Chapter 10

The next day, as the sky was just beginning to lighten, the army was urged to get back on the road.

Menon bid farewell to Ariaeus and spurred his horse back toward the tail end of the long column of Greek mercenaries to lead his own troops. As he rode, he silently cursed Clearchus and the other generals. In his mind, the decision to assign his troops to the rearguard was a form of persecution, born from their jealousy of his close relationship with the Persians.

At the same time, he noticed that the marching soldiers looked exhausted, and he heard constant grumbling. They had gotten little rest during the night march, and with the need to guard against Persian raids, most had simply slept on the ground wherever they stopped. Now, forced to march again at the crack of dawn, the soldiers were quickly becoming tired and hungry. The baggage trains were unable to produce more food, causing morale to plummet.

If the food situation is this bad in the other contingents, Menon thought, then my own men, who’ve been bullied in my absence these past two days, must be in an even more miserable state! Fearing a mutiny, he urged his horse onward, only slowing his pace when he began to see familiar faces.

To his astonishment, the scene was not what he had imagined. His soldiers’ spirits seemed decent, and many of them were chewing on a string of dark, lumpy objects hanging from their chests as they marched. Curious, he called over a junior officer to inquire.

“This is called sausage. It fills the stomach and won’t spoil for a few days,” the officer explained, pointing to the string on his own chest.

Menon cut off a small piece and tasted it. Although a bit dry, the flavor was acceptable. Seeing his own soldiers well-fed while those from other contingents were starving brightened his mood considerably. “This… sau… sage… Did Mersis make it?”

“No. It was Davos, the one who is blessed by the gods!”

“Blessed by the gods?” Menon’s curiosity was piqued, and he asked for the full story. After the officer finished his explanation, Menon’s expression began to darken. He also immediately noticed that some of his soldiers were indeed carrying extra javelins.

“Where is this Davos?”

“His company was assigned to guard the baggage train.” The officer, clearly unable to read his general’s mood, asked with a hint of excitement, “Are you going to see him?”

The officer’s eager expression made Menon change his mind. He’s just some country bumpkin from a little village in Thessaly. Is he really worth me making a fuss? Rushing to see a common soldier is completely beneath my station. Besides, we’re on the march. There will be plenty of time later for him to come see me.

***

From morning to noon, and then to afternoon, the army marched without rest.

Davos felt as if his legs were filled with lead. Every step was a struggle, his throat was dry enough to catch fire, and the shield, spear, and javelins had all become dead weight. In the morning, he could still joke and laugh with his companions, but now he felt that even opening his mouth was a waste of his dwindling energy. But he gritted his teeth and pushed on, because the comrades around him were also marching in silence.

Finally, the column halted. The news that came from the front made them tense up again just as they were sighing with relief: Persian cavalry spotted!

A short while later, another message arrived: it wasn’t cavalry, but the Persian army’s pack animals grazing.

The army continued its advance.

The sky was growing dim. After marching for a little while longer, Davos saw dense columns of cooking smoke rising in the distance.

Hylos told him, “That must be the Persian army’s camp.”

Yet, their own column kept moving forward, with no apparent intention of taking defensive measures or avoiding it.

Night had fallen, and there was no moonlight. The soldiers relied on torches to advance, making the march even more difficult.

Finally, the order came from the front: make camp and rest on the spot.

The terrain here was flat with few trees, and it was impossible to direct the construction of a proper camp in the dark. At the same time, with the Persian army nearby, they feared an attack. Soldiers began shouting the names of their friends, gathering in small groups to figure out how to bivouac for the night. The junior officers, equally exhausted, were unable to control the situation. The entire rearguard erupted into a chaotic mess of shouts, like a boiling cauldron, creating a tremendous din. Many of the baggage train’s pack animals were spooked, stampeding in terror and injuring a number of people. The screams of the injured sent a fresh wave of panic through the troops, and the entire unit was on the verge of collapse from a camp panic.

At this critical moment, Clearchus dispatched the Greek army’s only cavalry squadron. With each rider holding a torch, they galloped to the rearguard and loudly proclaimed Clearchus’s orders, demanding the soldiers maintain silence. They also commanded the baggage train to secure their animals and to punish anyone who let a pack animal run loose. After they arrested a few soldiers who were causing trouble out of fear, the unit gradually quieted down.

