[1] Early the following day the generals met. They were surprised at Cyrus’ failure either to send someone to tell them what to do or to appear in person, so they decided to pack up their remaining belongings and carry on under arms until they met him. They were just about ready to set off and the sun was just rising when Procles, the ruler of Teuthrania and a descendant of Damaratus of Sparta,* arrived with Glous the son of Tamos. They brought the news of Cyrus’ death and told them that Ariaeus had retreated and was now, along with all the rest of the barbarians, at the staging area from where they had set out the previous day. They also passed on a message from Ariaeus, to the effect that he would wait one day to see whether they were planning to join him, but that on the following day he would set out on the return journey to Ionia, where he had come from.
This news deeply disheartened the generals and, when they heard it, the rest of the Greeks. ‘I wish that Cyrus were alive,’ Clearchus said, ‘but he’s dead. So tell Ariaeus that we, at any rate, have defeated the king. Tell him that, as you can see, the enemy has stopped trying to fight us, and that if you hadn’t come we would now be marching against the king. And assure him that if he comes here to us, we will seat him on the royal throne. For the right of rulership goes to those who are victorious in battle.’ With these words he dismissed the messengers and gave Chirisophus of Sparta and Meno of Thessaly the job of escorting them back. Meno specifically wanted the job, since he was on good terms with Ariaeus, who was his guest-friend.
They set off, and Clearchus waited for them to return. The men did what they could to supply themselves with food, which meant slaughtering the oxen and asses they were using as yoke-animals. For fuel they went to the battlefield (which involved leaving the main body of the army only a little way behind) and used not only large numbers of arrows, which they had forced the deserters from the king’s army* to discard, but also wicker shields and Egyptian wooden shields. There were a great many light shields and abandoned carts for them to collect too. They used all these things to boil meat so that they had food for that day.
Late in the morning, heralds arrived from the king and Tissaphernes. They were all barbarians, except for a single Greek* named Phalinus; he was attached to Tissaphernes and had gained his respect because he claimed to be an expert on tactics and hoplite warfare. The heralds approached and called the Greek leaders to a meeting. They said that the king’s instructions to the Greeks were as follows: since he was the victor, having killed Cyrus, they were to surrender their weapons and go to the king’s court to see if they might meet with good fortune there. These words angered the Greeks, but Clearchus managed at least to say that it was not usual for victors to surrender their weapons. ‘However,’ he went on, ‘it is up to you, my fellow generals, to make the best and most honourable reply you can to these heralds, and I’ll be straight back.’ For one of his attendants had come to fetch him to examine the entrails which had been taken out of the victim he had been in the middle of sacrificing.
Then Cleanor of Arcadia, the oldest man present, replied that they would die rather than surrender their weapons. And Proxenus of Thebes said: ‘What puzzles me, Phalinus, is whether the king is demanding our weapons in the belief that he has defeated us, or as gifts freely given as tokens of our friendship. If he believes that he has defeated us, why should he demand them from us, rather than come and take them? But if he wants to persuade us to give them to him, let him tell our men what they will gain if they do him this favour.’
‘It is the view of the king’, Phalinus replied, ‘that he is the victor, since he has killed Cyrus. After all, is there anyone who is now challenging him for the throne? And he thinks that you too are his vassals, since he has you in the middle of his territory, caught between uncrossable rivers, and is in a position to bring so many men up against you that you wouldn’t be able to kill them all even if he made it easy for you.’
Theopompus†* of Athens was the next to speak. ‘Phalinus,’ he said, ‘as you can see, at the moment we have nothing going for us except our weapons and our courage. If we keep our weapons, we think we can make use of our courage, but if we surrender them, we will probably lose our lives as well. So please don’t imagine that we’re going to hand our only advantage over to you. No, we shall use our weapons to fight you and try to take your things from you’.
Phalinus laughed at this and said: ‘You sound like a philosopher, boy, with your elegant words. But you’re being stupid, you know, if you imagine that your courage could defeat the king with all his power.’
Others, it was said, took a softer line and suggested that, just as they had been loyal to Cyrus, so they could prove of immense value to the king too, if he was willing to be their friend. Whatever else he might want to use them for, they said, they could help him subdue Egypt, if he wanted to use them for a campaign there.*
Just then Clearchus came back and asked whether they had already given their reply. Before anyone else could speak, Phalinus said: ‘They’re all saying different things, Clearchus. Why don’t you tell us what you think?’
‘Phalinus,’ Clearchus replied, ‘I was glad to see you and so, I imagine, was everyone else. You are, after all, a Greek and so are all those you see here. As things are, we would like to hear what you think we should do in response to your message. So please, in the name of the gods, tell us what you think would be the best and most honourable course of action for us. If you do, the story people will tell in the future will greatly enhance your reputation. “Phalinus”, they’ll say, “was once sent by the king to tell the Greeks to surrender their weapons, but when asked for his advice he gave it to them and this is what he said.” You know that the advice you give is bound to be reported in Greece.’
Clearchus’ intention, in offering this bait, was to see whether even the king’s representative would advise them not to surrender their weapons, which would raise the Greeks’ hopes for the future. But contrary to Clearchus’ expectations, Phalinus refused to take the bait. ‘My advice,’ he said, ‘is that you should not surrender your weapons, if you have the slightest chance of saving your lives by fighting the king; but if you have no chance of survival as long as the king remains uncooperative, I advise you to do what you must to save your lives.’
