A FIGHT BETWEEN HELLENES AND BARBARIANS.
(From the Darius Vase at Naples.)
The next morning, as they had nothing else to eat, they slaughtered the oxen and asses belonging to the baggage-wagons, and sought in the battle-field for fuel to make a fire. There they found great quantities of arrows, and shields both of wood and wicker-work, as well as empty wagons and overturned chariots. All of these they piled up in heaps, and kindled therewith several fires in which they cooked the food, holding it in the flame on their spear-points, and so appeased their hunger for that day.
They wondered however that Cyrus neither came, nor sent them word of what had happened since they had left him to pursue the Barbarians, and resolved to set out in search of him. But whilst they were preparing for the start, they were hailed by two soldiers of the army of Cyrus, who brought them this terrible news:—‘Cyrus is dead. Ariæus and the Barbarians under him have been put to flight.’
On perceiving the easy victory won by the Hellenes, Cyrus had been beside himself with joy, for he thought that the fate of the day was already decided. All those around him shared his expectation, and the officers of the body-guard sprang from their horses and threw themselves in the dust before him, as if he were already the Great King.
For a moment he waited to see what the enemy would do. Then, observing that the troops of Artaxerxes were making a movement as if to wheel round and attack him in the rear, he hesitated no longer, but dashed forward with his six hundred chosen companions towards the place where the King was stationed with his guard of six thousand horse.
With his own hand Cyrus killed the leader of the guard, and so irresistible was the charge, that the ranks of the enemy were broken through in a moment, and driven right and left before the cavalry of Cyrus, who pursued them eagerly.
Thus it happened that the prince was left almost alone, with only his most intimate friends, those whom he called his table-companions, round him. At the same moment he caught sight of his hated brother, the troops in front of the King having been put to flight, and on seeing him, lost all command of himself. Mad with passion he galloped up to him, crying out, ‘I see the man!’ and hurling his javelin, hit him in the breast, inflicting a wound which however was but slight, the course of the javelin having been checked by the coat of mail worn by the King.
But at that moment, while still almost alone, Cyrus was struck under the eye by the javelin of a Carian lancer. It was a mortal wound, and falling from his horse to the ground, he died immediately. All his table-companions fell around him; the most faithful of all leaped from his horse and threw himself upon the corpse, where he was either killed by the enemy, or, as some say, fell upon his own sword.