“Your Excellency the Satrap, are we really just letting the Greeks go?” the adjutant beside him asked in frustration.
“Let them go?!” Tissaphernes shot him a harsh glare. “This is the Great King’s command. I have followed his orders and succeeded in driving those Greek barbarians into Dukeya! Do you think things will be easy for them from here on out?!”
Tissaphernes pointed at the vast mountain range ahead and said viciously, “Steep, narrow paths, forests crawling with snakes and vermin, and the brutal Dukeyan mountain folk will swallow up their courage! Even if they barely make it through Dukeya, Orontas’s army will be waiting for them! And even if Orontas fails to stop them, they’ll run into the Kalybians, the Kardians, the Makronians… Let these savages tear each other apart! I want to see how many of those Greek barbarians can still make it back to Greece!”
He gave a cold laugh and added, “We don’t need to waste our time and energy here. There’s important business waiting in Asia Minor. Withdraw! Back to camp!” He ordered curtly, then turned his horse around. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ariaeus’s expressionless face, paused for a moment, and instinctively looked back at the rolling mountains again. Capturing the Greek mercenary leaders had already been a significant achievement. With everything going smoothly, he had come up with a new idea—only to get Mitradates and Artaozus killed and lose over ten thousand soldiers, greatly diminishing his own merits. Now, he hoped the Greeks would be annihilated in the mountains as he had imagined, to soothe the hatred in his heart.
But could it really happen as he wished?
…
The mercenaries reached the edge of the Dukeya mountain region the next day and made camp. Their next move depended on whether Mariji’s mission to the Dukeyan tribe would succeed.
Davos and the other leaders escorted Mariji to the mouth of the mountain pass. With them were several dozen soldiers commanded by Heilos, driving a few pack wagons loaded with armor, shields, and spears stripped from the dead Persian soldiers—weapons the Dukeyan mountain folk sorely lacked. Also accompanying them were a dozen or so Dukeyans, mostly slaves Davos had earlier ordered Mesis to take from the Persian villages.
“Mariji, it’s all on you!” Davos gave him a firm embrace, then whispered in his ear, “If things go wrong, get out quickly. Heilos will help you escape. It doesn’t matter if the negotiations fail—we can still force our way through. Your safety comes first.”
Mariji paused for a moment, glanced at the other leaders behind Davos, then said loudly, “Don’t worry! With these weapons and those Dukeyans, we’ve already won half the battle! I’ve done many deals with Kommolo, the chief of this tribe, before. I know him pretty well. He’s always been ambitious, doing everything he can to make his tribe strong and dominate the trade route through the mountains between Armenia, Dukeya, and Media. He’s fought with the neighboring tribes, so I’m sure he’ll be very interested in our proposal!”
“I hope so,” Timasion said, stepping forward with a blunt tone. “You’d better hurry. Don’t forget, we can only wait here for one day!”
Mariji looked at him but said nothing.
Davos ignored Timasion and went to give Heilos an even stronger embrace. Heilos had insisted on going despite multiple attempts to dissuade him, and Davos knew he had made the right choice. Only with his most trusted subordinate as an escort would Mariji fully believe that no matter what happened, Davos wouldn’t easily abandon them.
Davos kept his gratitude to himself and said to Heilos, “Come back safely, brother.”
Heilos stepped back and gave a solemn military salute.
Davos watched them walk into the forest until the dense trees completely swallowed their figures…
“Feels strange, doesn’t it? We’re driven here by the Persians, and now we have to rely on a Persian to get us out of danger,” Cleanho said in a strange tone.
“Don’t overthink it, Cleanho. Right now, we’re all hoping that Persian succeeds, aren’t we?” Xanthiparis said calmly.
“Maybe it’s the will of the gods—they delight in these strange twists of fate,” Xenophon said, his eyes full of anticipation. “For now, we just have to be patient.”
“We need to do more than wait; we have to prepare for battle,” Cheirisophus reminded them. With that, he turned and went back to camp.
That day, the mercenary leaders forbade all soldiers from leaving the camp, to prevent the plunder-hungry, idle mercenaries from clashing with the Dukeyan mountain folk and jeopardizing their plans. They also put the entire army on high alert against attacks from either Dukeya or the Persians.
But nothing happened that day. A few Dukeyan mountain men in short leather furs with red markings painted on their faces wandered around the camp, carrying short axes and bows slung over their backs.
The soldiers watched and commented on them.
While the soldiers were relaxed, the leaders worried nervously whether the plan would be accepted by the Dukeyans. Davos in particular didn’t sleep well all night.
Not until early the next morning did Asiastes burst into the tent and shake him awake. “Mariji is back!”
Davos jolted awake, all drowsiness gone.
“Leader, Kommolo, the chief of the Dukeyan tribe, accepted my advice! He’s willing to form an alliance with us!” Mariji’s excited voice came from behind Asiastes.
“Excellent!” Davos leaped to his feet, grasping Mariji’s shoulders. “You’ve saved the entire mercenary army! Every Greek soldier will thank you!”
A smile flickered on Mariji’s face, then turned troubled. “Heilos and the others couldn’t come back. Kommolo wanted to entertain them properly.”
Davos froze, catching the unease in Mariji’s tone. His expression hardened. “Hostages?”
Mariji quickly explained, “For safety, yes. Kommolo wants to personally negotiate the alliance with you leaders!”
Davos’s expression softened slightly, and he pressed on, “When? Where?”
“He originally wanted you to come to his stronghold for the talks, but I refused. I argued hard—he even threatened me with a knife a few times. After a lot of back and forth, we settled on the foot of the mountain ahead, this afternoon.” Mariji emphasized the difficulty of his negotiations.
“This afternoon… at the foot of the mountain ahead…” Davos pondered, then his brow cleared. “It seems this Kommolo is eager to form an alliance!”
“Yes, leader!” Mariji said with pride.
“Then what are we waiting for? Come with me to find Cheirisophus and the others!” With that, Davos strode outside.
That afternoon, Cheirisophus, Cleanho, and Davos, led by Mariji, took fifty Spartan soldiers to the foot of the mountain. To avoid a repeat of the ambush that had captured Klearchus and the other leaders, the remaining mercenary leaders formed up the army in battle order at the mouth of the pass, a mile away from the meeting point.
“There,” Mariji pointed ahead. On a patch of grass lay a tree stump slightly larger than a Greek soldier’s shield. Its cross-section had been smoothed flat, about waist-high, surrounded by a few wooden blocks. Beside the stump, a narrow, winding path led up into the depths of the hills…
“This Dukeyan chief is surprisingly thoughtful,” Davos said. As the initiator of this plan, he needed to show confidence, so he walked over first, brushed the dust and leaves off one of the wooden blocks, and sat down.
Cheirisophus sat down calmly as well.
Cleanho glanced around cautiously before slowly sitting.
Mariji stood directly beside Davos.
It was already late autumn. During the march along the Tigris River, the weather had been fairly warm. Here in the Dukeya mountains, it had turned chilly. The grass had begun to yellow, mountain winds blew, leaves kept falling, and the ground lay thick with them.
Cheirisophus looked up at the bare branches and said with concern, “We need to get through these mountains quickly. If winter comes, it’ll be even colder in the hills, and the soldiers don’t have thick enough clothing to keep warm…”
His words reminded Davos that he hadn’t even thought about this before.
As Cheirisophus and the others started discussing how to deal with the coming winter, the Dukeyan mountain folk arrived: several dozen burly, tough-looking men, along with an old man in strange attire.
Negotiation