My Spartan Hellion (32 page)

She glanced over at the women who stood spread out across the hill, their bows at their sides. They all waited for Cleomenes’ signal from below. When the Romans were in range they would release the winches that held the catapults secure, sending massive stones smashing into their formation, breaking it apart so that the Spartan archers could pick them off. And when the catapults and arrows could no longer stop the advancing legionnaires, the Spartan army, the only barrier that stood between the city and the Romans, would advance to meet them.

She sent up a silent plea to the gods, praying for a miracle. The odds were against them. She could only hope that their plan would work.

* * * *

Thanos did not hesitate in withdrawing his army when Adonis reported back to him that Euripydes had received the directive to assemble from Thanos himself. He’d never issued any such directive, but he knew who had.
Atallus.
Atallus had been the one to forge his signature and his seal.

Somehow the governor had got into the pocket of the Romans and made sure that the two strongest militaries in Greece—the Spartans and the Thebans—were weakened by dividing their numbers between defending Athens and their own city-states.

He suspected that the Romans had planned to enter Greece through Sparta, move on to Thebes, and when the combined Greek armies finally received word of the invasion they would have had no choice but to move south along the peninsula to meet the Romans, leaving Athens vulnerable to an attack from the sea. He had to admire the brilliance of the plan, but it had taken treachery to execute, and, unfortunately for the Romans, they’d caught on to their ruse just in time. The Spartans and Thebans would return to their states and the Athenian navy and army would await any sign of the Romans.

The battle-ready Spartans made the journey home in four dawns, stopping only to rest their horses. They could not afford to eat or sleep. Every second wasted was a second the Romans got closer to Sparta.

It was almost midday when Thanos and his soldiers crossed over the Parnon from the east. Although he’d pressed his soldiers to make the journey at a punishing pace, he knew that the Romans had made it to Sparta before him and his men, so he had no idea what to expect when he rode over the mountains.

Chaos greeted him as hundreds of tiny fires burned across the landscape where catapults had sent their fiery stones hurling across the wide expanse to crush the Roman defences.

The soldier in him quickly assessed the casualties and he was relieved to see that the
phalanx
wall was holding with seven layers still intact, but he knew it could not hold forever with the steady barrage of Roman soldiers slowly wearing down the outer layers.

Nudging Zeus forward, he unsheathed his sword, released the Spartan war cry and led his soldiers across the plain to defend their city.

* * * *

Lamia pulled back the string of her bow and released another spray of arrows. She followed them with her eyes as two hit their mark, but the rest bounced off heavy metal shields. She was exhausted, her arms ached and all she wanted to do was curl up under a blanket and sleep, but she pushed her weariness aside.

Thanos had sent a messenger ahead of him and his army—
they were coming
. When she’d received the news at dawn, hope had flooded her, renewing her strength. All they had to do was hold the city until Thanos returned with his army.

Reaching down, she scrambled to gather another handful of arrows when she heard the wail of a horn in the distance. She shot to her feet, squinting against the midday rays as she stared across the battlefield.

The moment she saw him, her heart did a quick little flutter.

Dressed in his full armour, he rode astride Zeus, the white stallion standing out among the other warhorses. Much like the dawn they’d first met, she could not see his face with his helmet firmly in place, but, even had she not caught a glimpse of the scarlet crest, she would have known instantly that it was him. He rode with a steady confidence that called out to her, and, even if she’d closed her eyes, she still would have known that he was near.

Thanos.

She spun around to signal the archers and the
helots
manning the catapults to stop. They could not risk striking down the advancing men who, as she spoke, were caging in the Romans.

Relief rushed through her as the now vastly outnumbered Romans scrambled to push back the Spartans from both sides. As the dawn passed and the battle raged before her, Lamia realised that the Romans faced imminent defeat as Thanos and his
hoplites
slashed through their crumbling formation.

By dusk, the invaders were left with only two choices—surrender and live, or fight to the death.

Chapter Twenty-One

Captain Marcus Aurelius crept along the craggy rocks of the stoned path towards the centre of Sparta, already knowing that this plan was a mistake. General Scipio had ordered him to move a small band of two dozen soldiers along the southern trail into Sparta. Although the enemy spies had caught sight of their movement, Scipio believed the Spartan army would be far too busy defending the outskirts of the city to have time to react and flush out his men, whose main goal was to disable the catapults that were severely weakening the Roman troops then quickly return to their formation.

He knew Scipio hadn’t expected such staunch resistance from the Greeks, but he thought it foolish on the older general’s part to have underestimated the formidable Spartans.
His
foolishness was why Marcus was now being ordered to undertake an equally imprudent mission that he sensed would only end in disaster.

With stealthy steps he crept through the deserted and darkened city towards his destination until it was in sight. Three catapults sat atop a hill, along with hundreds of male slaves…and
women
. He grimaced. Scipio had not mentioned women. Marcus had strict principles when it came to killing women and children—he would not do it. He was a soldier, not a murderer, and killing innocent women and children was murder to him.

He turned to his men. “Our orders are to destroy the catapults but there are women up there so we will be quick about this. I do not want any innocent casualties, understood?”

“But, Captain, they’re armed. Besides, they’re
Spartan
women,” a soldier spat out, his voice ringing with insolence.

Cornelius.

He’d never liked Cornelius—he was lazy and lacked discipline, and there was a sinister air that surrounded the younger man that had always unsettled him.

Marcus tamped down his rising temper so he did not succumb to the burning desire to smash his fist into the soldier’s jaw. He did not wish to delay this task any longer than need be—and a fight between him and Cornelius promised just that.

