CHAPTER XXI
THE THREE HUNDRED--AND ONE
As Glaucon slept he found himself again in Athens. He was on the familiarway from the cool wrestling ground of the Academy and walking toward thecity through the suburb of Ceramicus. Just as he came to the three tallpine trees before the gate, after he had passed the tomb of Solon, behold!a fair woman stood in the path and looked on him. She was beyond mortalheight and of divine beauty, yet a beauty grave and stern. Her gray eyescut to his heart like swords. On her right hand hovered a winged Victory,on her shoulder rested an owl, at her feet twined a wise serpent, in herleft hand she bore the aegis, the shaggy goat-skin engirt withsnakes--emblem of Zeus's lightnings. Glaucon knew that she was AthenaPolias, the Warder of Athens, and lifted his hands to adore her. But sheonly looked on him in silent anger. Fire seemed leaping from her eyes. Themore Glaucon besought, the more she turned away. Fear possessed him. "Woeis me," he trembled, "I have enraged a terrible immortal." Then suddenlythe woman's countenance was changed. The aegis, the serpent, the Victory,all vanished; he saw Hermione before him, beautiful as on the day she ranto greet him at Eleusis, yet sad as was his last sight of her the momenthe fled from Colonus. Seized with infinite longing, he sprang to her. Butlo! she drifted back as into the air. It was even as when Odysseusfollowed the shade of his mother in the shadowy Land of the Dead.
"Yearned he sorely then to clasp her, Thrice his arms were opened wide: From his hands so strong, so loving, Like a dream she seemed to glide, And away, away she flitted, Whilst he grasped the empty space, And a pain shot through him, maddening, As he strove for her embrace."
He pursued, she drifted farther, farther. Her face was inexpressiblysorrowful. And Glaucon knew that she spoke to him.
"I have believed you innocent, though all Athens calls you 'traitor.' Ihave been true to you, though all men rise up against me. In what mannerhave you kept your innocence? Have you had love for another, caresses foranother, kisses for another? How will you prove your loyalty to Athens andreturn?"
"Hermione!" Glaucon cried, not in his dream, but quite aloud. He awokewith a start. Outside the tent sentry was calling to sentry, changing thewatch just before the dawning. It was perfectly plain to him what he mustdo. His dream had only given shape to the ferment in his brain, a fermentnever ceasing while his body slept. He must go instantly to the Greek campand warn Leonidas. If the Spartan did not trust him, no matter, he haddone his duty. If Leonidas slew him on the spot, again no matter, lifewith an eternally gnawing conscience could be bought on too hard terms. Heknew, as though Zeus's messenger Iris had spoken it, that Hermione hadnever believed him guilty, that she had been in all things true to him. Hecould never betray her trust.
His head now was clear and calm. He arose, threw on his cloak, and buckledabout his waist a short sword. The Nubian boy that Mardonius had given himfor a body-servant awoke on his mat, and asked wonderingly "whither hisLordship was going?" Glaucon informed him he must be at the front beforedaybreak, and bade him remain behind and disturb no one. But the Athenianwas not to execute his design unhindered. As he passed out of the tent andinto the night, where the morning stars were burning, and where the firstred was creeping upward from the sea, two figures glided forth from thenext pavilion. He knew them and shrank from them. They were Artazostra andRoxana.
"You go forth early, dearest Prexaspes," spoke the Egyptian, throwing backher veil, and even in the starlight he saw the anxious flash of her eyes,"does the battle join so soon that you take so little sleep?"
"It joins early, lady," spoke Glaucon, his wits wandering. In theintensity of his purpose he had not thought of the partings with thepeople he must henceforth reckon foes. He was sorely beset, when Roxanadrew near and laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"Your Greeks will resist terribly," she spoke. "We women dread the battlemore than you. Yours is the fierce gladness of the combat, ours only thewaiting, the heavy tidings, the sorrow. Therefore Artazostra and I couldnot sleep, but have been watching together. You will of course be nearMardonius my brother. You will guard him from all danger. Leonidas willresist fearfully when at bay. Ah! what is this?"
In pressing closer she had discovered the Athenian wore no cuirass.
"You will not risk the battle without armour?" was her cry.
"I shall not need it, lady," answered he, and only half conscious what hedid, stretched forth as if to put her away. Roxana shrank back, grievedand wondering, but Artazostra seized his arm quickly.
"What is this, Prexaspes? All is not well. Your manner is strange!"
He shook her off, almost savagely.
