The Lost Army

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  I burst out sobbing as I begged her to push. ‘Push out that little bastard, damn you! Push!’ At the same time, I started to yell, ‘Xeno! Xenoooo!’ as if there were any hope of him hearing me or helping me.

  Lystra was pale, ice-cold and covered with sweat. Her eyes were deep, dark circles. Her breath came in short painful gasps.

  She looked deep into my eyes with a sad, lost, expression. ‘I can’t,’ she said in a tiny voice. ‘Forgive me. I can’t do it.’

  ‘Yes, you can! Push, damn it. Look! I can see his hair, push him out, you’re almost there, you can do it!’

  Lystra looked at me again with tears coursing down her wasted cheeks. Her head rolled backward and then she was perfectly still, her eyes open and staring at the flakes of snow falling from the white impassive sky.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. ‘Don’t die! Don’t die, wake up, come on now, I’ll take you away from here. It’s time to go now, we’ll go together!’ I didn’t know what I was saying, I was talking nonsense and shaking that limp body with her arms hanging loose like a disjointed doll’s. I covered her body with mine as if I could pass on a little bit of my warmth, and stayed that way weeping, I don’t know for how long.

  When at last I snapped out of that daze, I looked around to ask for help and I realized with terror that I was all alone. How much time had passed? Where was our servant? Which way had the army gone? The snow was falling fast and heavy, and the silence that surrounded me swallowed up every sound, even that of my own breathing. All I could see were small clouds of vapour.

  I tried to get to my feet but I couldn’t. The snow masked everything in a fluttery blur. The air was so dense with it, I couldn’t see a thing. All of a sudden, I thought I saw dark shadows coming my way.

  I started to scream at the top of my lungs, until my cries died in my throat. I tried to move, to find the traces of the army, but everything looked exactly the same in every direction. I was alone, next to a corpse already stiff and completely blanketed by the snow.

  I would die too.

  I was almost dead.

  I would follow Lystra and her child.

  I would never see Xeno again.

  Or the dusty village of Beth Qadà. The well . . . my friends . . . my mother. Nothing.

  I was overcome with weariness: heavy, sluggish . . . sweet. I remember that I had a dream. As I was sinking into oblivion, I dreamed that I saw an indistinct shape advancing towards me. The shape took on the outline of a fantastic figure, a man. A horseman, white himself, on a white horse. His face was hidden behind the edge of the cloak that lay over his shoulders.

  I dreamed that he jumped to the ground, light as a snowflake himself, and that he approached me.

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked when I saw him bending over me to lift me from the ground. Then his image dissolved in the swirling snow, vanished in the lethargy that locks out even dreams and visions.

  I thought . . . death.

  XENO.

  The face that appeared to me in the dim light of the evening was his.

  ‘Where are we?’ I managed to whisper.

  ‘In camp. You’re safe.’

  The thought of Lystra immediately welled up and brought tears to my eyes.

  ‘Lystra’s dead.’

  ‘I imagined as much. I’m sorry.’

  ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘The sentries found you outside, under a fir tree, nearly frozen to death.’

  ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘I can’t understand it either.’

  ‘I think I saw . . .’

  ‘What? What did you see?’

  ‘A man covered with snow, all white.’

  ‘Maybe it was our servant. He hasn’t come back. Maybe he found you and brought you here.’

  ‘But where is he now?’

  ‘Somewhere outside, maybe. It would be useless to search for him now. It will be completely dark soon. It’s too dangerous.’

  I slept all night. The morning after, a group of scouts found the remains of the mule and our servant. The wolves had left only their bones. Xeno bought another servant from the merchants who were still following the army, and we continued our journey.

  Eastward. We continued eastward for many days, always alongside the river. Every evening when the staff met, the generals and battalion commanders insisted that to keep on in that direction was pure folly. We’d already covered a great distance, and there was no reason to think that we were any closer to the sea. One of them, whose name was so long that I couldn’t pronounce it, but whom I called Netus, brought up a disturbing hypothesis. ‘What if this river flows into the river Ocean that surrounds the earth, and not the Euxine sea, as you’re hoping?’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Xeno retorted.

