The Lost Army

by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

  ‘I don’t know about that. The last word hasn’t been said.’

  ‘So you think there is a way out?’

  ‘I trust in the gods and in the spears of my men.’

  ‘The gods? Their responses have kept us nailed to this place, putting us on the verge of starvation, with this disaster as a result. How many men did Neon lose?’

  ‘If we’d moved despite the ill omens the result would have been far worse. The gods have always assisted us. No one would have bet a penny that we’d get this far. So close to home.’

  ‘But you don’t want to go home. You want to stay here and found your colony.’

  ‘That’s not true. And anyway, you have no right to meddle with my plans.’

  ‘All right then, I won’t. I can only hope your gods will help you.’

  I realized that I had spoken with a tone of complete disbelief and I immediately felt sorry. Hadn’t the gods saved me when I was completely alone and lost in that blizzard? I should have been the first to believe in them. But the growing toll of dead and wounded distressed me no end. I was afraid we were heading to our ruin. The army was being bled by nearly daily losses and would be completely demoralized and exhausted by the time they would, inevitably, find themselves up against the most difficult test: win or die.

  And yet Xeno continued to worry about his men, and not only those who were still alive. Next day he mounted another mission to bury the bodies of the fallen.

  This time he brought the young warriors with him, because in case of attack their reaction would be more vigorous, but it turned out to be bitter work indeed. The path they travelled was strewn with corpses, but only when they reached the inland villages did they realize the scale of the massacre. There were hundreds of bodies, so many that they had to dig a common grave.

  And the worst was yet to come. The Persian governor had been holding his troops in check, but they suddenly appeared in full battle order on a rocky ridge that blocked the Greeks’ way back. Our men were greatly outnumbered, and caught in an exposed position. Timas was at the head of the cavalry, while Xeno took command of the rest of the force.

  I wasn’t there, so what I know I heard later from the soldiers and from Xeno himself, and perhaps I’ve added something from my imagination, but what happened then was nothing short of miraculous. Maybe it was the sight of their comrades slaughtered and left to the dogs that made them understand how desperate their situation was and that they had nothing to lose. Maybe it was Xeno’s battle plan that made the difference, or maybe it was the gods rewarding him for all those animals he’d sacrificed in their honour, but the army seemed to be possessed by some superhuman force when Xeno yelled out, ‘It’s them! They are the ones who butchered your comrades and now they want to cut you to pieces as well. Show them what you’re made of, my lads, they’re all yours! Forward!’

  The young warriors ran straight up the slope, protected by their shields, shouting the war cry that had routed the left wing of the imperial army at the gates of Babylon. They overran every obstacle and overcame all resistance, slicing into the enemy formation like a sword into living flesh. They charged like angry bulls, massacring those who dared to fight back. Shoulder to shoulder, shield to shield.

  When Timas unleashed his horsemen there was neither order nor rank among the enemy: each man was bent on escape and they were mown down by the hundred.

  I saw them only when they returned to camp, drenched with sweat, filthy with dirt and blood, marching in step to the sound of flutes. The eyes behind the sallets of their helmets were still flaming.

  They were singing. Their song throbbed and thundered in the bronze that covered them.

  THE THREAT OF further attacks on the camp convinced the commanders it would be best to regroup on the peninsula. They barricaded the isthmus with a trench and a palisade. Everyone was saying that the Spartan governor of Byzantium, Cleander, would soon arrive in person to get them out of that fix, and so it was thought best to stay at Calpe and wait.

  This situation dragged on at some length, and Xeno’s old dream came to the fore again. He was the man whom all the other commanders came to when they had a problem: he always gave the right counsel, the best mix of prudence and courage. The place they occupied was ideal for a settlement: the peninsula that widened out into the sea could host a city which would be easily defended in case of attack, the port was well protected and in the lee of the most dangerous winds, a spring at the base of the isthmus would guarantee their water supply, and all around was a vast, fertile area with fine red soil.