“I do not care who they are, or that they’re armed,” he said sharply, his pointed gaze fixing on Cornelius. “If we cannot disarm them using brute force and our bare hands then we will retreat. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” his men responded, all except Cornelius. His beady eyes were hard and cruel with blood lust, and Marcus swore that he felt his blood freeze as the air around him grew cold and ominous.

* * * *

The sun was waning in the sky, dusk giving way to a humid eve, as Lamia stood with the other women and
helots
, her attention riveted on the battle below. Never once did her eyes stray from the lone soldier atop a white stallion. Every time he lifted his sword to deflect an attack her breath hitched in her chest. She longed to be down there with him, not standing up here helpless and simply watching, but she knew Cleomenes would never allow her past the
phalanx
that stood like an impenetrable fortress before the imaginary gates of Sparta.

Cheers rang out as they watched Thanos’ forces push the Romans deeper into the
phalanx
at their backs. Their Roman leader had yet to sound the horn and wave the white banner of surrender, so the Spartans pressed on. She had to admit that she was impressed by the fortitude of the Romans, but she knew the battle would be over by the time the pale silver moon shimmered in the black sky. And, from the looks of it, there wouldn’t be many prisoners—most of the invading soldiers would be dead.

She was so engrossed in the battle before her that it took her a moment to notice the flickering flames of gold. She whipped her head around, her long braid flying over her shoulder, to watch in horror as seemingly dozens of soldiers scrambled about, setting torches to all three of the catapults.

“
Romans!
” she shouted at the same time that she lifted her bow, sending a stream of arrows hurling across the distance to catch four soldiers unawares. Cries of pain pierced her ears as they clutched at the long wooden darts now protruding from their flesh.

She reached for four more arrows to arm her bow, but then everything seemed to happen at once as they sent back their own fire and a whir of arrows buzzed around her head. She ducked and dodged flying arrows, desperately trying to grasp her shield, which lay at her feet, but she wasn’t fast enough.

She heard her name at the same time a knot of pain exploded in her side.

With a sharp gasp, she dropped to her knees, curling her hand around the thin arrow.

“Do not pull it out. Do not move,” Callisto barked as she helped her to the ground, laying her flat on her back. Fear flashed in the jade-coloured eyes of her friend, before she saw her push it away, replacing it with steely determination. It was a look Lamia wasn’t used to seeing on Callisto’s face, but one she’d grown accustomed to since the attack on Sparta.

She heard a deep male voice call out “
Retreat
!” and for a moment she thought it was Thanos, but then she found it difficult to form even the tiniest thought when a sharp pang ripped through her and more blood leaked from her wound.

“Go, Callisto. Push back the Romans. I will be fine.”

She shook her head vehemently. “No.”

If she’d had the strength she would have pushed her, but she didn’t. She opened her mouth to
command
her to leave, but, before she could, a dark shadow fell across them. Terror filled her when a Roman soldier with sinister eyes lifted his sword high above her friend’s back.

“Callisto, move!”

“
Cornelius, no!
” shouted that voice again, so much like Thanos’, then she watched as, almost in slow motion, the soldier’s eyes widened, his sword falling from his hand, and thick rivulets of blood gurgled from his mouth. Moments later he slumped over and collapsed to the ground.

Callisto whirled her head around at the same time that a handsome Roman soldier came into view, his piercing blue eyes filled with concern.

“Are you all right?”

She wanted to shout, ‘
Do I look all right?’
but the Roman’s eyes were not on her.

His gaze was riveted upon Callisto as hers was upon him.

Her friend nodded slowly. “Thank you.” And then she felt like an intruder when an invisible current of awareness arced between them. She
felt it so she knew they must have as well. She wanted to shake them both and yell, ‘
Hello, I’m dying here!’
, but she didn’t have the strength.

All of a sudden raucous shouts vibrated from around her and she struggled to make out the words. She swore she heard ‘
The king is coming’.
But that was impossible. Thanos had been on the battlefield only moments ago. She wondered why Cleomenes had moved his soldiers to the hill. Just before she’d fallen, they’d doused the fire from two of the catapults and were successfully pushing back the Romans. They didn’t need reinforcements.

Callisto gasped at something over her shoulder at the same time that the Roman’s eyes grew wide and he backed away from her, shouting “
Retreat!”
once again. He disappeared from her sight and, when Callisto stepped away from her, she finally understood why the Roman had been in such a hurry to leave.

* * * *

Thanos and his men had backed the Romans so tightly against Cleomenes’ forces that it would be a blood bath if they continued, but that was their choice. Scipio had stubbornly refused to surrender, so Thanos was left with no other option but to completely destroy the Roman army. He almost admired the general, because, if the roles had been reversed, every Spartan would have died before they’d surrendered.

Still, he hoped that it didn’t come to that, which was why he planned to crush the spirit of the Romans so brutally that the foot soldiers would simply give up, despite the word of their leader.

He urged Zeus forward to take up arms once again but halted his mount at the sight of angry red flames flickering against the black horizon along the hill above Pylos.

Anger knotted his belly. Somehow the Romans had managed to circumvent the
phalanx
to enter the city, probably through the tunnels just beneath the ground.

Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the distance. A little more than twenty soldiers stood on the hill battling the women and
helots
, who were succeeding in defending their position as they quickly doused the flames from the catapults.

His gaze snapped to Lamia, her long mane twisted into a braid that flopped against her back as she led the charge. Pride washed over him and he curled his lips into a small smile. He’d caught sight of her when he’d first ridden onto the battlefield and his gaze had periodically strayed to her, just to assure himself she remained unharmed.

Warmth settled around his heart as he watched her. He could not have asked for a better wife or queen to stand by his side. She was fearless, her bravery unmatched by any other woman he’d ever known.

He was just about to turn away from her, to rejoin the battle, when something he’d never felt before gripped him. He watched helplessly as a single arrow careened through the sky to lodge itself deep in her body.