The Queen of Sparta (22 page)

It was an awesome sight as the Spartans came along with their remaining allies, crushing all in their path. Yet, in spite of its glory, it was also a sad sight. For it was clear that these outnumbered Greeks were coming to die. But even then, they made the Persians pay dearly. Two younger half-brothers of Xerxes were amongst the first to fall as the Spartans smashed through the Persian lines, like a hammer smashing down upon a vase. Once again, many Persians were pushed to their deaths over the cliffs on the edge of the Pass.

Even though Xerxes knew that his Anusiya were on their way to attack the Greeks from the rear and the Spartan collapse was only a matter of time, he still wanted Leonidas’ head. The irony, however, was that it was Leonidas who came looking for Xerxes before his tent. But Xerxes was not there. He was busy preparing his troops for the final counter-assault. But when he saw the Spartans moving towards his tent, he rushed back to defend it himself. For all his faults, Xerxes can never be called a coward. However, Xerxes’ brother, Prince Mashista, who was nearby, asked me to come with him to stop his brother. The King, like his two half-brothers, would have easily been killed had he reached his tent.

Leaving my younger brother, Mauga, in charge of the Sakas outside the tent, I ran towards the King, a lone figure riding towards the Greeks. Mashista and I wrestled him away from the fray. In the end, he only relented after I told him that there was no glory in killing men who were already dead.

I rushed back to the mêlée outside the tent, only to see my brother, Mauga, die at the hands of the Spartan warrior leading the charge. Full of hatred and overwhelmed with a desire for vengeance, I began to slash my way towards the Spartan. In the grip of my emotions, I forgot that this man was the same man who had shouted
molon labe
to the Great King. So blinded was I with rage that I did not care who he was. All I knew was that this man had just killed my only brother and he had to die. In the heat of the battle he got separated from his men, who were pushed back under the axe blows of my Sakas.

The warrior kept fighting bravely, even though he had been cut off and was left all alone. His spear had snapped, so he had drawn his
Xiphos
. One by one, he killed all those who went for him. Soon enough, it was my turn. He had grown weary from fighting so many men, his movements becoming slower and more predictable. I easily avoided his thrusts and slashes. In frustration, he lunged at me with full force. I stepped sideways, avoiding his blow as he went past me. But as he did so, I plunged my sword into his exposed thigh, wounding him deeply. As he winced with pain and fell on his knee, I raised my sword with both hands high in the air and brought it down forcefully through the opening above his breastplate between his chest and throat, penetrating his lungs, and probably heart, wounding him mortally.

One of my men came over to me and said, ‘Sire, you have just killed the Spartan King.’ Another examined him and said, ‘he is still alive, but barely.’

Just then a Persian officer on horseback galloped to me and said that the Great King had ordered my men to withdraw to make way for his Persian troops to finish the job. I also saw the Spartans regrouping and about to attack us to recover Leonidas’ body.

I quickly asked my men to gather round so as to hide what I was about to do. I took off Leonidas’ helmet and put in on the head of a dead Spartan lying beside him. I also took off Leonidas’ armour so that no one would recognize him. I wrapped Leonidas’ cloak and gave it to one of my men to hide in his satchel. I then ordered my men to carry my brother’s body and Leonidas’, covered with my cloak, away from the fighting.

I met Xerxes on the way and asked his permission to bury my dead. So flushed with success was he that he assented without giving me or my men another look. ‘The time has come to make an end of this,’ he said, with an air of confidence. He then ordered his Persian troops to recover the body of Leonidas. ‘I want to see that insolent man’s body in pieces,’ he thundered. The Persians and the Spartans fought bitterly over what they thought was Leonidas’ body. In the end, the Persian numbers prevailed. They seized the body and mutilated it beyond recognition. But it was not that of Leonidas.

We took his and my brother’s body away from the Persian camp, behind a hill completely out of its view. I had always respected Leonidas, and had it not been for his killing my brother, I might not even have let him die. But such things happen in war. I decided to give them both funerals worthy of their station, although at the time Leonidas was not yet dead. He was delirious, and I don’t think he could see clearly. So I knelt and put his head on my lap. I heard him groan. I did not want to alarm him, so I spoke in Attic, not Doric, Greek.

I asked him who he was and he answered, ‘I am Leonidas son of Anaxandridas, King of the Spartans.’ Then he asked me, ‘How goes the battle?’

When I told him that it was going badly for the Greeks, he asked, ‘What of the Spartans?’ I told him that they were still fighting but would not last very long. I assured him that they were about to die bravely – all of them.

On hearing my words, Leonidas moved about agitatedly, and tried to reach for his sword, but none was there. I told him that he had done all he could and could do no more. ‘You must let it go now. You must make peace with yourself,’ I said to him.

The King was in extreme pain. He sighed and gently touched my shoulder. After a long silence, he said: ‘Stranger, go and tell my people … Go tell the Spartans … that here … at the Hot-Gates … obedient to their laws … we have fallen.’

