Xenophon’s thoughts turned to the brilliant Leonidas. Now there was a true Spartan, tall and beautifully proportioned, proud of stance, with hair like spun gold. There was a greatness in Leonidas, Xenophon believed, a true gift from the heavens. It was not often that the Athenian looked forward to the General’s Games, but today he was relishing the battle of wills to come.
The general approached the training ground, known as
the Planes. Here, usually at dusk, the younger boys would fight mock battles, using sticks instead of swords. But every sixth morning the Spartan army would engage in manoeuvres. Today was special, Xenophon knew, as he crossed the low bridge to the south of the Planes; today saw the Manhood parade. His admiration for the Spartan military system was undiminished, despite causing his banishment from Athens. The Spartans had evolved the perfect army, using principles so simple that it was a source of wonder to Xenophon that no other city state had copied them. Men were ranked according to their years from Manhood at twenty. Children who had grown together, learned together and forged friendships in infancy would stand together in the phalanx. And as the years passed they would stay together, fighting alongside one another until they reached the perfection of twenty years from Manhood, when they would be eligible to retire.
That was what made the Spartan army invincible. The phalanx formation was multi-layered, the first line made up of men of thirty, ten years from Manhood – tough, seasoned, yet still young and strong, men used to iron discipline, who had fought in, and won, many battles. Behind them were the warriors twenty years from Manhood, proud, battle-scarred and mighty. One row back were the new recruits, seeing at first-hand how Spartan warriors fought. And behind them the Manhood lines from two to nineteen. Was it any wonder that no Spartan army had ever been defeated in the field by a foe of equal numbers?
‘Why will you never understand?’ Xenophon wondered, picturing his native city of Athens. ‘You wanted to be supreme. You should have been supreme. But no, you would not learn from your enemies.’ Athens and Sparta had fought a long and costly war across the Peleponnese. It saw the worst period in Xenophon’s life, when the Spartan army had besieged Athens twenty years before. The City of Athena, blessed by the gods, had surrendered. Xenophon would never forget the shame of that day.
Yet as a soldier, studying the art of war, how could he
hate the Spartans? They had lifted the art to heights undreamt of.
‘As always you come equipped for battle,’ said Agisaleus, and Xenophon blinked. His mind had been far away, and he grinned almost sheepishly. The Spartan King was sitting on a narrow bench seat of stone under the shade of a cypress tree.
‘My apologies, my lord,’ said Xenophon, bowing, ‘I was lost in thought.’
Agisaleus shook his head and stood; only then did his twisted left foot become apparent. A handsome, dark-bearded man with piercing blue eyes, Agisaleus was the first Spartan King in history to suffer a deformity, and it would have cost him the crown had not the general Lysander argued his case before gods and men.
‘You think too much, Athenian,’ said the King, taking Xenophon’s arm. ‘What was it this morning? Athens? Persia? The lack of campaigns? Or are you longing to return to your estates at Olympia, and deny us the pleasure of your company?’
‘Athens,’ Xenophon admitted. Agisaleus nodded, his shrewd eyes locking to the other’s face.
‘It is not a simple matter to be called a traitor by your own people, to be banished from your homeland. But perspectives change, my friend. Had you held a senior position in Athens, perhaps the war would not have been so terrible -perhaps there would have been no war. Then you would have been a hero. I, for one, am delighted you did not command an army against us. Our losses would have been much higher.’
‘But you would not have lost?’ queried Xenophon.
‘Perhaps the odd skirmish,’ Agisaleus conceded, chuckling. ‘For a battle is not just about the skill of generals, but also the quality of the warriors.’