Historical Tales [calibre 5.4.1]

The head and right hand of the slain prince were immediately cut off and held up to the view of all within sight, and the contest was proclaimed at an end. The Asiatic army of Cyrus, on learning of the fatal disaster, turned and fled. The Greeks held their own and repulsed all that came against them, in ignorance of the death of Cyrus, of which they did not hear till the next morning. The news then filled them with sorrow and dismay.

What followed must be briefly told. The position of the Greeks, much more than a thousand miles from their country, in the heart of an empire filled with foes, and in the presence of a vast hostile army, seemed hopeless. Yet they refused to surrender at the demand of the king. They were victors, not defeated men; why should they surrender? "If the king wants our arms, let him come and try to take them," they said. "Our arms are all the treasure we have left; we shall not be fools enough to hand them over to you, but shall use them to fight for your treasure."

This challenge King Artaxerxes showed no inclination to accept. Both he and his army feared the Greeks. As for the latter, they immediately began their retreat. They could not go back over the desert by which they had come, that was impossible; they therefore chose a longer road, but with more chance of food, leading up the left bank of the Tigris River and proceeding to the Euxine, or Black Sea. It was in dread and hopelessness that the solitary band began this long and perilous march, through a country of which they knew nothing, amid hosts of foes, and with the winter at hand. But they were soon to experience a new misfortune and be left in a still more hopeless state.

Their boldness had so intimidated King Artaxerxes that he sent heralds to them to treat for a truce. "Go tell the king," their general replied, "that our first business must be to fight. We have nothing to eat, and no man should talk to Greeks about a truce without first providing them with a dinner."

The result of this bold answer was that food was provided, a truce declared, and Tissaphernes, a Persian satrap, with a body of troops, undertook to conduct the Greeks out of the country. Crossing the Tigris, they marched for fifteen days up its east side, until the Great Zab River, in the country of Media, was reached. Here the treachery which Tissaphernes had all along intended was consummated. He invited Clearchus, the Greek leader, and the other generals to a conference with him in his tent, three miles from their camp. They incautiously accepted, and on arriving there were immediately seized, the captains and soldiers who had accompanied them cut down, and the generals sent in chains to the king, who ordered them all to be put to death.

This loss of their leaders threw the Greeks into despair. Ruin appeared inevitable. In the midst of a hostile country, more than a thousand miles from Grecian soil, surrounded by enemies, blocked up by deep rivers and almost impassable mountains, without guides, without provisions, without cavalry, without generals to give orders, what were they to do? A stupor of helplessness seized upon them. Few came to the evening muster; few lighted fires to cook their suppers; every man lay down to rest where he was; yet fear, anguish, and yearning for home drove sleep from every eye. The expectation of the Persians that they would now surrender seemed likely to be realized, for without a guiding head and hand there seemed to many of the disheartened host nothing else to do.

Yet they were not all in that mood. One among them, a volunteer, with no rank in the army, but with ample courage, brought back by brave words hope to their souls. This man, an Athenian, Xenophon by name, and one of the disciples of Socrates the philosopher, had an encouraging dream in the night, and at once rose, called into council the captains of the host, and advised them to select new generals to take the place of the four who had been seized. This was done, Xenophon being one of the new leaders. At daybreak the soldiers were called together, told what had been done in the night, and asked to confirm the action of their captains. This they did.

Xenophon, the orator of the army, now made them a stirring speech. He told them that they need not fear the Persians, who were cowards and traitors, as they knew. If provisions were no longer furnished them, they could take them for themselves. If rivers were to be crossed, they could march up their course and wade them where not deep. "Let us burn our baggage-wagons and tents, and carry only what is strictly needful. Above all, let us maintain discipline and obedience to commanders. Now is the time for action. If any man has anything better to suggest, let him state it. We all have but one object,—the common safety."

No one had anything better to suggest; the soldiers enthusiastically accepted Xenophon's plan of action, and soon were on the march again, with Tissaphernes, their late guide, now their open foe. They marched in a hollow oblong body, with the baggage in the centre. Here also walked the women, whom many had accompanied the army through all its career.