"Call me not Prexaspes," he cried, not in Persian, but in Greek. "I amGlaucon of Athens; as Glaucon I must live, as Glaucon die. No man--notthough he desire it--can disown the land that bore him. And if I dreamed Iwas a Persian, I wake to find myself a Greek. Therefore forget me forever.I go to my own!"
"Prexaspes, my lover,"--Roxana, strong in fear and passion, clung about hisgirdle, while again Artazostra seized him,--"last night I was in your arms.Last night you kissed me. Are we not to be happy together? What is thisyou say?"
He stood one instant silent, then shook himself and put them both asidewith a marvellous ease.
"Forget my name," he commanded. "If I have given you sorrow, I repent it.I go to my own. Go you to yours. My place is with Leonidas--to save him, ormore like to die with him! Farewell!"
He sprang away from them. He saw Roxana sink upon the ground. He heardArtazostra calling to the horse-boys and the eunuchs,--perhaps she badethem to pursue. Once he looked back, but never twice. He knew thewatchwords, and all the sentries let him pass by freely. With a feverishstride he traced the avenues of sleeping tents. Soon he was at theoutposts, where strong divisions of Cissian and Babylonian infantrymenwere slumbering under arms, ready for the attack the instant the uproarfrom the rear of the pass told how Hydarnes had completed his circuit.Eos--"Rosy-Fingered Dawn"--was just shimmering above the mist-hung peak ofMt. Telethrius in Euboea across the bay when Glaucon came to the lastPersian outpost. The pickets saluted with their lances, as he went bythem, taking him for a high officer on a reconnoissance before the onset.Next he was on the scene of the former battles. He stumbled over rivenshields, shattered spear butts, and many times over ghastlierobjects--objects yielding and still warm--dead men, awaiting the crows ofthe morrow. He walked straight on, while the dawn strengthened and thenarrow pass sprang into view, betwixt mountain and morass. Then at last achallenge, not in Persian, but in round clear Doric.
"Halt! Who passes?"
Glaucon held up his right hand, and advanced cautiously. Two men in heavyarmour approached, and threatened his breast with their lance points.
"Who are you?"
"A friend, a Hellene--my speech tells that. Take me to Leonidas. I've astory worth telling."
"_Euge!_ Master 'Friend,' our general can't be waked for every deserter.We'll call our decarch."
A shout brought the subaltern commanding the Greek outposts. He was aSpartan of less sluggish wits than many of his breed, and presentlybelieved Glaucon when he declared he had reason in asking for Leonidas.
"But your accent is Athenian?" asked the decarch, with wonderment.
"Ay, Athenian," assented Glaucon.
"Curses on you! I thought no Athenian ever Medized. What business had_you_ in the Persian camp? Who of your countrymen are there save the sonsof Hippias?"
"Not many," rejoined the fugitive, not anxious to have the questionspushed home.
"Well, to Leonidas you shall go, sir Athenian, and state your business.But you are like to get a bearish welcome. Since your pretty Glaucon'streason, our king has not wasted much love even on repentant traitors."
With a soldier on either side, the deserter was marched within the barrierwall. Another encampment, vastly smaller and less luxurious than thePersian, but of martial orderliness, spread out along the pass. TheHellenes were just waking. Some were bre
akfasting from helmets full ofcold boiled peas, others buckled on the well-dinted bronze cuirasses andgreaves. Men stared at Glaucon as he was led by them.
"A deserter they take to the chief," ran the whisper, and a little knot ofidle Spartans trailed behind, when at last Glaucon's guides halted himbefore a brown tent barely larger than the others.
A man sat on a camp chest by the entrance, and was busy with an iron spooneating "black broth"(9) from a huge kettle. In the dim light Glaucon couldjust see that he wore a purple cloak flung over his black armour, and thatthe helmet resting beside him was girt by a wreath of gold foil.
The two guards dropped their spears in salute. The man looked upward.
"A deserter," reported one of Glaucon's mentors; "he says he has importantnews."
"Wait!" ordered the general, making the iron spoon clack steadily.
"The weal of Hellas rests thereon. Listen!" pleaded the nervous Athenian.
"Wait!" was the unruffled answer, and still the iron spoon went on plying.The Spartan lifted a huge morsel from the pot, chewed it deliberately,then put the vessel by. Next he inspected the newcomer from head to toe,then at last gave his permission.
"Well?"
Glaucon's words were like a bursting torrent.
"Fly, your Excellency! I'm from Xerxes's camp. I was at the Persiancouncil. The mountain path is betrayed. Hydarnes and the guard are almostover it. They will fall upon your rear. Fly, or you and all your men aretrapped!"
