CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION ~ The Hall of Heroes
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
~ The Battle of Thermopylae
CHAPTER 3
~ Becoming a Spartan Warrior
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
~ Kings, Warriors and Slaves
CHAPTER 7
~ The Olympic Games
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
BONUS BITS!
INTERESTING WORDS
About the author
INTRODUCTION
THE HALL OF HEROES
The Hall of Heroes is a museum all about warriors throughout history. It’s full of swords, bows and arrows, helmets, boats, armour, shields, spears, axes and just about anything else that a warrior might need. But this isn’t just another museum full of old stuff in glass cases – it’s also haunted by the ghosts of the warriors whose belongings are there.
Our great grandfather, Professor Blade, set up the museum and when he died he started haunting the place too. He felt guilty about the trapped ghost warriors and vowed he would not rest in peace until all the other ghosts were laid to rest first. And that’s where Arthur and I come in…
On the night of the Professor’s funeral Arthur and I broke into the museum – we knew it was wrong but we just couldn’t help ourselves. And that’s when we discovered something very weird. When we are touched by one of the ghost warriors we get transported to the time and place where the ghost lived and died. And we can’t get back until we’ve fixed whatever it is that keeps the ghost from resting in peace. So we go from one mission to the next, recovering lost swords, avenging deaths, saving loved ones or doing whatever else the ghost warrior needs us to do.
Fortunately while the Professor was alive I wrote down everything he ever told us about these warriors in a book I call Warrior Heroes – so we do have some idea of what we’re getting into each time – even if Arthur does still call me ‘Finn the geek’. But we need more than a book to survive each adventure because wherever we go we’re surrounded by war and battle and the fiercest fighters who ever lived, as you’re about to find out!
CHAPTER 1
“The Spartans were more obsessed by war than any race, nation or tribe that ever walked the earth!” The Professor’s ghost was pacing back and forth across the carpet in his study. Finn and Arthur knew they were supposed to sit and listen.
“They were the most feared warriors of the ancient world,” he went on. “For hundreds of years they were the superpower of the Greek civilisation. But there was one thing, one battle, that defined the Spartans and their legacy. One moment that ensured their legend would live on for thousands of years. The battle of...”
The Professor paused and glanced at the boys.
“Thermopylae!” said Finn. Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. He was used to Finn’s memory for historical detail, but it still annoyed him.
“And that, my boys, is where you’re going next!” said the Professor cheerfully.
“R-really?” Finn gulped. “Weren’t the Spartans wiped out at Thermopylae?”
“Hang on!” Arthur joined in. “Are we talking about the battle where a few hundred Spartans were up against the entire Persian army?”
The Professor nodded and went on to give them a few more details. The Persians were facing an army made up of a few thousand soldiers from the different Greek city-states, not just Sparta, he told them. But it was the Spartan king Leonidas who led this army and, when it was obvious they would lose, it was Leonidas and the Spartans who stayed behind and made a suicidal last stand.
“And I suppose that’s how our next ghost died, is it?” Finn asked. “Killed by the Persians? But why would a Spartan warrior’s ghost be unable to rest in peace after dying at Thermopylae? They dreamed of dying in battle, didn’t they?”
“I didn’t say our next friend was a Spartan,” the Professor remarked cryptically. “In any case, it looks as though you’re about to hear from the ghost himself.”
Sure enough, the boys noticed that the temperature in the room had dropped. The lights had dimmed. The pressure of the air in the room felt different too – a shift of some kind in the atmosphere. They heard slow steps in the hall outside, they saw the door handle turn, and both boys held their breath as they waited for the red-plumed, red-cloaked, bronze-clad Greek warrior of their imagination to appear. But the figure who entered was not what they had imagined.
True, he looked as solid as an oak tree and with his strong features and flashing dark eyes he must have been a fearsome sight on the battlefield. He wore no armour to speak of, though. His torso and upper thighs were protected a little by a tough-looking leather tunic, and his head by a leather helmet, but if the boys had hoped for a Greek hero, he did not look the part. He looked from Finn to Arthur and back again, his face expressionless.
“So, you were at Thermopylae,” the Professor began. “And what a great fight you and your people put up against the Persians.”
“You speak of ‘my people’ as if I fought alongside my brothers, as if I fought to defend my people...” The huge ghost shook his head. “They said we would be remembered for all time... What fools we were. We fought. We died. We were forgotten.”
“So, you’re not a Spartan then?” Arthur inquired.
A look of pure hatred spread across the ghost’s face. “My name is Adakios,” he growled. “And I am a helot. A Spartan slave. The Spartans treated their dogs better than they treated my people. They came to my village, looking for fighters for Thermopylae. They said my family would be made free. But while I was cut down fighting in their ranks, youths from the Crypteia were butchering my family in our home.
Sparta’s secret police, that was how the Professor had once described the Crypteia – an elite force of young men whose job was to terrify the helots who worked the land around Sparta as slaves. As the last stage in their military training, the most promising young Spartan men joined the Crypteia, roaming the land in secret to spy on the helot slaves, uncover any plans they had for rebellion, and kill the bravest and best of them. In order to prevent the helots rebelling, Sparta officially declared war on the helots every year, so that it was never a crime to kill a helot.
