The Lost Army (25 page)

Then nothing.

I was awakened by a strange noise that I couldn’t identify and I woke Xeno.

‘What is that?’ I asked him.

‘I don’t know. The wind can bring sounds from a great distance.’

The wind . . . whenever I heard it blowing, I wondered whether it was the kind that merely raised the dust in Beth Qadà or whether it was the kind that roared and announced some extraordinary event.

‘It’s the sound of an army approaching!’ exclaimed Xeno. ‘Don’t move from here.’

He put on his armour and went to find Sophos and the others.

The officers spread the alarm in silence. I watched as the men woke their sleeping comrades and before long the entire army was ready to march, while a small cavalry unit commanded by Xeno rode off in the direction of the noise, which was growing more and more distinct. A barely visible pallor was beginning to lighten the horizon to the east, behind a line of barren hills. In the meantime we resumed our journey; I had the mules yoked and the tent loaded on to the wagon. The servant was used to obeying me when Xeno was not around. Next to me was a girl on another wagon. She was pregnant.

‘Do you know who the father of your child is?’ I asked her.

She gestured at the long line of warriors winding before us in the darkness. ‘One of them,’ she replied, and goaded the mules pulling her wagon.

We soon arrived at the edge of a gully that intersected our path. It was a deep fracture in the ground, a splitting of the sandy rock that reached from west to east for a long stretch. The walls were steep and at the bottom lay huge boulders, scattered here and there as if tossed by a giant’s hand.

It was completely dry, but during the winter it must fill up with muddy water dumped by violent storms back in the mountains; I’d seen that kind of sudden flooding often where I came from. The boulders must have been tumbled about by the raging flood waters.

There were only two or three points where crossing was possible, paths – trampled by the passage of herds of goats and sheep – which cut down the steep wall, crossed the bottom and climbed up the other side. Only one of the three paths would allow for us to cross in the wagons, but there was considerable risk in attempting it in that hour of darkness preceding the dawn. Two of the wagons tipped over and had to be pushed back upright using the tent poles for leverage and set back on track. The servants compensated for the unnatural angle of descent by using spear shafts to prop the top-heavy wagons up so they wouldn’t take another tumble. The infantry and cavalry used the other two narrower paths.

Sophos, Agasias, Timas, Xanthi and Cleanor rode ahead, turning often to guide our passage. They rode at a distance of twenty or thirty paces and continuously called out to one another, but without raising their voices. They were all very young, between twenty and thirty, and strongly built, and they had taken their new assignments very seriously. But although I’d never strictly been a part of the military expedition, even I couldn’t help but think of the commanders we’d lost.

Sophos kept his head turned and his eyes trained to the east, at the point where the sun would be rising. All at once, rays of light shone out from behind the hills and Sophos turned to the south. He was looking for something, and I looked the same way. A light flashed repeatedly on the plain, and Sophos exclaimed, ‘It’s Xeno! The signal, they’re coming. We’ll do as we’ve decided.’

Upon hearing his order, the officers on horseback rode fast to the foot of the gully and each one took position at the head of his unit. The men broke ranks at once and groped their way up the opposite bank any way they could. Our convoy, with the wagons, the pack animals, the women and the non-combatants, had reached the bottom of the gully and was starting to struggle its way up the other side. I began to think that the soldiers had forgotten about us and were leaving us behind. I saw two officers up on the opposite edge of the gully making wide gestures as if to hasten our ascent, but I didn’t want to separate myself from the others.

As I was starting to climb up the slope I heard a galloping noise behind me and thought that all was lost. But it was our men on horseback, the scouts commanded by Xeno, who had given the signal and who were now racing down the path behind us at breakneck speed.

Xeno yelled, ‘Abandon the wagons! Get up to the other side, now! Leave the wagons behind!’

The other scouts were shouting out as well. ‘Move, run as fast as you can, leave the wagons behind, the enemy is at our heels!’

