Gemmell, David – Lion of Macedon 01

‘Perhaps I am.’ Epaminondas laughed. ‘But the truth is that I am frightened out of my wits.’

‘Think on this: if Parmenion had not realized the Spartans were planning to invade, you would have had no army to block the passes at Coronea. Even so, they captured Creusis and our precious triremes. That dealt a blow to our pride – and to our credibility. The League is tottering. If we do not deliver a crushing blow, we will be finished anyway. Thebes will fall. And this time Agisaleus has promised to raze the city, selling every man, woman and child into slavery. I would not want to live to see that. Would you?’

Epaminondas pushed himself to his feet. His right knee ached and he rubbed warmth into it. ‘Even if I did agree,’ he said, ‘we would never be able to convince the other Boeotarchs.’

‘I have already convinced Bachylides of Megara. With you, that makes three of the Seven. We could carry the vote, I am sure of it.’

‘Such a tactic has never been tried, argued Epaminondas.

‘Oh, but it has,’ said Pelopidas, straight-faced. ‘Parmenion told me he once won a game with it in Sparta.’

For a moment Epaminondas stood and stared at his lifelong friend, then he began to laugh. Pelopidas joined in and the sounds of their merriment echoed through the silent camp.

*

It was close to noon before the Spartans and their allies marched out into the centre of the plain, taking up their battle formation, challenging the Boeotians to confront them.

Epaminondas looked to his right and watched his army preparing to march. On the extreme right were the Thespians under Ictinus, forming their phalanx behind Parmenion and the 400 horsemen. At the centre the Sacred Band, and behind them javeliners and archers. Epaminondas himself stood in the fifth rank of the Theban contingent, 4,000 strong, well-armoured with breastplates and helms, metal-edged leather kilts and bronze greaves to protect the shins. Each man carried a large, bronze-rimmed shield of leather-covered wood. Epaminondas drew his short stabbing sword and hitched up his shield, his voice ringing out.

‘Forward! For Thebes and Glory!’

The army began to move.

The Theban general tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He could feel his heart beating like a ragged drum, and such was his tension that his legs trembled as he sought to keep pace with the men at either side. From here there was no going back.

The arguments had raged long into the night, not helped by a curious accident. As Epaminondas sat down in the tent to address the Seven generals his chair had collapsed beneath him, sprawling him to the floor. At first only nervous laughter greeted him, but then Ictinus said, ‘It is a bad omen, Epaminondas. Very bad.’ The other Boeotarchs had looked nervous.

‘Yes, it is an omen,’ snapped Epaminondas, rising. ‘We are commanded not to sit idle, but to stand like men.’ Then he had outlined the battle plan.

‘You cannot have thought this through,’ said Ictinus. ‘The Spartans are deadly. If we must attack, then let us hit their left, where the Orchomenans stand. Smash their allies and isolate Cleombrotus.’

‘And what do you think Cleombrotus will be doing while we march upon his left?’ Epaminondas asked. ‘I’ll tell you,

he will wheel the regiments and crush us. No, I propose to strike at the head of the snake.’

The debate had continued until just before dawn. Bachylides of Megara and Pelopidas had supported him, but it was not until they convinced Ganeus of Plataea that they won a majority.

Now as he marched down the long slope to the plain, Epaminondas could not help but worry at the decision. For many years he had plotted and planned, risking his life to free the city he loved. But now, if he was wrong, the city would be destroyed – the statues broken, the homes razed -the dust of history-would blow over the deserted Cadmea. His hand was sweating as he gripped his sword, and he could feel rivulets of perspiration running down his back.

A quarter of a mile ahead the Spartans waited silently, their forces spread out in a great crescent. To the right the Spartan Battle King, Cleombrotus, in gold-embossed armour, could be clearly seen surrounded by his bodyguard.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *