A Victor of Salamis Part 65

Orders there were none; the trumpets were drowned in the tumult. Each man fought as he stood, knowing only he must slay the man before him, while slowly, as though by a cord tighter and ever tighter drawn, the Persian s.h.i.+eld wall was bending back before the unrelenting thrusting of the Spartans. Then as a cord snaps so broke the barrier. One instant down and the h.e.l.lenes were sweeping the light-armed Asiatic footmen before them, as the scythe sweeps down the standing grain. So with the Persian infantry, for their scanty armour and short spears were at terrible disadvantage, but the strength of the Barbarian was not spent. Many times Mardonius led the cavalry in headlong charge, each repulse the prelude to a fiercer shock.

"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"

The call of the Prince was a call that turned his wild hors.e.m.e.n into demons, but demons who strove with G.o.ds. The phalanx was shaken, halted even, broken never; and foot by foot, fathom by fathom, it brushed the Barbarian horde back across the blood-bathed plain,-and to Mardonius's shout, a more terrible always answered:-

"Remember Leonidas! Remember Thermopylae!"

The Prince seemed to bear a charmed life as he fought. He was in the thickest fray. He sent the white Nisaean against the Laconian spears and beat down a dozen lance-points with his sword. If one man's valour could have turned the tide, his would have wrought the miracle. And always behind, almost in reach of the Grecian sling-stones, rode that other,-the page in the silvered mail,-nor did any harm come to this rider. But after the fight had raged so long that men sank unwounded,-gasping, stricken by the heat and press,-the Prince drew back a little from the fray to a rising in the plain, where close by a rural temple of Demeter he could watch the drifting fight, and he saw the Aryans yielding ground finger by finger, yet yielding, and the phalanx impregnable as ever. Then he sent an aide with an urgent message.

"To Artabazus and the reserve. Bid him take from the camp all the guards, every man, every eunuch that can lift a spear, and come with speed, or the day is lost."

The adjutant's spurs grew red as he p.r.i.c.ked away, while Mardonius wheeled the Nisaean and plunged back into the thickest fight.

"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"

His battle-call pealed even above the h.e.l.lish din. The Persian n.o.bles who had never ridden to aught save victory turned again. Their last charge was their fiercest. They bent the phalanx back like an inverted bow. Their footmen, reckless of self, plunged on the Greeks and snapped off the spear-points with their naked hands. Mardonius was never prouder of his host than in that hour. Proud-but the charge was vain. As the tide swept back, as the files of the Spartans locked once more, he knew his men had done their uttermost. They had fought since dawn. Their s.h.i.+eld wall was broken. Their quivers were empty. Was not Mazda turning against them? Had not enough been dared for that king who lounged at ease in Sardis?

"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!"

Mardonius's shout had no answer. Here, there, he saw hors.e.m.e.n and footmen, now singly, now in small companies, drifting backward across the plain to the last refuge of the defeated, the stockaded camp by the Asopus. The Prince called on his cavalry, so few about him now.

"Shall we die as scared dogs? Remember the Aryan glory. Another charge!"

His bravest seemed never to hear him. The onward thrust of the phalanx quickened. It was gaining ground swiftly at last. Then the Spartans were das.h.i.+ng forward like men possessed.

"The Athenians have vanquished the Thebans. They come to join us. On, men of Lacedaemon, ours alone must be this victory!"

The shout of Pausanias was echoed by his captains. To the left and not far off charged a second phalanx,-five thousand nodding crests and gleaming points,-Aristeides bringing his whole array to his allies' succour. But his help was not needed. The sight of his coming dashed out the last courage of the Barbarians. Before the redoubled shock of the Spartans the Asiatics crumbled like sand. Even whilst these broke once more, the adjutant drew rein beside Mardonius.

"Lord, Artabazus is coward or traitor. Believing the battle lost, he has fled. There is no help to bring."

The Prince bowed his head an instant, while the flight surged round him.

The Nisaean was covered with blood, but his rider spurred him across the path of a squadron of flying Medians.

"Turn! Are you grown women!" Mardonius smote the nearest with his sword.