We all got out of the wagons and clambered as fast as we could up towards the outer edge of the gully. I saw Melissa stumbling and crying out with pain and rushed to help her. The fancy sandals she wore weren’t suitable for climbing and her tender feet had never trodden jagged stones and splinters of black flint. She wounded herself with every step she took. I tried to lift her off the ground and drag her towards the top, but I couldn’t do it alone. I was desperate and completely out of breath and I yelled as loudly as I could, ‘Xenooo!’ and there he was next to me, smiling behind the mask of his helmet. He knew I needed him, even before I called.

He pulled us both up to the top in no time as the other men were helping the other unfortunates in our company.

‘Everyone behind the rocks!’ shouted Sophos and we scrambled to obey him, as we could already hear the thunder of Persian horses galloping at our backs. As soon as we reached shelter, I looked back, panting, to the spot where Sophos and Xeno had gone and . . . nothing! There was no one to be seen.

‘Where have they gone?’ I exclaimed.

‘They’ve left us alone!’ whimpered Melissa. ‘They’ve gone off and deserted us.’

‘Don’t be an idiot. They’re on foot as we are, they can’t have disappeared.’ I hushed her because the Persian horsemen were emerging from the rim of the gully. They pulled up short in surprise, scanning the empty expanse of dry grassland. The profound silence was disturbed only by a light breeze that bent the tall grass and set white dandelion tufts adrift. But not for long.

A high-pitched, rhythmic battle cry burst out, followed by the clanging of metal on metal. Our men had been invisible because they were all crouched down in the grass and they rose to their feet all at once, in perfect formation!

Ten thousand shields joined in a wall of bronze, ten thousand spears jutted forward menacingly, thousands of red cloaks fluttered in the wind like standards. Their helmets covered their faces. I’d never seen them look like that and it was an awesome sight indeed. Behind their bronze helmets, all you could see were the eyes and mouth, and this transformed each man into an otherworldly being. Their faces disappeared but their eyes flashed in the dark and every movement of their heads was ominous. Their bare-faced adversaries could imagine any kind of ferocious power behind those metallic masks. Their faces were inscrutable, their bearing charged with dire intent.

The Persian horsemen tried to overcome their shock and they attacked at an order from their commander, but our men were too close and were already advancing. There was no room for the horses to gain momentum; the spears were upon them. The phalanx advanced like a machine, and nothing could stand in its way. The horsemen tried in vain to breach the line. At each attempt the ranks closed tight and the files doubled up so that the men behind pressed their comrades forward with their shields. Their spears cleaved the bodies of their enemies and the battle turned into a massacre. I watched in horror as men and horses fell headlong into the gully, tumbling over each other, leaving shreds of flesh and splashes of blood on the sharp stones and shards of black flint.

The phalanx opened then and let through the archers, slings-men and javelin-throwers who showered the survivors with a hail of lethal darts. When we could finally approach the brink of the gully ourselves, the sun shone triumphantly in a pure blue sky but the ground . . . the ground was a slaughterhouse. The Persian cavalry squadron was reduced to a confused, atrocious pile of bloodied bodies and the excruciating groans of the dying broke my heart.

But it wasn’t over.

Cleanor claimed that the scene was not terrifying enough. He wanted Tissaphernes’s soldiers, when they arrived, to witness horror without end. They had to learn that they deserved to be punished for their betrayal. They had to see with their own eyes the fury that the red cloaks, deceitfully deprived of their commanders, were capable of.

There was a group of skirmishers accompanying the army from Thrace, fierce and primitive highlanders. They were ordered to mutilate the Persian corpses in any way possible, using axes, clubs and knives. I turned away and ran off to hide behind a boulder until Xeno started calling me because it was time to resume the march.

The wagons we’d abandoned were dragged up to the rim and the army began its journey under the noonday sun. I would turn back every now and then, and I’d see large numbers of vultures wheeling and circling in the air above the gully.

How could they sense the smell of death so soon and from such a distance? I wondered. But then I realized that I too could smell its stench. Xeno had it on him as he rode close by me and so did all the others. The Thracians looked like butchers, covered with filth from head to toe.

