CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
Almost the first person that the Athenian saw when he disembarked at
Tarsus was Xenophon. The latter was evidently in the highest spirits.
“You are come at exactly the right moment,” he cried. “All is going
well; but, three days ago, I should have said that all would end badly.
Cyrus and Clearchus have thrown for great stakes, and they have won; but
at first the dice were against them. But I forget; you know nothing of
what happened. I will explain. You know something about Cyrus, the Great
King’s brother?”
Callias assented.
“You know that he was scarcely contented to be what he was, in fact that
he was disposed to claim the throne.”
“I heard some talk of the kind when I was with Alcibiades.”
“Listen then to what happened. Cyrus, to put a long story in a few
words, collected by one means or another about thirteen thousand Greek
soldiers. He gave out that he was going to lead them against the
mountain tribes of Cilicia. But his real object has all along been to
march up to Susa, and drive the King from his throne. Clearchus knew
this; I fancy some others guessed it; I know I did for one. But the
army knew nothing about it. Of course it had to come out at last. When
we came to Tarsus, the men had to be told. If we were going to act
against the Cicilian mountaineers, now was the time. If not, why had we
been brought so far? When the truth was known there was a frightful
uproar. The men declared that they would go back. It was madness, they
said, for a few thousand men to march against the Great King. For four
days I thought all was lost. Clearchus and Cyrus managed admirably. I
will tell you all about it some day. Meanwhile it is enough to say that
all is settled. The men have changed their tone completely. They talk of
nothing but ransacking the treasuries of the King, and Cyrus is quite
magnificent in his promises. He gives a great banquet to the officers
to-night. I am going with Proxenus, who is my special friend among the
generals, and I have no doubt that I can take you. Cyrus, I assure you,
is a man worth knowing, and, though we should call him a barbarian,
worth serving.”
The Persian prince, when Callias came to make his acquaintance, bore
out, and more than bore out, the high character which Xenophon had given
of him. A more princely man in look and bearing never lived. That he was
a stern ruler was well known, but his subjects needed stern methods; but
for courtesy and generosity he could not be matched, and he had that
genial manner which makes these qualities current coin in the market of
the world. He was of unusual stature, his frame well knit and well
proportioned, and his face, though slightly disfigured by scars which he
had received in early life in a fierce death struggle with a bear,
singularly handsome. Proxenus introduced his friend’s friend as a young
Athenian who had come to put his sword at his disposal, and Cyrus at
once greeted him with that manner of friendliness and even comradeship
which made him so popular. At the same time he made some complimentary
remark about Athens, saying that the Athenians had been formidable
enemies, and would hereafter, he hoped, be valuable friends.
The banquet could not fail, under such circumstances, of being a great
success. Everyone was in the highest spirits, and when Cyrus, in
thanking his guests for their company, said that though Greece and
Persia had been enemies in the past they would be firm friends in the
future, he was greeted with a burst of tumultuous applause.
The next day the army set out, their last remaining scruples dispelled
by an increase of pay.[68] There was still a certain reserve in speaking
about the object of the campaign but every one knew that it was directed
against the Great King. Two days’ march took them to Issi, a town
destined to become famous in later days.[69] The difficult pass of the
Cicilian Gate was found unguarded. About a month later the ford of the
Euphrates at Thapsacus[70] was reached. Then all disguise was thrown
off. Cyrus was marching against his brother, and he would give each man
a bonus of a year’s pay when he had reached Babylon.
So the long and tedious march went on. The King made no signs of
resistance. Line after line of defense was found unguarded. At last,
just ten weeks after the army had marched out of Tarsus, a Persian
horseman attached to Cyrus’ person, came galloping up with the news,
which he shouted out in Greek and Persian, “The King is coming with a
great army ready for battle.”
Something like a panic followed, for the invaders had almost begun to
think that they would not have to fight. Cyrus sprang from the carriage
in which he had been riding, donned his corslet, and mounted his
charger; the Greeks rushed to the wagons in which they had deposited
their armor and weapons, and prepared themselves hastily for battle.
By mid-day all was ready. Clearchus was in command of the right wing,
which consisted of the heavy-armed Greeks, and rested on the Euphrates
the light-armed Greeks, with some Paphlagonian cavalry, stood in the
center; on the left were the Persians under Ariæus, Cyrus’ second in
command. The extreme left of all was occupied by Cyrus himself with his
body guard of six hundred horsemen. All wore cuirasses, cuisses and
helmets; but Cyrus, wishing to be easily recognized, rode bareheaded.
It was afternoon before the enemy came in sight. First, a white cloud of
dust became visible; then something like a black pall spread far and
wide over the plain, with now and then a spear point or bronze helmet
gleaming through the darkness. Silently the huge host advanced, its left
on the river, its right far overlapping Cyrus’ left, so great was its
superiority in numbers. “Strike at the center,” said the Prince to
Clearchus, as he rode along the line, “then our work will be done.”
He knew his countrymen; the King himself was in the center. If he should
be killed or driven from the field, victory was assured.
The hostile lines were only two furlongs apart, when the Greeks raised
the battle shout, and charged at a quick pace, which soon became a run.
A few minutes afterwards the Persians broke. Their front line,
consisting of scythe-armed chariots, for the most part, turned and drove
helter skelter through the ranks of their countrymen; the few that
charged the advancing foe did, perhaps attempted to do, no harm. The
ranks were opened to let them through, and they took no further part in
the battle. Anyhow the Greeks won the victory without losing a single
man.
Meanwhile the King, posted, as has been said, in the center, seeing no
one to oppose him, advanced as if he would take the Greeks on their
flank. Cyrus, seeing this, charged with his six hundred, and broke the
line in front of the King. The troopers were scattered in the ardor of
pursuit, and the Prince was left alone with a handful of men. Even then
all might have been well but for the fit of ungovernable rage which
seized him. He spied his brother the King in the throng, and, crying
out, “There is the man,” pressed furiously towards him. One blow he
dealt him, piercing his corslet, and making a slight wound. Then one of
the King’s attendants struck Cyrus with a javelin under the eye. The two
brothers closed for a moment in a hand-to-hand struggle. But Cyrus and
his followers were hopelessly overmatched. In a few minutes the Prince
and eight of his companions were stretched on the ground. One desperate
effort was made to save him. Artapates, the closest of his friends,
leaped from his horse, and threw his arms around his body. It did but
delay the fatal blow for the briefest space. The next moment Cyrus was
dead.
FOOTNOTES:
[68] From one daric to one daric and a half per month, $5 to $7.50.
[69] For the second of the great victories of Alexander.
[70] Thipsach or “The Passage.”