‘That may be your advice,’ Clearchus retorted, ‘but here’s our message for the king. It is our opinion that if we’re to be the king’s friends, we’d be worth more as friends with our weapons in our hands rather than in someone else’s, and if we’re to be his enemies, we’d be more effective enemies with our weapons in our hands rather than in someone else’s.’
‘All right,’ said Phalinus, ‘we shall take this message back to the king. But he also told us to tell you that there will be a truce if you remain here, but war if you advance or retreat. So please respond to this too. What message shall I deliver to the king? That you will stay where you are and let there be a truce, or is it to be war?’
‘On this matter’, Clearchus said, ‘you can tell him that we agree with him.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Phalinus.
‘That if we stay there will be a truce, but if we advance or retreat, there will be war,’ said Clearchus.
Phalinus repeated his question: ‘Am I to report truce or war?’ And Clearchus repeated his answer: ‘Truce if we stay, war if we advance or retreat.’ But he gave no hint of what he was going to do.
[2] Phalinus and his companions went away, and Procles and Chirisophus arrived from Ariaeus–without Meno, who had stayed with Ariaeus. The message they brought from Ariaeus was that there were many Persians more noble than himself who would not tolerate his being king. ‘But if you want to join him for the journey home’, the messengers said, ‘he asks you to come tonight. Otherwise, he says, he’ll set off early tomorrow morning.’
‘Here’s the situation,’ said Clearchus. ‘If we come, it will be as you say; if we don’t come, do whatever you think will be best for you.’ But he did not tell them either what he was going to do.
By then the sun was setting. Clearchus summoned the generals and company commanders to a meeting and spoke to them more or less as follows: ‘My friends, when I was sacrificing to see whether we should attack the king, the omens were not good. And, as it turns out, it makes good sense that they were not favourable, because I have now discovered that between us and the king there lies the Tigris. This is a navigable river: we would need boats to cross it, but we don’t have any boats. However, we can’t stay where we are either, because we have no way of getting provisions here. But the omens strongly supported the idea of going to join Cyrus’ friends. What you must do, then, is go back to your quarters and make the best meal you can out of what you have. When the horn gives the signal for rest,* pack up your belongings. When it gives the second signal, load up the yoke-animals. At the third signal, follow the group in front of you, with your yoke-animals by the river and your hoplites on the outside.’
The meeting then broke up and the generals and company commanders went and carried out their orders. From then on, Clearchus took command and the rest obeyed– not because they had elected him to this position, but because he was plainly the only one with the mentality of a leader, while the rest were untried.
During the night, Miltocythes of Thrace deserted to the king and took with him about 40 cavalrymen and about 300 Thracian foot soldiers, but the rest carried out Clearchus’ instructions and followed his lead. They reached the first staging area around midnight and found Ariaeus and his army there. With the men halted under arms, the Greek generals and company commanders met with Ariaeus. The Greeks and Ariaeus, joined by his senior officers, swore an oath that neither side would betray the other and that they would remain allies; the barbarians also swore that they would act as guides, without treachery. After swearing this oath, they sacrificed a bull, a wolf, a boar, and a ram, letting the blood flow into a shield, where the Greeks dipped a sword and the barbarians a spear.
After this exchange of pledges, Clearchus said: ‘Ariaeus, do please tell us, since we’re all going to make the same journey, what you think about the route. Do you think we should take the same route back that we came by, or do you have an alternative route in mind which you feel would be better?’
‘If we were to return by the same route,’ Ariaeus replied, ‘we’d starve to death. We’re out of provisions already, and even on our way here the land offered us nothing for the last seventeen stages–or we used up what little there was as we passed through. So our plan is to take a route which is longer but will keep us in provisions. But we have to make the first stages of the march as long as we can, so as to put as much distance as possible between us and the king’s army. I mean, once we’ve got two or three days’ march ahead of him, it will be impossible for him to catch us up, because he won’t dare to follow us with a small force, and a large force will slow him down. And he too may well be short of provisions. Anyway,’ he concluded, ‘this is my view.’
This plan allowed for only two possibilities: they could either slip away unseen or they could outdistance the enemy. But Fortune had a better plan in mind. They set out at daybreak with the sun on their right, and calculated that they would reach some Babylonian villages as the sun was setting. These calculations proved correct, but late in the afternoon they thought they saw some enemy horsemen. Those of the Greeks who happened to be out of formation ran to rejoin their lines, Ariaeus (who was travelling on a cart because he was wounded) got down and buckled on his breastplate, and the members of his retinue did likewise. But while they were arming themselves, the scouts who had been sent on ahead returned and reported that they were not enemy horsemen, but grazing yoke-animals. Everyone immediately realized that the king had made his camp somewhere near by, and in fact smoke was visible from villages in the middle distance.