All day long we advanced without any further incident, and towards evening we reached the deserted city of Al Sarruti. It was ringed by a wall of mud bricks and at its centre was a pyramid-shaped tower that the inhabitants of those lands called a ziggurat. It too was in a state of ruin. The base was still covered by slabs of grey stone carved with images of warriors with thick curly beards and braided hair. The figures were painted in bold colours and were quite impressive. The whole building was crumbling, though, and some of the slabs at the base had collapsed so that the figures lay with their faces in the dust. ‘That’s how human pride ends,’ I thought to myself.

Xeno entered to see if there was anything left inside and I followed him. As we went forward, the light of the entrance behind us became dimmer and dimmer, until all that was left was a faint glow floating with shimmering dust. At a certain point, I felt something alive under my foot and I screamed. My jerking movement and my shriek awakened a huge flock of bats who were sleeping inside the tower and the air instantly filled up with them. I could feel those revolting creatures brushing against me all over and I lost control and started to scream so loud that Xeno had to slap me to stop me. Xeno covered my mouth and nose with his cloak and held his breath as he dragged me out as quickly as he could. He knew that we could have died in there. The fast fluttering of their wings had raised a cloud of dust so dense it would have choked us. As soon as we got outside I slumped to the ground and gulped in the fresh evening air avidly.

‘See how easy it is to die?’ said Xeno, panting. ‘Even without making war.’

‘You’re right,’ I said, still gasping for air. ‘If you hadn’t slapped me I would have totally lost control and I would have choked and died.’

I lifted my eyes to the top of the pyramid and saw a number of people of every age. They were the inhabitants of the region who had sought shelter there, trying to put themselves beyond the reach of the armies moving through the area. Some of our men had climbed to the top as well, trying to catch a glimpse of Tissaphernes’s approach, but they saw no one. We camped among the ruins and for most of the night I could hear the crying of the children who were on the top of the tower with their mothers. The women didn’t dare descend and mix with us, and they had nothing to feed to their children. I was consoled by the thought that the armies would soon move on and the people would be free to return to their homes and their work.

We pushed on the whole next day until we reached another ruined wall that must once have encircled a powerful city. Our foes hadn’t caught up with us; perhaps the carnage in the gully had served its purpose and scared them off for good. We hoped so, but it was hard to believe. They were surely camped somewhere on the plain, biding their time and regrouping for a fresh attack.

We saw the Tigris. It was magnificent. The current was fast, and every so often it carried strange boats, round as baskets, that would spin around at each bend or whirlpool in the river but never ran aground. I began to hope that we’d put enough distance between ourselves and our pursuers, and in the evenings I’d go to visit Melissa and help her with her wounded feet, massaging them and applying salves.

I was wrong about the enemy. On the seventh evening they reappeared. A multitude; as always, they greatly outnumbered us. Too many to take on.

They were sending ahead their cavalry squadrons, although for the time being they kept their distance. They had understood our weak point. They knew we had no cavalry and that Ariaeus wouldn’t come to our aid: why should he? I was a little surprised at myself; I was starting to think and reason like a soldier.

At a signal from the lookouts, the alarm sounded and our soldiers drew up in marching order with a rearguard in battle formation. Our men countered every attack of the enemy cavalry, but our javelins never met their mark because the assailants would simply melt away. Their own arrows were deadly, on the other hand. Even as they were retreating they would twist around and let fly with extreme precision, armed with the double-curved bows used by the horsemen of the steppe. Our men had never seen this tactic before, and were wounded in large numbers; they were rescued by their comrades and carried to shelter in the wagons. That night a large tent was raised and eight surgeons went to work. I’d never seen anything of the sort, especially not so many doctors working together. Each had his own razor-sharp instruments, needles, forceps, scissors and other tools that I was unfamiliar with. By the light of oil lamps, they cut and sewed, and where the wounds were ragged, they would snip off strips of skin with their scissors as though they were pieces of cloth.