THE TRAGEDY OF THE MARSH
It was after midnight when the council ended and the generals returned
to the mercenary camp. Chares and Clearchus had long been slumbering,
but Leonidas, feeling his responsibility as leader, had deemed it his
duty not to yield to his fatigue until the camp was still.
The story of what had occurred in the council spread quickly through
the mercenary army next morning. Memnon had returned in a rage. He
had warned the satraps of their folly in expecting an easy victory and
had advised them again to fall back, laying waste the country as they
went, so that the Macedonians would be forced to give battle on
disadvantageous terms and when they had been disheartened by privation.
This suggestion had been treated with scorn by the Persians. They had
taunted Memnon with cowardice and the satrap Arsites had flatly refused
to permit a single house in his province to be destroyed.
"If the Greeks wish to earn their pay without fighting," he had said,
"let them stand idly by and see how brave men can conquer."
Thereupon all the Persian nobles had shouted assent and it had been
decided to proceed without delay to crush the invasion by forcing a
battle.
This was the news that was told through the camp of the Greeks and
discussed with bitter comment by groups of soldiers.
"I wish I was back with my wife and children," said a sturdy Locrian.
"These dogs know nothing of war."
"I shall stay here, no matter what they do," remarked an Athenian, with
a shrug. "Hemlock does not agree with me."
"Wait until the phalanx strikes them," said a hoplite from Syracuse.
"I'll wager that the date-eaters will sing a different song when the
sarissa begins to tickle their ribs."
"You would suppose that these fellows would like to see the barbarians
beaten," Chares muttered to Clearchus.
"Hush," said Leonidas. "We know all that we came to learn. What we
have to do now, is to get out as soon as we can. The army cannot be
far away and unless we can reach it before it arrives, the day may be
lost. If we give the Persians time, they may yet change their minds.
All depends upon an immediate attack, while their forces are divided.
We must get away at once. How are we to manage it?"
"Why, walk away, of course," Chares said. "Who is to stop us?"
"That will not do," Leonidas replied. "You know the order that nobody
shall straggle from the camp. There is too much danger of getting into
a brawl with the Persians."
"If a foraging party is going out, we might join it," Clearchus
proposed.
"That is worth trying," the Spartan assented; "wait here until I find
our friend, the captain."
It happened that the same foraging party that they had joined the day
before was going out again. Leonidas asked permission to join it.
"You have not yet been enrolled," the grizzled captain objected, "but
come along if you wish; we may need the big fellow with the stake.
I'll leave three of my men behind and you can take their places."
Leonidas breathed more freely when they were out of the camp, with the
most dangerous part of the mission accomplished. They were forced to
cross the Granicus and to walk five or six miles on the other side
before they met with any success in their search for provisions. At
last they discovered a flock of sheep, of which they took possession.
All was in readiness for the return march when Leonidas, Chares, and
Clearchus approached the captain.
"We have decided that we will not join the army," Leonidas announced.
"We have seen enough of this war. We are going back to the coast."
"I don't know about that," the captain said, scratching his head.
"We are not enrolled," Leonidas reminded him.
"That is true," said the honest fellow, "but you have been in the camp."
"Well, we are not going back," the Spartan said deliberately. "Are you
going to try to force us? There are thirteen of you and only three of
us, but if you want a fight, you can have it. We don't intend to risk
our lives for such leaders as Arsites. Which shall it be--shall we go,
or shall we fight for it?"
"Let them go," interposed one of the soldiers who had drawn near to
learn what the controversy was about. "They saved us yesterday. I
have half a mind to go with them myself. I would if I had my pay."
"Yes, let them go, if they wish," others chimed in. "They are not
enrolled."
"Farewell," Leonidas said, sheathing his sword and extending his hand
to the captain. "You can say we were killed in a skirmish with the
Persians if you like."
"That's it, I'll say you were killed," the captain exclaimed in a tone
of relief, clasping the proffered hand. "Only, you will not come
back?" he asked doubtfully.
"Never fear," cried Chares, giving him a slap on the back that almost
felled him to the ground. "If we do, we'll swear you told the truth."