I had my men place Leonidas’ body on a pile of olive leaves and cover his body with his crimson cloak as is, I believe, the Spartan custom. Then I said a few words praising him in Doric Greek. However, I soon realized my men did not understand a word I had said. I wanted to tell them about Leonidas and the Spartans. So I reverted to the Saka language. I told my men that the King of Sparta was a noble leader of a great nation. Like us, the Spartans were famous warriors. Like us, they deserved respect. They were here fighting to defend their homeland against the Persians as we had done not long ago. I drew the parallels between our battle of the Iron Gates and the Spartans’ last stand at the Hot Gates. Like our warriors before, Leonidas and his men had died for liberty. According to our custom, my Sakas sang a funeral hymn sung in praise of a fallen hero as they buried your King.

“He is right, Majesty,” Menander confirmed. “I secretly followed him and witnessed the respect and dignity with which he buried King Leonidas.”

“Would you please excuse us, Menander,” said Gorgo, her voice breaking a little.

As Menander left, she turned to Sherzada. “I suppose I am not a very good Spartan wife. I am supposed to be happy when I am told that husband died fighting bravely in battle.”

She approached him and was about to say something when the cell door was forcefully thrown open. Euro and young Nicomedes barged in. Nicomedes’ face belied incredulity and Euro’s usually calm demeanour was panicked as he said, “The traitors’ bodies are being removed from the temple complex by a group of armed men.”

Without a word, Gorgo got up and hurried out of the door followed by her kinsmen.

Sherzada was left alone in the cell, contemplating what he should do. Then he rose and ran to his room to fetch his sword.

CHAPTER 27

BRAZEN DAWN

The Spartan Acropolis

Shortly afterwards

Sherzada arrived in open ground outside the Temple of Athena of the Brazen House. He was out of breath, having run as fast as he could to catch up with Gorgo and Euro. He found them standing in front of the temple, which looked even more sinister in the dark. Dawn was breaking and the twilight enabled them to assess the situation more clearly. The bodies of the five former Ephors had been removed from the poles they had hung from. A group of armed men, wearing crimson cloaks, their faces covered by dark masks, were wrapping one of the bodies in a shroud to carry it away.

“What do you think you are doing here?” Gorgo asked the men.

“Striking a blow for freedom,” responded the man closest to her.

“These are the bodies of traitors,” Gorgo said, as she moved closer to the figures in front of her. Sherzada and Euro stepped forward and flanked her on both sides, drawn swords protecting her body. But Gorgo gently pushed aside their blades and moved even closer to armed men.

“You are the traitor, daughter of Cleomenes,” said the man, “like your father before you.”

“Damon, son Eurysthenes,” she fumed. “Is that you?”

The man stepped back in confusion and almost tripped over the body on the ground. “You are the son of a traitor, Damon,” she said. “How dare you remove your father’s body, without permission?”

One of Damon’s companions stepped forward. “We do not need your permission. There is no law against sons giving their fathers a decent burial.”

“There is one against defying authority.”

“You have no authority here,” shouted the man. “You have made a mockery of our laws. Now we cannot even defend ourselves against the Helots. And you … you prefer the company of bastards and barbarians, to those of your own kind. How can you call yourself our Queen?”

“You are a coward, Magnas, son of Antinuous, and always have been,” she struck back. “You hide your face because you are not man enough to show it. Then again, you weren’t man enough to show your face at any of the battles where real Spartans fought and died for our freedom. By what right do you call yourself a Spartan?”

“By what right can you?” Magnas retorted. “We Spartans always say: ‘Not by caring for my fields but by caring for ourselves did we acquire those fields.’ And now you want us to return those spear-won fields to those we took them from. You are the traitor.”

Meanwhile, the other masked men were exchanging quizzical gestures. They seemed to be wondering how the Queen knew who they were without seeing their faces.

Euro stepped forward. It seemed he wanted to take a closer look at the men. “Stay back,
Mothax
,” said one of the men with a squeaky voice, drawing his sword, “or I’ll run you through.”

“Oh, put that thing away, Cleandridas,” shouted Gorgo, “before you hurt yourself.” She pointed to a deep scar on his thigh. “Remember what happened the last time you tried to handle a weapon? The butt spike of the spear is meant for the ground, not your thigh. And besides it’s rich calling my cousin a bastard when both of us know about your secret Helot sweetheart and that she is with child.”

“There is no truth to this!” Cleandridas protested, turning to his comrades.

A quarrel broke out among them. The tallest, standing at the back, shouted at the rest to be quiet. He addressed Gorgo. “Behold this new dawn. This is when we begin to take back our dignity.”

The sun was rising behind the Temple of Athena, its golden ray reflecting off its columns. A mist was rising where the bodies lay. The masked men cheered.

“We Spartans are guardians of liberty,” another added. “We are destined to rule all of Greece. Tegea, Argos and Athens have no choice. Either they submit or they will be destroyed.”

“You know nothing of liberty, Sthenelaidas, you idiot!” said Gorgo.

Behind him, Sherzada heard footsteps. Many footsteps. He turned to see it was Nicomedes, Pausanias and a detachment of the Knights led by Theras, their commander. They were running down towards the Temple.

Their arrival caused much consternation among the five men. Four of the men hurriedly gathered the body and ran away. The tallest man was the last to leave. “Gorgo, Queen,” he said, “as long as you prefer this Barbarian over Spartans, you are not safe in Sparta.”

He disappeared into the mist, like the four men before him and the body of the traitor Eurysthenes, father of Damon.

“How did you know who those men were?” asked Euro.

Gorgo was sitting at the table in her hearth room next to her cousin, Pausanias. Behind them stood Euro. Sherzada was sitting cross-legged on the floor opposite the Spartans. The morning sun was now clear above the horizon. It had all become so awkward since the conversation in the cell. But it was not just what he had confessed to which made her so uneasy. It was also what she had not said.

“We Spartan women spend a large part of our lives seeing men’s faces hidden behind those bronze helmets,” replied Gorgo. “We have become used to identifying you men in other ways; by the shape and size of your bodies, by your gait, by your voice, and by your various peculiarities. All these men revealed themselves to me in one way or another.

“Oh yes, I recognized all of them. Magnas stayed behind in Sparta during the Persian war citing some vague prophesy in support of this, the violation of which would be construed as blasphemy. Damon conveniently disappeared to our colony Taras in Italy, on the excuse that he had urgent family business to attend to – only to return now, after the Persians have left. Sthenelaidas, son of Alcemenes, was in Corcyra during that period on a similar pretext. Cleandridas opted for garrison duty in Messene to avoid being sent to front lines. That is where he met his young Helot concubine. All of these men stayed behind during the war while braver men fell on the battlefield. To me, they are all Tremblers, and ought to be treated as such.

“All except one, that is,” she continued, “and that exception worries me. He was the tall one standing in the back. I am certain it was Pericleidas, veteran of Salamis. Why would a war hero join this bumbling crew of cowards?”

Euro and Pausanias looked at each other; neither could offer an explanation.

The night had been long and eventful. Sherzada could feel his eyes drooping with exhaustion. He did not know if he was wanted here, or even why he was here at all. Perhaps she had meant him to remain in his cell.

“They have not broken any law, technically speaking; taking down the bodies was not an offence, after all. But I do not want them to spoil my party for Themistocles,” Gorgo was saying.

Pausanias suggested sending them all to do garrison duty at the far-flung fort in a remote corner of Messene.

“But our problem is still Pericleidas,” countered Euro. “He is close to Leotychidas and we cannot move against him without further complicating our relationship with the Eurypontidae.”

Gorgo nodded. “Though we cannot touch Pericleidas, we can split up the rest. Do not send them all to Messene. Young Cleandridas, I am sure, can cool off on the island of Cythera, away from his Helot woman. Perhaps that will teach him to appreciate her even more.”

Euro smiled and got up to leave.

Pausanias also rose. At the door, he turned and said, “Do not underestimate the threat these men pose. They oppose change and thrive on hatred.”

Gorgo nodded. “They fear change more than fear itself. But we cannot let them win. Change is the only option if Sparta is to maintain its pre-eminence amongst the Greeks.”

“My Queen …” began Sherzada, now the two of them were once again alone.

“About Thermopylae …” he started, his voice croaking with emotion.

“Prince Sherzada,” she said quickly, “I want to thank you for this morning. Coming down to the Temple to protect me, though as you saw yourself it was not necessary.

“I also want to thank you for Thermopylae,” she said quite calmly.

“Woman, why are you thanking me?” Sherzada scoffed. “I killed your husband, the father of your child. If you ever lacked a reason for wanting me dead, I have just presented it.”

Gorgo got up and moved closer to Sherzada. “I thank you for giving him the funeral he deserved. It is of great comfort to me that he was not mutilated but buried with great respect by warriors as brave as ours. And as for his death, I don’t think he would have preferred it any other way, than at the hands of a noble warrior like yourself. I do not think he died a disappointed man.”

“Are you not listening to me?” he protested. “I killed Leonidas!”

“You have an interesting death wish, my Prince,” said Gorgo. “You might have your reasons, but must also suffer to live with the consequences of your actions, just like the rest of us.”

She walked over to him then, and said to him in a low tone, “And besides, you did not murder my husband. You killed him in a fair fight. If you hadn’t killed him, he most certainly would have killed you. He would not have hesitated a moment.”

She turned away so he almost could not hear her whisper: “And anyway, Leonidas was not meant to return alive from Thermopylae.”