Clearchus refused to advance against the enemy because, even apart from the lateness of the hour, he knew that his men were tired and short of food. But he also refused to change direction, because he was taking care to avoid any impression of flight. So he carried straight on and just as the sun was setting he and the vanguard reached the nearest villages, from which the king’s army had stolen even the timbers from the houses, and set up camp. The later arrivals, however, came after dark and bivouacked however and wherever they could. In the process they made so much noise, calling out to one another, that even the enemy heard them. The upshot was that the nearest of the enemy troops actually ran away from where they had pitched their tents. This became clear the next day, when there was no longer a single yoke-animal to be seen, nor a camp, nor any trace of smoke anywhere near by. Even the king was apparently terrified at the approach of the army, as his actions the following day clearly showed.
During the night, however, fear gripped the Greeks too, and along with fear there arose, of course, a din and commotion. Now, Tolmides of Elis, the best herald of the time, happened to be there with Clearchus, so Clearchus told him to call for silence and then make the following announcement: ‘Your commanding officers proclaim that whoever gives us the name of the man who let the ass loose among the weapons will receive as a reward a talent of silver.’* This announcement made the men realize that their fear was groundless and that their leaders were safe. At dawn the following day Clearchus ordered the Greeks to arm themselves and take up the same positions they had held during the battle.
[3] Although on the previous day the king had ordered the Greeks, by messenger, to surrender their weapons, he now sent heralds at sunrise to negotiate a truce—and so revealed, as I mentioned above, that he was terrified by the approach of the Greeks. The heralds came up to the sentries and asked to see the Greek leaders. The sentries conveyed their request and Clearchus– who happened at that moment to be inspecting the ranks– told the sentries to tell the heralds to wait until he had time to see them. Once he had arranged the troops so that they would make a fine display as a closely packed phalanx from whichever direction one looked, with none of the men who lacked arms or armour visible from the outside, he summoned the messengers. He went up to meet them with a retinue of his best-looking and best-armed soldiers, and he told the other generals to do the same.
He approached the messengers and asked what they wanted. They replied that they had come to discuss a truce, and that they would be qualified to deliver the king’s message to the Greeks and the Greeks’ response to the king. ‘Tell the king, then,’ Clearchus said, ‘that we must first fight. For there is no food for our morning meal and it would be a bold man indeed who would negotiate with Greeks about a truce without having supplied them with their morning meal.’ The messengers then rode away, but they returned so quickly that the king, or at any rate someone who had been made responsible for these negotiations, must have been near by. They said that the king considered their demand reasonable and that they had brought guides with them who would show them where they could get provisions, provided that a truce had been concluded. Clearchus asked whether the truce would apply only to the men who were coming and going, or to everyone else as well. ‘To everyone,’ they replied, ‘as long as the king has received your answer.’
On hearing this, Clearchus asked them to retire and talked things over with his advisers. They decided to conclude the truce quickly, † so that they could go and get supplies without being harassed. But Clearchus said, ‘I agree, but I’m not in a hurry to deliver the news. I shall delay until the messengers start to worry that we might refuse the offer of a truce. Mind you,’ he said, ‘I suppose our men will feel the same fear.’ When he felt that the right time had come, he told the messengers that he accepted the truce and asked to be taken straight away to the provisions.
Despite the truce, Clearchus still had the men march in battle order, following their guides, and he personally took charge of the rear. They kept coming across water-filled trenches and canals which were uncrossable without bridges, but they used fallen palm trees to make causeways, and cut others down themselves. This situation gave one the opportunity to observe Clearchus at work as a leader. He carried a spear in his left hand and a stick in his right, and if he had occasion to think that there was some shirking going on among the crews assigned to construct a causeway, he would single out the appropriate person and beat him.* At the same time, he would step into the mud himself and lend a hand, which shamed everyone into working just as hard as him. The construction work had been assigned to men under the age of thirty, but the sight of Clearchus hard at work made the older men join in too. Clearchus was in a particular hurry because he suspected that the trenches were not always this full of water; after all, it was not the season for irrigating the plain. He suspected that the king had released the water over the plain as a way of making the Greeks think that their way was riddled with obstacles.*
So they made their way to some villages where their guides indicated that they could get provisions. These villages had plenty of grain, and palm wine, and a vinegary drink made by boiling palm sap. As for the actual dates, those of the quality one can find in Greece were kept for slaves, while special ones were reserved for the masters: they were astonishingly beautiful and large, and looked just like amber. Then there were others which they dried and put aside for later use as sweets. These sweets made a tasty accompaniment to wine too, but gave one a headache. This was also the occasion when the men first ate the cabbage of the palm.* Most of them were astonished not only at its appearance but also by its peculiar taste; but it too was very likely to give one a headache. Once the cabbage had been removed from a palm, the whole tree tended to wither.
During their three days there, Tissaphernes came from the Great King, along with the king’s wife’s brother,* three other Persians, and a large number of slaves as their attendants. Tissaphernes, speaking through a translator, was the first to address the meeting they held with the Greek generals. ‘Men of Greece,’ he said, ‘I myself live close to your homeland. When I saw all the troubles you had run into, I thought it would be wonderful if I could somehow get permission from the king to take you safely home to Greece. For I imagine that I would earn not only your thanks but the gratitude of the whole of Greece as well. Bearing this in mind, I kept asking the king for permission. I reminded him that he owed me a favour, because I was the first to tell him that Cyrus was mounting an expedition against him, because I brought reinforcements along with the message, and because I was the only one of the commanders deployed against the Greeks who did not turn and flee. In fact, I reminded him, I actually broke through your lines and joined forces with him in your camp,* where he found himself after killing Cyrus, and I pursued Cyrus’ barbarian corps with the help of these men whom you now see here with me, who are his most faithful servants. He promised me that he would think about it, and he told me to come and ask you why you had joined a campaign against him. I would advise you to give him a prudent answer, because that will make it easier for me to get for you whatever benefits I can from him.’