"If we cannot as Aryans conquer, let us at least as Aryans die!"

"_Ai! ai!_ Mithra deserts us. Artabazus is fled. Save who can!"

They swept past him. He flung himself before a band of Tartars. He had better pleaded with the north wind to stay its course. Horse, foot, Babylonians, Ethiopians, Persians, Medes, were huddled in fleeing rout.

"To the camp," their cry, but Mardonius, looking on the onrus.h.i.+ng phalanxes knew there was no refuge there....

And now sing it, O mountains and rivers of h.e.l.las. Sing it, Asopus, to Spartan Eurotas, and you to hill-girt Alphaeus. And let the maidens, white-robed and poppy-crowned, sweep in thanksgiving up to the welcoming temples,-honouring Zeus of the Thunders, Poseidon the Earth-Shaker, Athena the Mighty in War. The Barbarian is vanquished. The ordeal is ended.

Thermopylae was not in vain, nor Salamis. h.e.l.las is saved, and with her saved the world.

Again on the knoll by the temple, apart from the rus.h.i.+ng fugitives, Mardonius reined. His companion was once more beside him. He leaned that she might hear him through the tumult.

"The battle is lost. The camp is defenceless. What shall we do?"

Artazostra flung back the gold-laced cap and let the sun play over her face and hair.

"We are Aryans," was all her answer.

He understood, but even whilst he was reaching out to catch her bridle that their horses might run together, he saw her lithe form bend. The arrow from a Laconian helot had smitten through the silvered mail. He saw the red spring out over her breast. With a quick grasp he swung her before him on the white horse. She smiled up in his face, never lovelier.

"Glaucon was right," she said,-their lips were very close,-"Zeus and Athena are greater than Mazda and Mithra. The future belongs to h.e.l.las.

But we have naught for shame. We have fought as Aryans, as the children of conquerors and kings. We shall be glad together in Garonmana the Blessed, and what is left to dread?"

A quiver pa.s.sed through her. The Spartan spear-line was close. Mardonius looked once across the field. His men were fleeing like sheep. And so it pa.s.sed,-the dream of a satrapy of h.e.l.las, of wider conquests, of an empire of the world. He kissed the face of Artazostra and pressed her still form against his breast.

"For Mazda, for Eran, for the king!" he shouted, and threw away his sword.

Then he turned the head of his wounded steed and rode on the Spartan lances.

CHAPTER XL

THE SONG OF THE FURIES

Themistocles had started from Oropus with Simonides, a small guard of mariners, and a fettered prisoner, as soon as the _Nausicaa's_ people were a little rested. Half the night they themselves were plodding on wearily.

At Tanagra the following afternoon a runner with a palm branch met them.

"Mardonius is slain. Artabazus with the rear-guard has fled northward. The Athenians aided by the Spartans stormed the camp. Glory to Athena, who gives us victory!"

"And the traitors?" Themistocles showed surprisingly little joy.

"Lycon's body was found drifting in the Asopus. Democrates lies fettered by Aristeides's tents."

Then the other Athenians broke forth into paeans, but Themistocles bowed his head and was still, though the messenger told how Pausanias and his allies had taken countless treasure, and now were making ready to attack disloyal Thebes. So the admiral and his escort went at leisure across Botia, till they reached the h.e.l.lenic host still camped near the battle-field. There Themistocles was long in conference with Aristeides and Pausanias. After midnight he left Aristeides's tent.

"Where is the prisoner?" he asked of the sentinel before the headquarters.

"Your Excellency means the traitor?"

"I do."

"I will guide you." The soldier took a torch and led the way. The two went down dark avenues of tents, and halted at one where five hoplites stood guard with their spears ready, five more slept before the entrance.

"We watch him closely, _kyrie_," explained the decarch, saluting.

"Naturally we fear suicide as well as escape. Two more are within the tent."

"Withdraw them. Do you all stand at distance. For what happens I will be responsible."

The two guards inside emerged yawning. Themistocles took the torch and entered the squalid hair-cloth pavilion. The sentries noticed he had a casket under his cloak.