by Mike Rogers
I dropped the spear and my shield. Something warm and fluid spread itself over my head and face and I felt my legs go limp. I sank to my knees and I could no longer think straight.
I had the greatest of trouble keeping my eyes open and found it strange that everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Men took an eternity to crash into the ground and die. Their blood spread so slowly on the soil that it was beautiful to watch.
And in front of me…
…in front of me the beast who had unleashed this hell was still fighting like Hercules himself.
Cutting down one Roman after another with his Falcata he was the hand of Death itself, and Death was hungry on this day indeed.
Smoke from the ballista firebombs stung my eyes and swept over the battlefield, reducing sight to a mere dozen paces. I gazed at Anaxis through the smoke and suddenly noticed five distinct forms stepping through it. Five Spartans with the traditional scarlet cloak and the crested helmet stepped forward, blades drawn but not stained by blood. On their shoulder I recognized a strange symbol and started digging into my drowsy memory for its meaning.
Ephor…
The five Ephors of Sparta. Men of great honor and magistrates of Sparta with powers vastly beyond that of the kings. But why were they here? Had they not fled the city of Sparta when the masses revolted and killed king Nabis?
And then I recognized one of them: Stirgos. The man who had been the original owner of Minerva and one of Anaxis' best friends. He was an Ephor? How could this be? When had this happened?
I watched the five Ephors walk unhindered between the Roman soldiers while my clouded mind began to clear. They had indeed fled the city with the king and had gone straight to the Romans. Now they were here for Anaxis.
Stirgos and the four other Ephors surrounded Anaxis and challenged him. Anaxis was surprised by their presence and lowered his blade for a moment. But only for a moment because as soon as he recognized Stirgos he knew why they were there. Surrounded by them he had very few choices, so he lifted his blade again to strike Stirgos. But Stirgos lifted his sword as well and let its metal handle strike Anaxis' head hard. My master shouted in surprise and fell to his knees.
Immediately the Ephors took his sword from him and each one held on to a limb. Stirgos was the only one not holding him and said, “Hold him tighter.”
The men tensed and Anaxis wriggled like an eel to free himself. Then, like a flash of lightning, Stirgos slammed his handle into Anaxis' ribs. I heard a loud crack and Anaxis coughed.
“Surrender, Anaxis,” Stirgos said.
Anaxis lifted his head and spat into Stirgos' face.
Again the handle flashed and struck the ribs. This time more of them cracked, but still Anaxis did not shout out in pain. Again he spat into Stirgos' face.
Stirgos slammed his handle into Anaxis' face and broke his nose. My master stopped struggling and the Ephors let him loose. He fell on his knees and hands and coughed and spat out blood.
Still he tried to get up and now the five Ephors slammed into him, one after another. After receiving a barrage of blows that would have killed any ordinary man he collapsed onto the soil and stayed there, in a pool of his own blood.
And as for me? I managed to stretch my arm to point at the one called Stirgos and silently say, “Stirgos…traitor…”
The Ephors now all turned towards me and one of them planted his fist in my face. I fell on my back and all went dark in front of my eyes.
It was over.
The dream was dead.
Epilogue
I woke up with a killer headache and everything around me swirled. It took me a few moments before I was able to open my eyes and check my surroundings. I noticed I was in a tent and that my hands were tied behind my back on one of the tent poles.
In front of me stood the five Ephors, arguing out loud with some Romans. Suddenly I recognized two of them. One was Stirgos, who was leading the discussion, and the other was Mummius himself. He was gesturing wildly, his face red in anger.
“What do you mean you won't hand him over?! He's a traitor! I am planning on dragging him back to Rome and put him in a victory parade before I nail his sorry ass to a cross!”
Stirgos merely smiled.
“You seem to forget we have a deal, Mummius. Sparta would aid Rome and allow its forces to land there on the condition that all Spartans taken prisoner by the Romans would be handed over unharmed.”
Mummius cursed out loud and made a fist, “And what of it?! A traitor is a traitor! I will have his head and yours if you don't—”
But Mummius didn't have the time to finish his sentence. Before he could even blink with his eyes in surprise Stirgos had clutched his hand around the consul's throat and was squeezing it shut. With his other hand he tightly held on to Mummius' sword so that the Roman wouldn't be able to grab it.