The Greeks retired to think about their response and then, with Clearchus as their spokesman, they gave the following reply: ‘We did not assemble with the intention of making war on the king, nor were we marching against the king. As you know as well as anyone, Cyrus kept coming up with various pretexts, because he wanted to find you unprepared and he wanted us to accompany him all the way here. Eventually, we could see that his situation was desperate, and then we felt that both gods and men would despise us if we let him down, because earlier we had let him be our benefactor. But now that Cyrus is dead, we are not challenging the king for his throne, nor do we have any reason to want to harm the king’s territory or kill him. We would rather make our way home without any harassment, but if anyone initiates hostilities against us we will defend ourselves, with the help of the gods, to the best of our ability. However, we will also do our best to surpass the generosity of anyone who takes the lead in helping us.’
After this speech by Clearchus, Tissaphernes said: ‘I shall take this message of yours to the king, and I shall bring back his for you. Let the truce remain in force until I return, and in the meantime we shall sell you your provisions.’
Tissaphernes did not return the next day, which worried the Greeks, but he turned up the day after that with the news that he had got permission from the king to keep the Greeks safe, even though the idea had met with vociferous disagreement from those who thought the king was demeaning himself in letting people who had marched against him go free. And at the end of his speech he said: ‘And now please accept our assurances: we will make sure that you are unmolested as you travel through our territory; we will guide you back to Greece without treachery; we will sell you your provisions, and wherever we don’t we will let you take what you need from the countryside. But for your part you must swear that you will march as though you were passing through friendly territory, without damaging it in any way; that you will take food and drink from it only when we fail to supply you with goods for sale; and that when we do provide a market you will buy your provisions rather than getting them in any other way’
These terms were agreed upon, oaths were exchanged, and Tissaphernes and the king’s wife’s brother shook hands on the deal with the Greek generals and company commanders. Then Tissaphernes said: ‘I’m going to go back to the king now, but I shall return when I’ve got what I want. I will be all equipped and ready to guide you back to Greece and, for my part, to return to my own province.’
[4] After this the Greeks and Ariaeus, who had made their camps near one another, waited more than twenty days for Tissaphernes to return. While they were waiting, Ariaeus was joined by his brothers and all the rest of his family, and some of his men were visited by their Persian friends and relatives. These Persians tried to raise their friends’ morale, and some brought hand-tokens* from the king, to assure them that he would not hold any of their past actions against them, including joining Cyrus’ campaign. With all this going on, it became clear that Ariaeus and his men were less committed to the Greeks, and this was one of the reasons why most of the Greeks were becoming unhappy about their allies. They kept coming up to Clearchus and his fellow generals and saying: ‘What are we waiting for? Isn’t it clear that the king’s highest priority is to destroy us, to deter any other Greeks from campaigning against the Great King? At the moment he’s tempting us to stay because his army is scattered, but once it has been reassembled, he’s bound to attack us. Perhaps he’s digging a trench somewhere, or building a wall, to make our route impassable. He’s not just going to sit back happily and let us return to Greece with the news that, for all our small numbers, we defeated the king’s army close to his headquarters, made him a laughing stock, and then left.’
‘I’m aware of all this,’ Clearchus would say in response to these remarks, ‘but it’s my view that if we leave now our departure will be taken as an act of war and a violation of the truce. Moreover, and most importantly, no one will sell us supplies or let us stock up on provisions anywhere. Then again, we shall have no one to guide us, and as soon as we adopt this plan Ariaeus will abandon us. The upshot will be that we’ll have no friends left; even those who were our friends before will be our enemies. Then there may be other rivers we need to cross—I don’t know about that, but we do know that the Euphrates cannot be crossed in the face of hostile resistance. Also, suppose we have to fight: we have no cavalry on our side, but the enemy has a great many horsemen of outstanding ability. This means that if we win we won’t be able to kill anyone, and if we lose we won’t be able to save anyone.* Anyway, for my part, and bearing in mind all the support the king has, I fail to see why he would need to swear an oath, shake hands on it, perjure himself before the gods, and destroy the trust both Greeks and barbarians might have in his assurances, if he really wanted to kill us.’ This is the kind of response Clearchus gave over and over again.
Meanwhile Tissaphernes returned at the head of his own troops, as if he were intending to go back home, and Orontas arrived with his forces too. Orontas was also taking the king’s daughter with him, to be his wife.* Then at last they set off, with Tissaphernes taking the lead and making sure there were provisions for sale. Ariaeus, with Cyrus’ barbarian corps, marched along with Tissaphernes and Orontas, and made camp with them too. The Greeks viewed the Persians with suspicion and marched by themselves, with their own guides. The Greeks and the Persians also made their camps each day a parasang or more apart from one another, and both sides took the kind of precautions against each other that they would against hostile forces– which of course increased their mutual mistrust. Sometimes, in fact, when they were collecting wood and fodder and so on from the same place, blows were exchanged, which did nothing to heal the rift between them.
