LEONIDAS UNDERTAKES A MISSION
Down from the Phrygian plateau, through a land that glowed with the
touch of autumn, marched the Macedonian host, with Alexander at its
head. On a clear October night the army halted at the foot of the
rugged and forbidding crags of the Taurus. Leonidas with his cavalry
troop followed the young king in the attack upon the Cilician Gates,
which scattered the guard stationed there and opened the way into the
satrapy of Cilicia.
From one of the captives taken at the pass, Alexander learned that the
satrap Arsames had planned to plunder the city of Tarsus and retreat
into Syria with his spoil. While the main body of the troops was still
filing through the pass, he gathered a chosen body of cavalry and light
infantry and swooped like a falcon upon the town. The Spartan rode
that day at the head of his squadron for fifty miles; and Arsames,
abandoning all thought of plunder, deemed himself fortunate to escape
with his garrison.
It was here that Alexander fell ill from bathing in the icy waters of
the Cydnus, and the rumor spread through the army that his life was in
danger. Grief and anxiety pervaded the camp. The toughest of the
veterans, with tears in their eyes, gathered before the house in which
he lay, demanding news of his condition. The physicians came and went
with grave faces and in silence.
Although his fever ran high, Alexander insisted upon receiving his
friends as usual and attending to his affairs. One day came a letter
from Parmenio, who had been sent forward with a strong detachment to
secure the southern pass into Syria through the Amanic range. The
young king read it thoughtfully, and Leonidas noticed that he thrust it
under his pillow without discussing its contents as his custom was.
A conference of the physicians was being held to consider the king's
malady, for it was evident that some decisive measure must be taken if
the fever was to be checked. In this consultation a dispute arose
between Philip of Acarnania and the other physicians. Philip
maintained that a strong remedy should be given, but when he named the
potion that he proposed to administer, his colleagues declared that
they would have no part in it, holding the opinion that the drugs would
surely kill the patient.
Hearing the voices raised in controversy, Alexander demanded the
reason. He called the doctors before him and listened to all they had
to say.
"Will this draught of which you speak enable me to ride Bucephalus in
three days?" he asked of Philip.
"I will answer for it," the Acarnanian replied.
"Compound it, then, for me," the young king said. "When it is ready, I
will take it."
He turned his face away and the physicians left him. During the
interval of waiting he talked with Clitus, Philotas, Leonidas, and
others of his Companions concerning the Trojan war, but, noting their
evident anxiety, he broke off to rally them upon it.
"Do not think," he said, laughing, "that we have come so far and
endured so much to stop here. There is many a campaign yet before us."
When Philip came, bringing an earthen bowl containing a liquid which
steamed with an odor of spices, he raised himself on his couch and drew
Parmenio's letter from under his pillow. As he took the bowl from the
physician, he handed him the letter.
"Read it!" he said quietly, setting the potion to his lips.
With his eyes on Philip he slowly drank the medicine. The physician
glanced at the letter and grew pale, but he returned Alexander's gaze
without flinching.
"Drink and be of good cheer," he said. "I tell thee this after having
read this charge against me."
He returned the letter as he spoke.
"I have drunk already," Alexander replied; and then, turning to Clitus,
he bade him read what Parmenio had written.
"Beware of Philip, your physician," the letter ran. "I am informed
that he hath been bribed by the Great King with the promise of a
thousand talents and the hand of his daughter to poison thee. I beg of
thee to take nothing that he may offer."
Scowling brows were turned toward the physician, who was busying
himself unconcernedly in heaping fresh coverings upon his patient.
"Let no man interfere," Alexander said sternly. "Where I have placed
my trust, no other shall doubt."
This warning was sufficient to restrain the Companions, even when they
saw their leader lying like a dead man beneath the blankets, with
closed lids and a pulse that was scarcely perceptible. But Philip
never moved his watchful eyes from the pale face, and when he saw drops
of perspiration rolling down the forehead a slight smile of
satisfaction appeared upon his lips. His confidence and the faith that
the young king had placed in him had been justified; for an hour later
Alexander came out of his faintness, and, although weak, the fever had
left him. He was able next day to show himself to the soldiers, and a
few days later to lead them against the bandits who infested the
southern part of the province, routing them from their fastnesses and
scattering to the four corners of the earth those who escaped the
sword. On his return he received news that Ptolemy and Astander had
defeated Orontobates and captured the Salmacis and the Royal Citadel of
Halicarnassus. He celebrated this victory and his recovery with
sacrifice and games after the ancient manner.
Suddenly across the country like wildfire spread the news that Darius
was approaching with an army so great that none might count its
numbers. When inquiry was made, no man could tell whence the story had
come. Alexander questioned many who were brought before him, but all
gave him the same answer.
"The Great King is coming," they said. "Where he is we know not, nor
when he will be here. All that we can say is that he is on the way,
for the Syrians told us, and they learned it from the travellers and
traders of the South."
Then came a shape of man who had once been a Corinthian. His tongue
had been cut out and his ears and nose shaved away. He could only nod
his head and weep when they asked him of the approach of the Persian
monarch.
Alexander sent for Leonidas. The Spartan came with an impassive face,
and stood awaiting his orders.
"They say Darius is on the march," he said. "Where he is and of what
his army consists, no one can tell me. Choose what men you like and go
to Parmenio at the Syrian Gates, where I purpose to join him with the
army as soon as the march can be made. Find the Persian and bring me
word there of the things that I should know."
"It shall be done," Leonidas replied.
On the evening of the fourth day after the order had been given,
Leonidas, with fifteen men of his troop, whose courage had been tested
in the campaign against the Pisidians, took leave of Parmenio and rode
out upon the rolling plains beyond the Syrian Gates. He had learned
that Darius was at Sochi, two days' march away, but when he arrived
there, he found only hills and fields from which the harvests had been
stripped as if by locusts, and a city where starvation reigned.