  ‘Prove to me that what I’m saying can’t be true,’ Netus insisted.

  ‘We’re suffering heavier losses than at any time since we’ve left Greece,’ said Xanthi. ‘We’ve lost more men to the cold and snow than in all our battles against the Carduchi.’

  ‘And you’re responsible, Xenophon!’ Netus exclaimed.

  ‘No,’ Sophos broke in. ‘I’m responsible. I have the high command. And I’m convinced that Xenophon is right. We have to stay with the river. It will take us to the sea, I’m sure of it. We’ve endured enormous hardship to make it this far. We can’t turn back now.’

  Xeno spoke up. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone actually reaching the river Ocean except for one of the admirals of the Great King, a Greek from Caria, and as far as I know it is very, very far away, thousands of stadia away. Remember what Cyrus used to say? “My father’s empire extends so far north that men can’t survive there because of the cold and so far south that they can’t survive because of the heat.” ’

  ‘But he didn’t talk about the east!’ insisted Netus.

  ‘That doesn’t change anything. The extreme east is the same distance away from the sanctuary of Delphi as the extreme west, and therefore, if this river were to flow into the Ocean, it would be longer than the Nile!’

  ‘I know why you want to follow this river,’ fumed Netus. ‘You think it’s the Phasis and you want to found a colony at the mouth of the river!’

  Many of those present turned to Xeno, yelling and cursing. Xeno drew his sword and hurled himself at Netus. He would have cut his throat if someone hadn’t stopped him. ‘What you’re saying is slander!’ he was shouting. ‘A total lie, fabricated to discredit me. You’re envious of all the good I’ve done for this army!’

  ‘All right, I admit it,’ replied Netus when both had calmed down. ‘It’s a rumour I’ve been hearing around the camp, but it makes sense. You’re a man without a homeland, without a country. If you returned to Athens they’d have your hide, because you fought against the democrats at the time of the battle of Piraeus.’

  Netus knew everything about Xeno’s past. Or at least that he had been exiled.

  ‘If you succeeded in founding a colony using these men you’d acquire eternal glory, they’d raise a statue to you in the main square of the new city with an inscription dedicated to the founder. That’s what you’re dreaming of, isn’t it? These men don’t know where to go, anyway. Doesn’t it all work out?’

  A furious argument broke out. Xeno managed to take the floor. ‘Let’s suppose for a moment that you’re right: so what? What would be wrong with the idea? In any case, it would be the assembled army that would decide. I have no authority to make such an important resolution. Not even Commander Chirisophus could decide something like that on his own. But if you think I’m so blinded by ambition that I would endanger the lives of my comrades, who I greatly esteem and have grown very fond of, that I would risk sending them to their deaths in an icy wasteland, then you are a bastard and a cur, a contemptible coward hiding behind your smears. I’m trying to bring these men to safety in the best way I can, not lose them to adversity, one after another.’

  ‘If you’re accusing me . . .’ shouted Netus, putting
his hand on his sword.

  ‘Enough of this!’ exclaimed Sophos. ‘We’ll continue on our route. Xeno is right. This river can only be the Phasis, and it will only be a matter of days before it starts to descend towards the sea. We will follow the river until we reach safe shores. You must sustain the men’s morale by setting an example. We have overcome a thousand obstacles and we’ll overcome this one too.’

  The meeting drew to an end amidst grumbling and accusations, but our march resumed and we went on for days and days. The perseverance of those warriors was truly remarkable: as well as the cold and the storms, there were continual raids from fierce local tribes who laid ambushes, attacked at night, hid in the deep snow and would burst out with no warning screaming their blood-curdling war cries.

  Sophos adopted a new strategy to obtain what he wanted: he avoided calling his staff to council. He merely issued orders. This worked for quite some time, but then the discontent boiled up again.