Three days of travel brought them to and then past the so-called Median Wall.* The wall, which is not far from Babylon, was built out of baked bricks bedded in asphalt; it was twenty feet wide and a hundred feet high, and was said to be twenty parasangs long. During the next two stages they covered eight parasangs and crossed two canals, one by bridge and the other by a pontoon made from seven boats. The canals started at the Tigris and in their turn fed trenches which had been excavated all over the land. These trenches started large and then got smaller, until finally there were little irrigation channels, such as one finds in millet fields in Greece.
So they reached the Tigris. Near the river––fifteen stades away—was a large, populous city called Sittace.* The Greeks set up camp next to the city, close to a park which was large, beautiful, and thickly wooded with a variety of trees; the barbarians crossed the river and could not be seen. That evening, after they had eaten, Proxenus and Xenophon happened to be strolling in front of the place where the weapons were stacked, when a man came up to the sentries and asked them where he could find Proxenus or Clearchus. He did not ask for Meno,* despite the fact that he had come from Ariaeus, Meno’s guest-friend. Proxenus identified himself as the person he was looking for and the man said: ‘I was sent here by Ariaeus and Artaozus, who were trusted advisers of Cyrus and are on your side. They suggest that you take precautions against a possible night attack by the barbarians. There’s a sizeable force in the nearby park. And they recommend that you post guards on the bridge across the Tigris, because Tissaphernes intends to destroy it during the night, if he can, to prevent you crossing it and to leave you trapped between the river and the canal.’
After hearing the man’s message, they took him to Clearchus and told him what he had said. Clearchus was deeply disturbed and became very frightened, but a young man who was there thought it over and pointed out that it did not make sense to launch an attack and to destroy the bridge. ‘After all,’ he said, ‘the attackers are bound either to win or to lose. If they win, why would they have to destroy the bridge? Even if there were lots of bridges, we still wouldn’t be able to escape and save ourselves. On the other hand, if we win, they won’t be able to escape if the bridge has been destroyed. Also, if the bridge has been destroyed, none of all their men on the far side of the river will be able to come to their assistance.’
Clearchus then asked the messenger how much land there was between the Tigris and the canal, and the man replied that there was a lot of land, with villages and even a number of sizeable towns. Then everyone realized that the barbarians had underhand motives in sending the man: they were worried about the Greeks destroying the bridge and staying on the island with the Tigris and the canal to either side as their defences, and with supplies available from the extensive, fertile land (which even had people already living there who could cultivate it). Moreover, the region could also become a place of refuge for rebels against the king.
The Greeks then began to settle down for the night, but they did post guards on the bridge. No one attacked them from any quarter, however, and the guards reported that not one enemy soldier approached the bridge. At daybreak they crossed the bridge (which was made of thirty-seven boats) with extreme caution, because some of the Greeks with Tissaphernes had told them that they would be attacked during the crossing. But this turned out not to be true. What did happen while they were crossing, however, was that Glous appeared, accompanied by some other men, to check that they were crossing the river. After seeing that they were, he rode off.
The next leg was a four-day march of twenty parasangs that took them from the Tigris to the Physcus river,* which was a plethron wide and had a bridge over it. There was a large city there called Opis, and near this city the Greeks were met by the illegitimate brother of Cyrus and Artaxerxes, who had come from Susa and Ecbatana at the head of a large army of reinforcements, apparently for the king. He halted his army and watched the Greeks as they passed by. Clearchus led the troops two abreast, and also had them halt from time to time. While the front sections of the army were halted, the pause inevitably ran back through the entire army, and the upshot was that even the Greeks themselves got the impression of an enormous army, and the watching Persian was astounded.
The next leg was a six-day march of thirty parasangs through the Median desert that brought them to the villages belonging to Parysatis,* the mother of Cyrus and the king. In order to mock the memory of Cyrus, Tissaphernes allowed the Greeks to take whatever they wanted from these villages, except slaves. But there was plenty of grain there, and sheep and goats, and other goods. The next leg was a four-day march of twenty parasangs, keeping the Tigris on their left. During the first stage there was on the far side of the river a large and prosperous city called Caenae, from which the barbarians brought over bread, cheese, and wine on rafts made from animal hides.
[5] They next reached the Zapatas river, which was four plethra wide. During their three days there they had the feeling that the Persians had designs against them, but nothing actually happened. Clearchus therefore decided to meet Tissaphernes, to see if he could dissolve the tension before it led to open warfare between them. He sent a messenger to ask for a meeting and Tissaphernes promptly invited him to come.
At the meeting, Clearchus said: ‘Tissaphernes, I am well aware that we have sworn under oath and pledged that neither of us will initiate hostilities against the other, but I can see that you are taking the kinds of precautions against us that you would against enemies and this has made us take equivalent counter-measures. However, my investigations have produced no evidence that you are trying to injure us and I know for sure that we have no such scheme in mind either. So I wanted to talk things over with you, to see whether we could banish this mutual mistrust. For I know that in the past on various occasions lies and mistrust have made people so frightened of one another that, wanting to act before the others did, they have done irreparable harm to people who had no harmful intentions or desires. Discussion is, I think, the best cure for such misunderstandings, and that’s why I’ve come here. I want to prove to you that your suspicions about us are unfounded.
