Abandoned Death, In Glory by Apocolypso-33 - M

Tinn Tam · Oct 6, 2008

I'll repost here the scene from Chapter 4, with the author's permission. I haven't added the spoilers tags because they make the whole thing really bothersome to read, but in case some people missed this part of the discussion--

SPOILER!

THIS IS THE FIRST SCENE OF CHAPTER 4. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE STORY YET, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER UNLESS YOU WANT IT TO BE SPOILED FOR YOU.

Thank you.

Chapter 4 – The Hot Gates

Scene 1

“Explain yourself, Leonidas!” Leandros felt like wincing, as he saw a fleck of spittle fly from the Ephor’s mouth, landing squarely on his King’s shoulder. The time had come for the Spartans to march on Thermopylae, and accordingly, Leonidas had assembled his troops. He had selected them from the Skiritai, choosing three hundred men in total. Those who had no progeny to continue their line were omitted from the selection, leaving Leonidas with 297 men. Dienekes had then spoken to the King, and asked for Astinos’ presence, claiming that he had more sons to continue his line, and that there was no greater honor than for Astinos to fight this battle for his country. Having already – albeit reluctantly – allowed Leandros to accompany the Skiritai, Leonidas had accepted Astinos’ plea. Including the King, the contingent of Spartan troops that would now venture to Thermopylae numbered exactly 300 soldiers.

The soldiers, from young to old, all bore equally grim visages. This was the last time, they knew, that they would set eyes on the beauty of the Spartan capital. There were none who were deluded – they were expected to die, expected to die in order for war to be formally waged. Until Leonidas himself perished, the Spartan council would be unable to dispatch troops against the wishes of the Ephors. It was only a technicality that allowed such a thing to happen, but if it led to the security and preservation of the Spartan way of life, Leonidas would give his very last drop of blood to Persian swords. But there was no sense of regret, no sense of fear among the valorous warriors. Their names would forever be preserved in the history of the world, their heroic acts would be the basis of tales and great works of art, and above and beyond all the personal glory they would find in death, their country, their people and their values would live on. Every Spartan soldier, even those barely months into the Agoge, would gladly lay their lives down if it meant but another day of existence for Lakedaemon.

The King seemed unruffled, amused. “Ephor,” he said slowly, a grin tugging at his lips, “I do not understand your anger on this. I simply wish to take these men for a walk… to breathe in the fresh air.”

“Do not patronize us, Leonidas!” one snarled, furious at this upstart action. The King had, quite freely, done exactly what he was doing now in the past two years, on a very regular basis. At that point, the Ephors had let the perceived foolishness go unpunished, but now… what he was doing was utter madness! He was taking three hundred of Sparta’s finest soldiers, all heroes, to certain death, and with them, leaving the Kingdom in utter turmoil, without a King or Regent! Almost visibly calming itself down, the Ephor pinched the bridge of what appeared to be its nose, and whispered “You will doom us all, Leonidas, you will doom Sparta to destruction. Do not do this, Leonidas!”

Eyes narrowing, the King stared coldly at the Ephor. “You know I am correct, Ephor. You know that Xerxes, son of Darius marches on Hellas this very moment! Approve war, priest, suspend the celebrations of the Carneia until Sparta has triumphed over this foe! Approve war and let me lead our full army against them!”

The Ephor, black, beady eyes staring into Leonidas’, fell silent. Then, sounding almost defeated, it whispered “The Carneia must be observed.”

The King’s head fell slightly in disappointment. “You leave me no choice,” he whispered, “perhaps our valor shall force your hand.”

Turning on his heel, and leaving the silent priest behind him, Leonidas surveyed his troops. Not a single face had fallen at the confirmation that they would be marching to their deaths, not a single man’s shield or spear had even wavered. A glint in his eye, the King slammed the lizard-licker on his spear into the ground. Dienekes, beside him, roared “Spartans! Move out!”

In the churning dust kicked up as the Spartans spun and began marching, Leonidas stood alone. He cast one last look towards the city, one quick glance taking in hundreds of years of beauty and history. His helmet was pressed into his free hand, and he gazed down at Basil, his son. There were so many words that needed to be said, yet there was no time to say them. A emotion-filled glance later, the King accepted the proffered helmet, and smoothly placed it over his Skull. From his other side, Queen Gorgo stood, holding his shield. Hefting it with that particular strength possessed only by Spartan women, she lifted it into his grasp. Their eyes connected one last time, then each tore their gaze away from the other, unable to look once more at what they would surely lose.

As he walked away, following his troops, he heard her voice behind him, and stopped, his back facing her. For a moment, his heart soared, hoping against hope that Gorgo had broken all sense of propriety, and would speak those loving words that he yearned to hear once again. “Soldier,” she called, her voice breaking slightly, filled with emotion, “come back with your shield… or on it.” A tear slid down her cheek, and as he heard the concealed sob in the words, he visualized her beautiful face, the tear trickling across unblemished, porcelain skin. Fighting away a tremor in his body, he nodded once, then continued walking.

They would go north, through Selassia, around Mount Parnon, up through Argos and to Corinth. From there, they would cross the mountainous region of Plataea and up to Thebes, before heading west across the plains of Boeotia and Phokis towards Delphi. Then, they would move north, ultimately reaching Thermopylae. The journey would take a week, by foot. The Persians had chosen the recessed Phocian region for a simple reason – they would, rather than expose themselves on an open plain like Darius had at Marathon, use the Hot Gates to defend themselves from attack by any Greek Coalition. The Spartans had therefore decided to use their own plan against them, to trap their onslaught on the beaches at Thermopylae and cut down their numbers by the hundreds as they attempted to worm their way out.

Yet, at Thermopylae, the Spartans would find death, in glory.
Click to expand...

While I'm at it, I'll announce that Yarrgh is abandoning all his stories; if anyone is interested in continuing any of his fics, they can PM him over FFNet to discuss it.

Nuhuh · Oct 6, 2008

I read the chapter title as: "The Hot Cakes"

Kinda ruined the atmosphere for the rest of it, lol.

Leonidas the Bakerman, doing what a baker can...

DLP Flash Christmas Competition + Writing Marathon 2024!

Hi there, Guest

Abandoned Death, In Glory by Apocolypso-33 - M

Tinn Tam Review Goddess Retired Staff

Nuhuh Dastardly Shadow Admin Retired Staff

WIP There is Nothing to Fear by Callmesalticidae - T

Abandoned Death By Water by vali - T - HP/The Culture

WIP The Master of Death by rgm0005 - M

Complete "Death Gate-Trilogy" by KevinVoigt - T

DLP Flash Christmas Competition + Writing Marathon 2024!

Hi there, Guest

Abandoned Death, In Glory by Apocolypso-33 - M

Tinn Tam Review Goddess Retired Staff

Nuhuh Dastardly Shadow Admin Retired Staff

WIP There is Nothing to Fear by Callmesalticidae - T

Abandoned Death By Water by vali - T - HP/The Culture

WIP The Master of Death by rgm0005 - M

Complete "Death Gate-Trilogy" by KevinVoigt - T

Useful Searches