Xenophon's jaw dropped. "By Zeus!" he said at last, "How many Rhodians are you in the army?"

"No more than two hundred, sir, but all of us can fire a sling."

"Gather them all here in a quarter hour. I have a proposal."

Nicolaus looked at me, his eyes sparkling gratefully. "I'm in your debt," he said.

"Nonsense. It's proper recognition for the only man in the army able to kill an ostrich."

He grinned happily, and ran off to search for his countrymen.

That evening Xenophon organized the army's company of slingers, promoting Nicolaus to captain them and promising to pay them double wages for their services after we had returned home safely. In return for this, he gained their permanent gratitude and unquestioning loyalty. That night also, a cartload of axes and tools were confiscated from the camp followers for their lead cores to be melted down into uniform bullets for the slingers. The camp's blacksmiths were ordered to stay up all night if necessary, to produce sixty balanoi for every man. Nicolaus himself taught the blacksmiths how to cast them, and added the further innovation of having them carve a shallow spiral groove around each bullet, running from the tip to the back and around the pellet five or six times. Such a groove was chiseled into the soft metal after the cast bullets had cooled, and left rough-edged burrs that could cut one's hand if they were not handled carefully. When I complained to Nicolaus about the considerable additional effort it took to perform this step, he grinned and added mysteriously, "It makes them sing." The Rhodians themselves, when they each received their allotment of bullets, joyously took out their knives and began personalizing the missiles with small marks or carvings, the better, they said, to be able to reclaim them after target practice. Some of those who could write even carved taunting inscriptions-Die, dog or Eat this-the impact of which would certainly be lost on any enemy soldier in whose throat such a bullet might be buried.

Meanwhile, twenty horses were scavenged from among the pack animals, and additional baggage was eliminated to make up for the loss of their carrying capacity. Cavalry fittings were improvised from various leather scraps and blankets. When combined with the thirty horses that had been confiscated from Mithradates and his men the day before, as well as a few strays remaining from Cyrus' household guard, Xenophon found that he now had a squad of almost a hundred cavalry at his disposal, over which he appointed a young friend of his, Lycius the Athenian, as commander. A hundred cavalry, almost half of which were swaybacked pack animals, was ludicrous in comparison to Tissaphernes' ten thousand, but it would have to do.

We did not have to wait long to test the mettle of our newly appointed slingers and horse troops. The next morning the army departed at daybreak, forgoing breakfast. We had to pass through a narrow ravine during the day, and hoped to arrive before the Persians. Mithradates, meanwhile, had been encouraged by his success against our troops the day before with such a small number of men. He convinced Tissaphernes to give him a thousand cavalry and four thousand light troops, promising the surrender of the entire Greek army and the delivery of Xenophon's head by nightfall. At least, so said Mithradates' herald later that afternoon, when insolently demanding our surrender.

This time Xenophon had spent a great deal of time discussing with Chirisophus and the other older officers exactly which troops would be allowed to range out, which would be required to stay with the rear guard, and the precise role of our slingers. The Spartan hoplites were not informed of our experimental tactics until just before Mithradates' approach. When they saw the young, delicate-featured Rhodians, with their boyish physiques and "children's weapons," move into position, the scarred, muscular Spartans hooted in derision, some even turning away in disgust that Xenophon would risk the army's safety by assigning these hairless Ganymedes twirling overgrown sandal-laces to the front lines.

Mithradates did not bother with a complicated plan of action, as successful as his method had been the day before. When his troops caught up with our rear guard, we let their cavalry and slingers approach in a mass within the confines of the ravine, until their missiles began to inflict damage. At a signal from Xenophon, our heavy troops parted, and the two hundred Rhodians stepped through the front lines, wearing light armor and helmets but carrying no shields, and oblivious to the Persian arrows darting past them. At that close range the Persians were practically point-blank targets for the skilled Rhodians, and as planned, the Rhodians did not even attempt to fire through the enemy's heavy bronze breastplates or helmets. Instead, they aimed their deadly lead "bees" directly at the unprotected necks and flanks of the horses, and we watched with a mixture of admiration and horror as the rough-edged pellets drilled deep holes into the horses' neck muscles and windpipes. The spiral grooves on the balanoi had the "singing" effect Nicolaus had intended-a terrifying, high-pitched scream as the burrs on the missiles spun rapidly through the air. The combined effect of a hundred of these eerily whining bullets at a time, and the moist, thwacking sounds they made as they slammed into their fleshy targets, drove the enemy horses into a frenzy. Within seconds the Persian lines had reverted from the confident march of cavalry and infantry bent on destroying the foe and returning home in time for supper, to utter chaos and devastation. Horses reared and fell, toppling and trampling their riders, and the Persian bowmen and slingers were unable to maneuver their large and ungainly weapons in the close quarters and crush of men.

The Spartan hoplites shook their heads in wonder. As the enemy finally managed to flee back into the ravine, our new cavalry troops doubled out in pursuit, followed by the Spartans, trampling and slashing at the terrified Persians they encountered along the way. Xenophon and I watched the rout in admiration and delight.

"By the gods," he said in amazement, "if only I had an entire army of these boys. Each of them is worth five Spartans, and they sure as hell eat less!"

I laughed, but immediately became serious. "They're grateful to you, Xenophon, for uniting them and recognizing their skills. They're the most loyal troops you have in the army."

Xenophon gazed thoughtfully at the pursuing Greek cavalry, which had now receded far into the distance in their chase. "And that loyalty must not be taken for granted," he said. "There may come a time when we'll need it. We must take good care of our Rhodians-especially Nicolaus," and he trotted back to the lines to confer with the officers.

Eighteen fine Persian horses were captured unharmed during the pursuit, which made a useful addition to our cavalry, and fine meals in the months to follow. As for the Persian dead, after much discussion with Chirisophus, Xenophon reluctantly ordered them mutilated and dishonored, Persian-style, to strike terror into the enemy. The Spartans praised what they called Xenophon's "beekeepers" as only Spartans could, solemnly chanting the victory hymn to Ares, the god of War, and awarding simple myrtle crowns, the Spartans' highest military honor, to the beaming young Rhodians.

Tissaphernes continued to dog our steps, but now kept a prudent distance. Thus we marched for three hundred miles, moving north along the left bank of the Tigris to the ancient cities of Nimrud and Nineveh, which had once been inhabited by the fearsome Medes but had been conquered by the Great King one hundred and fifty years earlier. To think that any Persian army such as the one tormenting us now had once been able to overcome such fearsome fortifications as these was staggering. The walls of these cities were twenty-five feet thick and a hundred feet high, their positions seemingly impregnable. But the Great King was much more of a man than was his unfortunate descendant Artaxerxes-unfortunate, I say, because King Artaxerxes' inferiority was acknowledged not only by the peoples and troops of both sides, but also by himself. It is a sad thing for one to have to submit so humbly to the obvious excellence of one's ancestor. It is as if one has become a disappointment to the procreation of the generations, an offspring as sterile as a mule, not in terms of fecundity but of strength and honor. It is terrible to look back on the glorious history of one's family, and to see its many and famous branches converge to an insignificant point, like the drooping and wilted tip of an immense hemlock tree, and to realize that such a laughable, incongruous apex of the generations, such a shadow of a great name, is oneself.