"Women are much better marchers than men," she declared, only half-teasingly. "Look at your troops when we make camp. The men sweat and collapse on the ground like pigs, calling for their squires to help them take off their armor. The women don't even pause-we begin immediately to gather firewood and cook. Even I, who had never gathered a piece of firewood in my life!"

I conceded her point, though still sought to assist in any way that would not disrupt my own duties. Her one request was for medical supplies, and here I was able to help, for I had ready access to the officers' kits, and I passed herbs and salves and sutures to her whenever I could, with which she maintained the strength and the health of the group of women she accompanied.

The armies continued their march north along the Tigris for several more weeks, under the same conditions of suspicion, and the constant tension exacted a toll on the men. Marching through foreign terrain with hostile natives on all sides is stressful enough; being dependent upon the mercy of a foreign army ten times your size, which you had fought and humiliated just weeks before, was sufficient to make a Spartan weak in the knees. When we reached the River Zapatas-four hundred feet wide and sufficiently difficult to cross that the armies set up a camp for several days-Clearchus finally decided to take matters into his own hands. He was no diplomat, but the continual stress of the journey and the suspicions between the two armies were moving his men to the flashpoint, and he was concerned that the isolated incidents of patrols coming to blows might ignite into a full-fledged conflagration between the two sides, from which the Greeks would receive the worst. He sent word to Tissaphernes that he wished a private meeting with him, the first since the initial truce had been pledged between them weeks before, and Tissaphernes readily agreed. Surprisingly, Clearchus invited Xenophon to accompany him and his bodyguards, as his official secretary. Proxenus was bemused.

"Looks like your star is rising in Clearchus' eyes," he said. "Is it that Persian fragrance you've taken to wearing lately, or did you slip a potion into his wine? I had better start looking for a new aide-de-camp." But his eyes were laughing. Proxenus had never wished anything but the best for his cousin, and I was hoping this new responsibility fit into his designs. As for Xenophon, although accompanying the general on official business was from any standpoint an honor, I wasn't sure whether he should rejoice or fear for his life-and that, whether at the Persians' hands or Clearchus'.

Xenophon accepted Proxenus' jibes good-naturedly, and offered to leave him his perfume while he was away. "You seem to be doing fine, though, without it, cousin-I've noticed no shortage of sheep around your tent."

Proxenus guffawed. "I'll save one for you!" Then more seriously: "Be on your guard, Xenophon. Clearchus knows what he is about, and has no fear of entering the Persian camp. I trust Tissaphernes and Ariaius to provide him with safekeeping, as we did when Tissaphernes entered our camp. But individual Persian soldiers may hold grudges, and there is nothing Tissaphernes can do if a rogue infantryman determines to avenge the death of a friend by breaking rank and running you through with a spear. Tissaphernes could even 'facilitate' such an event beforehand, and still leave his hands and reputation clean. You and Theo may be targets there. Take heed."

The next day, as our small party rode to the immense Persian camp, Proxenus' warning remained vivid in my mind.

Tissaphernes received us like princes of the realm. The reception was magnificent: rare wines and game birds, golden pitchers and lamps, and a multitude of slave girls and boys, several for each guest in fact, such that not a drop of wine was drunk, not a bit of food eaten, that it was not immediately replaced with another, by a servant standing close, ready to fulfill any whim. Before meeting Cyrus, I had never imagined anyone could travel this way, much less a general on campaign, but Tissaphernes was more than a match for the prince.

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.