So they turned north and passed on, while the remainder of the party
drove in the sheep to camp.
It was mid-afternoon when they separated from the mercenary company,
and they had no means of knowing how many miles they would have to
travel before they fell in with the Macedonian army.
"Now for it," cried Leonidas, swinging his shield over his shoulder.
"Come on!"
Before they had gone far, they found themselves descending a long slope
toward what seemed to be a wide stretch of marshland extending as far
as they could see. It was covered with long, dry rushes, which rustled
and bent before the strong breeze. The brown expanse apparently had
once been a lake, for in the distance they could catch the gleam of
water; but the greater part of the basin had dried, and the reeds had
sprung up as the water receded.
"It looks like a swamp," Clearchus said, anxiously scanning the plain.
"How are we to pass?"
"It seems dry enough now," Leonidas replied. "We will cross it if we
can find no better way; but let us look first for a road."
Facing to the east, they skirted the edge of the rushes for more than a
mile without finding an opening or coming within sight of the end.
"I'm afraid we shall have to try to get through," Leonidas said at
last, halting on a tongue of land which extended some distance into the
marsh. "We can't afford to waste much more time."
The question was decided for them in a manner that left them no choice.
As they stood in doubt, shouts came from their rear, and turning, they
saw a company of horsemen at the top of the slope, half a mile away,
bearing down upon them at a breakneck gallop. Their long lances and
flowing garments showed them to be Persians.
"You were right in saying that we had no time to waste, Leonidas,"
Chares exclaimed. "What are you going to do about this? I am anxious
to take orders."
For answer, the Spartan set off at a run for the marsh. It was evident
that the Persians had seen them and were aiming to attack them at a
distance from the camps, where the affair would remain undiscovered.
With the wind blowing in their faces, the three young men plunged in
among the reeds. The dry stalks met above their heads and whistled
about their ears.
"Go first!" commanded Leonidas, standing aside for Chares to pass.
The Theban took the lead, tearing like a wild bull through the
crackling stems. Clearchus followed at his heels and Leonidas brought
up the rear, retaining for himself the post of danger. Although their
figures were hidden, they knew their pursuers would have no trouble in
following them, for they left a broad trail, and, moreover, the
elevation of the backs of their horses would enable the barbarians
easily to mark their progress by the waving of the rushes.
For a mile and two miles the race continued without a word being
spoken. The Persians had ridden headlong into the marsh after them and
were slowly gaining upon them, although the speed of their horses was
checked by the rushes, which caused them to stumble, and by the
softness of the ground, into which their hoofs sank to the fetlock at
every stride.
Clearchus was panting for breath and he heard Leonidas breathing hard
behind him. Sweat streamed from the face and neck of Chares, who broke
the path. The Athenian knew that the pace could not be maintained much
longer.
Still another half mile they struggled on with the endless brown walls
of reeds before them and around them. Long ago they had cast away
their javelins and their shields, which caught in the reeds and
hindered them. Even if they could find a barrier behind which to make
a stand, they knew they would have no chance for their lives against
the enemy, who outnumbered them six to one and had the advantage of
being mounted.
Clearchus thought of Artemisia, and his temples throbbed with anguish
as he nerved himself to fresh effort. Was he never to see her again?
His bones would bleach in the middle of that vast morass and she would
not know. He thought of the high-spirited young king who had sent them
to obtain information that might save his army from destruction and the
hopes of Greece from ruin. On them alone might depend the result of
the battle that was to be fought and the destiny of two nations.
He saw Chares stumble once and again. His own muscles were benumbed by
the long strain. The shouting at their backs was growing louder and
more near and he could hear the thudding of the hoofs upon the spongy,
black soil.
"Stop!" Leonidas gasped behind him, and looking over his shoulder,
Clearchus saw that the Spartan had fallen to his knees.
"Back, Chares," he shouted. "The end has come!"
The Theban halted and they both ran back to Leonidas, drawing their
swords with a fierce determination to defend themselves to the last.
"Beat down the rushes!" Leonidas cried hoarsely. "Let in the wind!"
