Demaratus

It is the morning of the fifth day since we arrived in front of the pass.  I gathered the Athenian shortly after dawn.  He had been chained to a post and left to roll in his own filth, and he was dirty.  That would not do, of course.  One does not see the Great King looking like a wild boar in a mud flat.  I ordered him unshackled and washed, his wounds attended to and a proper tunic supplied to him.  This was done in short order, and he appeared in front of me once more, resentful but under control.

 

"Lysis, son of Androcles," I said.  "Do you feel better with the morning?"

 

"The morning does not cast a different light on where I am," he replied.

 

"No," I answered tersely, "but at least you are alive to see it."

 

He said nothing.

 

"Today, Athenian, you will have the great honor of meeting the mighty Xerxes, king of Asia and commander of the vast army you see before you.  I expect you will show more common sense in his presence."

 

I motioned to the guards and we moved towards the encampment of the king, some ways back from the shore in an open space near the high ground.  As we walked along the shoreline, I could see the fleet drawn up on the beaches across the bay, still held in place by the Athenian and allied fleet based off of Cape Artemisium.  Once more, I ran the situation through my head, trying to find an alternative plan I could give to the king.

 

Until and unless we can dislodge their ships, we cannot force the Greeks in the pass to move.  The pass is narrow, barely one hundred feet at its greatest width.  The mountain on our right flank is impassable, at least as far as we know.  We must either outflank them by sea or go right at them.

 

The king would rather avoid a fight at this time.  He continues to expect Leonidas to run and wishes to let the fleet do the work, especially in these narrow quarters.  I don't blame him.  While Xerxes has not had direct experience with our way of fighting, he is wary.  He has a right to be.  We cannot get at them on a broad front.  We cannot flank them.  We have an immense advantage in missiles, but in hand-to-hand fighting, I would wager, even the king's immortals are outclassed.

 

The Greeks in the pass are heavily armored and wield an eight-foot spear.  The lances of these Asian levies cannot directly engage.  Wicker shields against bronze.  We may outnumber them one thousand to one, but we still have to come to grips with them one at a time.  And there is Leonidas, of course.  He will not be dislodged.  If he is there and if he fights, it is because he means to stay.  I know all of this.  But does the king?  While he is cautious, he is confident.  No, arrogant.  He has brought this grand army across hundreds of miles, from the Hellespont to the Hot Gates, supported and supplied by the fleet and sporting an immense gathering of infantry, cavalry, and light troops.  It is a formidable force.  Can it be defeated?  It is hard to see how.  So perhaps he is right to be so sure.  Still, I know my people.  They will sell themselves dearly.

 

With these thoughts rattling around in my head, we approached the imposing tents of the king.  I looked back at the Athenian and he was holding up well.  He was taking it all in, sweeping back and forth, obviously noting the size and composition of our forces.  Despite his situation, he was not intimidated.  Though he was the enemy, and an Athenian, I could not help but feel pride at his bearing.  After all, he was a Greek.  Besides, that name means something to me.  Androcles the Athenian.  I will place it.