CHAPTER XXXIX
THE AVENGING OF LEONIDAS
Morning at last, ruddy and windy. The Persian host had been long prepared.The Tartar cavalry with their bulls-hide targets and long lances, theheavy Persian cuirassiers, the Median and Assyrian archers with theirponderous wicker-shields, stood in rank waiting only the word that shoulddash them as sling-stones on Pausanias and his ill-starred following. TheMagi had sacrificed a stallion, and reported that the holy fire gave everyfavouring sign. Mardonius went from his tent, all his eunuchs bowing theirforeheads to the earth and chorussing, "Victory to our Lord, to Persia,and to the King."
They brought Mardonius his favourite horse, a white steed of the sacredbreed of Nisaea. The Prince had bound around his turban the gemmed tiaraXerxes had given him on his wedding-day. Few could wield the Babylonishcimeter that danced in the chieftain's hand. The captains cheered himloudly, as they might have cheered the king.
"Life to the general! To the satrap of Hellas!"
But beside the Nisaean pranced another, lighter and with a lighter mount.The rider was cased in silvered scale-armour, and bore only a steel-tippedreed.
"The general's page," ran the whisper, and other whispers, far softer,followed. None heard the quick words passed back and forth betwixt the tworiders.
"You may be riding to death, Artazostra. What place is a battle forwomen?"
"What place is the camp for the daughter of Darius, when her husband ridesto war? We triumph together; we perish together. It shall be as Mazdadecrees."
Mardonius answered nothing. Long since he had learned the folly of settinghis will against that of the masterful princess at his side. And was notvictory certain? Was not Artazostra doing even as Semiramis of Nineveh haddone of old?
"The army is ready, Excellency," declared an adjutant, bowing in hissaddle.
"Forward, then, but slowly, to await the reconnoitring parties sent towardthe Greeks."
In the gray morning the host wound out of the stockaded camp. The womenand grooms called fair wishes after them. The far slopes of Cithaeron werereddening. A breeze whistled down the hills. It would disperse the mist.Soon the leader of the scouts came galloping, leaped down and salaamed tothe general. "Let my Lord's liver find peace. All is even as our friendsdeclared. The enemy have in part fled far away. The Athenians halt on afoot-hill of the mountain. The Laconians sit in companies on the ground,waiting their division that will not retreat. Let my Lord charge, andglory waits for Eran!"
Mardonius's cimeter swung high.
"Forward, all! Mazda fights for us. Bid our allies the Thebans(16) attackthe Athenians. Ours is the nobler prey--even the men of Sparta."
"Victory to the king!" thundered the thousands. Confident of triumph,Mardonius suffered the ranks to be broken, as his myriads rushed onward.Over the Asopus and its shallow fords they swept, and raced across theplain-land. Horse mingled with foot; Persians with Tartars. The howlingsin a score of tongues, the bray of cymbals and kettledrums, the clamour ofspear-butts beaten on armour--who may tell it? Having unleashed his wildbeasts, Mardonius dashed before to guide their ragings as he might. Thewhite Nisaean and its companion led the way across the hard plain. Behind,as when in the springtime flood the watery wall goes crashing down thevalley, so spread the thousands. A god looking from heaven would not haveforgotten that sight of whirling plumes, plunging steeds, flying steel, inall the aeons.
Five stadia, six, seven, eight,--so Mardonius led. Already before him hecould see the glistering crests and long files of the Spartans--the prey hewould crush with one stroke as a vulture swoops over the sparrow. Thennigh involuntarily his hand drew rein. What came to greet him? A man onfoot--no horseman even. A man of huge stature running at headlong speed.
The risen sun was now dazzling. The general clapped his hand above hiseyes. Then a tug on the bridle sent the Nisaean on his haunches.
"Lycon, as Mazda made me!"
The Spartan was beside them soon, he had run so swiftly. He was so dazedhe barely heeded Mardonius's call to halt and tell his tale. He was almostnaked. His face was black with fear, never more brutish or loathsome.
"All is betrayed. Democrates is seized. Pausanias and Aristeides arewarned. They will give you fair battle. I barely escaped."
"Who betrayed you?" cried the Prince.
"Glaucon the Alcmaeonid, he is risen from the dead. _Ai!_ woe! no fault ofmine."
Never before had the son of Gobryas smiled so fiercely as when the giantcowered beneath his darting eyes. The general's sword whistled down on theskull of the traitor. The Laconian sprawled in the dust without a groan.Mardonius laughed horribly.
