Hey All! If you know my other fic (Lady and The Sparrow) this is very different. I just had to write it. I don't know if it's good, but I think it had a message. I hope you like it... Read and Review either way Please
"You have many slaves, Xerxes, but few Warriors."
These were the words of the man called Leonidas. A few of the closer foot soldiers and archers had heard this exchange between the god-king and Spartan, but by now all of the company now assembled on ground and cliff knew about them. And here they stood every eye on Leonidas. He seemed too small next to their King and God, yet had dared to defy him. And not just to defy him, but to openly speak to him, as an equal – going so far as to use his only name with no honorific attached! Was he mad? Was this ruler of the foreign ground on which they now stood completely bereft of his senses? Or was he, as some of the Persian army suspected, holding out for a better offer; trying to make their God-King squirm?
Now, as every eye was upon him, one man in the Persian ranks, a Babylonian named Mitammi, wondered if there was truth to this. He dared not say his thoughts aloud, the whip of Persian superiors had taught him the lesson of obedience well. Still as he looked down the length of his arrow to the man it was pointed at, he couldn't help thinking about it. If all that man wanted was wealth –he was a king was he not? Couldn't he already have all the wealth of his kingdom? Some rulers, he knew, were never satisfied with that, so perhaps he was hoping for more. But, with an army like that?... He sifted his eyes for a moment only to look at the dome of dented and marked shields that weakly reflected the morning light. What was this handful of men thinking? Why did none of them run? Why had none of these men sought to bargain with the Persians themselves, just as the deformed one had? If Leonidas had more than this couple of hundred, had he brought ten times that number, would the Persians had stood a chance? Perhaps that is why the God-King is trying so hard to reason with this one. Perhaps he is…
Afraid? No. Impossible. He is an immortal and fears nothing, Mitammi reminded himself. And yet, a fidgeting doubt in the back of his mind would not let him be. It itched the bridge of his nose, seized up the muscles at the back of his neck and made his stomach feel sick. If their Persian lord was truly immortal, truly a god, then why did he not fight with his men? This Leonidas, who doesn't claim to be anything beyond what they can see with their naked eyes, stands with his men, for his men and even fights in the first row of their devastating formations – what had someone called it? A phalanx? No one had actually returned to be able to tell about it first hand, yet again the whole army seemed to know about it. And, here was the proof before Mitammi's very eyes. A King who stands in danger's way at the point of ten thousand arrows in front of his men.
To his left, an archer named Suritha from Sumer whispered low whistle calling him out of his reverie. "My friend, do not let your mind wander. The call may come at any moment."
"Suritha, why does he not just give in? How can he stand against a god? Is he arrogant or ignorant, do you suppose?"
Suritha spared a minute of his own attention to roll his dark eyes at his friend. He smirked and spat at the ground. "If Leonidas and his Spartans have shown us anything it is that Xerxas is more cow than divine." They shared a nervous smile, and then he continued, "No, my friend, the only thing I wonder is how we fight on this side instead of running to die by his."
Mitammi had not noticed it before, but all of the archers around them had been listening, and at his friends words many of them bowed their heads quickly in agreement. It was then that he realized what he was feeling that was making him twitch as he never had in battle before; it was remorse. He did not want to kill this man. And, suddenly he understood why the 300 Spartans stood by his side, though Leonidas had provided the answer to that himself;
"…And there is not one of my men that I wouldn't give my life for."
"Something is happening!"
Mitammi was called back to the moment by these words, spoken by whom he did not know, nor care. The ultimatum had been given, the offer made. What would the Spartan King do? He felt himself suddenly torn in two directions. Mitammi did not want to fire on the King and his men. Yet, he also did not want the king to suddenly melt into a normal, greedy human being before his eyes. Suddenly it seemed that Leonidas was more a god than Xerxes – certainly more god-like. He felt his heart sink. The Spartan had dropped his helmet. Now his shield fell to the earth, its echoing thud taking his very breath away. The king pointed the spear at the traitorous mutant and muttered something that couldn't be heard. Then, the spear too was discarded; falling to the ground with the sound of kindling being dropped on the fire pit. Mitammi closed his eyes to block out what he knew he would see next.