  A rumour spread that a colony was to be founded there. Although Xeno always denied it, I think it was him, or someone close to him, who put the word out. Native chieftains began to show up to get information and establish contact. The soldiers were antagonized by this; they’d long been suspicious of Xeno and afraid that they would be tricked or forced into staying there against their will.

  Cleander’s arrival with a mere two warships was a great disappointment. It certainly wasn’t the fleet they were expecting to take them home. The situation worsened when a quarrel broke out between one of Cleander’s men and one of our soldiers, who was promptly arrested and was being taken to the naval camp of the Spartan commander. The soldier was one of Agasias’s men, and his commander recognized him, as well as the man who was dragging him off.

  Agasias flew into a fury. ‘You fucking bastard of a traitor! What hole did you crawl out of, you son of a bitch? How dare you show your face around here? Take your hands of that boy right now!’

  Agasias had recognized Dexippus, the man who had fled with one of the two ships the inhabitants of Trapezus had lent us. In a flash, Agasias was on top of him and he would have run him through had not someone pulled them apart. Dexippus slipped away and took off towards the ships, but Agasias charged after him like a bull, knocked him to the ground and started to pummel him with his fists. He would have beaten him to a pulp if the Spartans aboard the ships hadn’t heard the din. Their commander came out. ‘That’s enough!’ he shouted. ‘Let that man go!’

  But at that point Agasias’s men had come to their commander’s aid with their swords drawn. The Spartans unsheathed theirs as well and for a few moments the tension ran incredibly high. Anything might have happened.

  Xeno was close to me and I looked into his eyes without saying a word, but his expression told me that he’d finally caught on: the Spartans in Byzantium had been alerted to our presence by none other than Dexippus, thief and traitor. Perhaps he’d always been a spy! So that was why the Spartans were ready and waiting at the beach when Sophos arrived with his men. And soon after that, our commander – the only man in the entire army to know all the details of the enormous plot to let the Ten Thousand win or dispatch them to die – was dead himself.

  Other officers intervened and so did Xeno. The brawl was halted.

  Next day our generals began to negotiate with the Spartans. In the end they decided that the army would resume their march in the direction of the straits.

  I wept that night. Xeno’s hopes had been dashed and the army was setting off for the last march.

  Towards death.

  30

  I HAD ALWAYS IMAGINED that the adventure of the Ten Thousand, of the heroes who had fought and won against all opposition, even the forces of nature, would end in an all-out battle.

  We were together again, under Xeno’s command, and no one had ever defeated the united army. It was only when groups had cut loose from the whole that they had ventured off on rash initiatives and suffered losses. This would not happen again. Agasias himself, with the support of Xanthi, had proposed and passed a resolution imposing the death sentence on anyone who tried to split up the army again.

  Maybe we’d be attacked on open ground; perhaps we’d find ourselves surrounded by an overwhelming host and buried beneath thousands of arrows. Maybe hordes of barbarians would be hired to wipe us out in a night-time attack, or perhaps our ships would be sunk as we tried to cross the sea. B
ut none of this happened. Once we reached Byzantium, the army – what was left of it – left the heroic space of vast battlefields, sky-high mountains, turbulent, unknown rivers and savage tribes so fiercely jealous of their liberty, to return to the space where ordinary mortals dwelled.

  The Great War between the Athenians and the Spartans had swallowed up the best of their energy and cut down the bravest and most intelligent men, leaving the field to mediocre players, to petty schemers bearing high-sounding titles like admiral and governor. Where had the red cloaks gone who fought at the Fiery Gates against the innumerable forces of the Great King? Not even their memory remained. Their descendants had only been capable of plotting intrigues, secretly conniving with their old enemies to approve unavowable agreements. All they were interested in was power. The control of their little world. Ideals were lost.