The other three Roman officers tried to draw their blades, but the other Ephors knocked them against the ground and placed their heels onto their throats.
“A Spartan can only be judged by another Spartan, remember? Those were your own words, Mummius! And to put force behind those words you signed an official treaty! And whether you like it or not Anaxis is still a Spartan. The only ones with the power to condemn him is the Gerousia and no Roman has influence there. He leaves with us tonight or you do not leave at all!”
And to put force behind his words Stirgos took a hold of Mummius right pink and snapped it.
He then let the consul go, who by now had nearly turned blue, and watched the man fall to his knees. It was a grave humiliation of the consul, one he was not likely to forget.
While Mummius caressed his sore throat and hand Stirgos walked to the tent pole next to me and it was only then that I noticed Anaxis was tied to it. He was still unconscious and didn't even feel it when Stirgos and the other Ephors unshackled him.
The Romans quietly left and Stirgos watched them leave with a smile. He then turned to me and looked deep into my eyes.
“Trimidites, slave to Anaxis.”
“Aye,” was all I managed to squeeze from my dry throat.
“From what I have heard from the other Spartan prisoners, you and Minerva, my old slave, married and have a child. If you wish I can provide for you and your family. I owe that much to Anaxis for betraying our friendship like this. Making sure his slave is safe is the least. I must warn you however that if you refuse the Romans will most likely sell you.”
Tears welled up in my eyes.
“I…thank thee for thy kindness…but Minerva is dead.”
Stirgos' face betrayed surprise and grief. He, too, had loved her, that much was obvious. Gods, how many hearts had that woman driven crazy?
“I am sorry to hear that, Trimidites. Corinth?” he asked.
I nodded, “The aftermath of it anyway. She fell down a ravine as we fled.”
“And the boy?” Stirgos asked.
“In Athens. His name is Alexander.”
Stirgos smiled, “I will send someone to fetch him. He, too, will be welcome under my protection.”
He pulled out a blade and cut my hands free. I rubbed them to get the blood flowing again and noiselessly asked, “How did the battle go?”
Stirgos sighed deeply.
“To be honest you were winning. The Romans were retreating on all fronts and their lines collapsing, but when you entered the range of their artillery you should have had the wisdom to retreat until the cavalry took it out.”
I nodded, “I know. I told Anaxis but he was too headstrong to order the retreat.”
Stirgos spat on the floor.
“That fool! He could have wiped them out if only he had set aside his pride!”
I gazed at him incomprehensibly.
“What? But I thought you were on the Romans' side?”
Stirgos burst out in laughter.
“That's a good one! I am a Spartan, Trimidites. Do you not think I detest being an ally of Rome? Unlike Anaxis I figured the Romans would win this fight all
along and chose the side of the one who would preserve Sparta. Well, until today. Today the rotten mongrel nearly pulled it off. The other Ephors were all rooting for the Greeks as well, you know. But when we saw you were about to be crushed we figured we might do what we were ordered.”
“To get Anaxis.”
“Aye. The members of the Gerousia figured that the rebellion would collapse without him. They wanted to get him home so he could stand trial for betrayal to the gods and the people of Sparta. Some trial that'll be. He's got three quarters of the city on his hand. Even the slaves call out his name like he's some bloody savior.”
“How many…how many have died?” I asked, knowing the toll would be devastating.
Stirgos looked away and stared into the distance.
“The Greek army was annihilated. About half the Spartan forces died and we estimate three quarters of the others. You were lucky I recognized you after you called out my name, otherwise you'd have died there of that head wound. The other survivors are to be sold as slaves.”
“Except the Spartans.”
“Aye. They get to go home because our kings and the Gerousia allowed the Romans to disembark in our port.”
I looked at him with hatred burning in my heart.
“You do realize that decision caused Corinth to burn? That it caused our defeat?”
Stirgos spat on the floor again, “Aye, but it was not my decision to make.”
I sighed and let my head hang low. I had exchanged one traitor for another as master.
Stirgos seemed to guess my thoughts and said, “I am no traitor, Trimidites. I only did what I knew would be the wisest. The Romans cannot be defeated. Although today surely will make the world doubt that.”
I forced a wry smile on my face.
“Do you have any idea how many Romans died here today?” he asked me.
I shook my head no.
