As Eos dawned cold and gray that morning, we had been cheered by a vision we had not seen in some weeks-a plain, or rather a broad valley, which promised flat walking and unrestricted visibility for as long as we were able to follow it. The only feature marring our view was a broad river winding through the middle, which we later learned was the eastern branch of the Tigris, and which at this point was some two hundred feet across. The prisoners had told us that this river marked the boundary between the country of the Kurds and Armenia, and this was further cause for rejoicing, that we would at last be leaving the murderous Kurds behind us. They had been like death to us, death by a thousand small mosquitoes.

As the morning mist lifted, however, and we were able to better view our route for the day, Xenophon's scouts reported to our dismay that horsemen were massing along the far bank, prepared to hinder our crossing into Armenia with arrows and slings, and a large quantity of foot soldiers were marshaling above them, to further assist in preventing our landing. They were mercenaries like ourselves, Armenians and Mardians and Chaldeans in the pay of Orontas-the long arm of Tissaphernes reaching out and tapping our shoulders in lands even as distant as this. The Chaldeans had an evil reputation, and were as feared as the Scythians-for like the Greeks, they were free men, and warlike. They carried body-length wicker shields against which our pikes and swords were useless, becoming hopelessly entangled in the weaving; and their soldiers were large, muscular and well trained. They were prepared to present a vigorous defense to our phalanx. The only technique effective against their light shields was simply running them over and breaking through, like a wild horse trapped in a chicken coop.

The army marched quickly to the river, hoping to ford it without delay if it were shallow, and engage the enemy troops on the other side. We found to our dismay, however, upon wading in, that the icy water rose to our necks well before we even reached the halfway point, and the current was swift. We could not wade through it in armor, or the flow would sweep us off our feet and carry us down; nor could we walk across carrying our arms on our heads, for then we would be unprotected, when we clambered up the far side, from the missiles and arrows that would rain down on us from the defenders. The troops gathered at the near bank, milling about aimlessly while the captains discussed the situation. Our prospects worsened when we saw to our dismay that the Kurds now occupied the heights behind us on our side of the river, preventing any possibility of retreat and penning us in between two hostile armies.

We sat there on the broad, frozen gravel bank an entire day and night, with little food and smoldering campfires, for what little driftwood we were able to gather from the river bank was hopelessly sodden. The army was despondent, though Xenophon, putting on a bold front, walked ceaselessly from squad to squad, dispensing cheery advice and lascivious jokes to keep the men's spirits up, despite his own emotional and physical exhaustion. I was not sure how long he would be able to continue pushing himself at this pace, and was relieved when he decided to go to bed shortly after sundown.

Of bones and dreams are men made, say the ancients, and Xenophon more the latter than the former, for lately his dreams had been coming with increasing frequency. Most of the army's seers had been killed or left behind, so he forswore seeking the advice of the remaining one or two except in the event of an emergency. He said they were already busy enough preparing and performing the thrice-daily sacrifice, a task that our army, fragile as it was, could not afford to neglect. Tonight was no different, and his dream was so vivid and intense that he woke with a start, shortly after midnight, and began recounting it to me before he was even fully lucid. Numb with the cold and the damp cloak I had wrapped around myself for a blanket, I welcomed the opportunity to set down the blades and whetstones with which I had been working, and begin kneading some life into my aching limbs as I listened intently to Xenophon's omen.

"Theo, I dreamed I was chained, fettered in thick iron rings and staked to the ground, exposed to the elements, while the gods above laughed at their tricks and ignored my pleas. I was hoping to die, I was so miserable from the vultures pecking at my face and the cold wind scarring my skin. Suddenly, with no warning, the chains dropped off by themselves, and I was free, able to walk, to bring my hands together again! I leaped up and ran, and that's when I awoke."

I drew my wet cloak more tightly over my shoulders and peered at him skeptically in the dim starlight, his hair matted and greasy, his eyes wild, his face hard and gaunt. A man dreams of freedom and a miracle, yet wakes to a stale crust of bread. Still, under such circumstances, even a crust can be a feast, and he was so heartened by his vision that he decided to tell Chirisophus, thinking it might be an omen that would comfort him as well. I accompanied him as he trotted across camp. All around us men slept fitfully in the open, singly or in pairs, huddled against each other, not, as the Persians might have mockingly described, in the habit of Greek soldiers on the march who had for too long been separated from their women, but rather in a desperate effort to keep warm by sharing precious body heat. The troops were silent and miserable, simply trying to survive another night. It had been weeks since I had been kept awake by the raucous laughter and joking typical of an army of confident warriors on the march, and it was not until now that I realized how much I missed the comforting buzz of an insomniac army.

We passed several hundred yards through the gravel to the far side of the camp, where Chirisophus and his staff had set up their headquarters, and were not at all surprised to see that they were still awake, interrogating prisoners, updating maps, attempting to plot a plan of attack for tomorrow to let us cross the river as safely as possible, even cleaning and burnishing weapons-do Spartans never sleep?

Xenophon's recounting of his dream was cause for cautious optimism, and the two generals and a gathering cluster of squad leaders spent hours in the dark discussing their next steps. At the light of dawn, with all the army's officers present, a special sacrifice was offered, the largest we had dared make in weeks given the force's rapidly dwindling supply of livestock; the omens were favorable on the very first victim. Leaving the sacrifice in high spirits, the officers sent word round to the troops to eat their breakfast and pack.

Xenophon forced down his meager breakfast of curdled goat's milk and was sitting by the comfortless fire, staring moodily into the coals, when two Rhodian slingers from Nicolaus' squadron trotted up out of the frigid mist naked and breathless, as if having just completed their gymnastica. All the troops knew that Xenophon permitted anyone to approach him at any time, without protocol, whether at breakfast or supper, or even while he was sleeping, and tell him anything that might be in the army's interest. Still, it was unusual for the shy Rhodian boys to be so bold as to approach him directly. They usually preferred the intermediation of Nicolaus or myself.

"With reverence, my general," the first said, bowing his head in respect.

Xenophon had been absentmindedly rooting under his arm for small life and now he held up his quarry to the light for brief inspection before cracking it between the split, dirty nails of his thumb and forefinger and flicking it into the fire. He glanced down in bemusement at his own filthy and threadbare tunic, and then looked up at the boys with a resigned smile.

"At ease," he said. "By the gods, I'm scarcely older than you, and twice as ugly. No need to stand on ceremony. And put some clothes on yourselves-you make me cold just looking at you. Your skin is blue, and those pigs of yours have shriveled up smaller than a Rhodian's. Oh, pardon me, I see that you are Rhodian.