"A fair price then for unlucky villany. Blessed be Mithra, who suffers meto give recompense. Wish me joy,"--as his captains came galloping aroundhim,--"our duty to the king is finished. We shall win Hellas in fairbattle."
"Then it were well, Excellency," thrust in Artabazus, "since the plot isfoiled, to retire to the camp."
Mardonius's eyes flashed lightnings.
"Woman's counsel that! Are we not here to conquer Hellas? Yes, by Mithrathe Glorious, we will fight, though every _daeva_ in hell joins against us.Re-form the ranks. Halt the charge. Let the bowmen crush the Spartans withtheir arrows. Then we will see if these Greeks are stouter thanBabylonian, Lydian, and Egyptian who played their game with Persia to sorecost. And you, Artabazus, to your rear-guard, and do your duty well."
The general bowed stiffly. He knew the son of Gobryas, and thatdisobedience would have brought Mardonius's cimeter upon his own helmet.By a great effort the charge was stayed,--barely in time,--for to have flungthat disorganized horde on the waiting Spartan spears would have beenworse than madness. A single stadium sundered the two hosts when Mardoniusbrought his men to a stand, set his strong divisions of bowmen in arraybehind their wall of shields, and drew up his cavalry on the flanks of thebowmen. Battle he would give, but it must be cautious battle now, and hedid not love the silence which reigned among the motionless lines of theSpartans.
It was bright day at last. The two armies--the whole strength of theBarbarian, the Spartans with only their Tegean allies--stood facing, asathletes measuring strength before the grapple. The Spartan line wasthinner than Mardonius's: no cavalry, few bowmen, but shield was setbeside shield, and everywhere tossed the black and scarlet plumes of thehelmets. Men who remembered Thermopylae gripped their spear-stocks tighter.No long postponing now. On this narrow field, this bit of pebble andgreensward, the gods would cast the last dice for the destiny of Hellas.All knew that.
The stolidity of the Spartans was maddening. They stood like bronzestatues. In clear view at the front was a tall man in scarlet chlamys, andtwo more in white,--Pausanias and his seers examining the entrails ofdoves, seeking a fair omen for the battle. Mardonius drew the turban lowerover his eyes.
"An end to this truce. Begin your arrows."
A cloud of bolts answered him. The Persian archers emptied their quivers.They could see men falling among the foe, but still Pausanias stood besidethe seers, still he gave no signal to advance. The omens doubtless wereunfavourable. His men never shifted a foot as the storm of death flew overthem. Their rigidity was more terrifying than any battle-shout. What werethese men whose iron discipline bound so fast that they could be pelted todeath, and no eyelash seem to quiver? The archers renewed their volley.They shot against a rock. The Barbarians joined in one rending yell,--theiranswer was silence.
Deliberately, arrows dropping around him as tree-blossoms in the gale,Pausanias raised his hand. The omens were good. The gods permitted battle.Deliberately, while men fell dying, he walked to his post on the rightwing. Deliberately, while heaven seemed shaking with the Barbarians'clamour, his hand went up again. Through a lull in the tumult pealed atrumpet. _Then the Spartans marched._
Slowly their lines of bristling spear-points and nodding crests moved onlike the sea-waves. Shrill above the booming Tartar drums, the blaringPersian war-horns pierced the scream
s of their pipers. And the Barbariansheard that which had never met their ears before,--the chanting of theirfoes as the long line crept nearer.
"Ah!--la--la--la--la! Ah!--la--la--la--la!" deep, prolonged, bellowed in chorusfrom every bronze visor which peered above the serried shields.
"Faster," stormed the Persian captains to their slingers and bowmen, "beatthese madmen down." The rain of arrows and sling-stones was like hail,like hail it rattled from the shields and helms. Here, there, a form sank,the inexorable phalanx closed and swept onward.
"Ah!--la--la--la! Ah!--la--la--la!"
The chant never ceased. The pipers screamed more shrilly. Eight deep,unhasting, unresting, Pausanias was bringing his heavy infantry across thetwo hundred paces betwixt himself and Mardonius. His Spartan spearmenmight be unlearned, doltish, but they knew how to do one deed and thatsurpassingly well,--to march in line though lightnings dashed from heaven,and to thrust home with their lances. And not a pitiful three hundred, butten thousand bold and strong stood against the Barbarian that morning.Mardonius was facing the finest infantry in the world, and the avenging ofLeonidas was nigh.