“Nearly three hundred thousand of them. Anaxis may not have won the battle, but he surely has won the war. The Romans lack the military resources to put a dictatorship on us. They will compromise and lower the taxes out of fear for yet another rebellion such as this one. Already Mummius has sent word to the cities of Greece with talk of peace and cooperation.”
“Empty words from a Roman.” I said.
Stirgos grinned, “Perhaps. Only time will tell, I suppose. I have a good eye for these things. I am confident the rotten bastard will keep his word. His broken pinky will remind him of that.”
Peace. Lower taxes. More freedom. What a joke. All it had cost us were nearly a million men, Corinth and Macedon, but most of all our dream of freedom. The trial of Anaxis took place one week after the battle of Leucopetra. The two kings and the Gerousia assembled on the great Agora and read the verdict out loud. Tens of thousands Spartans and slaves had gathered to hear the verdict. Those who had fought at Leucoptrea had gathered on the edges of the Agora and stood in perfect military formation, saluting Anaxis. It was a direct challenge to the two kings and a moral victory for Anaxis.
The oldest of the kings, Pritanis, read the verdict out loud.
“Anaxis of Sparta, we the kings and the council of elders hereby condemn you to wander across the lands outside of Sparta forever. You are outlawed for blasphemy of our gods and betrayal of our community, one of the highest crimes possible. If it weren't for your legendary courage on the battlefield and the marvelous defense pleaded by Stirgos and many of the other Spartans, we would have you executed, but the other members of the council agreed to ban you instead. If you ever set a foot on Spartan soil again you'll be slain, is that clear?”
“Perfectly.” Anaxis said. He wore his typical Spartan bronze and leather armor, the heavy shield with the "L" for Lakonia and the Spartan helmet that concealed most of his face. In his right hand he held the spear he had used at the battle of Leucopetra. Stirgos had picked it up and kept it for him. The wood still looked red from the blood it had absorbed.
His red cape, the symbol of his citizenship, played in the wind.
Around him thirty-two men stood, all dressed in their battle gear and armed to the teeth. Ordinarily the meeting of the counsel and the two Spartan kings wasn't accompanied by these grave precautions, but they were dealing here with a man who was all but ordinary.
For he was a direct descendant of Hercules, the half-god that had founded Sparta, and above this, he was one of the deadliest warriors that had walked the soil of Greece, the man who had nearly brought down Rome. The hope of Greece...
In front of him the two kings stared harshly at him and I could see Practimenes, the youngest of them and the son of the slain Spartan king, move his hand slowly to his sword.
A grin appeared on Anaxis' face. He was clearly hoping the fool would go for his sword and have a go at him. Anaxis would know at least a dozen different ways to dodge the thrusting sword and slay the incoming assailant at the same time. But to his disappointment, the king seemed to change his mind and let his hand move back.
Anaxis turned around and started walking towards the exit of the valley, so that he might leave his homeland, when all of a sudden he changed his mind and stopped. Immediately the council members drew their swords and assumed a defensive position.
“I shall never be sorry for my crimes, my fellow Spartans!” he shouted across the Agora loudly enough to be heard across the entire valley. So I shall repeat what I have said! I feel sorry to live between such cowards who bow to Rome's might that my ancestor Hercules would kill you all if he were here today!”
After speaking those words he quietly walked off towards the end of the valley, where his horse would be waiting for him. I arranged it so. I would not dare to disobey him, although he was no longer my master.
Slaves knew the penalties for disobedience. Spartan slaves knew them better than any other.
As he walked off, I could hear the Spartans behind me quarrel amongst each other about the words he had just spoken. The men of the Gerousia cursed him, but the veterans of Leucopetra defended him. I knew the Spartans of today were no longer a match for Rome. If only the Greeks had united a hundred years earlier they would have crushed those Roman peasants underneath their heels like the filth they were. But the Greeks of today were too few and they were hopelessly alone. None of our allies had come to our aid and by this time Cartage, too, burned to the ground. No, this was no longer our Greece. It was that of the Romans.
The dream was dead…
And so he walked off, towards the northwest, on an eternal journey. His final wish would be to die in combat, holding his spear and shield, with the words from Leonidas on his mind as the Persian emissary demanded the Spartans' weapons on the last day of the battle of Thermopylae:
Molon labe.
"Let him come and get them."
Three sets of horses we rode to death in just as many days.
