The Golden Hope - The Golden Hope Part 24
Library

The Golden Hope Part 24

So they turned north and passed on, while the remainder of the party drove in the sheep to camp.

It was mid-afternoon when they separated from the mercenary company, and they had no means of knowing how many miles they would have to travel before they fell in with the Macedonian army.

"Now for it," cried Leonidas, swinging his shield over his shoulder.

"Come on!"

Before they had gone far, they found themselves descending a long slope toward what seemed to be a wide stretch of marshland extending as far as they could see. It was covered with long, dry rushes, which rustled and bent before the strong breeze. The brown expanse apparently had once been a lake, for in the distance they could catch the gleam of water; but the greater part of the basin had dried, and the reeds had sprung up as the water receded.

"It looks like a swamp," Clearchus said, anxiously scanning the plain.

"How are we to pass?"

"It seems dry enough now," Leonidas replied. "We will cross it if we can find no better way; but let us look first for a road."

Facing to the east, they skirted the edge of the rushes for more than a mile without finding an opening or coming within sight of the end.

"I'm afraid we shall have to try to get through," Leonidas said at last, halting on a tongue of land which extended some distance into the marsh. "We can't afford to waste much more time."

The question was decided for them in a manner that left them no choice.

As they stood in doubt, shouts came from their rear, and turning, they saw a company of horsemen at the top of the slope, half a mile away, bearing down upon them at a breakneck gallop. Their long lances and flowing garments showed them to be Persians.

"You were right in saying that we had no time to waste, Leonidas,"

Chares exclaimed. "What are you going to do about this? I am anxious to take orders."

For answer, the Spartan set off at a run for the marsh. It was evident that the Persians had seen them and were aiming to attack them at a distance from the camps, where the affair would remain undiscovered.

With the wind blowing in their faces, the three young men plunged in among the reeds. The dry stalks met above their heads and whistled about their ears.

"Go first!" commanded Leonidas, standing aside for Chares to pass.

The Theban took the lead, tearing like a wild bull through the crackling stems. Clearchus followed at his heels and Leonidas brought up the rear, retaining for himself the post of danger. Although their figures were hidden, they knew their pursuers would have no trouble in following them, for they left a broad trail, and, moreover, the elevation of the backs of their horses would enable the barbarians easily to mark their progress by the waving of the rushes.

For a mile and two miles the race continued without a word being spoken. The Persians had ridden headlong into the marsh after them and were slowly gaining upon them, although the speed of their horses was checked by the rushes, which caused them to stumble, and by the softness of the ground, into which their hoofs sank to the fetlock at every stride.

Clearchus was panting for breath and he heard Leonidas breathing hard behind him. Sweat streamed from the face and neck of Chares, who broke the path. The Athenian knew that the pace could not be maintained much longer.

Still another half mile they struggled on with the endless brown walls of reeds before them and around them. Long ago they had cast away their javelins and their shields, which caught in the reeds and hindered them. Even if they could find a barrier behind which to make a stand, they knew they would have no chance for their lives against the enemy, who outnumbered them six to one and had the advantage of being mounted.

Clearchus thought of Artemisia, and his temples throbbed with anguish as he nerved himself to fresh effort. Was he never to see her again?

His bones would bleach in the middle of that vast morass and she would not know. He thought of the high-spirited young king who had sent them to obtain information that might save his army from destruction and the hopes of Greece from ruin. On them alone might depend the result of the battle that was to be fought and the destiny of two nations.

He saw Chares stumble once and again. His own muscles were benumbed by the long strain. The shouting at their backs was growing louder and more near and he could hear the thudding of the hoofs upon the spongy, black soil.

"Stop!" Leonidas gasped behind him, and looking over his shoulder, Clearchus saw that the Spartan had fallen to his knees.

"Back, Chares," he shouted. "The end has come!"

The Theban halted and they both ran back to Leonidas, drawing their swords with a fierce determination to defend themselves to the last.

"Beat down the rushes!" Leonidas cried hoarsely. "Let in the wind!"

