Volume 6: The Meeting of Two Heroes, Chapter 36: Agesilaus Returns

“Quick, help me sit down!” Aristophanes leaned against the mountain path, looking at the cheering crowds. His heart was equally stirred, even though he knew full well that the Athenian Conon was now a Persian-employed naval commander leading a Persian fleet—yet this victory had significantly reduced the maritime threat facing Athens.

After all, although the Assembly had voted to join Thebes’ side and declare war on Sparta, the shadow of defeat in the Peloponnesian War ten years ago and the ferocity of the Spartans still pressed like a nightmare on every Athenian’s heart. Especially now, when the campaign was stalled at the Isthmus and the allied side had more defeats than victories, and word had just come that another Spartan army, led by King Agesilaus from Asia Minor, had landed in northern Greece and was marching toward Boeotia—how could the Athenian people not be tense and afraid! This naval victory was like a timely rain, lifting much of the weight from their chests, and they shouted loudly to release the fear they had long suppressed.

Aristophanes was gratified to see more vitality in Athens. Then he looked surprised—in a corner of the street, a man in ragged clothes sat on a dusty step, leaning against the rough stone wall, intently reading something.

This quiet scene stood in stark contrast to the surrounding joy, and the man’s back looked familiar to Aristophanes.

He walked over and called uncertainly, “Antisthenes?”

The man turned his head back and glanced, making no move to stand up. “Aristophanes, if you’ve come to ask me about Plato’s whereabouts, don’t disturb my reading.”

Aristophanes knew very well that Antisthenes and Plato, though both students of Socrates, held different philosophies. So he said with a hint of sarcasm, “I only wanted to tell you that Conon’s fleet won a great victory over the Spartan navy. The whole city is celebrating the news.”

“So what?” Antisthenes said dismissively. “Victory only encourages the people to throw themselves more blindly into war. How long has Athens been at peace? And this war will drag on…” He shook his head, then glanced at Aristophanes. “You just came from the theater, didn’t you? That new play of yours, *The Daonians*, seems to be quite popular with the people.”

Aristophanes was unhappy with Antisthenes’ negative attitude toward the victory, so he snapped, “Oh! The Antisthenes who always refuses to watch plays actually knows about my new work—I’m flattered!”

“That’s because people have been talking about it every day for the past few days. I say you’re too meddlesome. It’s Daonia’s business what kind of citizens they send to the games. What’s the point of writing a play to satirize them?”

Aristophanes’ anger flared. He was about to retort, but Antisthenes tilted his head, picked his ear with a finger, and said, “Do you know that not long ago, news came of Daonia’s public trial of traitors and its exposure of Syracuse’s ambitions? Thrasybulus and the other members of the Council of Generals are discussing whether to send envoys to Daonia to negotiate an alliance, so that Daonia can check Syracuse—Sparta’s ally. It’s better if your play stops showing, to avoid provoking the Daonians and causing the alliance to fail.”

“What Thrasybulus and the others do is their business, but they have no right to interfere with a lawful citizen’s freedom!” Aristophanes shouted angrily.

“That’s what I think too,” Antisthenes said, pointing at the cheering crowd. “What does their victory have to do with me?”

Aristophanes was so furious his beard and eyes bristled. He turned and walked away, once again confirming his belief: the reason he could be good friends with Plato but remained distant from Antisthenes was their sense of responsibility.

Antisthenes paid no attention to Aristophanes’ departure. He gently brushed dust off the book and went back to reading intently.

…

Agesilaus led his army through Thrace and Macedonia, arriving in central Greece. At Amphipolis, he heard news of the Spartan victory at Corinth, but it did not uplift him, because the Spartans were still blocked at the Isthmus, unable to advance.

Worried about the campaign, he hurried his march. But when he reached Chaeronea, an eclipse occurred. The soldiers panicked, considering it an evil omen.

Then Agesilaus received word of the Spartan naval defeat at Cnidus. Shocked, he secretly congratulated himself on choosing to travel by land to Boeotia rather than by sea, or he might still be stuck in Asia Minor.

He immediately suppressed the news to prevent his army’s morale from wavering. At the same time, he felt he must launch a battle quickly and wash away the bad tidings with a victory.