It seemed pretty clear what it was that had caused Adakios’s spirit so much torment.
“They promised immortality.” His voice was a low groan now as he advanced towards the boys, arms outstretched. “And then they wiped out my family. Stop the Crypteia! Save my people!”
Before they could ask any further questions, Adakios had placed a hand on each boy’s chest. The room seemed to fill with mist, the light grew fainter and fainter, the air grew warmer, and the boys’ minds went completely blank.
CHAPTER 2
Arthur floated in darkness, his mind empty. Slowly, faraway sounds began to reach him. They grew louder, and Arthur realised he was listening to the cries and blows of battle. Something hard pressed against his back, and with a gasp he regained consciousness. The battle cries intensified but still Arthur could see only blackness. He tried to get to his feet but when his head cracked against hard rock he began to panic.
He twisted around, and for the first time he saw light. Silhouetted outlines of one man after another were inching forwards, each with a spear thrust ahead. I must be in a cave! he thought, and he started crawling towards the light. Gradually Arthur began to remember who he was, and where he had come from. He still couldn’t remember the details of where he was now, but he knew he had to look for Finn.
As he drew nearer to the mouth of the cave he saw the shadowy figure of a soldier slumped
against the wall. Instantly Arthur froze. The soldier was not moving, or making any sound. His head lolled at an ugly angle. Must be dead, thought Arthur. He stared hard at the shape of the soldier’s head, waiting a little longer just in case. The man’s helmet had a distinctive plume. Ancient Greeks! thought Arthur, and then the memories came flooding back. Xerxes and the Spartans...
He looked again to the mouth of the cave and caught his breath. No longer were the soldiers marching past. He could see the front lines of two armies clashing right in front of his eyes. On one side, festooned in gold and carrying large, wicker shields, Xerxes’ men. On the other, under their proudly crested bronze helmets, red tunics fluttering, the Spartans! This must be the front line of... Arthur could hardly believe it but it had to be... the Battle of Thermopylae!
Heart thumping in the knowledge that he was caught up in a battle that would be remembered for thousands of years to come, Arthur wracked his brain for a plan that would get him safely out of the cave and off the battlefield. No scheme presented itself. The best he could come up with was to take the dead soldier’s armour and weapons. He wasn’t sure what he would do with them, but it was better than doing nothing.
Wrestling with the body’s dead weight, Arthur unstrapped the armour and tugged off the soldier’s red tunic. Then, piece by piece, he tried to dress himself in the bronze armour. The breastplate proved too big and cumbersome and he set it aside, but the greaves he buckled tightly to his legs, protecting his shins, and the helmet was not too loose on his head, although he was surprised at the weight of it.
Arthur had just picked up the Greek soldier’s sword and shield and drawn a deep breath when the front line outside the cave appeared to shift. With a roar, the Persians rushed forward as the Spartans fell back until none was visible at the cave mouth. All Arthur could see now was a crush of Persian soldiers, jostling against their comrades in front of them. His heart sank. He was all too aware that he was wearing Greek armour. All it would take would be one Persian soldier to look into the cave and Arthur would be as good as dead.
It was just at that moment that a low growl reached Arthur’s ears, and with a sick feeling in his gut, he realised it had come from behind him in the cave! Arthur cried out in panic. He looked over his shoulder for the animal that had growled but saw nothing. He looked back to the cave mouth and saw that a Persian soldier had stepped into the cave and was staring right at him. Another roar went up from the soldiers outside as the Spartans were beaten further back. The Persian in the cave grinned wickedly at Arthur. Legs bent and sword drawn, the soldier walked carefully forward. Arthur stood transfixed, unsure what to do. Ahead, a vicious-looking human foe. Behind, who-knew-what in the cave.
Another growl propelled him into action. Hoping to catch the grinning Persian by surprise he sprang forwards, ran a few steps and lunged with his sword. The Persian sidestepped, letting Arthur past, slicing and missing as the boy turned to face him again. The Persian’s smile broadened. He now had Arthur exactly where he wanted him – with his back to the Persian army at the cave mouth. Arthur feinted as if to strike with his sword arm, then punched the soldier with his heavy curved shield. But it was Arthur who was knocked off balance as the weight of the shield carried him forwards. The Persian drew his arm back ready to stab Arthur with the point of his sword. Arthur cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.
A deafening roar filled the cave and Arthur felt the Persian crash into him, sending them both sprawling to the ground. The air was all black eyes, white teeth, huge claws and the screams of the Persian as a bear tore into him. Arthur wriggled out of the way and recoiled, trying to press himself back into the wall of the cave. Too late he noticed that he had come up on the wrong side and the bear was in between him and the cave mouth. Barely able to think in his terror, Arthur began hammering his sword against his shield. The metallic sound rang out like the peal of a huge bell as he beat iron on bronze with all his strength.
The bear raised its head, blood dripping from its jaws. Arthur stepped forwards, hammering even harder. Bellowing with rage, the bear reared up, towering over Arthur and blocking out nearly all the light. Praying desperately that the noise he was making would be enough, Arthur stepped forward once more and almost collapsed with relief as the bear dropped down, turned and lumbered towards the cave mouth.