They saw that he held his flints in his hands and that a tiny blaze was flickering up from a heap of rushes which he had crushed into a tinder-like mass.

They understood his plan and hope returned to them. Like madmen, they trampled the reeds to the right and left. A puff of wind came through and caught the darting tongue of fire. It leaped upward so suddenly that the Spartan's hair was singed before he had time to draw back. In an instant, it seemed, a sheet of flame flung itself into the air above the reed-tops, casting off a thin swirl of bluish smoke. With incredible swiftness the fire swept from them straight down upon their pursuers, leaving behind it a rapidly widening wake of black.

"Scatter it!" cried Leonidas, seizing the blazing reeds and throwing them in every direction. The others followed his example, spreading the fire as far as they could to the right and left so as to make it impossible for the Persians to evade it by avoiding its path.

As soon as the barbarians saw the first smoke, they halted, hesitated for a moment, and then turned wildly back in the hope of escaping by the way they had come. The Greeks had taken a position on the charred ground, where they themselves were safe from the flames, and were awaiting the result, sword in hand.

The conflagration, as it gathered headway, seemed to become a monster animated by a living spirit. One broad sheet of flame swept high into the air, roaring like a hungry beast, and throwing up clouds of smoke that hid the southern sky. With deadly swiftness it devoured the lake of reeds before it, leaving behind a bare and level plain of ashes from which here and there rose smoky spirals. It seemed to create a scorching gale stronger even than the wind that had fanned it into life. It rushed forward by great leaps and bounds, pausing now and then over some especially tempting thicket of reeds, and then starting up far in advance.

In vain the three young men tried to learn what had become of the pursuers upon whom Leonidas had let loose their terrible ally.

Grasping their swords, they stood back to back amid the drifting smoke, striving to look beyond the flaming wall. The wave of fire reached the slope from which they had fled, lingered there for a few moments, and then vanished as quickly almost as it had sprung into existence. The smoke blew away over the uplands in a bellying cloud. Gazing through its rifts, they could see nothing of the Persians. They seemed to have disappeared as completely as though the earth had swallowed them.

"Where are they?" exclaimed Clearchus in bewilderment.

"They must have escaped," Leonidas replied.

"No, by Zeus, I see them!" Chares cried, pointing to a group of blackened mounds about halfway from where they stood to the edge of the marsh.

One of the mounds stirred as he spoke, and they saw that he was right.

It was one of the horses. The animal tried to raise itself on its fore legs, gave a scream of agony, and fell back among the cinders.

Without a word, the three Companions turned away. While the fire had fled rapidly before the wind, it had made little progress in other directions. It was still eating into the rushes behind them and on either side and they were surrounded by it, excepting where it had swept back to the slope. To return in that direction would be to run new risk of capture. They were prisoners.

They looked at each other. Their faces and garments were black with smoke and ashes.

"What would they say if they could see you in the Agora in Athens looking like that?" Chares asked of Clearchus.

"They would ask me the price of charcoal, I suppose," the Athenian replied, laughing.

They moved slowly after the receding fire, choosing their path with caution and halting every few yards to wait until the ground had cooled.

"We shall not get out in time!" Leonidas groaned.

"Don't be too sure," Clearchus cried. "Look at that." He extended his hand, upon which a drop of water had fallen.

"Rain!" cried the Spartan, joyfully. "The Gods be thanked!"

It was rain, indeed. The drops were falling all around them, making little puffs in the hot ashes and hissing on the embers. The wind shifted further to the east and brought a refreshing dampness to their faces, crimsoned by the stifling atmosphere which they had been forced to breathe. There was a muttering of thunder, then a nearer crash overhead, and they saw the storm striding across the plain in a long, sweeping curve. They lifted their faces to it and drew deep breaths, letting the water trickle through their hair and down their bodies.

Steam rose from the blackened expanse all about them. Gaps began to appear in the hissing circle of fire. The red tongues flickered and went out.

"There is yet time," Leonidas cried, and in a few moments they were once more among the reeds, heading for the northern margin of the swamp.

CHAPTER XVIII

GREEK AND BARBARIAN