As night fell the Greek army was in despair. Their generals had been taken, the rebel forces under Ariaeus had gone over to the king, and Cyrus’ nemesis Tissaphernes was preparing to destroy them, now deep in Persian territory on the east side of the Tigris River. Xenophon retired to his tent for a few hours of fitful sleep. As he slept he dreamed that a thunderbolt struck his father’s house in Athens, and the whole house was lit up by fire. He awoke trembling. He knew that Zeus was the master of the thunderbolt, so that this might be a good omen from him; on the other hand, the fire that was kindled reminded him of the perils all around. But taking courage, he thought, “Why am I lying here? The night is passing, and at daylight the enemy will probably attack. … How is it that no one is preparing our defenses or planning, but we are all in bed as if we were safe and sound? What general from what city am I expecting to take charge? How old do I have to be to do something? I will never live to be one day older if I have to surrender to the enemy on this day.”[45]
Xenophon roused himself, called together the captains of his friend Proxenus, and, with all the oratorical ability he could muster, urged them not to despair. The Greeks were stronger in body and soul than the Persians; and the Persians had broken their oaths and incurred the wrath of the gods. He rallied them to take the lead in the present distress and offered his services. The captains told him to take charge and they would follow. They now hurried to summon the surviving officers to a meeting. About midnight a hundred officers sat down in front of the camp. The senior captain of Proxenus’ division told the group that they needed to listen to what the young Athenian had to say. Again Xenophon took the floor and urged the officers to appoint new leaders to replace those who were lost and organize their defenses so that the Persians would find them ready for battle in the morning.
The officers took heart. With renewed hope they went to their units and elected new generals and captains to replace their fallen leaders. Xenophon was elected general in the place of Proxenus.[46] Just before dawn the officers reassembled, including the new appointees, and called a general assembly of soldiers. Two generals spoke briefly of the Persians’ duplicity, then yielded the floor to Xenophon. The handsome man had dressed himself in his armor, shined up as for a parade, with the expectation of winning a glorious victory or dying splendidly in the effort. He said, “If we hope to gain the Persians’ friendship again, we must despair, seeing how they have treated our generals who trusted their persons to their enemies’ protection. If, however, we take up arms to punish them for their crimes and confront them from henceforth with all-out war, we have, with the help of the gods, great and fair hopes of salvation.” At this moment a soldier sneezed— a good omen in Greek superstition. The soldiers bowed reverently to the god, and Xenophon proposed that they vow a sacrifice to Zeus the Savior on their safe return to Greece. The soldiers raised their hands in an affirmative vote.[47]
And so it was that by a dream and a sneeze, Xenophon of Athens, friend of Socrates, gentleman confidant of Cyrus, free-lance military consultant and hopeful war correspondent, became a soldier of fortune and leader of a mighty army. An army deep in enemy territory, surrounded by hostile forces hundreds of thousands strong, blocked by uncrossable rivers, trackless deserts, and impassible mountains; without supplies, without allies, without funds, without even a map or a guide. The Greeks had only their own arms and a grim determination never to trust a faithless enemy. But they did have their arms and, thanks to the quick thinking of Xenophon, man of the hour, they now had the resolve to make their enemies pay.
Xenophon now launched into a speech to encourage the soldiers and to outline a plan for their salvation. They must abandon most of their unnecessary gear, including their tents and cattle, and travel light and fast, forming a hollow square with the baggage and the non-soldiers in the middle. Cheirisophus the Spartan general should command the vanguard and Xenophon, as the youngest general, the rearguard. The generals must be more vigilant than ever, and the rank and file more obedient. “Today,” he promised, “the Persians will see not one Clearchus but ten thousand!”[48] After Xenophon’s speech the soldiers voted to accept his proposals, and the army set to work preparing to march.
Here we glimpse the deep cultural and political differences that divided the Greeks and the Persians. In the direst straits, the Greek turned instinctively to the institutions of democracy to save themselves. Having lost leaders, they chose new ones from their ranks. They assembled, discussed options, voted. After the army of Cyrus was defeated his Asian contingents disbanded or capitulated to the enemy. But in a real sense the army of Cyrus was never defeated. Cyrus died in a brave but foolhardy attack on the person of the Great King. Why? Because to kill or capture the king was to win the war. In the Persian game of chess, victory is all about capturing the king. The phrase ‘checkmate’ comes from shāh māt, an Arabic phrase derived from Persian, “The king is dead.” When Cyrus died, the prince and pretender to the throne perished, and his army dissolved. All but the Greeks, who did not play by Persian rules. When the Great King demanded the Greeks surrender their arms as being his servants—slaves, that is — he was only asserting his right as the Great King, to whom everyone was servant. But to the Greeks, the winner was he who scattered the enemy army and placed his trophy on the site of the battle. The Persians had never stood to fight the Greeks, but three times on the day of battle fled in panic at their very approach—though they outnumbered the Greeks by a margin of ten to one or more. At the end of the day, they had duly erected their trophy.[49]
When the Persians could not defeat the Greeks on the field of battle, they killed their generals by treachery. Presumably they thought that the reason the Greeks had not given in was that they had their own king, Clearchus; kill him, and it was Checkmate for the Greeks. But the secret weapon of the Greek culture was its bottom-up organization: the rulers rose out of the ranks and ruled by consent. Democracy was a hydra—knock off one head and several more would grow in its place. Kill Clearchus and find ten thousand Clearchuses in his place. To be sure, it took an inspired act by a man of decisive leadership to galvanize Greek resistance. It took a man, a dream, and a sneeze. But with a messenger to remind the Greeks that they were, for all their desperation, still undefeated, they came together into a unity of purpose that a top-down organization of the East could not comprehend or imitate. They were now, after a reorganization, a polis, an independent city-state—lacking a territory and city walls indeed, but for all that an autonomous social and political unit that would defy the Great King himself in the heart of his own vast empire and forge its own destiny.[50]
[45].Xenophon Anabasis 3.1.13-14.
[46].Xenophon Anabasis 3.1.26-47.
[47].Xenophon Anabasis 3.2.7-9.
[48].Xenophon Anabasis 3.2.31.
[49].Diodorus 14.24.4.
[50]. See Nussbaum 1967; Hornblower 2004.