Here he learned much of the numbers and character of the host that had
left such a track of desolation. From Sochi he bore away toward the
left and the mountains, and on the third day overtook the Persian
horde, whose camp-fires stretched for miles across the plain.
Although thousands of camp followers and women had been left behind in
Damascus in charge of Cophenes, together with the greater part of the
luxurious equipage of the courtiers, and of the treasure in gold and
silver, which six hundred mules and three hundred camels could scarcely
carry, there still remained an enormous train in the rear of the army.
Leonidas soon ascertained everything concerning the army of Darius and
its composition that it was necessary for him to know; but he was
astonished to find that the Great King had passed beyond the Syrian
Gates, near which Alexander had expected to find him, and that he was
still marching northward. This march puzzled the Spartan. It carried
the Persian army each day farther from its base of supplies at
Damascus, and apparently did not give the Great King a better battle
ground than the one he had left behind at Sochi. He determined to keep
the army in sight, at least until he had reached the Amanic Gates.
There was the only other entrance from Syria into Cilicia, and through
them Leonidas planned to carry the information that he had gathered to
Alexander, who would be awaiting him in the southern pass. As the
Persian horde advanced, he found that he was being pressed toward the
wooded slopes of the mountain range. At last, as the enemy showed no
intention of halting, he resolved to strike for the Amanic Gates, not
daring to delay his report longer.
He soon became entangled among the rocky spurs and ravines. At last he
believed that he had reached the pass, and advanced far into the
mountains before some shepherds told him of his mistake. Following
their directions, he crossed a lofty ridge and descended into the true
pass on the evening of the second day after his departure from the
Persian army. Darkness overtook him, and he was forced to encamp
halfway up the precipitous slope of the valley. Before sunrise next
day he roused his men and led them down toward the broad road below,
which followed a watercourse.
In their descent, Leonidas and his men entered a belt of timber that
for a short time hid the road from their view. They burst their way
through the undergrowth, to find themselves face to face with a troop
of horsemen whom Leonidas recognized at once as belonging to the army
of Darius.
"The Persians have entered the pass," was the thought that flashed
through his mind before he considered his own danger. That Darius
would seek to enter Cilicia instead of accepting battle upon the Syrian
plains was a possibility that had never even been discussed in the
Macedonian councils. Leonidas realized that if Alexander had carried
out his plan of marching to the Syrian Gates, far to the southward, the
Persian army was about to place itself between him and the territory
that he had conquered, cutting off his line of retreat. The safety of
the Macedonians might depend upon his reaching Alexander in time to
give him warning.
He gave a rapid glance at the Persians who confronted him. There were
thirty or forty of them. Far below he caught a glimpse of the plain,
where miles of troops, horse and foot, were crawling like ants toward
the pass. The enemy gave him no time to see more. They raised an
exultant shout and dashed upon him with lowered lances. Although
Leonidas and his men fought with desperation, the Spartan realized that
they were not strong enough to hold their ground. The mere weight of
their opponents forced them back, inch by inch, until their horses were
struggling on the brink of the slope to the bed of the stream.
"Let us die where we stand!" Leonidas shouted. "Remember that we are
Greeks! Forward, forward!"
He plunged in among the Persians, thrusting at their faces, and his men
were enabled to gain a few feet in the space that he had cleared. The
relief was only momentary, for the Persians surrounded them on three
sides and the chasm was in their rear.
The captain of the Persian troop had not mingled in the contest.
Hovering in the background, he urged on his men, taking care to keep
out of danger. Leonidas saw him as he wheeled, raising his arm to give
a command. The sun flashed upon the glittering links of his gilded
corselet. The Spartan hurled his lance at the mark with all the
strength in his body. Straight flew the point of steel and split the
brazen links, like a bolt from a catapult. The captain toppled from
his horse and lay with his face in the dust. It was a final effort. A
few moments more and all would be over.
Suddenly from the glen out of which Leonidas and his men had emerged
rode a man upon a powerful black charger. In his hand he carried a
lance of unusual length. His yellow hair tossed about his shoulders,
and his blue eyes turned eagerly toward the righting.
"Leonidas!" he shouted. "Strike home! We are here!"
Behind him rode two companions. At sight of them the Spartan's brow
cleared.
"Chares! Clearchus!" he cried.
Their coming turned the tide of the conflict. The Persians, ignorant
of how many more might be following them, turned and fled down the pass
before the new arrivals could strike a blow.
Leonidas embraced his friends. Of the Greeks who had fallen, only one,
a young man of Caria, who had been stunned by a blow from a mace, was
still alive. Clearchus caught his horse, and they lifted him upon its
back.
"What brings you here?" Chares asked of Leonidas. "Where is Alexander?"
"That I will tell you later," the Spartan replied. "Look yonder!"
He pointed over the tree-tops on the lower slopes at the innumerable
host that was creeping toward the mountain side.
"The Persians are about to cross the pass," he said. "Alexander and
the army are in danger of being cut off, and we alone can save them."
"If Darius crosses the pass, it will be in our footsteps," Chares said.
"Let us be off."
Of the men who had followed Leonidas down the mountain at daybreak,
only four remained.
"Lead on, Leonidas," Clearchus said. "You are in command again."
The Spartan turned his horse's head up the pass and the others fell in
behind him. They rode unchallenged, for the defile had not yet been
occupied by the Persian force. From every new elevation they could see
the endless lines of infantry and cavalry slowly drawing together far
below them, until they passed at noon through a narrow way between
lofty and beetling cliffs, and saw Cilicia lying before them, with the
blue horizon of the sea in the distant southwest.