‘The critical first point is that enmity between us is ruled out by the oaths we have sworn before the gods. In my opinion, anyone who knows that he has violated such oaths is bound to suffer. After all, I don’t see how anyone could run fast enough to escape the hostility of the gods, or could find anywhere dark enough to hide or strong enough to keep him safe. Everything everywhere is subject to the gods and no matter where or what one is, the gods are in control. Anyway, this is what I think about our oaths and the gods, into whose hands we entrusted our contract of friendship. As for us humans, I believe that at the moment we have no greater benefactor than you. With you, we easily travel every road, cross every river, and keep ourselves supplied with provisions. Without you, every road is shrouded in the darkness of our ignorance, every river is hard to cross, and every crowd is frightening––and yet there is nothing more frightening than solitude, which teems with uncertainties. And what would happen if, in a fit of madness, we were to kill you? Our dead benefactor would be replaced by the most dangerous opponent of all, the king, who would be waiting to take us on.*
‘Then again, let me tell you that if I tried to do you the slightest harm, I would be robbing myself of so many high hopes for the future. I wanted to be close to Cyrus because I thought there was no one alive who was better placed to help those he wanted to help. But I can now see that, in addition to preserving your own province, you have also gained Cyrus’ resources and his territory, and that all the might of the king, which Cyrus found deployed against him, is backing you up. Under these circumstances, is there anyone mad enough not to want to be your friend?
‘But let me also tell you why I hope that you too will want to be on good terms with us. I know that the Mysians are causing you trouble, but I think that with my present army I could make them your subjects. I also know that the Pisidians are troublesome, and I hear that the same goes for a number of other peoples and tribes, but I think that I could stop them constantly bothering you and spoiling your contentment. As for the Egyptians, who I understand make you particularly furious, I can’t imagine what army could help you punish them more effectively than the one I now have under my command. Then there are all your neighbours: it’s true that you could choose to be on the best possible terms with them, but if any of them caused you trouble, you could behave like their master, with us working for you. We wouldn’t serve you just for pay, but also because we would be properly grateful to you for having kept us alive.
‘When I bear all this in mind, I find your mistrust of us extra-ordinary. In fact, there’s nothing I’d like more than to be given the name of the man who’s such a clever talker that he can persuade you by mere words that we are planning to do you harm.’
Once Clearchus had finished, Tissaphernes replied as follows: ‘I’m delighted to hear you making such good sense, Clearchus. After all, as long as you hold these views, you’d be working against your own interests too, I think, if you were to intrigue against me. But now listen to my response, because I want you to appreciate that you too have no good reason to mistrust either the king or me. If we wanted to do away with you, do we strike you as being short of cavalry or foot soldiers or military equipment? Don’t you think we have enough of them to harm you without being in any danger of suffering the same in return? Do you perhaps think that we are short of suitable places from which to launch an attack against you? Can’t you see how vast these plains are and how arduous your journey across them is even under favourable conditions? Can’t you see the huge mountain ranges you’re going to have to cross, where we could occupy the passes before you got there and stop you getting through? Look at the size of the rivers, where we could regulate how many of you we wanted to fight. You wouldn’t even be able to get across some of these rivers at all, without us to ferry you. Even if we were defeated at all these places, fire of course still defeats crops. We could burn up the crops and use starvation as a weapon of war against you, and you could not fight against that, however brave you were.
‘You can see all the resources we can wield against you as instruments of war, without the slightest risk to ourselves. Why, then, given all these possibilities, would we choose the only one which is immoral in the eyes of the gods and contemptible in the eyes of men? It is those who are in dire straits, utterly without resources and stratagems– –and even then they must be degenerates– –who are willing to achieve their goals by taking the name of the gods in vain and by breaking their promises to men. We are not so obtuse, Clearchus; we are not so stupid.
‘Why, then, if it was possible for us to destroy you, did we not go ahead and do it? The reason for this, I can tell you, was my desire to win the Greeks’ trust. When Cyrus marched up country with your mercenaries, he put his faith in the fact that he was your paymaster; I want to make the journey back with the same corps of mercenaries, but with the security of knowing that I have done you good. As for all the ways in which you can be useful to me, you have mentioned some, but only I know the most important point. Only the king may wear the royal crown upright on his head, but perhaps, with your support, someone else too might easily so wear the crown that is in his heart.’*
Clearchus thought Tissaphernes was telling the truth, so he said: ‘And what about those who are trying by their lies to make us enemies, despite all the good reasons we have for friendship? Don’t they deserve to suffer the ultimate penalty?’
‘Yes’ Tissaphernes said, ‘and if you and your generals and company commanders would like to come and see me, I will disclose the names of those who have been warning me of your “plots” against me and my army’
‘I’ll bring all my officers,’ Clearchus replied, ‘and I’ll tell you too the sources of the reports I’ve been hearing about you.’