"Ah well," Suritha sounded a bit hallow to his ears, "what could we expect him to do? He is wise as well as strong. Perhaps he means to live to fight another day."
Perhaps, thought Mitammi, but what does that prove? Will he smile in the face of his enemy just to gain another chance to stop him? And would that even work? What was all that talk of honor? Now, he is just another servant to the God-King, until…
A mighty roar erupted in Mitammi's ears, ripping his thought away from him. Leonidas' men explode from their turtle's shell, stabbing and slashing even as their King readies his spear. He watches as though transfixed, as if it is all happening in slow motion. The order comes to fire, and with out thinking, without aiming he does. But his eyes are on Leonidas. The spear leaves his hand and heads straight for the throne of the Lord of All. The sun highlights the metal spike as it glides past its target, ripping jeweled hoops from flesh but other than marring the cheek of the once impervious it does nothing else. Though he is too far away to see clearly, Mitammi knows Leonidas' face betrays an emotion of disappointment, perhaps even anger at his spear's inability to stop Xerxes' breathing then and there. Or, perhaps Mitammi is projecting his own feelings.
The Persian forces stand and watch. More than half of them are staring at the blood dripping from the face and from off the shaking hand of Xerxes. In a moment, his mantle of divinity is stripped from him and they see him for what he his; a greedy, arrogant, frightened and weak man. Yet, he is still the most powerful man in the world, so most look away again. Most stare in disbelief at the more than man named Leonidas. Two arrows protrude from his sweat and dirt stained chest, twin rivers of blood pouring down from their cruel wounds. But, he stands yet. Incredibly he stands and faces them all. Then he releases a cry that sends a million arrows back at their hearts. The Persian forces stand stunned and watch. Some focus on the men who struggle with their dying breaths to answer the call of their king. What are they thinking as they writhe in what must be the agony of loss and death? Are they angry at him? No. They still want to fight for and by their King. Many watch Leonidas. His cry they realize may not just be for his men. It seems to be for them all. It seems to say, "This is strength. This is real strength. Even in death I have done more for my own people, more with my life than your sham of a king. Who will you remember? What will you do with your lives from here on? I challenge you…" There are a very few you still watch the blood shaking from the fingers of Xerxes.
The order comes to fire again. Mitammi and Suritha exchange glances, each looking paler than the dead men below them. They are numb and strangely beaten by the death of these men. Without aiming, without even looking, they fire their arrows with closed eyes; just as most of the other archers do.
………………………………………………………..
Xerxes had disappeared back to his tent. He had ordered the mutant hunchback executed, who in turn had barely complained. The twisted mouth had asked only to be put with Leonidas, to which Xerxes replied that the traitor's resting place would be on the end of a pike, from which he could be sure not even the birds would eat his rotten horrid flesh. No one heard anything else.
The men had been ordered to throw the bodies of the Spartan soldiers into the sea, but Mitammi could not bare the thought of such a noble man as Leonidas being discarded so roughly. Where he was from, people who were not given a proper burial couldn't be sure of gaining entry to the other world, and though he was uncertain of Spartan customs in the matter, he still wanted to try to make amends to Leonidas at least in this matter. As he was discussing it with Suritha, it was soon spread around the camps and back to them that many of the men felt the same way, and so it was agreed that they would, in secret give Leonidas a proper burial. There were too many who wanted to help, and since they were worried about being discovered, they quickly decided to hide the body first, before an order came to deliver the body to Xerxes who would almost certainly mutilate it for his own sick purposes. Then, in each interested company, the men would draw lots, and from each of the 21 groups one man would be selected to represent the whole.