  Xeno had stopped writing, except for brief notes. Several times in our tent at night I saw him open the drawer with the white parchment roll, dip his pen in the ink, trace out a few words and then stop. I didn’t dare ask him why. Actually, I didn’t need to ask. He couldn’t bear having to justify to himself a choice that was draining the men of their lifeblood, one drop at a time. What I couldn’t understand was Sophos’s unwavering support. It couldn’t be that he simply agreed with the choice that had been made: there were certain moments when persisting with the choice was so manifestly mistaken that he had to have had doubts. I had doubts, and was anguished by them.

  How I yearned to be able to read those signs that Xeno traced on his scroll the few times he chose to do so, to understand what he’d decided to commit to posterity and what he kept for himself. He was worried, that much was clear, always scowling, taciturn. It was growing harder to speak with him with each passing day. One evening we were confronted with a dire situation: the pass ahead was closed off by close lines of warriors who wore skins and carried big bows like those of the Carduchi. They were targeting us with constant volleys that the heavy infantry was blocking by drawing up in a tight formation with their shields overlapping. Then they attacked us from behind as well, and Xeno had to turn the front around to repel the onslaught from that direction. Once again, we were beset by enemies on all sides, but Sophos made the right decision. He left half of the army in plain view, simulating continuous attempts at frontal assault and, with Xeno covering both groups from the rear, he advanced with the other half of the army through a dense, dark wood which completely concealed his marching column.

  They fell upon the enemy all at once, and scattered them in every direction.

  From where he had been providing support, Xeno did not hear the cries of exultation that he expected from his comrades. What they had seen on the other side of the pass must have been so awful that it dampened any enthusiasm. Xeno urged Halys up the slope, and when he reached the top he leapt to the ground and saw the reason for their dismay: the river they had been following was no longer anywhere to be seen!

  24

  THE ARMY WAS locked in dejection. They had endured the harshest trials, the most unthinkable suffering. They had borne the loss of countless companions, dragged themselves through desolate territories in the hope of finding a safe path that would lead to the end of their pain. Salvation, the embrace of the sea. All this vanished in a single moment, just as they should have been celebrating another victory.

  Netus came up with a mocking smile on his face. ‘Your river is gone. What do we do now?’

  Xeno didn’t answer. He stood there in silence, contemplating the unbroken white expanse.

  ‘Well?’ goaded Netus.

  ‘Well nothing. The river hasn’t vanished. This valley is exposed to the north wind and it’s very cold. The river iced up and the snow covered it. At first light we’ll be able to locate it.’

  ‘Oh, right. And what then? We wait for spring to come and thaw it? Not a bad plan, but by the time the river starts flowing again, there won’t be a single one of us left to see it. There’s no village here, not a single shelter, no place to get food.’

  Sophos cut their quarrel short. ‘We’ll camp here and tomorrow in the daylight we’ll come to a decision. Those dolts who attacked us did not rain out of the sky. Their villages must be around here somewhere. Now go find some wood in the forest and light fires. The sky is clear; it will be very cold tonight.’

  And so the warriors who had fought their battle and won, tired and hungry now, set down their spears and shields, picked up their axes and set off in search of firewood.

  Even Xeno, who had fought for hours and was bleeding from a couple of flesh wounds which I bandaged up, joined the others to fell trees in the forest.

  Our servant cleared a big enough space and pitched our tent, packing snow around the base. I laid out the skins, blankets and cloaks and lit a lamp. Despite the difficult terrain and general weariness, a camp was established, tent after tent, sometimes with simple, makeshift shelters, fashioned by tying skins around three crossed spears.

  Bundles of wood began to arrive and, as the men started to light the first fires, our will to survive kindled anew. I gathered some of the embers in a clay jar and brought it inside the tent to warm it. I was looking for a little barley to toast and grind in the mortar to make our dinner when my eye was caught by the drawer with the scroll. I’d give anything to know what Xeno had been writing during our long trek along the river . . . Melissa! Maybe she knew the signs of the Greeks and could translate them into words.

