Part 35 (1/2)
”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 G.o.ds forbid! Suicide is a fearful end. No man should rush on destruction. What requires you to perish?”
”Honour.”
”Honour! Have you not won glory enough by holding Xerxes's whole power at bay two days? Is not your life precious to h.e.l.las? What is the gain?”
”Glory to Sparta.”
Then in the red morning half-light, folding his big hands across his mailed chest, Leonidas looked from one to another of the little circle.
His voice was still in unemotional gutturals when he delivered the longest speech of his life.
”We of Sparta were ordered to defend this pa.s.s. The order shall be obeyed.
The rest of you must go away-all save the Thebans, whose loyalty I distrust. Tell Leotychides, my colleague at Sparta, to care for Gorgo my wife and Pleistarchus my young son, and to remember that Themistocles the Athenian loves h.e.l.las and gives sage counsel. Pay Strophius of Epidaurus the three hundred drachmae I owe him for my horse. Likewise-”
A second breathless scout interrupted with the tidings that Hydarnes was on the last stretches of his road. The chief arose, drew the helmet down across his face, and motioned with his spear.
”Go!” he ordered.
The Corinthian would have seized his hand. He shook him off. At Leonidas's elbow 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 purple mantle around himself and adjusted the gold circlet over his helmet, for on the day of battle a Lacedaemonian was wont to wear his best. And even as he 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 beside him-the men of Sparta who had abided steadfast while all others prepared to flee, waiting for the word of the chief.
Presently they stood, a long black line, motionless, silent, whilst the other divisions filed in swift fear past. Only the Thespians-let their names not be forgotten-chose to share the Laconians' glory and their doom and took their stand behind the line of Leonidas. With them stood also the Thebans, but compulsion held them, and they tarried merely to desert and p.a.w.n their honour for their lives.
More couriers. Hydarnes's van was in sight of Alpeni now. The retreat of the Corinthians, Tegeans, and other h.e.l.lenes became a run; only once Euboulus and his fellow-captains turned to the silent warrior that stood leaning on his spear.
”Are you resolved on madness, Leonidas?”
”_Chaire!_ Farewell!” was the only answer he gave them. Euboulus sought no more, but faced another figure, hitherto almost forgotten in the confusion of 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 to Leonidas. ”I must stay.”