The night was cool, the wind calm and the stars were bright in the sky. Mercifully, however, the moon was not full and hidden most of the time by sparse clouds that flitted across the sky. Twenty one men stood about the hastily but deeply dug grave of Leonidas. It had been decided that they would place him in the sight of the sea and by the narrow pass that they he and his men had defended so bravely. They did not know much about the burial customs of Greece. One man had heard that they place coins on the eyes of their dead, and so he took two of his own silver pieces from his homeland of Anatolia and placed them over the closed eyes of the king. Suritha had not won the lottery and so was not there, but he had told Mitammi to be certain to wrap the red Spartan cloak around the body so as to cover it as completely as possible. This was done and the body was carefully lowered into the earth. A man from Assyria stepped forward next.
"In my country, we bury our dead with food so that they will have nourishment for the journey to the next land." So saying, he produced his own small clay bowl, full of a measure of rations and put in carefully next to Leonidas in the grave.
Another man stepped forward and put a wine skin in next to the bowl. He sheepishly looked at his comrades and said only, "Well, it just seems natural, don't it?"
Finally, a man named Kassir stepped forward. No one needed to ask were he was from. Kassir wore the dark, long wavy locks of a Persian. His deep black eyes were rimmed with kohl and the gold of his nose ring glinted in the small light of their lanterns. Though they knew they should think to be wary of his involvement here, there was something about his manner that suggested that they had nothing to fear. Still, Kassir could see the worry in their faces. He spoke slowly, liking his lips before beginning. "Yes, I am of Persia, which means no more than that I have the most to atone for." He dropped his eyes sadly to the still body of the Spartan King. "I have blindly followed a man who pretended to be a god. He showed us nothing of honor or courage; he showed us only his own arrogance and greed. He taught us to follow him by making us believe that the most important and desirable things in life were possessions, wealth and titles. When that didn't gain our support, he showed is the wrong end of a sword or whip. But this man…" Kassir knelt at the foot of the newly dug grave, "this King reminded me of what I once believed. That love is what matters. Honor, faith and loyalty are riches too seldom sought in this world. Valor, bravery and humility are the only true jewels in a ruler's crown." The twenty one nodded in silence at these words, each one thinking about how they would keep them alive in their hearts once this moment was over. Kassir took a bag out from under his cloak. "In my country, we bury our loved ones with something of our own, as a sign of respect to ensure that we will always be together and they will never be forgotten." He placed the bag reverently at Leonidas' feet. Mitammi looked at Kassir with questioning eyes. He explained, "In that bag are 299 cloak fasteners, rings, sandal thongs, daggers… basically whatever I could grab or find." He shrugged almost apologetically, by Mitammi just clasped his shoulder.
"What you did was both very brave, and very dangerous. Had you been caught…"
"Then I would have finally risked dying for doing something that I actually believed in."
…………………………………………………………….
After they had filled in the grave and made it look as inconspicuous as possible, they returned back to camp. In the morning, the order came to bring Leonidas' body to Xerxes' tent, but when no one could find it, it was told to him that it had already been thrown into the sea. This did not make Xerxes happy, but more bad news was about to befall him. Supplies had been used up to such an extent that a forward push would be impossible. They needed to return to the heart of the Persian Empire to regroup and garner supplies. To make matters worse, almost none of his soldiers referred to him as a god that day, but more than half of them spoke of the last stand of Leonidas and the 300 Spartans. He quickly decided to disembark, taking his retainers and whores with him, leaving his generals to deal with the details. Mitammi never found out what they decided on. Nor did Suritha, Kassir, any of the other 19 and more than ¼ of the army. They all left; walked out in trickles and in streams over the next few days. Mitammi wondered where they were all going and what they would do now. As for him, he was going to Sparta to see if they could use an extra hand in their army. He would not tell them where he had come from or betray any secrets he might know. It wasn't that he knew any secrets per say, he just thought that any kind of disloyalty would be frowned upon by Leonidas. His past was just that: past. This was his new chapter, and in this one he would fight for a cause and not out of fear. He did not want his Babylon to be under the blasphemous fraud king Xerxes any more. He would help loose his hold on the world and he would begin in Sparta. Then, he would return and home and tell his children and everyone else about Leonidas and those 300 brave Spartans. He felt himself smile as he looked up at the beautiful, clear blue sky. I hear you, my King. I accept your challenge….