They saw that he held his flints in his hands and that a tiny blaze was
flickering up from a heap of rushes which he had crushed into a
tinder-like mass.
They understood his plan and hope returned to them. Like madmen, they
trampled the reeds to the right and left. A puff of wind came through
and caught the darting tongue of fire. It leaped upward so suddenly
that the Spartan's hair was singed before he had time to draw back. In
an instant, it seemed, a sheet of flame flung itself into the air above
the reed-tops, casting off a thin swirl of bluish smoke. With
incredible swiftness the fire swept from them straight down upon their
pursuers, leaving behind it a rapidly widening wake of black.
"Scatter it!" cried Leonidas, seizing the blazing reeds and throwing
them in every direction. The others followed his example, spreading
the fire as far as they could to the right and left so as to make it
impossible for the Persians to evade it by avoiding its path.
As soon as the barbarians saw the first smoke, they halted, hesitated
for a moment, and then turned wildly back in the hope of escaping by
the way they had come. The Greeks had taken a position on the charred
ground, where they themselves were safe from the flames, and were
awaiting the result, sword in hand.
The conflagration, as it gathered headway, seemed to become a monster
animated by a living spirit. One broad sheet of flame swept high into
the air, roaring like a hungry beast, and throwing up clouds of smoke
that hid the southern sky. With deadly swiftness it devoured the lake
of reeds before it, leaving behind a bare and level plain of ashes from
which here and there rose smoky spirals. It seemed to create a
scorching gale stronger even than the wind that had fanned it into
life. It rushed forward by great leaps and bounds, pausing now and
then over some especially tempting thicket of reeds, and then starting
up far in advance.
In vain the three young men tried to learn what had become of the
pursuers upon whom Leonidas had let loose their terrible ally.
Grasping their swords, they stood back to back amid the drifting smoke,
striving to look beyond the flaming wall. The wave of fire reached the
slope from which they had fled, lingered there for a few moments, and
then vanished as quickly almost as it had sprung into existence. The
smoke blew away over the uplands in a bellying cloud. Gazing through
its rifts, they could see nothing of the Persians. They seemed to have
disappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowed them.
"Where are they?" exclaimed Clearchus in bewilderment.
"They must have escaped," Leonidas replied.
"No, by Zeus, I see them!" Chares cried, pointing to a group of
blackened mounds about halfway from where they stood to the edge of the
marsh.
One of the mounds stirred as he spoke, and they saw that he was right.
It was one of the horses. The animal tried to raise itself on its fore
legs, gave a scream of agony, and fell back among the cinders.
Without a word, the three Companions turned away. While the fire had
fled rapidly before the wind, it had made little progress in other
directions. It was still eating into the rushes behind them and on
either side and they were surrounded by it, excepting where it had
swept back to the slope. To return in that direction would be to run
new risk of capture. They were prisoners.
They looked at each other. Their faces and garments were black with
smoke and ashes.
"What would they say if they could see you in the Agora in Athens
looking like that?" Chares asked of Clearchus.
"They would ask me the price of charcoal, I suppose," the Athenian
replied, laughing.
They moved slowly after the receding fire, choosing their path with
caution and halting every few yards to wait until the ground had cooled.
"We shall not get out in time!" Leonidas groaned.
"Don't be too sure," Clearchus cried. "Look at that." He extended his
hand, upon which a drop of water had fallen.
"Rain!" cried the Spartan, joyfully. "The Gods be thanked!"
It was rain, indeed. The drops were falling all around them, making
little puffs in the hot ashes and hissing on the embers. The wind
shifted further to the east and brought a refreshing dampness to their
faces, crimsoned by the stifling atmosphere which they had been forced
to breathe. There was a muttering of thunder, then a nearer crash
overhead, and they saw the storm striding across the plain in a long,
sweeping curve. They lifted their faces to it and drew deep breaths,
letting the water trickle through their hair and down their bodies.
Steam rose from the blackened expanse all about them. Gaps began to
appear in the hissing circle of fire. The red tongues flickered and
went out.
"There is yet time," Leonidas cried, and in a few moments they were
once more among the reeds, heading for the northern margin of the swamp.