Davos’ commander’s tent couldn’t hold more than forty men, so he ordered his guard captain Martius to lead thirty guards (the guard force had also been expanded) to cordon off an open space in front of the tent, keeping strangers from peeping in, and to light torches all around…
Davos’ gaze swept over every face:
First Heavy Infantry Company Commander—the steady and magnanimous Capus
Second Heavy Infantry Company Commander—Antonios, skilled at reading people and seizing opportunities
Third Heavy Infantry Company Commander—the valiant Amyntas
Fourth Heavy Infantry Company Commander—the thoughtful and strategic Alexis
Fifth Heavy Infantry Company Commander—his loyal trusted subordinate Heilos
First Peltast Company Commander—Epithenis, strong in tactical ability
Second Peltast Company Commander—Tsipet, who worshipped Davos out of piety toward the gods
As well as the quartermaster Mesis, the medical officer Helpus, the herald Asiastes, and the cavalry captain Laedes (although his horses were nearly gone, Davos still kept the unit and its soldiers, since they had gained considerable experience in cavalry operations). And twenty-eight platoon leaders, all officers with rich combat experience and various talents. Plus fourteen hundred veterans who had endured more than a year of arduous campaigning. This was his entire foundation for standing in this world!
Tonight, he had to persuade them, after a year-long campaign, to continue following him to a foreign land thousands of miles away. He was not very confident of this. Thinking this, he cleared his throat and said: “Brothers, that little farce you put on in Byzantium today was well played! Cleander immediately expressed sympathy for our plight and was willing to provide us with some grain. This is all your doing!”
Everyone burst into laughter.
Olivus even shouted: “Chief, it wasn’t a farce, it was a comedy. Didn’t you see those Byzantines fainting in fright!”
The men laughed again, only Matonis, guilty in his heart, lowered his head and snickered.
“Yes, a comedy,” Davos sighed lightly. “But how long can this comedy last? We’re trapped here, unable to go anywhere, afraid to go anywhere. According to reliable information, Sparta is preparing to go to war with Persia, and the Spartan general Thibron has already arrived in Ephesus to recruit soldiers. How could he let go of us, veterans so experienced in fighting the Persians! It won’t be long before we’re fighting on Persian soil again!”
“Is this true? I’m sick of fighting Persians, I don’t want to go back!”
“How can this be?! I was planning to buy land in Crete and find a wife…”
…
The men immediately stirred, murmuring uneasily…
Davos didn’t answer them. Instead, he dropped another shocking piece of news: “And the kind-hearted Cleander will soon be stepping down. His successor is Sparta’s Aristarchus!”
Someone let out an “ah.”
Davos glanced in that direction and said coldly: “Some of you know him, some don’t. I’ll tell you, this Spartan was famous during the war with Athens! Not because of his bravery in battle, but—” Davos’ expression grew grave, and he emphasized each word: “He twice sold defeated Greeks into slavery!!”
These words were like pouring cold water into a pot of boiling oil—the men erupted.
“Is he going to sell us?!”
“If he dares, I’ll fight him to the death!”
“We are freemen, not enemies of Sparta! They have no reason to do this, and it goes against Greek tradition!”
“Sparta is already domineering and overbearing, and now as the hegemon of Greece, it does whatever it pleases!”
Davos watched the panicked men, his voice full of emotion: “We are free Greeks, struggling to survive. But in the eyes of Spartans, in the eyes of those citizens of the city-states, we are landless rabble, thieves and bandits threatening the stability of the polis! So Anaxibius could deceive us at will (referring to this Spartan naval commander tricking them into coming to Byzantium by promising pay, only to renege upon arrival)! Cleander could deceive us at will, luring us outside the city, shutting the gates, withholding grain, and leaving us to face a horde of Thracians! Sparta is so powerful, dare we resist?! Either we are sold into slavery—not enough to eat, not enough to wear, until one day we die of exhaustion on a farm or in a mine, our bodies left in the wilderness; or we follow Sparta to fight, bruised and battered every day, until we die on some nameless battlefield; or, perhaps, by luck, we return safely home—but what then?! As landless freemen, we are foreigners in any city-state, enjoying none of its rights, rejected, until we die in obscurity…”
The men listened silently, so quiet that someone’s sobbing could be heard…
At this, Davos too was choked with tears: “Is this the outcome we—who struggled for a year in Persia, bleeding and fighting, only to crawl back home—truly want?! Are we to be denied even the right to a stable, happy life?! Is there really no place in this world where we poor freemen can live in peace?!”
Davos’ heartfelt roar and questioning jolted every officer seated there. They clenched their fists, gritted their teeth, their eyes burning with anger and pain…
Heilos stood up, trembling, extending both hands, and said: “Chief Davos! Our commander! God-Touched One of Hades! Tell us, what must we do?! What can we do to escape our plight!”
“Yes, Chief Davos, we need your oracle!” Heilos’ words reminded many. Capus, Antonios, and the others appealed to Davos excitedly.
When all eyes were fixed on Davos’ face, his expression became profoundly solemn: “Last night… a man entered my dream. His body radiated golden light, so bright I couldn’t make out his features… He pulled me from my bed, through the window, and carried me up into the sky… Terrified, I looked down, and the Mediterranean Sea appeared before me as clear as a painting… The Peloponnese was like a hammer reaching into the sea, and to the west, Italy adjacent to it, like a boot… Further west, I saw the Pillars of Heracles, like a gate separating the Mediterranean from the Ocean… The coast of Egypt along the Mediterranean was like a long, green carpet stretching all the way to Africa…”
Davos’ dreamlike narration captivated everyone. They compared it to their own geographical knowledge, realizing this was what the Mediterranean looked like, and this made them believe Davos’ words without doubt.
“Then the golden-radiant man spoke to me, saying one thing.”
“What did he say?” Everyone asked together.
“He said, ‘Davos, the mission for you and your men lies in the western Mediterranean!’ And with that, he pushed me out of the sky, and I woke up in a fright.” Davos said, still shaken, as if lost in the dream.
“The western Mediterranean… where is that?”
“In Sicily?”
“Could be Italy.”
“Iberia is also possible.”
“Why not Nubia?”
“Who was that golden man? Hades?”
“How could Hades have golden light? It must be Athena!”
While everyone was speculating, Davos sighed inwardly. Ever since becoming chief, he had deliberately avoided using his “God-Touched One” identity, instead earning his men’s trust through his own abilities. But this time it was too important, and he had to again rely on the Greek gods. He intentionally made the oracle vague, because oracles were by nature ambiguous. For example, once in Asia Minor the kingdom of Lydia, about to go to war with Persia, went to Delphi and spent a fortune seeking an oracle from Apollo. The oracle said: “A great kingdom will be destroyed.” The Lydians happily went to war, and the result was the destruction of the Lydian kingdom. The priest of Apollo’s explanation was: In Asia Minor, Lydia was also a great kingdom.
Note: Thurii
Amendolara
Divine Oracle