The bear’s roar had caught the attention of the soldiers nearest the cave and they shouted in fear, unable to get out of the bear’s path. It charged out of the cave and into the Persian force, scattering soldiers left and right.
A great shout went up as the Spartans seized this unexpected opportunity and bore down on the Persians, driving them backwards. Moments later red tunics and plumes replaced gold jewellery and wicker shields in Arthur’s limited view. A Spartan stared in at Arthur and nodded, and he realised this was his chance to leave the cave. He took a deep breath, raised his sword, and walked out to join the Spartan ranks.
The men nearest the cave mouth gave Arthur a loud cheer as he stepped out. What had not been clear from inside the cave was that the Spartans were arranged in row after row of shield-wall formations. Each line of soldiers held their shields so that they overlapped with the next man’s shield, creating a wall of metal. Arthur could not see how many rows of soldiers separated him from the front line, but judging by the noise it was not far away. In the course of his adventures Arthur had learned to use many weapons, and he was confident with spear and sword. But the close confines of pitched battle, where rows and rows of soldiers pressed up against one another, was a new and unwelcome experience.
“This is no place for a boy,” someone shouted, echoing Arthur’s thoughts exactly. “Get him to the back!”
To begin with Arthur thought that the soldiers had misheard the instruction, as they shepherded him away from the cave and sideways across their ranks rather than to the back of their lines. But he tripped and stumbled his way across, and seconds later he found himself standing knee-deep in the sea. He had assumed as he emerged from the cave that the battlefield was in a valley or gorge, but looking around him he saw that the fighting was taking place on a narrow strip of land with cliffs on one side and the sea on the other.
“Get back past the wall,” a soldier instructed gruffly.
All Arthur had to do now was wade along the shoreline and he would soon reach relative safety. He winced as an arrow hissed into the water next to him, and he raised his shield over his head and began splashing through the small waves. Ahead he saw a low defensive wall of rocks extending across the land and a short way out into the sea. It seemed that the Spartans had come out from behind the wall to press the Persians back, and behind the wall Arthur saw a larger army of Greeks. He vaguely remembered the Professor talking about the different Greek units taking shifts at the front line. Must be the Spartans’ turn at the moment, he thought as he reached the wall.
A strong arm reached down and pulled him up, and then he was slithering gratefully down the far side of the stone barrier.
EXTRACT FROM WARRIOR HEROES BY FINN BLADE
THE BATTLE OF THERMOPYLAE
When the Persian emperor Xerxes prepared an army of over 100,000 troops for an invasion of Greece, more than half the Greek city-states immediately surrendered in the hope of peace. The city-states of Athens and Sparta led the resistance, and it was agreed that Sparta would lead a mixed Greek army north to try and stop the Persians getting very far into Greece. However, they decided that the Greek army would be made up of only around 7,000 men. They would be horribly outnumbered by their enemies.
Why? Partly because they wanted to keep most of their armies fresh to defend Athens and Sparta in the south. And partly because the Olympic Games were being held at the same time as Xerxes began his advance. As the Olympics were a hugely important religious festival, as well as a sporting spectacle, the Greeks wanted to allow their soldiers to attend the Games.
This small Greek army chose to wait for the Persians at the ‘Hot Gates’ of Thermopylae, a very narrow pas
s through which Xerxes’ army would have to march if they wanted to reach southern Greece. On one side of the pass were sheer cliffs. On the other side was the sea. Because the battlefield was so narrow, it didn’t really matter that the Persians outnumbered the Greeks so heavily.
After two and a half days of fighting, in which the Greeks didn’t give an inch, they were betrayed by a local villager, who told the Persians about a goat track that they could take to get around the pass. Leonidas, the Spartan king who commanded the whole Greek army, heard that the Persians were going to outflank the Greeks, and immediately told most of the army to retreat. The Spartans who stayed behind were all killed along with Leonidas, but they fought for long enough to allow the rest of the army to escape.
CHAPTER 3
Some way behind the defensive wall, Finn woke with a stretch. He blinked up at the sky and cleared his throat. The word ‘Sparta’ floated around his head. Maybe I’m in Sparta, he thought calmly. Somewhere close by, Finn could hear men shouting but he felt too sleepy to care. Maybe if I just close my eyes... he thought, yawning deeply. A scuffling sound made him turn his head. Before he could react, flying sand filled his mouth and a young man crashed into him. The youth had been running fast and his momentum sent him flying high over a spluttering Finn, who was now very much awake!
Finn’s first instinct was to get away. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself before he found Arthur and got his thoughts together. But as he and the young man both scrambled to their feet, the look on the youth’s face made him stop. His nostrils were flared, his throat seemed tight, and his eyes were wide with terror.
“Help me!” said the youth. “Find Adakios! Tell him Nikodemos needs him. Please!” But before Finn could reply, the young man had turned on his heel and darted behind a large boulder and out of sight. It occurred to Finn that this was a great piece of luck – here was a ready-made reason for Adakios to listen to him. He also realised that whoever the youth had been running from was probably not someone he wanted to meet.
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