Clearchus wasted no time in broaching the reason for our visit. "Lord Tissaphernes," he said gruffly, clearing his throat and belching politely but enthusiastically. "I am grateful for your hospitality. To my mind, that has already answered many of the questions I had when I arrived. I've never doubted your word or your intention to bring us safely back to our homeland. You have entrusted us to your most reliable officers and guides, and I know that no Greek would think to harm even the lowliest baggage carrier in your army."
Tissaphernes gave him a slow, pleased nod at these words, and Clearchus took another swig of the wine from his goblet before continuing.
"Although you and I are confident in our mutual trust, our troops watch each other with suspicion and fear, as if we were still enemies. I know that men often hate each other unnecessarily because of slander. That is why I wished to meet you face to face, to resolve these tensions before they erupt in violence."
He smiled his blackest smile, though the kind words dripped off his tongue like honey.
"You yourself have no reason to mistrust us, if only because of the oath we swore, which to a Greek is sacred. If I broke my oath, where could I run and hide? Not from the gods, who see and know all, and even less from you, dependent as we are. If we were to offend you, we would have to answer to your king on his own territory, or make our way home across a thousand miles of desert without a guide."
Clearchus then leaned in to Tissaphernes, and his voice dropped lower, to a conspiratorial tone. Tissaphernes made no attempt to reciprocate, however, and remained erect in his chair, aloof, though smiling wanly, his fingers tented.
"You, in turn, might also find it in your own interest to keep us safe," Clearchus said quietly. "I know that you face hostilities on your own lands: The Mysians have burned some of your estates, and the Pisidians and Egyptians are making your life miserable. There is not a nation on earth that can stand up to my veterans, and I'd be happy to place my force's strength at your disposal, if this could be of assistance to you."
At this, he reclined back onto his couch, held out his glass for more wine in a confident gesture of familiarity, and hooded his eyes in such a way that he almost appeared to doze. He looked neither at Tissaphernes nor at Xenophon, but seemed satisfied with his statement, and not particularly concerned at any reaction Tissaphernes might have.
Tissaphernes observed him thoughtfully for a few seconds, with an expression almost of amusement, gently twisting the point of his beard and smiling paternalistically. Clearchus' offer of our forces to assist him in his own military campaigns was a brilliant gesture; not only would it ensure our own safe arrival home at Tissaphernes' hands, but would guarantee the troops additional employment for the foreseeable future. A man like Clearchus could want nothing more, and in the best case it would give his men the opportunity to fill their empty purses with some rich Egyptian booty before they returned to their homes.
Tissaphernes then replied, though this time waving away the interpreter. He spoke in fluent Ionian Greek, in language formal and considered.
"My dear Clearchus," he said, assuming a kindly and almost avuncular tone. "I am indeed pleased to hear your words reassuring us of your benign intentions, though I personally would never require such a guarantee from you. Clearly you would have been your own worst enemy had you attempted to do us harm during our travels. For my part, if we had ever felt the need to break our own oath and destroy your army, there would have been no shortage of opportunities to do so. And yet we have never shown you any hostility.
"Though we have so many ways to-dare I say it?-well, destroy you, all without harm to ourselves, we would never choose to offend heaven and man by breaking our sacred oath to protect you and accompany you safely homeward. We are not wicked, General, nor are we foolish. Cyrus trusted you and admired your skills, and sought to put them to good use at the head of his conquering army. I see no reason why I should not do the same. What does it matter which Persian you serve, as long as you are treated fairly and receive your share of the rewards? A wise man once said that only the king may wear a crown on his head, but an honest man may wear one on his heart as well, and I intend to do so."
At this Clearchus snorted, but then smiled wickedly. "So, Tissaphernes, we see eye to eye. I am happy to hear confirmation of your peaceful intent, though I never doubted it myself. In order to prevent doubts from arising among the men in the future, however, I see no better way than to punish anyone caught trying to spread lies about us or incite each other's troops. Don't you agree?"
"Indeed," the wily old Persian said, sucking in his breath, after only a moment of hesitation. He remained silent for a moment, as if lost in thought. "If that is our agreed-upon solution, Clearchus, then let us pursue it actively and whole-heartedly, rooting out these sources of tension and destroying them. Come back tomorrow with your captains and officers. I shall do the same, and we shall point out to each other those who have been whispering slander into our men's ears to incite the other side to needless attack."
This was, of course, precisely what Clearchus had sought in his suggestion that slanderers be punished, for he was absolutely confident of the reliability of his own Greek officers, but had begun to suspect the motives of Ariaius and his men, particularly after the Tigris bridge incident several weeks before.
As we rode out of the Persian camp that night, Clearchus was silent, but pleased. He had settled the matter of Tissaphernes' suspicions, and had further consolidated his army's status with the Persians for future campaigns. Further, he looked forward to identifying the traitors among the Persians who had been making so much trouble for the Greeks during the past several weeks' march, putting threatening ideas into their heads and wasting their resources. Xenophon had not spoken a word the entire evening, but did so now, cautiously, reluctant to interrupt Clearchus' thoughts.
"With all due respect, General, are you not concerned that your attempt to draw out accusations might implicate some blameless Greek officer? I would wager that all the plotters in this farce are on the Persian side, but Tissaphernes will hardly be satisfied with our pointing them out to be put to death, without giving him an equal opportunity to see a Hellene or two die."
Clearchus considered this silently for a moment, with a half smile on his face.
"No Greeks will die because of this," he finally said, "and I'd be surprised if any of Tissaphernes' goat-fuckers did either. It's not in either army's interest to lose officers in the middle of a campaign. Watch, though-we'll make Ariaius piss his trousers, and then keep him as useful to us in the future as he has been in the past." He laughed, a short, sterile laugh, and then looked at Xenophon more closely.
"You look familiar," he said. "I'd almost think I'd known you before this whole fucked-up project began, but I couldn't have. You're barely out of your mother's arms. You weren't in Thrace, were you?"
"No, General. I've hardly been out of Athens since I was an ephebe."
Clearchus shrugged, then glanced down at Xenophon's sword. "Looks like a Spartan weapon. You have better taste in arms than your average Athenian," he grunted, and reached across the gap between their horses to pull it out of the scabbard swinging on Xenophon's hip. He inspected the blade and handle in silence for a moment until his glance fell on the deep, crudely engraved Greek letter K, the first letter of his name, and his eyes bulged.