  What happened then was so confused, so baffling, uncertain and contradictory, that it’s even difficult for me to remember it. Cleander and his admiral, Anaxibius, played a vile and dirty game, tricking and deceiving us, promising without delivering. Perhaps their strategy was to make the army lose cohesion and break apart without leaving any traces. They certainly didn’t have the courage to challenge us on the battlefield. Six thousand warriors who had marched thirty thousand stadia, overwhelming any force that opposed them, still commanded an awed respect. Better not to risk it.

  The army was forced to remain outside the city walls, without money or supplies, and told to wait. Only those who were sick or wounded were allowed to enter.

  The person who disappointed me most was Xeno, and I’m still saddened by it. He simply wasn’t himself. He acted as though this situation were acceptable, and nothing untoward had happened. He even told me that things had changed; the army was no longer a threat to Sparta and our lives were no longer at risk.

  ‘My mission is over,’ he said to me one evening while we were camped outside the city walls. ‘I’m leaving the army.’

  I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘Leaving the army? Why?’

  ‘The governor has told me that if the army doesn’t move on, the government of Sparta will hold me personally responsible.’

  ‘And that’s enough to make you abandon the men you’ve shared everything with, life and death, for so long? The men that Sophos entrusted to you before he died?’

  ‘I have no choice. I can’t fight alone against the power that dominates all of Greece.’

  ‘You’re not alone. You have an army.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re saying. Do you know what the governor means when he says he’s holding me responsible? That if we don’t leave, he’ll call in Spartan forces and they’ll slaughter us. This city is in an incredibly important strategic position. It’s the link between Asia and Europe, between the Aegean and the Euxine seas. Do you really think that Sparta would leave it in the hands of a mercenary army? This story is over. At least for me.’

  I thought I’d die. The moment had come for me to pay for the choice I’d made that night at the well of Beth Qadà. How much time had passed? A year? Ten years? It seemed to me that a whole lifetime had passed. But I still wasn’t sorry. I’d learned from the Ten Thousand that every obstacle can be overcome, every battle won. I’d learned never to surrender.

  ‘Where will you go?’ I asked him. ‘And where will I go?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Someplace where Greek is spoken, and you’ll come with me. I’ve collected great experience in this expedition, I could become a good military or political adviser, perhaps in Italy or Sicily. There are wealthy cities there where a man with my knowledge is welcomed, and well paid.’

  I didn’t know what to reply. I was torn. On the one hand, his words consoled me: he wouldn’t leave me and I’d see new lands with him, beautiful, faraway cities; perhaps I’d have a house, and servants. On the other hand, to abandon the army seemed shameful to me, and I was troubled by his decision.

  ‘They’re not alone,’ said Xeno. ‘They have their commanders: Timas, Agasias, Xanthi, Cleanor, Neon. They’ll be all right. I’ve done everything I could, no one can blame me. How many times have I risked my own life? How many of their lives have I saved?’

  He was right, but that didn’t change things for me. I couldn’t give up.

  We moved into a house in the city that was quite comfortable, with a kitchen and a bedroom, and we had our servant with us to take care of our needs. Xeno continued to meet with important people, but he never told me anything.

  One day a man with an unpronounceable name showed up. He was from Thebes and he wanted to take command of the army. He said he would pay their salaries and buy their supplies. He wanted to lead them on raids into an area inhabited by native tribes, but when he returned several days later with only a few cartloads of flour, garlic and onions, they gave him a kick in the backside and started throwing the onions at him until he disappeared. That was the last straw. They’d had enough.

  It was what happened next that pushed events to a head. The governor sent his closest collaborator and political adviser to talk to Xeno; they met at our house. I can’t remember his name, but I’ll never forget his face or the look in his eyes.