"Well," observed the Spartan, slowly, motioning for the deserter to cease,but Glaucon's fears made that impossible.
"I say I was in Xerxes's own tent. I was interpreter betwixt the king andthe traitor. I know all whereof I say. If you do not flee instantly, theblood of these men is on your head."
Leonidas again scanned the deserter with piercing scrutiny, then flung aquestion.
"Who are you?"
The blood leaped into the Athenian's cheeks. The tongue that had wagged sonimbly clove in his mouth. He grew silent.
"Who are you?"
As the question was repeated, the scrutiny grew yet closer. The soldierswere pressing around, one comrade leaning over another's shoulder. Twentysaw the fugitive's form straighten as he stood in the morning twilight.
"I am Glaucon of Athens, Isthmionices!"
"Ah!" Leonidas's jaw dropped for an instant. He showed no otherastonishment, but the listening Spartans raised a yell.
"Death! Stone the traitor!"
Leonidas, without a word, smote the man nearest to him with a spear butt.The soldiers were silent instantly. Then the chief turned back to thedeserter.
"Why here?"
Glaucon had never prayed for the gifts of Peitho, "Our Lady Persuasion,"more than at that crucial moment. Arguments, supplications, protestationsof innocence, curses upon his unknown enemies, rushed to his lipstogether. He hardly realized what he himself said. Only he knew that atthe end the soldiers did not tug at their hilts as before and scowl sothreateningly, and Leonidas at last lifted his hand as if to bid himcease.
"_Euge!_" grunted the chief. "So you wish me to believe you a victim offate, and trust your story? The pass is turned, you say? Masistes the seersaid the libation sputtered on the flame with ill-omen when he sacrificedthis morning. Then you come. The thing shall be looked into. Call thecaptains."
* * * * * * *
The locharchs and taxiarchs of the Greeks assembled. It was a brief andgloomy council of war. While Euboulus, commanding the Corinthiancontingent, was still questioning whether the deserter was worthy ofcredence, a scout came running down Mt. OEta confirming the worst. Thecowardly Phocians watching the mountain trail had fled at the first arrowsof Hydarnes. It was merely a question of time before the Immortals wouldbe at Alpeni, the village in Leonidas's rear. There was only one thing tosay, and the Spartan chief said it.
"You must retreat."
The taxiarchs of the allied Hellenes under him were already rushing forthto their men to bid them fly for dear life. Only one or two stayed by thetent, marvelling much to observe that Leonidas gave no orders to hisLacedaemonians to join in the flight. On the contrary, Glaucon, as he stoodnear, saw the general lift the discarded pot of broth and explore it againwith the iron spoon.
"O Father Zeus," cried the incredulous Corinthian leader. "Are you turnedmad, Leonidas?"
"Time enough for all things," returned the unmoved Spartan, continuing hisbreakfast.
"Time!" shouted Euboulus. "Have we not to flee on wings, or be cut off?"
"Fly, then."
"But you and your Spartans?"
"We will stay."
"Stay? A handful against a million? Do I hear aright? What can you do?"
"Die."
"The gods forbid! Suicide is a fearful end. No man should rush ondestruction. What requires you to perish?"
"Honour."
"Honour! Have you not won glory enough by holding Xerxes's whole power atbay two days? Is not your life precious to Hellas? What is the gain?"
"Glory to Sparta."
Then in the red morning half-light, folding his big hands across hismailed chest, Leonidas looked from one to another of the little circle.His voice was still in unemotional gutturals when he delivered the longestspeech of his life.
"We of Sparta were ordered to defend this pass. The order shall be obeyed.The rest of you must go away--all save the Thebans, whose loyalty Idistrust. Tell Leotychides, my colleague at Sparta, to care for Gorgo mywife and Pleistarchus my young son, and to remember that Themistocles theAthenian loves Hellas and gives sage counsel. Pay Strophius of Epidaurusthe three hundred drachmae I owe him for my horse. Likewise--"
A second breathless scout interrupted with the tidings that Hydarnes wason the last stretches of his road. The chief arose, drew the helmet downacross his face, and motioned with his spear.
"Go!" he ordered.
The Corinthian would have seized his hand. He shook him off. At Leonidas'selbow was standing the trumpeter for his three hundred from Lacedaemon.
"Blow!" commanded the chief.
The keen blast cut the air. The chief deliberately wrapped the purplemantle around himself and adjusted the gold circlet over his helmet, foron the day of battle a Lacedaemonian was wont to wear his best. And even ashe waited there came to him out of the midst of the panic-stricken,dissolving camp, one by one, tall men in armour, who took station besidehim--the men of Sparta who had abided steadfast while all others preparedto flee, waiting for the word of the chief.