"Ah!--la--la--la! Ah!--la--la--la!"
Flesh and blood in the Persian host could not wait the death grip longer."Let us charge, or let us flee," many a stout officer cried to his chief,and he sitting stern-eyed on the white horse gave to a Tartar troop itsword, "Go!"
Then like a mountain stream the wild Tartars charged. The clods flew highunder the hoofs. The yell of the riders, the shock of spears on shields,the cry of dying men and dying beasts, the stamping, the dust-cloud, tookbut a moment. The chant of the Spartans ceased--an instant. An instant thelong phalanx halted, from end to end bent and swayed. Then the dust-cloudpassed, the chanting renewed. Half of the Tartars were spurring back, withshivered lances, bleeding steeds. The rest,--but the phalanx shook nowhere, now there, as the impenetrable infantry strode over red forms thathad been men and horses. And still the Spartans marched, still the pipesand the war-chant.
Then for the first time fear entered the heart of Mardonius, son ofGobryas, and he called to the thousand picked horsemen, who rode besidehim,--not Tartars these, but Persians and Medes of lordly stock, men whohad gone forth conquering and to conquer.
"Now as your fathers followed Cyrus the Invincible and Darius theDauntless, follow you me. Since for the honour of Eran and the king I ridethis day."
"We ride. For Eran and the king!" shouted the thousand. All the hostjoined. Mardonius led straight against the Spartan right wing wherePausanias's life-guard marched.
* * * * * * *
Old soldiers of Lacedaemon fighting their battles in the after days, when awarrior of Plataea was as a god to each youth in Hellas, would tell how thePersian cavalrymen rode their phalanx down.
"And say never," they always added, "the Barbarians know not how to fightand how to die. Fools say it, not we of Plataea. For our first line seemedbroken in a twinkling. The Pitanate _mora_ was cut to pieces; AthenaPromachus and Ares the City-Waster alone turned back that charge whenMardonius led the way."
But turned it was. And the thousand horse, no thousand now, drifted to thecover of their shield wall, raging, undaunted, yet beaten back.
Then at last the phalanx locked with the Persian footmen and their rampartof wicker shields. At short spear length men grinned in each other'sfaces, while their veins were turned to fire. Many a soldier--Spartan,Aryan--had seen his twenty fights, but never a fight like this. And thePersians--those that knew Greek--heard words flung through their foemen'shelmets that made each Hellene fight as ten.
"Remember Leonidas! Remember Thermopylae!"
Orders there were none; the trumpets were drowned in the tumult. Each manfought as he stood, knowing only he must slay the man before him, whileslowly, as though by a cord tighter and ever tighter drawn, the Persianshield wall was bending back before the unrelenting thrusting of theSpartans. Then as a cord snaps so broke the barrier. One instant down andthe Hellenes were sweeping the light-armed Asiatic footmen before them, asthe scythe sweeps down the standing grain. So with the Persian infantry,for their scanty armour and short spears were at terrible disadvantage,but the strength of the Barbarian was not spent. Many times Mardonius ledthe cavalry in headlong charge, each repulse the prelude to a fiercershock.
"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"
The call of the Prince was a call that turned his wild horsemen intodemons, but demons who strove with gods. The phalanx was shaken, haltedeven, broken never; and foot by foot, fathom by fathom, it brushed theBarbarian horde back across the blood-bathed plain,--and to Mardonius'sshout, a more terrible always answered:--
"Remember Leonidas! Remember Thermopylae!"
The Prince seemed to bear a charmed life as he fought. He was in thethickest fray. He sent the white Nisaean against the Laconian spears andbeat down a dozen lance-points with his sword. If one man's valour couldhave turned the tide, his would have wrought the miracle. And alwaysbehind, almost in reach of the Grecian sling-stones, rode that other,--thepage in the silvered mail,--nor did any harm come to this rider. But afterthe fight had raged so long that men sank unwounded,--gasping, stricken bythe heat and press,--the Prince drew back a little from the fray to arising in the plain, where close by a rural temple of Demeter he couldwatch the drifting fight, and he saw the Aryans yielding ground finger byfinger, yet yielding, and the phalanx impregnable as ever. Then he sent anaide with an urgent message.
"To Artabazus and the reserve. Bid him take from the camp all the guards,every man, every eunuch that can lift a spear, and come with speed, or theday is lost."