  ‘The city authorities are well aware of all the trials you have been through,’ he began. ‘We’d like to do more for you, but the governor has his hands tied. All the same, he wants to make a gesture of good will on your behalf. He has managed to find enough provisions and money to enable all of you to return to your homes, and wishes to host a celebration in your honour. A farewell party, as it were. You’ll be welcomed inside the city and there will be food and wine for all. Your men will be the guests of our citizens; if there is not enough room for all of them, they will be allowed to sleep under the city porticoes. All of the officers and their bodyguards will be the personal guests of the governor.

  ‘After this celebration, the army will be given a full month’s worth of provisions – more than enough time for you to dismiss the men and send them on their way. There are several ports along the coast. With the money you’ll be given, it won’t be difficult to book passage on ships setting sail for a number of destinations.’

  Xeno felt that this was much more than a simple gesture of good will; he believed that he had finally made peace with the Spartans, and this filled him with relief and joy. But he wanted to take no risks, and before accepting, he said, ‘My men will never agree to part with their weapons. Is that a problem?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ replied the messenger. ‘We are friends, aren’t we? And we share the same blood.’

  These words reassured Xeno, and he accepted. The army would at last be moving on. He parted with Cleander’s associate on good terms.

  Xeno spread the news that things had finally taken a turn for the better. He convened the men and gave them instructions. ‘There will be no disorders, nor quarrels, no violence of any sort. You will not use your weapons except in self-defence if someone should attack you, otherwise you will take no initiatives. When the celebrations are over, you’ll find a number displayed on the houses of Byzantium; this will indicate how many of you can be accommodated there. Those who do not find room will sleep under the porticoes or the temple colonnades. The next morning, I want you all out of there and ready to leave. If all goes well, in a few days’ time you’ll have food and money enough to return to your homes.’

  A burst of enthusiasm greeted his words. The men began to prepare their best garments and to polish their armour so as to make a good show at the festivities. There was even a rumour going around that there would be a parade.

  Two days later they entered the city and the celebrations began. Xeno and most of the officers took part in a banquet hosted by the governor. I accompanied Xeno.

  The sounds of laughing and good-natured joking that filtered in from outside let us know the men were having a good time. Beautiful dancers entered the banquet hall, and elegantly garbed girls who went to sit with the officers. I caught a glimpse of Melissa, standing next to Cleanor. The l
ook she shot me led me to understand that she had something to tell me. She gave me a little wave and I walked over to join her.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  Melissa was all smiles, answering with the most frivolous of tones and punctuating her words with silly little giggles as if she were repeating some risqué titbit. But what she had to tell me was deadly serious. ‘Listen, I met a girlfriend of mine from Lampsacus who’s the companion of one of Cleander’s officers. She has overheard some very interesting conversations. This party is a complete sham.’

  It was what I’d suspected, but I’d never dared share my worries with Xeno. He was so sure that the Spartans had good intentions that I didn’t want to ruin things for him, or maybe, for once, tired as I was of all those continuing threats, I wanted to believe it myself.

  ‘When the partying is over and all the men have split up and found a place to sleep, the Spartan contingent here is going to conduct a massive round-up operation. Our men will be scattered all over the city in small groups and won’t be able to fight back. The plan is to kill them all, or take prisoners and sell them as slaves.’

  I felt my knees buckling and I had to lean against the wall.

  ‘Smile!’ ordered Melissa. ‘Pretend I’m telling you some entertaining little story. We can’t let on we know anything.’

  ‘Have you told Cleanor?’

  ‘No. But if Xeno agrees to pass word on to the other officers, give me a signal and I’ll tell him straight away.’

  ‘All right,’ I replied.

  While Melissa was rejoining Cleanor, I told Xeno everything. He paled, then started to get to his feet.

  ‘No, wait,’ I said. ‘Don’t move. I’ve already agreed with Melissa that when I give her a signal she’ll tell Cleanor and he’ll pass the word on. Everyone will be alerted.’

  ‘All right. As soon as you can, get another message to Melissa, and tell her to pass it on. When I get up from the table, the others should all follow me out, acting in the most natural way possible.’