After this conversation Tissaphernes, as a gesture of friendship, invited Clearchus to stay with him for a while. He had Clearchus join him for the evening meal, and the next day Clearchus returned to the Greek camp. He made it clear that he had, in his opinion, got on very well with Tissaphernes, and he repeated what Tissaphernes had been saying. He went on to say that the officers Tissaphernes had invited should go, and that any Greeks who were convicted of trying to set Tissaphernes and him against each other ought to be punished as traitors who were working against the Greeks’ best interests. He suspected that it was Meno who was trying to stir up trouble, because he knew that while Meno had been with Ariaeus he had met Tissaphernes, and he was aware that Meno was trying to arouse opposition against him and was looking for a way to win Tissaphernes’ friendship by gaining control over the entire army. Clearchus, however, really wanted to have the whole army loyal to him, and to get rid of the troublemakers. Some of the soldiers began to argue that the company commanders and generals should not all go, and that Tissaphernes was not to be trusted; but Clearchus was strongly insistent* and eventually got them to agree that five generals and twenty company commanders could go. About 200 soldiers from the rest of the army also went along, with the intention of buying provisions.
When they reached the entrance to Tissaphernes’ tent, the generals—Proxenus of Boeotia, Meno of Thessaly, Agias of Arcadia, Clearchus of Sparta, and Socrates of Achaea—were invited inside, while the company commanders waited by the entrance. A short while later, at a single signal, those who were inside were seized and those who were outside were murdered.* Then some of the barbarian horsemen rode across the plain, killing every Greek they came across, whether free man or slave. The Greeks in their camp were surprised to see all this riding about, but they did not know what the Persians were doing, until Nicarchus of Arcadia managed to escape. He reached the Greek camp, holding his entrails in his hands from a wound to the guts, and told them all that had happened. The Greeks were terrified, and they ran to get their weapons, thinking that an attack on the camp was imminent.
Not all the Persians came, however—only Ariaeus, Artaozus, and Mithradates, who had been Cyrus’ most trusted friends. The Greeks’ translator said that he also saw with them a man whom he recognized as Tissaphernes’ brother. They were accompanied by about three hundred other Persians as well, wearing breastplates. After approaching the Greek camp, they said they had a message from the king and they called on any surviving Greek officers to come up and receive it. Before long two Greek generals– Cleanor of Orchomenus and Sophaenetus of Stymphalus– rode out from the camp with a bodyguard; they were joined by Xenophon of Athens, who wanted to find out what had happened to Proxenus. Chirisophus was not there: he and some others had gone to a village to stock up on supplies.
When they had halted within hearing distance, Ariaeus spoke as follows: ‘Men of Greece, Clearchus was found to be perjuring himself and breaking the truce: he has paid for these crimes with his death. Proxenus and Meno,* however, are high in the king’s favour, because they denounced Clearchus’ intrigues. As for you, the king demands the surrender of your weapons, on the grounds that they are rightly his, because they belonged to Cyrus, who was his slave.’
Cleanor of Orchomenus said: ‘Ariaeus, you are an unspeakable villain– you and all the rest of you who used to be Cyrus’ friends. Do you not feel shame, before either gods or men, for having joined Tissaphernes, the most godless evildoer imaginable, in betraying us, after swearing that our friends would be your friends and our enemies your enemies? Do you not feel shame for having killed the very men with whom you swore these oaths and for treacherously marching with the enemy against the rest of us?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Ariaeus replied, ‘because it has been known for a while now that Clearchus was scheming against Tissaphernes and Orontas, and against all of us who are on their side.’
At this point Xenophon said: ‘Well, if Clearchus really was trying to break the truce in violation of his oaths, he has paid for it. Death, after all, is the appropriate penalty for perjurers. But Proxenus and Meno are your benefactors and generals of ours, so please have them come here. It stands to reason that as friends both to you and to us they will endeavour to come up with a plan which is in the best interests of both sides.’ At this, the barbarians talked among themselves for a long time and then left without giving any kind of reply.
[6] The Greek generals who were captured as described were taken to the king and beheaded.* One of them, Clearchus, was universally held by those who knew him to have been not just good at warfare, but absolutely devoted to it. For example, he stayed around while the Spartans were at war with the Athenians,* but after the peace treaty he persuaded his fellow citizens that Greeks were suffering at Thracian hands, and once he had managed to get his way with the ephors,* he set sail to make war on the Thracians who live beyond the Chersonese and Perinthus. For some reason the ephors changed their mind after he had already left, but when they tried to recall him from the Isthmus, he stopped obeying their orders and sailed off to the Hellespont.* For this disobedience, he was then condemned to death by the Spartan authorities. An exile by this time from his native land, he approached Cyrus and won him over with arguments which have been recorded elsewhere.* Cyrus gave him 10,000 darics, but Clearchus did not change and spend the money on a life of ease: he used it to raise an army and make war on the Thracians. Once he had defeated the Thracians in a pitched battle, he plundered their land and carried on fighting them until Cyrus needed his army; then he left Thrace to go to war again, this time with Cyrus.
This strikes me as the behaviour of a man who was devoted to warfare. He could have lived in peace without compromising either his dignity or his safety, but he chose war; he could have lived a life of ease, but he preferred hard work, as long as it involved fighting; he could have lived a risk-free, moneyed life, but he preferred to whittle away his fortune on warfare. Just as other men are happy to spend money on their boyfriend or on some other pleasure, so he spent his on warfare. That is how devoted he was to it. At the same time he also gave the impression of being good at warfare, in the sense that he never hesitated to face danger, he was ready to march against the enemy at any hour of the day or night, and he was level-headed even in the most dangerous conditions, as everyone who served with him on any of his campaigns tended to agree.
