guard and the two flanks.
When the Persian army closed within a hundred meters, both sides let fly their arrows almost simultaneously.
*Thud! Thud! Thud!* … A continuous series of bowstrings sounded. Countless arrows soared into the air like a vast dark cloud, blotting out the blue sky and the blazing sun. The density of the arrows was such that many of them collided midair. When the greater part of the “cloud” fell upon the mercenaries, a series of sharp *clang! clang! clang!* sounds rang out, occasionally punctuated by a cry of pain. When the smaller part of the “cloud” landed among the Persian forces, a chorus of screams arose…
Arrow volley after arrow volley flew back and forth.
The Persians even advanced their line to within fifty meters but then stopped advancing any farther. They knew well that going closer would bring the Greek peltasts into action.
The archery duel continued for some time.
Apart from the stretch of ground beneath the long, square shield wall, which remained relatively clean, the area around was thickly planted with arrows. The Greek archers, whose quivers were already empty, had no worries—they simply reached down, plucked an “arrow-grass” from the ground, and shot it back.
Davos had grown accustomed to the sound of arrows striking the round shields. What worried him more were the occasional grunts that reached his ears, signaling that someone had been hit. His left arm was also growing numb, but he held the same position without moving, not daring to lower his shield. Now, both sides were testing their endurance, seeing who could hold out to the end.
Archery Battle