So he marched his army swiftly again and finally entered Boeotia, coming face-to-face with the anti-Spartan coalition forces encamped at Coronea, blocking the route to Thebes. A major battle was inevitable.

Before the battle, he summoned Xenophon, the leader of the remnants of the famous Persian Expeditionary Force of the Ten Thousand.

This thirty-five-year-old Athenian had campaigned with Sparta in Asia Minor for five years and was a battle-hardened commander. Standing before Agesilaus, he was like a tall, sturdy cedar, exuding a vigorous and imposing aura.

Agesilaus looked him over with an admiring eye, then said, “Xenophon, my friend. Sparta’s enemies are arrayed before us; only by defeating them can we press up to the walls of Thebes. But… among the enemy ranks are Athenian reinforcements. Some may be your relatives, your friends, your fellow students. Facing them in battle must be a painful ordeal for you… Ah, so though I am reluctant, I—”

Agesilaus showed an expression of deep regret and said emotionally, “I… I permit you to leave with your men. You may even join the other side. I am very grateful for your selfless help to Sparta these past years! Even if you become my enemy in the coming battle, I will still regard you as my dear friend Agesilaus!”

Xenophon listened, then flew into a rage. “King of Sparta, do you question my integrity? Before I led the mercenaries to leave Asia Minor with you, I said: ever since the Athenian Assembly executed my teacher Socrates and condemned me in absentia, I have regarded Athens as an enemy! I approve of Sparta’s political ideals and am willing to fight for her, and I have sworn an oath to Zeus! Now you insist I leave? I—I will leave then.” With that, he turned without hesitation and walked out of the tent.

“Xenophon, forgive my rudeness just now!” Agesilaus hurried forward to stop him, repeatedly apologizing. “I originally didn’t want you to have to fight your own people and feel uneasy. But I now realize you have a great conviction that surpasses the ordinary bond to one’s mother city. For that, I apologize to you!” He bowed sincerely to Xenophon.

Xenophon hastily stopped him, the anger in his heart mostly subsided.

“I have decided to appoint you commander of the center formation in tomorrow’s battle,” Agesilaus declared decisively.

Xenophon was a little surprised, but he did not decline. He accepted the command readily, because he knew rumors about him had been circulating among the army in recent days. He silently vowed: in this battle, he would make those who doubted him shut up through action!

As Xenophon left the tent, Agesilaus’ adjutant—and also his son—Archidamus entered. Upon learning his father’s decision, he was shocked. “Father, you’re really letting an Athenian command our center?”

“What about an Athenian?!” Agesilaus raised an eyebrow and said loudly, at a volume that the guards outside could hear, “Xenophon is a true friend of mine, Agesilaus! I always trust my friends. Moreover, Xenophon is a man of great talent; he deserves that trust!”

Having said this, Agesilaus suddenly recalled something, sighed, and said gravely to his son, “You need to understand: Sparta already missed out on Davos, whom Cheirisophus strongly recommended. And that young man founded the Daonia City-State League in just a few years, causing great trouble for Dionysius. We cannot push Xenophon into the enemy’s camp now…”

The next day, the two sides drew up their lines at Coronea.

Agesilaus led the Spartan main force and formed the left wing, facing Argos, their longtime foes. Xenophon led the remnants of the Ten Thousand and other Asia Minor mercenaries in the center, facing his mother city, Athens. On the right wing of the center were Sparta’s allies, the Phocians (the most important city in their region was Delphi), facing the instigators of this war, Thebes.

At the moment, in the front ranks of the Theban phalanx, the twenty-six-year-old Pelopidas and Epaminondas stood as heavy infantry.

“Why hasn’t the bugle sounded yet?! I can barely wait!” Pelopidas said eagerly, itching for action.

Epaminondas did not speak; he looked ahead with a melancholy expression.

“Epa, what are you worried about? Afraid we can’t beat the Phocians?” Pelopidas noticed his friend’s unusual mood and asked.

“I’m not worried about the Phocians—they’ve never been a match for us. I’m worried about the Argives—whether they can hold off the Spartans’ ‘leftward turning attack’,” Epaminondas said with concern.

“You think too much, Epa. That’s for the commanders to decide. Our goal is to rout the Phocians quickly!” Pelopidas pointed his spear forward, full of spirit.