“Go! Get back!” Hylos yelled, grabbing Davos and pulling him back. His action spurred the rest of the soldiers into an immediate retreat.

The Persian cavalry, raising their composite bows, pursued them once more. Several horsemen dismounted to retrieve Mithridates’s body while the rest gave chase. This time, they had learned their lesson, splitting into two groups to flank Davos’s retreating men.

“Watch out for arrows!” Hylos shouted, waving for the soldiers to spread out.

Davos, inexperienced in the chaos of a battlefield, hesitated for a split second in the center of the group. In that moment, he was tackled from behind, and a pained grunt sounded in his ear.

“Olivas!” Davos recognized the face, contorted in pain. There was no time to think. Matonis and Giorgis, who were right beside them, quickly grabbed them both and zigzagged forward, running for their lives.

Thwip! Thwip! Another dozen arrows rained down, followed by two more agonizing screams.

By then, the rescue party had arrived. The light infantry, running ahead, hurled their javelins at the Persian cavalry before raising their leather shields and continuing their charge. The heavy infantry, arriving shortly after, formed a shield wall, deflecting the incoming volley of arrows.

The small Persian force, numbering just over twenty, dared not linger. They snatched up Mithridates’s body and fled.

Only then did Davos have a chance to check on Olivas’s injury.

Seeing Davos approach, Olivas shrugged off Giorgis’s support.

“General… I… I—” Before he could finish, Davos pulled him into a powerful embrace.

“My good brother, thank you!”

Hearing those words, the gloom that had recently clouded Olivas’s face vanished, replaced by a wide grin. His entire body relaxed, and then the pain hit him. “Agh!” he yelped.

Thinking he had touched the wound, Davos quickly let go.

“Hey, Olivas, lucky for you it was your ass that got shot! If you’d taken an arrow to the front, who knows how you’d be squealing!” Matonis jeered.

“Damn you, Matonis! You’re so brave! Let’s see you take an arrow next time!” Olivas retorted, one hand gingerly touching the arrow shaft protruding from his rear.

The familiar banter had returned to Hylos’s squad.

In addition to Olivas, the raid had left one other soldier with an arrow in the thigh. A third had been hit in the back, but his thick armor had saved him from anything more than a flesh wound.

“Giorgis, take Olivas and the others to Herpos. Tell him to give them the best care possible!” Davos then clapped Olivas on the shoulder. “Get yourself treated. Come back and fight with us again soon!”

“Yes, General!” Olivas shouted in response.

“An absolutely brilliant raid! I can’t believe you actually succeeded. We were all worried sick about you!”

“Indeed! By killing Mithridates, you’ve partially avenged Menon and the others. The entire mercenary army owes you its thanks!”

“Timasion and the others said we were mad for choosing our leader. Let’s see what they have to say now!”

Philesius, along with the captains Antonios, Capus, and Amyntas, came over to congratulate Davos. Amyntas offered him a full military salute.

The ever-resourceful Axistes brought his horse, and Davos mounted.

The soldiers spontaneously parted to form a path, cheering his victory and welcoming his return to their formation.

***

“What did you say?! Davos killed Mithridates?!” Timasion wore a look of utter disbelief after hearing the runner’s report. “This is wartime! Spreading false rumors is a punishable offense!”

***

“Davos killed Mithridates!” Xenophon exclaimed. “He came up with a daring plan, and it actually worked!”

“Excellent!” Hieronymus let out a long breath, then said hatefully, “Now let’s see who else dares to desert! With Mithridates dead, the Persians will surely take their anger out on those traitors!”

***

Chrysophus listened intently to Tolmides’s account. Though he wasn’t particularly fond of the young man, he had to admit that he had done an exceptional job. One could even say he had saved the entire army. He knew better than anyone that a mercenary army with lax discipline and poor management didn’t fear enemy attacks. In fact, the fiercer the assault, the more united they would become. It was a tactic like Mithridates’s that, over time, would have eroded their fighting spirit and caused the entire force to collapse.

At this thought, a smile spread across his face. He said loudly to Tolmides, “Please, convey my thanks to General Davos for his efforts on behalf of the entire army! And remind him to be vigilant. The enemy’s main attack is likely to come soon.”

***

“What?! Mithridates is dead?!” Ariaeus couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yes, General. His body is just outside the tent,” the guard reported.

Ariaeus rushed out of the tent, followed closely by Artaozus and a confidant sent by Tissaphernes.

Mithridates’s body had been hastily cleaned, but it was still a gruesome sight. There were four or five wounds on his body, and a fist-sized, bloody hole in his neck was still oozing blood.

Ariaeus bent down to examine the body, but Artaozus, unable to contain himself, was already roaring at the surviving cavalrymen. “Who did this?! Who did this?!”

“It was… Menon’s soldiers. They…” a Persian horseman stammered, recounting the entire event.

“A bunch of fools! Defeated by that useless Menon’s men!” Artaozus bellowed in fury. “You failed to protect Mithridates! Each of you will receive thirty lashes under military law and be demoted to servants in the baggage train!”

“Mercy, General! Have mercy!” The cavalrymen kowtowed, begging for their lives.

Although Ariaeus regretted losing these Greek-speaking horsemen, he had no intention of stopping Artaozus. He motioned for the guards to drag the men away, then said, “Bring me a few of the Greek deserters. I want to question them in detail.”

“Question them about what? Just kill them all! Then lead the army to attack those Greek barbarians!” Artaozus shouted impatiently.

“After we captured Clearchus and the others, the mercenaries surely elected new leaders. We must first find out who they are before we decide on our next move,” Ariaeus advised, restraining his own temper.

“You ask them if you want. I’m going to avenge Mithridates!” Artaozus stormed off.

Ariaeus gave a theatrical shrug at Tissaphernes’s confidant. Nominally, he was the supreme general of this army after Cyrus’s death, but in reality, Mithridates and Artaozus each commanded their own forces. The two had been friends and had often worked together, openly and secretly, to undermine him, frequently tying his hands. With Mithridates now dead, Ariaeus was secretly pleased. Compared to the cunning Mithridates, the impulsive Artaozus would be much easier to handle.

***

Though impulsive, Artaozus was not a fool in battle. He knew his Persian infantry was no match for the Greek hoplites. He therefore selected only two hundred horse archers and two hundred foot archers and hastily led them in pursuit of the Greek army.

With a force composed entirely of light cavalry and archers, Artaozus’s army was highly mobile. By afternoon, the massive column of the Greek army came into his view.

“Order the troops to deploy into a flying goose formation and advance rapidly!” Artaozus commanded, his eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty light.

The Persian force was directly behind Cleanor’s rearguard. The Greeks had anticipated another Persian approach, but seeing the small size of the enemy force, they assumed it was another attempt at parley. They remained cautious but were not overly concerned.

They watched as the Persians rapidly deployed and closed the distance, covering the ground in the blink of an eye until they were less than a hundred meters away.

Cleanor sensed something was wrong. “Prepare for defense!” he cried out urgently.

The words had barely left his lips when Persian arrows were already upon them, pattering like rain against the soldiers’ round shields. Because the Greek formation was dense, with light and heavy infantry packed closely together, some men were immediately wounded, mostly among the light infantry.

“Spread out! Heavy infantry, charge!” Cleanor yelled, his orders laced with anxiety.

Another volley of arrows descended, and more men fell screaming. The formation fell into some confusion, especially in the baggage train behind him. Guards and servants frantically pulled their braying animals northward, trying to get away from the rearguard to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Three companies of heavy infantry charged forward, holding their shields high against the arrow storm.

The Persians immediately fell back.