“What’s wrong?” Davos sensed the change in her expression.

“…When we get back to Greece… what do you plan to do?” Crystoia asked softly.

“Oh… I haven’t really thought about that yet…” Davos said, though in truth, he had been thinking about it constantly, just without a clear answer. “But one thing is certain. Wherever I go, I’m taking you with me.”

Crystoia pressed her face against his broad shoulder, her cheek rubbing against his rough skin. “I will follow you wherever you go,” she said, her tone firm. Then, as if remembering something, she added with emphasis, “But it would be best if you did not return to Asia Minor.”

“Why?” Davos was surprised.

“Because it is likely to become a battlefield.” Crystoia’s words startled him. “I heard Cyrus the Younger say…”

She instinctively glanced at Davos’s face, but seeing no change in his expression, she continued, “The conflict between the Spartans and Tissaphernes runs deep, and the Spartans have been implicated in this Persian rebellion. Now that Tissaphernes has returned to power in Asia Minor, he will certainly not pass up this opportunity to deal with Sparta. As the current hegemon of the Greek city-states, Sparta is expected to replace Athens as the protector of the Greek cities in Asia Minor. However, in order to gain Persian support in their war against Athens, the Spartans signed a treaty. One of the clauses in that treaty was Sparta’s agreement to hand over the Greek cities in Asia Minor to Persian jurisdiction. After the war with Athens ended, Sparta kept dragging its feet on fulfilling this part of the agreement, and… for his own reasons, Cyrus the Younger never pressed them on it. So…”

“So, now that the new king is on the throne and Tissaphernes is back in Asia Minor, he will act on the king’s behalf and demand that Sparta honor the original treaty.” Davos had not known of such a secret pact between Sparta and Persia. Though Sparta’s duplicity surprised him, he could also understand it. If Sparta agreed, the great hegemon of Greece would be seen handing over the lands of their kinsmen to their enemies. It would be an act of betrayal and a national disgrace, one that would undoubtedly tarnish the prestige they had built after their victory in the Peloponnesian War.¹ It could even incite other city-states to rebel against their dominance. If they refused, they would be violating the treaty, and war would likely break out.

Davos stroked his chin, lost in thought. So that’s why Chrysophus has been speaking to me. Is he trying to win me over? As he mulled it over, another thought occurred to him. “Crystoia, if I don’t go to Asia Minor, will you still return to Miletus?”

“Didn’t I just say I would follow you anywhere?” Crystoia replied, her expression clouding over. “Besides, if I were to return now, I would only bring disaster upon my family.”

Davos immediately understood. As a former concubine of Cyrus the Younger, she would be considered a member of a prominent traitor’s household. Her return would undoubtedly draw the attention of the Persian authorities to her family in Miletus.

Thinking of this, he comforted her. “Don’t you worry. One day, I will see to it that you return home in splendor.”

Crystoia looked at Davos’s incredibly earnest face, and the shadows on her own gradually lifted. “I believe you.”

She draped the himation over her head and added, “Since you’ve put me in charge of the field hospital, I shall begin exercising my authority. I want to grant freedom to those female slaves. It will motivate them to take even better care of the wounded.”

“That is your right. But I should speak with Mersis about it first.”

***

Three days later, they broke camp and resumed the march.

By afternoon, Tissaphernes’s army had caught up.

Upon receiving the news from their scouts, the Greek leaders quickly led their troops to a nearby village and began to make camp. At this point, a large portion of the mercenary army was unfit for combat. There were the wounded, the soldiers tasked with carrying them, and the soldiers tasked with carrying the weapons for both the wounded and their carriers. This significant reduction in fighting strength meant the army could no longer fight on the march as they had before.

When Tissaphernes’s army arrived at the village, the mercenaries noticed that the banners of Orontes and Sositheus were gone. The leaders speculated that Tissaphernes had spent the past few days escorting the two royal nobles away. This also gave them cause for concern about the road ahead. The king’s brother was no longer a worry, but Orontes was the Satrap of Armenia. It was very likely he would try to intercept the mercenaries on their path to Armenia.

The Persian army, braving the fire from the mercenary slingers, advanced to the edge of the camp and began to loose their own arrows. The daily ritual of a long-range skirmish began anew. However, in this type of engagement, the Persian army was already at a disadvantage. Now that the mercenaries had the protection of a camp, their advantage was even greater. The Greek leaders couldn’t understand why a man as shrewd as Tissaphernes would be so reckless.

The battle lasted only a dozen minutes before Tissaphernes ordered a retreat. Because the Persian army had a large number of cavalry and feared a night raid that could cause a stampede, they made their camp more than ten miles away from the mercenaries.

After a discussion, the Greek leaders decided on a new strategy: the soldiers would rest at dusk and march before dawn. If the Persian army caught up, they would immediately make camp. This would ensure the army’s safety without impeding their progress.

In fact, their arrangements seemed almost unnecessary. For three consecutive days, the Persian army did not appear. It was not until the morning of the fourth day that the scouts ahead reported that the road had narrowed, flanked by several mountain peaks, and that signs of Persians had been spotted on one of the lower mountains. The previous ambush had made the leaders exceptionally cautious.

“We’ll do the same as before. I will lead a force around the right side of the mountain and drive them off,” Xenophon said, his face full of confidence after his earlier success.

Just then, a scout from the rear galloped up to report: Tissaphernes’s main army had been spotted.

The news immediately put the leaders on high alert. The mercenary army’s combat effectiveness was diminished by its many wounded, preventing them from committing to an all-out battle. They were currently in a hilly region where the narrow terrain made it difficult to deploy their forces. Their dense formation would also lead to increased casualties under a ranged attack. It was clear that Tissaphernes had planned this carefully, intending to deal the mercenaries a heavy blow.

The situation was critical. Chrysophus, with no time to consult the others, looked at Xenophon with a grave expression. “You must drive the Persians from those ridges with the utmost speed to ensure our safe passage. Once you take the high ground, you can control the mountain path, and Tissaphernes will not dare to pursue us further.”

“I will need some light infantry,” Xenophon immediately stated his requirement.

“You cannot have the archers or the slingers. They are the only thing we have to counter Tissaphernes,” Chrysophus declared beforehand.

“I can dispatch five hundred of my light shieldbearers to you,” Davos said at once. This was no time to hold back reserves; only by working together could they overcome this crisis.

Xenophon was grateful to Davos, who had publicly supported him several times.

“I will give you eight hundred Thracian light shieldbearers!” Timasion declared, glancing at Davos. His predecessor, Clearchus, had once used the money Cyrus gave him to recruit mercenaries in the Chersonese and had campaigned against the Thracian tribes near the Hellespont for over a year. As a result, his contingent had the largest number of Thracians in the entire Greek army.

After thanking them again, Xenophon took an additional two hundred heavy infantry, for a total force of fifteen hundred men, and set off at once.

The other leaders ordered the rest of the army to increase their vigilance and quicken their pace toward the mountain path.

When Xenophon’s force reached the foot of the mountain, they saw that the Persians had indeed occupied one of the ridges. He was about to give the order to attack when Epitenes, the captain of Davos’s first light shieldbearer company, offered his own opinion. He pointed at the ridge. “Xenophon, look at that peak next to the one the Persians are on. If we attack them directly, they may just retreat to that higher peak. That would not only waste time but also make our own assault more difficult. It would be better to first seize that higher summit. Then, from a superior position, we can easily drive them off with javelins and stones.”

The other light infantry captains agreed that Epitenes’s idea was better. Xenophon, willing to listen to good counsel, gave the order: “The army will advance and seize that summit!”