"We have an opportunity before us. Ten thousand soldiers have their eyes upon you. For two days they have been despondent, almost without will to live. Yet here they are now, summoning up the little hope still left to them. If they see you are discouraged and afraid, they will be cowards. If they are left wondering what will happen to them, and believe they are helpless, they will remain passive. But if they see you taking control of your fate, preparing against the enemy, and calling them to help you in this task, you can be sure they will follow you and imitate you, and do so cheerfully. In the army, you men are the privileged ones. You carry no packs, you receive higher pay, you direct battles from behind the lines. It is only fair that you should shoulder an extra burden now.

"We know that Tissaphernes has seized from us everything he could until now. He believes we are beaten, and plans to destroy us and rid the country of us. But he is a barbarian! We must turn the tables on him, do what we can to resist him. We have the more powerful weapon-ten thousand strong, skilled, cohesive fighting men. And you know it is not numbers or strength that bring victory in war, but rather fortitude and willingness of soul. Whichever army is more determined, that is the one that will prevail. Learn this lesson, and apply it. Be men! And you can be sure the others will follow."

The sigh of relief and approval from the hundred men around the campfire was almost palpable. The enthusiasm spread back beyond the fire's light in waves, gaining momentum as it swept away and then bounced back, increasing in strength like ocean tides reflecting off the beach and adding to the cresting force of the incoming waves. The men began talking among themselves, first in a hush, and then in increasing volume, until an isolated voice began chanting "Xen-o-phon! Xen-o-phon!" and was immediately joined by a dozen more, then a hundred, until the entire army was standing, radiating out from the blinding fire and roaring his name. I stood transfixed and disturbed, at the impulse that had been created from just a few short hours before as the result of a troublesome dream. For the second time that night I saw the clarifying and simultaneously destructive force of fire on the fates of men, but I followed Xenophon's advice by placing a confident expression on my face and smilingly chatting with some of the troops while the shouts rained down upon us.

"Do you truly believe he can do this?" Asteria looked up at me skeptically as we sat against a large stone, watching the bonfire die to coals. The last of the soldiers and camp followers had drifted off to their blankets.

I shrugged. "What is there not to believe? He had a dream-a powerful dream, and he feels he has been ordained by the gods."

"Ordained by the gods! Theo, these people are rabble! To the camp followers at least, Clearchus was just a name-they had no knowledge of his history, his skills, his qualifications, they followed him merely because he called himself the army's leader. You mustn't assume they will have any more personal loyalty to Xenophon than they had for him. Cyrus' jester could have stood up and declared himself general, and they would have hailed him just as loudly."

I winced at the mention of Cyrus' name.

"Asteria, Xenophon wasn't acclaimed by the camp followers alone-it was the Greek troops themselves who first supported him this evening."

She looked at me in dismay. "If that gives you comfort, then you are as much a part of the rabble as they are."

I tensed at her words, and noticing this she put her hand lightly on my arm.

"Theo, you are a freedman, not a slave, and even if you were bound to him, these are extraordinary circumstances, when the distinctions between slave and master do not always apply. You need not be beholden to mob rule. You are educated, strong, able to think-why be subject to the passing whims of Clearchus' bullying Spartans?"

I glanced at her dismissively. "I reject your point. It's useless to even entertain such thinking. What am I to do-stand up and count myself as an army of one, protest that Xenophon's credentials as a general are not quite as impressive as I would hope, threaten to withhold my approval? I will take my chances with the rabble, thank you."

Asteria pursed her lips tightly and stared down at the ground in silence, absent-mindedly massaging the fingers of her hands, stiff from hours of carrying water gourds and bundles suspended from thin leather thongs.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it," she muttered softly. "Sometimes I think you purposely act dense."

"You flatter me," I retorted dryly, "by suggesting it is only an act."

"Theo, it doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to live in filth, fearing every day for our lives, wondering where our next meal will come from."

"What are you saying?"

"I have… people over there. We would be welcomed, and for life. You would owe nothing to anyone, in fact you would be honored, and I could…"

Her words began tripping over each other in her excitement, her hands fluttering in an attempt to prop her racing syntax. I seized her shoulders, hard, and turned her to squarely face me as I forced her gaze to mine.

"Are you saying we should defect? Have all these Greek deaths, has Cyrus' death meant so little to you that it comes down to this? Defect to the enemy?"

She licked her lips and weighed her words carefully before answering.

"Theo, you see everything in such black and white. Not all Persians are your enemy, nor all Greeks your friend. Even a single man may simultaneously be both, be of mixed mind and intent, even act at times as if he were two different individuals. Cyrus was a Persian, yet you fought for him. My own father is a Persian, yet… here I am. I was raised among Persians. Artaxerxes always treated me kindly, like a beloved niece, and he would accept you as a… as a nephew."

"What about your father, Asteria? You were concerned he would view me as a betrayal of his honor."

"I have thought about this. Measures could be taken before we departed that would soften his heart… if you were willing…"

I stared into her pleading eyes, losing myself in them for a moment as I vaguely considered her extraordinary suggestion; as I came back to myself, however, I shook my head in wonder that I could ever entertain such a notion.

"It's out of the question. I know you mean well, but I could never leave the Greeks, never betray Xenophon."

She bit her lip and stared at the ground in silent disappointment.

"I won't mention it again, Theo."

I nodded at her silently, a wave of gratefulness and relief washing over me. A disturbing thought, however, suddenly crossed my mind.

"Asteria-at Cunaxa, when you were being dragged out of Cyrus' tent, why did Tissaphernes kill his own guard, instead of you?"

She looked at me evenly, and gently eased my heavy hands from her shoulders.

"It's as I said before-not all Persians are your enemy. And, Theo-"

I remained staring at her silently, waiting for her to finish.

"Not all Greeks are your friends."