Only then did Menon find the cavalry leader, Tolmides, a man known as the “best herald.”

“What kind of marching orders is Clearchus giving? We nearly had a camp panic! I’m gone for one day, and things get this bad! He is completely unfit to command the entire army!” Menon seethed, seizing the opportunity to belittle Clearchus.

Tolmides tactfully remained silent.

“Where is he now?”

Tolmides hesitated for a moment. “…In the vanguard.”

Menon sensed his hesitation and immediately pressed, “Are they also without a proper camp, just like us?”

Tolmides had no choice but to tell the truth. “The vanguard is housed in a village… Menon, these are special circumstances—”

Menon cut him off with a cold sneer. “So this is the supposedly fair and just Clearchus? He sleeps in a warm house while my men sleep on the cold, damp ground!” Menon knew this wasn’t the time to agitate the soldiers further, but he couldn’t stop himself from roaring with anger.

Fortunately, the surrounding soldiers were already exhausted from the earlier ordeal. After muttering a few curses, they all collapsed to the ground and fell asleep.

“Menon! Menon!” someone called out.

It was Mersis. Menon quickly led him aside. “How are things on your end? Any losses?” The baggage train was his primary concern, as that was where all his personal wealth was stored. With money, he had soldiers.

“None!” A smug grin spread across Mersis’s fat face. “We formed the baggage carts into a large circle, tied the pack animals to the carts, and everyone slept inside. It was very safe!”

“The animals weren’t kicking and making a racket?” Tolmides asked curiously. Most of the baggage trains he had seen earlier had been in chaos.

“It was Davos who told me to blindfold the animals. It worked! They were perfectly obedient!” Mersis said excitedly.

That Davos again! Menon’s brow furrowed.

“Menon, that young man is very clever!” Mersis pleaded. “Why don’t you assign him to the baggage train? It would make my life so much easier.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Menon said flatly. The baggage train was his foundation. He dared to use Mersis because they were related, and Mersis was good at managing finances and had no ambition of his own. Letting a stranger into the baggage train—a clever stranger at that—was a risk. What if he discovered his secrets?

***

The next morning, a herald woke Menon with the news: an envoy from the King had arrived, and the generals requested his presence at a council to discuss the matter.

Menon mounted his horse and rode toward the front of the mercenary column. As far as he could see, there was no trace of the Persian camp. It turned out the huge commotion from the mercenary camp the previous night had actually frightened the Persians, and they had withdrawn their camp ten miles during the night.

As he approached the main conference tent, Menon saw four battalions of hoplites in full gear, arrayed for battle. Puzzled, he entered the tent and saw that Clearchus, Proxenus, Agias[1], Socrates[2], Sosis[3], and the other generals were already waiting inside, all of them also fully armed.

Upon seeing Clearchus, Menon snorted and said sarcastically, “It seems you all had a pleasant night. Only my soldiers were pitiful enough to sleep on the damp ground.”

As a Spartan, Clearchus was blunt and stubborn. He likewise couldn’t stand Menon and had no desire to speak with him.

Agias let out a chuckle. “Well, well, since when did Menon start caring about his soldiers?”

Proxenus quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Menon, Tolmides told us your baggage train was the only one that had no incidents last night. Very impressive! You should share some of your experience with us.”

“Not just the baggage train!” Socrates interjected to the others. “Menon’s soldiers also made something called… sausage. As a result, while everyone else was starving, his soldiers were able to fill their bellies with it!” His contingent had been marching just ahead of Menon’s, so he was well aware of the situation.

“Menon, tell us more about these methods you’re using in your camp,” Sosis and several other generals requested. Their praise made Menon swell with pride.

He couldn’t help but boast, “Even when you place me in the most difficult circumstances, I can still find a way to solve the problems. It just goes to show you that simply knowing how to fight doesn’t make you a good leader!”

“That’s enough,” Clearchus cut in, interrupting Menon’s preening. “Let the Persian King’s envoy in. Let’s all hear what new proposal this great king has for us.”

The generals began to compose themselves, and Menon reluctantly shut his mouth.