The Lost Army by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

expecting him.
    He crossed the gangplank and led his horse aboard the ship.
    T HE ARMY left their quarters in Dana at dawn. Before the bulk of the troops set off, Cyrus asked Clearchus to send a detachment of his men to another pass that gave access to Tarsus – the capital of the kingdom of Cilicia and the biggest city in the region – from the rear. If the Cilicians refused to admit him, the detachment could attack from the west and force a resolution to the situation.
    Clearchus chose Menon of Thessaly and gave him orders to move his battalion towards a pass in the Taurus chain that opened on to the plains west of Tarsus, while the rest of the army would transit through the narrow Cilician Gates and arrive at the capital from the north.
    Menon left when it was still dark, while Cyrus waited until dawn and then headed towards a rest stop at the foot of the mountains. From the moment when the road began its steep climb, there would be no opportunity to make camp until after crossing the pass; this was true not only for such a huge army as his but even for a mere caravan. It was thus necessary to divide the journey in two stages. After spending the night at the foot of the Taurus chain, Cyrus led his army towards the Gates. It was dawn, they would be there before dusk. The road was little more than a winding mule track often flanked by deep gorges.
    If the king of Cilicia decided to oppose their march, he could easily pick them off one by one, or decide to hold them in check for days and days, perhaps even months.
    Tension was high among the ranks. The soldiers couldn’t help but look upwards, at the rocky, towering peaks that surrounded them. What really disturbed them was that the road – usually heavy with traffic, since it was the only route for caravans from Mesopotamia heading towards Anatolia and the sea, and vice versa – was deserted. Not a single donkey or camel, only a few scattered peasants hauling basketfuls of goods on their shoulders. Some of the locals gathered by the road to watch the passage of the incredibly long column. Surely the word was out that something dangerous was bound to happen along that route, and no one dared use it, nor would they until the whole army had passed.
    Before venturing through the pass, which was cut into the solid rock and allowed the passage of a single pack animal at a time, the prince sent scouts forward to reconnoitre. They reported back that there was no one at the top but that they’d spotted a camp on the other side which seemed to be completely deserted. Perhaps there had been an early plan of resistance that was later abandoned. Cyrus and his men crossed the pass with no trouble and settled into the camp while the long column continued its climb, all night long. When the last man had arrived at the top, it was already time to set off again.
    In the meantime Menon and his battalion were crossing the western pass. They were moving quickly and without much worry because their guide had assured them that the area was clear.
    The pass was found at the watershed of two streams: one flowed towards the Anatolian high plains, the other descended towards the sea. The first part of their route climbed upwards with a rather constant, moderate slope. They were covering open countryside and the view was clear all around. But when Menon had crossed the saddle and reached the slope beyond, he could see that the valley of the second torrent was steep and rugged, a deep gully buried at the foot of high, craggy walls. The descent was much steeper, and the water raced much faster.
    Everything seemed nonetheless to go well at first but then, little by little, as the battalion entered the ground flanking the gully, worrisome signs started to appear. First, a flock of crows rose suddenly from a copse, evidently startled by something. This was followed by a cascade of pebbles rolling down the valley. Menon had no sooner shouted ‘Watch out! Take cover! There’s someone up there!’ than