Food and supplies were procured by pooling our dwindling funds and sending several squads with pack animals into the wretched, foul-smelling village on market days, to wander among the low-slung mud and thatch huts and attempt to barter better prices in large quantities from the wily locals. Our success was mixed, and the wormy, withered vegetables and rancid horsemeat the marketing squads procured made us long for the hearty, if repetitious fare we had enjoyed during the first months of our march out of Sardis.
During these hot, heavy days of enforced village living, the Greeks and the native troops became increasingly soft, losing all perspective as to their true situation. Ariaius' men were deserting to the enemy in droves, and we feared for Ariaius himself, as he received visitors every day from among his Persian relatives, friends and even former comrades-in-arms from the king's forces. He swore that these were merely messages of reassurance from the king, who had pledged that he bore Ariaius no malice for his campaign with Cyrus, and promised to honor the truce, but Proxenus' suspicions grew daily.
"Why are we dallying?" Proxenus finally exclaimed to me impatiently one day, as we took inventory of our stocks for the thousandth time. "Why are we waiting for the king to collect his troops, or to fortify his position? We are in hostile territory, with no provisions except what the benevolent Tissaphernes has given us, and his strength is increasing daily. Which army has time to bide-ours or theirs? Is the king simply going to let us freely return to Greece to laugh about how we got the better of the massed forces of Persia with our ten thousand men, and had our fill of date wine besides?" He swept his maps off the camp table in disgust and stalked outside the tent to assemble the men for yet another review of arms.
I pondered our position. Was Proxenus advocating retreat without the king's permission? That would be suicide, for if we left Tissaphernes' protection we would have no provisions other than what we could loot from the surrounding countryside-a much less certain method than using the markets the village provided us, notwithstanding our dwindling supply of coin. Pillaging would entail breaking our solemn vow to Tissaphernes to keep the truce. Moreover, we would have no guides to lead us back, although Proxenus had developed severe doubts as to the reliability of the king's guides in any case. And leaving now would severely reduce our forces, for it is certain that Ariaius would not accompany us. Our situation was bleak, although a casual observer would never have concluded this, from the laughter and games of the men outside, as they bided their time in the camp.
If Clearchus was thinking the same thing he gave no indication of it when Proxenus finally decided to approach him with his concerns. Hardly looking up from a procurement report he was reviewing in irritation with a trembling and stammering quartermaster, he dismissively waved off Proxenus' worries.
"If Artaxerxes had wanted to attack us, he would have had no need for the oaths and pledges we swore," he said. "The king and Tissaphernes don't have shit for brains. Let them break their word in front of the whole world. We might all die, but we'll take down five of his for every one of ours, and I'll not add to our disgrace by breaking our word in the bargain."
Proxenus returned to the tent furious at Clearchus' refusal to act, although Xenophon reminded him that one could hardly expect otherwise. We had little time to stew further, however, for the next day Tissaphernes arrived with his forces, who despite our worst fears were not in battle array, and he put Clearchus and Proxenus instantly at ease with his jovial manner. His wife, the king's daughter, was accompanying him, this time with her entire train, and Xenophon and I watched in astonishment and amusement as Clearchus stepped out of the camp to greet them.
"Did you see Tissaphernes' baggage?" I asked, and pointed out to Xenophon the approaching retinue of servants, wagons loaded with gifts, and silk-bedecked slave girls that the general's wife kept in attendance. For sheer opulence, the train rivaled Cyrus' during the march out of Sardis. Xenophon let out a low whistle.
"Looks like Tissaphernes plans to travel home in style," he said.
I peered at the wagons carefully. "Do you think any of them contain weapons? Could he be plotting any treachery?"
Xenophon smiled. "I think just the opposite," he replied. "I don't believe our friend Tissaphernes has any intention of mussing his clothes by getting into a scrap with a few wayward Greeks accompanying him along the way."
The two armies left the next day. Tissaphernes led the way along the Euphrates, gathering retainers as he traveled, and continuing to provide us with supplies by means of a thrice-weekly market, while Ariaius accompanied him leading his own native troops. The Greeks followed behind, still in full battle order, still suspicious of the Persian's intentions, maintaining a wide distance between ourselves and Tissaphernes' forces. Every night we camped several miles behind Tissaphernes' party, which led to grumbling among the men because of the inconvenience this caused them for gaining access to the market and the slave girls, but a fierce harangue by Clearchus about maintaining military discipline quieted their complaints for a time. After several days of this arrangement, however, his paranoia seemed to be having a damaging effect, as unwarranted suspicions gradually increased the level of tension between the two armies. Hostilities even broke out once or twice between companies of Greeks and Persians who ran into each other in the country on routine scouting patrols or while gathering firewood.
It was about this time that the two armies passed over an enormous irrigation canal, as wide and as swiftly flowing as a river, amazing the men with its breadth and depth, and the next day we reached the Tigris, near the city of Sittace, a mile and a half distant on the other side of the river. We camped in an idyllic setting overlooking the river, covered with soft grass and shaded with wide, overhanging trees. Tissaphernes' forces crossed the river first and camped on the other side with Ariaius' men, out of our line of sight, consistent with the custom that had developed over the past several days. That evening, as I strolled around the camp with Proxenus and Xenophon reviewing preparations, a Persian runner approached us, breathless and ruddy-faced, bearing a small pennant identifying him as a member of Tissaphernes' personal escort.
"The gods be with you," he panted. "I seek either Proxenus or Clearchus, with a message from Ariaius."
"I'm your man," Proxenus answered. "Speak your mind." I thought it odd that Ariaius would address a message to Proxenus, rather than to his personal friend Menon, who was a Greek officer of equal rank to Proxenus, but I kept silent and merely edged closer to listen. The runner glanced uncertainly at me, and then continued.
"Ariaius asked me to preface my message with a reminder that although he travels with Tissaphernes in his train, he was true to Cyrus and remains loyal to his Hellenic friends. Ariaius bids me warn you to be on your guard tonight against an attack. Tissaphernes has deployed a large force just on the other side of the bridge, and means to destroy it to prevent you from crossing, trapping you between the river and the canal."
I stared at him in amazement. Proxenus acted swiftly. Seizing the man by the scruff of the neck, he half dragged, half pushed him to Clearchus' headquarters, which stood a few hundred yards away, to make him repeat his story. On the way there I caught sight of Asteria as she staggered up from the river to the camp followers' quarters, a yoke across her frail shoulders, bearing two buckets of water, a task to which she was wholly unsuited. Asteria did not see me at first, for her eyes were fixed on the messenger, focusing on nothing else. I glanced at the messenger's face just as he, in turn, looked at her, and with a hint of recognition his mouth tightened slightly in a grim smile and he nodded almost imperceptibly. Asteria flushed white, not pink as might a woman suddenly confronted by a hidden or past lover, but rather pale in fear, and quickly averted her gaze. The whole episode had taken not more than a few seconds, but it was something that stayed with me for weeks afterwards, though I wondered whether I had merely imagined it.