Chapter 2: The Death of Cyrus the Younger (Part 2) - Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece

Chapter 2: The Death of Cyrus the Younger (Part 2) Clearchus looked at the enemy's central phalanx, noticeably denser than the rest, and then at the extended formation of the enemy's left wing, which was even longer than his own. Although he had supported Cyrus the Younger from the very beginning, it didn't mean he would blindly obey. He straightforwardly refused, "Your Highness, I believe we should first defeat the enemy's left wing and then flank their center. That would be more secure." "I understand Artaxerxes, the Persian army, and your Greek phalanx! Trust me, my friend; your forces will easily defeat Artaxerxes’ central army! Once Artaxerxes is defeated, no matter how many troops he has, it’s useless!" Cyrus the Younger advised. Clearchus stubbornly shook his head, "Sorry, Your Highness! I won't expose the flank of our phalanx to the enemy's main forces!" Cyrus the Younger frowned, glaring at Clearchus, but there was no time to persuade him further. To forcibly command was not feasible since Clearchus was a mercenary leader, not a subordinate. "Alright, let’s do it your way!" Cyrus turned his horse around, pulling the reins sharply as he galloped back down the road. ... When the armies were about 500 meters apart, the Greek soldiers began singing hymns to Ares as they advanced. By the time the hymn was finished, the distance had closed to less than 200 meters. "Ares!!!" the soldiers shouted in unison as they began to jog, picking up their pace faster and faster… The thunderous "boom! boom! boom!" of over ten thousand Greek heavy infantrymen gathered sounded like rolling thunder, building energy to pierce the dark night with lightning! The Persians opposite seemed completely petrified by this overwhelming iron tide. As the Greeks drew nearer, aside from a few scythed chariots that burst into the Greek ranks with screams, severing limbs, and eventually disappearing soundlessly, the rest were too frightened to shoot arrows or raise their shields. At a mere ten meters apart, the Persians collapsed, turning to flee. The Greeks hadn’t expected victory to come so swiftly; their unspent energy drove them to pursue the fleeing enemy with even greater fervor. Initially, leaders like Hylos repeatedly reminded their comrades, "Maintain formation, don’t run too fast! Maintain formation..." But eventually, the formation completely dispersed, and all the Greeks were caught up in the exhilaration of pursuit. ... Cyrus the Younger hadn’t expected the right wing's victory to come so quickly; he was momentarily stunned. "King Cyrus, long live!!!" His attendants had already started waving their spears, cheering for victory. "Your Highness, should we pursue them?" Artaphernes consulted him. He shook his head, his gaze fixed forward to his left. He knew full well that only by eliminating that one person could he claim the supreme crown. "Order Arioch's left wing to halt their advance and prepare for defense!" Cyrus commanded immediately. He knew that his strongest forces were the Greek mercenaries. Since they had already driven back the enemy's left wing, there was no need to engage his numerically inferior left wing with the enemy's right. If they too were quickly defeated, it would be troublesome. Better to delay and await the return of the Greek mercenaries, ensuring victory was near certain. However, as he patiently waited for the enemy's approach, the enemy's central column halted their advance. His expression soon changed. The enemy's center began to split into two parts, with the left section veering left rearwards. "Not good! They intend to attack the Greeks!!" Artaphernes exclaimed. Dispersed by their pursuit, the Greek heavy infantry could fall into disarray if attacked from behind, potentially reversing the battle's outcome. "Artaxerxes, you dare to change formation on the battlefield, thinking my cavalry aren’t enough to initiate an attack?" Cyrus smirked, making a quick decision. He raised his spear, thrusting it forward as he shouted, "Order the right wing to speed up their advance! Cavalry, charge with me!" "Your Highness, please wear your helmet!" An attendant hurriedly offered his helmet, but Cyrus had already galloped off, his attendants urgently catching up to quickly position around him for protection. Over 800 cavalry formed a wedge formation, charging straight for the Persian king's central army. The Persian central commander, Artagantes, hadn’t expected Cyrus to dare attack at this moment and hastily ordered his cavalry to intercept. But their formation was mid-transformation, the rotating mass of infantry obstructing the cavalry’s route. Struggling, a thousand cavalry managed to break through the gaps, but the rapidly advancing Greek mercenary cavalry was already upon them. In a tumult of cries and horse screams, the hurriedly assembled Persian cavalry line was torn apart in an instant. Cyrus's cavalry plunged into the left rear of the retreating Persian central troops like a dagger. Renowned for his bravery and strength, Cyrus once slew a black bear single-handedly. Befriending the brave, so too were his attendant cavalry and followers courageous. Against foes turned away, they didn't waste their spears—without stirrups, they had to relinquish their hold lest they be pushed off their mounts by the recoil—but charged into formation with sheer momentum, trampling enemies underfoot. Already shaken by the left-wing’s defeat, now struck with heavy blows, the Persian infantry at the forefront began to rout as Cyrus's cavalry pursued them. Through the dust, Cyrus caught a glimpse of the chariot that carried the Persian king. It became apparent: the rout of the left center had created a gap, leaving the king exposed. "Leftward!!" Cyrus shouted, thrilled, sweeping his spear as he bypassed the reinforcing Persian central right wing, directing toward the king’s rear guard. A few dozen riders tailed closely behind. "Quickly, form up! Protect the king!!" The Persian king's guards commanded by Artagantes hastily rushed forward with a handful of elite cavalry. As enemy cavalry swarmed, Cyrus showed no fear. He drew his Greek dagger, clamped his legs tightly against his horse, poised for the moment. With his spear, he flicked aside Artagantes's menacing spear, stretched out his left hand with the dagger. With hardly an effort, as the two horses passed each other, Artagantes's throat was effortlessly cut by the momentum from the Greek blade... Through sheer skill and horsemanship, Cyrus slew several foes. His cavalry swiftly joined to protect him against other enemies. Only the royal guards around the king's chariot remained between Cyrus and Artaxerxes; he could clearly see his brother's terrified expression. Recalling his own captivity by his brother and the stolen throne (a throne Cyrus imagined was rightfully his, although the old king had never intended to bestow it upon him), a fire of fury burned within him. "Artaxerxes!" he roared, hurling his spear with all his might. Amid the outcry, the spear flashed through the gaps of the royal guards, impaling the Persian king’s chest. With a scream, the Persian king slumped over atop the chariot. Seeing Artaxerxes collapse, chaos erupted before him. His rage finally vented, Cyrus laughed unrestrained, as if the Persian crown was already his. Yet he hadn’t heard his mounted attendants urgently warning, "Beware, Your Highness! Beware!!..." His laughter ceased abruptly. Out of the turbulent ranks shot a javelin, striking him squarely in the eye socket. Without a sound, he toppled from his horse... *** After years of silence, I've finally mustered the courage to upload my new work. It's still in Greece, still in the Mediterranean, but it's a different story! I hope that you, with a passion for history, will enjoy it! Tomorrow, I embark on a journey to Guangxi to visit my elderly in-laws. In a month, I will start continuous updates to guide you into that distant and unfamiliar ancient era! During my visit, if you have any suggestions, please leave a comment in the section below! (End of Chapter)