The Lost Army (53 page)

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 look 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.’

‘I will.’

‘Someone should inform the men before they begin to scatter. Better for you to go; you won’t be missed here. Agasias is outside. Find him and tell him.’

‘I can do that. I’ll leave as soon as I’m sure no one will notice.’

In the meantime, I’d nodded to Melissa, who whispered something to Cleanor. He glanced at Xeno with a significant look.

‘Wait,’ continued Xeno. ‘Listen carefully. Tell Agasias that when they see an incendiary arrow shooting into the sky all the men should gather in the main square. All of them, understand?’

I left.

It wasn’t easy to find Agasias, who was outside with his men, but I managed to pass on the order. While the festivities were at a peak, the entire army began to assemble, under the surprised and worried eyes of the onlookers, in the city’s main square. Shortly thereafter, a flaming arrow rose into the sky and a war cry broke loose. Xeno and the others ran up, arms in hand.

The men were infuriated.

This time the city would hear the roar of the Ten Thousand.

At Xeno’s order, they stormed the citadel, overran the city’s defences and occupied the fort. The garrison was taken by surprise and the men who staffed it were forced to surrender.

The governor and his admiral were notified of what was happening, and they promptly escaped, putting out to sea on a ship.

The soldiers lifted Xeno onto their shoulders and carried him to the general headquarters of the Spartan garrison. The commanders flanked them, decked out in their best armour. The city was at their feet!

‘Byzantium is ours!’ they were shouting. ‘And ours it will remain!’

‘Yes, we’ll tax and levy tolls on all the goods in transit for the straits and we’ll grow rich. With the money we get we’ll enlist more soldiers – we know where to get them – and no one will be able to drive us out.’

‘We can form alliances with the tribal nations inland. We’ll become a great power, and everyone will have to reckon with us!’

They were right. That’s what they should have done. But to carry out such a project they needed a leader who was capable of dreaming the impossible and turning it into reality. Xeno was not that man. He had courage, and had proved it, he could devise clever strategies, but not build dreams. He could only conceive of doing what was realistically possible, and only after consulting the gods to make sure they agreed. The army spent the night in the square.

Before dawn, a messenger from Cleander, who had entered the city in disguise, informed Xeno that seizing the citadel would be considered an act of war by Sparta. If Xeno didn’t resolve the disastrous situation, the affair would end in a bloodbath.

That morning, Xeno convinced the assembled army that it was necessary to leave the city. He asked them to trust him, and promised that he would negotiate acceptable conditions with the Spartans. If they wanted to avoid the most dire consequences, they would have to surrender the city. Only then would the Spartan governor agree to help them.

Crestfallen and dissatisfied, the Ten Thousand, or what was left of them, abandoned Byzantium.

T
HE RUNAWAY RULERS
returned, furious at having been exposed as cowards, but they continued to stall any real solution, and to provide just enough supplies for the men to survive.

The soldiers became despondent. They saw no future in store and many sold their armour and scattered. Many officers as well. Some of the most valiant, including Aristonymus of Methydria and Lycius of Syracuse, vanished without saying goodbye. Glous, whom I’d continued to see every now and then, disappeared as well.

They probably couldn’t bear the wretchedness of the situation and the pain of so bitter a parting. A new governor arrived in the city. He arrested all the wounded and ailing soldiers who had been allowed to remain within the walls and sold them off as slaves. Xeno knew about it but did nothing; I suppose he thought it was the lesser of two evils.

In the end, after further unnerving and exhausting delays and negotiations, the conclusion was that nobody wanted a band of uncontrollable and dangerous mercenaries hanging around. The solution finally arrived, whether by chance or strategy I couldn’t say. A barbarian prince from Thrace called Seuthes offered to engage the entire army and to pay the soldiers, officers and generals in coin, each in proportion to his rank. Xeno put the proposal to a vote and it was accepted.