Presently they stood, a long black line, motionless, silent, whilst theother divisions filed in swift fear past. Only the Thespians--let theirnames not be forgotten--chose to share the Laconians' glory and their doomand took their stand behind the line of Leonidas. With them stood also theThebans, but compulsion held them, and they tarried merely to desert andpawn their honour for their lives.
More couriers. Hydarnes's van was in sight of Alpeni now. The retreat ofthe Corinthians, Tegeans, and other Hellenes became a run; only onceEuboulus and his fellow-captains turned to the silent warrior that stoodleaning on his spear.
"Are you resolved on madness, Leonidas?"
"_Chaire!_ Farewell!" was the only answer he gave them. Euboulus sought nomore, but faced another figure, hitherto almost forgotten in the confusionof the retreat.
"Haste, Master Deserter, the Barbarians will give you an overwarm welcome,and you are no Spartan; save yourself!"
Glaucon did not stir.
"Do you not see that it is impossible?" he answered, then strode across toLeonidas. "I must stay."
"Are you also mad? You are young--" The good-hearted Corinthian strove todrag him into the retreating mob.
Glaucon sprang away from him and addressed the silent general.
"Shall not Athens remain by Sparta, if Sparta will accept?"
He could see Leonidas's cold eyes gleam out through the slits in hishelmet. The general reached forth his hand.
"Sparta accepts," called he; "they have li
ed concerning your Medizing! Andyou, Euboulus, do not filch from him his glory."
"Zeus pity you!" cried Euboulus, running at last. One of the Spartansbrought to Glaucon the heavy hoplite's armour and the ponderous spear andshield. He took his place in the line with the others. Leonidas stalked tothe right wing of his scant array, the post of honour and of danger. TheThespians closed up behind. Shield was set to shield. Helmets were drawnlow. The lance points projected in a bristling hedge in front. All wasready.
The general made no speech to fire his men. There was no wailing, nocrying to the gods, no curses upon the tardy ephors at Lacedaemon who haddeferred sending their whole strong levy instead of the pitiful threehundred. Sparta had sent this band to hold the pass. They had gone,knowing she might require the supreme sacrifice. Leonidas had spoken forall his men. "Sparta demanded it." What more was to be said?
As for Glaucon he could think of nothing save--in the language of hispeople--"this was a beautiful manner and place in which to die." "Count noman happy until he meets a happy end," so had said Solon, and of all endswhat could be more fortunate than this? Euboulus would tell in Athens, inall Hellas, how he had remained with Leonidas and maintained Athenianhonour when Corinthian and Tegean turned away. From "Glaucon the Traitor"he would be raised to "Glaucon the Hero." Hermione, Democrates, and allothers he loved would flush with pride and no more with shame when menspoke of him. Could a life of a hundred years add to his glory more thanhe could win this day?
"Blow!" commanded Leonidas again, and again pealed the trumpet. The linemoved beyond the wall toward Xerxes's camp in the open beside the Asopus.Why wait for Hydarnes's coming? They would meet the king of the Aryansface to face and show him the terrible manner in which the men ofLacedaemon knew how to die.
As they passed from the shadow of the mountain, the sun sprang over thehills of Euboea, making fire of the bay and bathing earth and heavens withglory. In their rear was already shouting. Hydarnes had reached his goalat Alpeni. All retreat was ended. The thin line swept onward. Before themspread the whole host of the Barbarian as far as the eye could reach,--atossing sea of golden shields, scarlet surcoats, silverlance-heads,--awaiting with its human billows to engulf them. The Laconianshalted just beyond bow shot. The line locked tighter. Instinctively everyman pressed closer to his comrade. Then before the eyes of Xerxes's host,which kept silence, marvelling, the handful broke forth with their paean.They threw their well-loved charging song of Tyrtaeus in the very face ofthe king.
"Press the charge, O sons of Sparta! Ye are sons of men born free: Press the charge; 'tis where the shields lock, That your sires would have you be! Honour's cheaply sold for life, Press the charge, and join the strife: Let the coward cling to breath, Let the base shrink back from death, _Press the charge, let cravens flee!_"
Leonidas's spear pointed to the ivory throne, around which and him thatsat thereon in blue and scarlet glittered the Persian grandees.
"Onward!"
Immortal ichor seemed in the veins of every Greek. They burst into oneshout.
"The king! The king!"
A roar from countless drums, horns, and atabals answered from theBarbarians, as across the narrow plain-land charged the three hundred--andone.