The adjutant's spurs grew red as he pricked away, while Mardonius wheeledthe Nisaean and plunged back into the thickest fight.
"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"
His battle-call pealed even above the hellish din. The Persian nobles whohad never ridden to aught save victory turned again. Their last charge wastheir fiercest. They bent the phalanx back like an inverted bow. Theirfootmen, reckless of self, plunged on the Greeks and snapped off thespear-points with their naked hands. Mardonius was never prouder of hishost than in that hour. Proud--but the charge was vain. As the tide sweptback, as the files of the Spartans locked once more, he knew his men haddone their uttermost. They had fought since dawn. Their shield wall wasbroken. Their quivers were empty. Was not Mazda turning against them? Hadnot enough been dared for that king who lounged at ease in Sardis?
"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"
Mardonius's shout had no answer. Here, there, he saw horsemen and footmen,now singly, now in small companies, drifting backward across the plain tothe last refuge of the defeated, the stockaded camp by the Asopus. ThePrince called on his cavalry, so few about him now.
"Shall we die as scared dogs? Remember the Aryan glory. Another charge!"
His bravest seemed never to hear him. The onward thrust of the phalanxquickened. It was gaining ground swiftly at last. Then the Spartans weredashing forward like men possessed.
"The Athenians have vanquished the Thebans. They come to join us. On, menof Lacedaemon, ours alone must be this victory!"
The shout of Pausanias was echoed by his captains. To the left and not faroff charged a second phalanx,--five thousand nodding crests and gleamingpoints,--Aristeides bringing his whole array to his allies' succour. Buthis help was not needed. The sight of his coming dashed out the lastcourage of the Barbarians. Before the redoubled shock of the Spartans theAsiatics crumbled like sand. Even whilst these broke once more, theadjutant drew rein beside Mardonius.
"Lord, Artabazus is coward or traitor. Believing the battle lost, he hasfled. There is no help to bring."
The Prince bowed his head an instant, while the flight surged round him.The Nisaean was covered with blood, but his rider spurred him across thepath of a squadron of flying Medians.
"Turn! Are you grown women!" Mardonius smote the nearest with his sword."If we cannot as Aryans conquer, let us at least as Aryan
s die!"
"_Ai! ai!_ Mithra deserts us. Artabazus is fled. Save who can!"
They swept past him. He flung himself before a band of Tartars. He hadbetter pleaded with the north wind to stay its course. Horse, foot,Babylonians, Ethiopians, Persians, Medes, were huddled in fleeing rout."To the camp," their cry, but Mardonius, looking on the onrushingphalanxes knew there was no refuge there....
And now sing it, O mountains and rivers of Hellas. Sing it, Asopus, toSpartan Eurotas, and you to hill-girt Alphaeus. And let the maidens,white-robed and poppy-crowned, sweep in thanksgiving up to the welcomingtemples,--honouring Zeus of the Thunders, Poseidon the Earth-Shaker, Athenathe Mighty in War. The Barbarian is vanquished. The ordeal is ended.Thermopylae was not in vain, nor Salamis. Hellas is saved, and with hersaved the world.
* * * * * * *
Again on the knoll by the temple, apart from the rushing fugitives,Mardonius reined. His companion was once more beside him. He leaned thatshe might hear him through the tumult.
"The battle is lost. The camp is defenceless. What shall we do?"
Artazostra flung back the gold-laced cap and let the sun play over herface and hair.
"We are Aryans," was all her answer.
He understood, but even whilst he was reaching out to catch her bridlethat their horses might run together, he saw her lithe form bend. Thearrow from a Laconian helot had smitten through the silvered mail. He sawthe red spring out over her breast. With a quick grasp he swung her beforehim on the white horse. She smiled up in his face, never lovelier.
"Glaucon was right," she said,--their lips were very close,--"Zeus andAthena are greater than Mazda and Mithra. The future belongs to Hellas.But we have naught for shame. We have fought as Aryans, as the children ofconquerors and kings. We shall be glad together in Garonmana the Blessed,and what is left to dread?"
A quiver passed through her. The Spartan spear-line was close. Mardoniuslooked once across the field. His men were fleeing like sheep. And so itpassed,--the dream of a satrapy of Hellas, of wider conquests, of an empireof the world. He kissed the face of Artazostra and pressed her still formagainst his breast.
"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!" he shouted, and threw away his sword.Then he turned the head of his wounded steed and rode on the Spartanlances.
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