South over the mountains lie Syria and her capital, Damascus; then Phoenicia and Palestine, Arabia and Egypt. East by the Royal Road awaits the breadbasket of the empire—Mesopotamia, the “Land Between the Rivers,” the Tigris and Euphrates, and the imperial cities of Babylon and Susa. The seaboard plain of Cilicia is enclosed by two rugged mountain ranges, the Taurus to the north and east, the Amanus to the south and east. The passes across the Taurus out of the north are called the Cilician Gates. This is a wagon road, so steep in places that a mule’s asshole will open up and whistle, so mightily must the beast strain to haul its load, and so narrow in parts, the locals say, that four men abreast who start up as strangers will reach the other side as very good friends. The Persian governor Arsames has been commanded by Darius to hold the heights, but, striking swiftly with the Royal Guardsmen and the Agrianians, I get round and above and drive him out without a fight. We descend to the sprawling and prosperous city of Tarsus, set in the midst of a gorgeous plain bounded by mountains and sea and lush with every kind of fruit, vine, and grain.
