Chapter 15

After Athens’s defeat in the Peloponnesian War and the brutal rule of the Thirty Tyrants, the city’s intellectuals had, to varying degrees, become aware of the flaws in their system. But no one had ever completely refuted the Athenian democracy as Davos had just done. His thunderous words were like a bolt of lightning, leaving Xenophon stunned and momentarily losing his composure. “…Then is Sparta… the best?” he stammered.

“Sparta?!” Davos sneered. “The moment it decided to turn its own countrymen into Helots[1], it doomed itself to never being truly powerful. Though Spartan warriors are brave, a few thousand of them must suppress a slave population ten times their number. Their city-state is like a volcano. The moment it suffers a major defeat, that volcano will erupt.”

“Davos, Sparta is the most powerful city-state in Greece right now,” Olivas interjected.

“Then let’s wait and see how many years that power lasts,” Davos answered confidently. He vaguely remembered that it wasn’t long before another war broke out in Greece, and Sparta was defeated by a rising Thebes[2], sending it into decline.

“Is that an oracle?” his comrades asked, their faces filled with astonishment.

Davos just smiled and said nothing.

“Then which city-state has the best system?” Xenophon asked, unwilling to concede.

Davos simply returned his question with a mysterious smile.

On the surface, Xenophon seemed to have regained his composure, but inwardly, his mind was in turmoil. The beliefs and habits of decades had been shattered by Davos’s words. The only reason he hadn’t completely lost his composure was thanks to Socrates’s years of teaching, which had made him better than the average person at learning and thinking independently.

His mind in disarray, he could not stay any longer. He needed to go back and think carefully about what Davos had said. And so, he bid Davos farewell.

As he was leaving, Davos asked, seemingly at random, “Xenophon, have you ever commanded an army before?”

“I have served as a cavalry captain,” Xenophon answered hastily.

Watching Xenophon’s retreating back, Davos’s expression grew serious. As a student of Socrates, Xenophon’s knowledge is clearly far superior to that of my comrades. But as a newcomer, an Athenian with no significant reputation and no extensive experience as a mercenary, still serving as a mere subordinate to General Proxenus, how could he possibly lead this retreat?

Remembering that the author of the Anabasis was Xenophon himself, Davos couldn’t help but feel a flicker of suspicion. Did Xenophon take credit for the achievements of others?

“Davos, are Athens and Sparta really that bad?” Unlike the others, who had been completely lost, Hylos had clearly understood the conversation, which only left him more confused.

Davos nodded and sighed. “In times of peace, both Athens and Sparta would live well. But this is an era where you either strive forward or you perish.”

Hylos seemed to only half-understand. He couldn’t resist asking the same question as Xenophon. “Then is there any city-state in the Mediterranean with a better system than Athens or Sparta?”

Davos looked at Hylos’s curious and eager eyes, then turned his head. On the horizon, the setting sun was casting its final, brilliant rays, dyeing the clouds in shades of crimson. He thought of the future of the Mediterranean world, a future rife with war, where powerful states would rise and fall one after another like figures in a spinning lantern, until that great emperor appeared, whose dazzling light would illuminate the Western world for more than two thousand years…

A surge of heroic ambition rose in Davos’s heart. This time, he did not refuse to answer. Instead, he said with certainty, “Not now. But if you and I can live long enough, perhaps one day you will see it.”

***

The next morning, while Davos was still in a hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, he heard a clamor of voices outside.

“He’s awake! He’s awake! My nephew is awake!” Antonios burst into the room, delirious with joy, and threw his arms around Davos. “Thank you! Thank you! Axistes is alive!”

Not yet fully conscious, Davos asked groggily, “Really?”

“It’s true!” Herpos, who had followed close behind, said excitedly. “Axistes is lucid! His temperature isn’t as high as it was yesterday, and although he’s still very weak, he was able to drink some bread porridge. Davos, the methods you taught me really work!”

Meeting Herpos’s admiring gaze, the knot of anxiety in Davos’s own chest finally loosened. He fought to contain his excitement and said calmly, “Although Axistes is out of immediate danger, we cannot relax. Continue to care for him as we discussed, so he can recover fully.”

“Yes!” Herpos answered respectfully.

“Davos, there are a lot of people outside who want to see you,” Hylos said, entering the room.

“Oh, that’ll be Capus and his men,” Antonios answered, a hint of shame in his voice. “They heard Axistes had woken up and were completely shocked. They insisted on coming to see you. They probably want to ask for your help.” He felt guilty. Davos had expended so much energy to save his nephew, possibly even praying to Hades, and before he could even repay the favor, he might be bringing him more trouble.

“Capus?” The name didn’t ring a bell for Davos.

“The other heavy infantry company commander in our contingent,” Hylos explained from the side.

Davos paused in thought for a moment, then immediately stood up. “Let’s go out. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Surrounded by the others, he stepped out of the house.

“Look, Davos is here!”

“That’s Davos? He’s so young!”

“Don’t be fooled by his age, he’s truly blessed by Hades! How else could he have saved Axistes? You and I both saw what a state Axistes was in before.”

“Davos, I have a brother in my squad who was wounded just like Axistes. He’s burning with a fever and won’t wake up. I hope you can help him!”

“I have a wounded man too…”

“And me…”

The small courtyard was packed with men, all desperately waving their arms, their shouts rising like a surging tide, one wave higher than the next.

Faced with the slightly out-of-control scene, the others grew nervous, but Davos’s expression remained unchanged. In his past life, as a cadre who had risen from the bottom, he had seen his share of public petitions, whether at the town, county, or city level. Once, when he was a village chief attending a meeting in town, a group of farmers, furious over a land acquisition issue, had surrounded the town government building to demand an explanation. All the other leaders had hidden away, but he had stepped forward. Facing a crowd of agitated farmers armed with hoes and sticks, he had painstakingly managed to persuade them to disperse. This little scene before him was hardly enough to faze him. Besides, for his purposes, this was a good thing.

He raised his hand and shouted, “Everyone, please be quiet!”

“Quiet! Quiet!” Antonios and the others yelled, helping to control the crowd.

The men gradually calmed down.

“I am grateful for your trust,” Davos said, his voice filled with emotion. “We are all comrades who have fought together and faced death together! We are all good brothers who can trust our teammates to protect our right flank! If any brother is injured, Herpos and I will do everything in our power to treat him. We will never abandon a single wounded man!”

Hearing his name, Herpos was moved beyond words.

And hearing these words, the soldiers in the courtyard were overcome with gratitude.

“Wonderful! Thank Hades!”

“Thank you, Davos! You are our savior!”

“Davos, you are our best brother! If you ever ask anything of me in the future, I swear I will do everything in my power to help you!”

In this era, it was common for soldiers to die from infected wounds. It was a nightmare that haunted every army. Now, Davos had given them hope. And this man was so generous and kind—how could they not be moved?

The chant of “Davos! Davos!” echoed long and loud over Menon’s camp.