He was also generally regarded as a good commander, in so far as that is possible for someone with his temperament. At any rate, he was as good as anyone at making sure that his men could get provisions and at procuring them, and he was also good at impressing upon his companions that Clearchus was to be obeyed. His severity helped him in this: he looked stern, had a harsh voice, and used to hand out brutal punishments—sometimes in anger, which meant that he occasionally regretted what he had done. But he also used to punish on principle, because he believed that an army without discipline was useless. In fact, one of his recorded sayings was that a soldier had to be more frightened of his commanding officer than of the enemy if he was to do guard duty, refrain from disputes with his friends, or attack the enemy without finding reasons not to.
At times of danger, then, his men were prepared to obey him unhesitatingly and never elected anyone else to lead them. They said that at such times his sternness manifested itself as joy† and his severity seemed to be self-assurance in the face of the enemy, so that it did not come across as harsh, but gave them a feeling of security. However, when they were out of danger and could go and serve under other commanders, many of his men deserted him, because he was not an agreeable person; his severity and savagery made his men feel the same about him as schoolboys do about their teacher. In other words, men never followed him out of affection or loyalty: he was surrounded by people who had been assigned to him by their cities or had been compelled to join him by poverty or some other pressing need, and he demanded absolute obedience from them. But once they began with his help to defeat their enemies, the factors that made his men efficient soldiers turned out to be important. For it was possible for them to be confident in the face of the enemy and their fear of being punished by him engendered discipline in them. These were his qualities as a leader, but it was widely held that he was not very good at being led by others. He was about fifty years old at the time of his death.
As for Proxenus of Boeotia, even as a boy he wanted to be capable of achieving great things, and he paid Gorgias of Leontini* to help him fulfil this desire. After he had spent time with him, he considered himself capable not only of leadership, but of helping any powerful friends he might acquire as much as they could help him. And so he joined Cyrus on this enterprise because he expected to gain from it fame, power, and wealth. But although he longed for these things, it was also perfectly clear that he was not prepared to compromise his integrity to get them; in his view, he should get them fairly and honourably, or not at all. He was a good leader of men of the better sort, but he failed to inspire rank-and-file soldiers with respect or fear; in fact, he was more in awe of his men than they, his subordinates, were of him. Also, he was obviously more afraid of being disliked by his men than his men were of disobeying him. He thought that, in order to be and to be acknowledged as a good leader, it was enough for him to praise his men when they did well and to deny praise to those who did wrong. This is why he earned the loyalty of those of his companions who were men of the better sort, while unscrupulous men worked against him and regarded him as easy to manipulate. He was about thirty years old at the time of his death.
As for Meno of Thessaly,* it was obvious that he longed to be rich; he wanted military command because it would bring him a greater share of the spoils, he wanted prestige because it would help him increase his wealth, and he wanted to be on good terms with the most powerful men because then he could avoid being punished for his crimes. He thought that the quickest way for him to achieve his goals was to use perjury, lies, and deceit; in his opinion, openness and truthfulness were synonyms for stupidity. He evidently felt no affection for anyone, and if he claimed to be somebody’s friend it soon became clear that he was trying to sabotage him. He never laughed at his enemies, and in conversation he always seemed to be mocking his acquaintances. He never tried to find ways to appropriate his enemies’ property, because he thought it hard to get things from people who were on their guard, and he thought he was the only one who knew that it is easiest to take things from friends because they are unguarded. He was frightened of people he found breaking promises and committing crimes, because he regarded them as well protected, and he tried to exploit people who were moral and honest because he regarded them as weak. A man might be proud of being god-fearing, truthful, and just, but Meno was no less proud of his ability to deceive, to invent lies, and to make his friends appear ridiculous; and he always thought of upright people as unsophisticated. If he wanted to get particularly close to someone, he thought that slandering those who were already intimate with that person was the way to achieve his objective. His technique for making his men compliant was to join in their wrongdoing; in fact, he expected to win respect and admiration by showing that he had the ability and the will to do more wrong than anyone else. When someone split up with him, he considered that he had done him a favour if he had not ruined him while they were still intimate.
It is possible to be mistaken about the inner workings of the man’s mind, but there are aspects of his life which are public knowledge. While he was still in the bloom of youth,* he managed to secure an appointment as one of the generals of the mercenary corps from Aristippus, and although Ariaeus was a barbarian, Meno became very close to him, because Ariaeus had a fondness for beautiful young men.† Also, Meno himself, though still a beardless youth, had Tharypas as his boyfriend, although Tharypas was mature enough to have a beard.* Although Meno had done exactly the same as his fellow generals, he was not executed when they were killed for having helped Cyrus on his expedition against the king: he was put to death by the king later than the others and was not beheaded as Clearchus and the rest of the generals were (which is considered to be the swiftest form of execution). As a man with no redeeming features, he was kept alive in constant torment for a year, it is said, before being killed.
Agias of Arcadia and Socrates of Achaea were also put to death. No one ever scorned these men as cowards in war or found fault with them in matters of friendship. They were both about thirty-five years old.