  I went out and searched the camp for her until I found her in the Arcadian sector.

  ‘I need you,’ I said.

  ‘What for?’ she asked.

  ‘Come with me, I’ll tell you as we’re walking.’

  When he had reached the entrance to our tent, I stopped. ‘Do you understand written signs?’

  ‘You want to know if I can read? Certainly. A woman of my standing must be able to read, write, sing and dance.’

  ‘Come in then. Read what’s written here.’ I took the scroll from the drawer.

  ‘Are you mad? If Xeno shows up he’ll break both of our heads.’

  ‘No, don’t worry. He’s still chopping wood and then he’ll go and talk to Sophos about tomorrow. He does so almost every evening. Anyway, I’ll stay here at the entrance to make sure, and I’ll listen as you tell me what you see on the scroll. If I see him coming, we’ll have time to put it back in the drawer. If he asks what you’re doing here, I’ll say I invited you to warm yourself at the brazier.’

  Reluctantly Melissa opened the scroll and read what Xeno had written since we’d arrived at the banks of the cursed river.

  Almost nothing!

  Just a few phrases. The distances and the stages of our journey, even skipping some. Nothing about the exhausting marches, the fallen, the wounded, the many comrades lost: a long trail of deaths along a path that led nowhere! There was not a word about the big pyramid-shaped mountain, nor even about the decision to follow the river. Not a mention.

  ‘Are you sure that’s all?’ I asked incredulously.

  ‘There’s nothing else, I promise you.’

  ‘Don’t deceive me, Melissa, please don’t.’

  ‘Why should I? I swear to you that you’ve heard everything that’s written here.’

  I put the scroll back in its place and closed the drawer.

  ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let me walk you back to your tent.’

  I took her arm and went with her to the Arcadian camp. My head was spinning.

  ‘Why are you so upset?’ she asked me.

  ‘Don’t you understand? There’s not a single word about the decision to follow the river and the terrible consequences it has had.’

  ‘He’s just written the important things. He certainly can’t have found much time to write under these conditions. He’ll do so later when we return. Then he’ll have all the time to remember and reflect on what has happened.’r />
  ‘So you think that all this is normal?’

  ‘I don’t see anything strange about it.’

  ‘Well, I do. I can tell you that in even worse circumstances I would see him write for hours, until late at night. He’s not writing because he doesn’t want to.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Listen, I have to ask you to help me with something else.’

  ‘Come on,’ she pouted. ‘Isn’t what I’ve just done enough?’

  ‘No. I have a terrible suspicion and I can’t get it out of my mind. I absolutely have to understand what’s happening and there’s only one way.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Going to Sophos’s tent when he’s not there.’

  ‘Forget it. You’re my friend, but I have to look out for myself, and I have no intention whatsoever of being thrown in with the whores hired out by that slobbering old pimp.’

  ‘You’re risking a lot more than that. Not only you, and me. All of us. We’re risking . . . death.’

  ‘Some surprise. What else have we been doing until now?’

  ‘I don’t have time to explain it now, but you’ll understand when the time comes. You won’t get into any trouble. All you have to do is convince Cleanor to invite Sophos and Xeno to his tent, along with some other officer that he trusts. Make him believe that he’s the person most highly regarded by the chief commander and that he has to get Sophos to admit his true intentions and establish at what point he will agree to turn back.

  ‘At first he’ll tell you to stay out of it, that those are not women’s affairs and that it’s none of your business anyway. But then he’ll think it over and in the end he’ll claim that it was his idea to start with and he’ll do as you say.’

  ‘And if he does?’

  ‘While they’re meeting, they’ll want you to leave anyway. You’ll say that you’re staying with me until it’s over.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘We’ll enter Sophos’s tent and we’ll look for something that can explain this whole mystery.’