solidarity of the clan Agiadae, though Gorgo had long been infatuated with her handsome half-uncle.
“The Barbarians have landed at Fennel Field. Athens needs Sparta to stand by its side. How soon can you send troops, Majesty?” Pheidippides asked, still panting.
By the terms of the alliance that Gorgo’s father had crafted shortly before his death, they were bound to come to Athens’ aid. Yet Sparta’s leaders were unsure. Some feared they might be sucked into a trap, even more so if the Persian army was as large as reports claimed; even more so when intelligence was coming in that Athenian traitors were planning to deliver their city to the invaders. Others argued, however, that no self-respecting Spartan warrior would pass up such a glorious opportunity to repulse a hated enemy.
Leonidas was caught in a bind. Though a warrior of Sparta, he was also her king. “Thank you for your message, good Pheidippides. You shall have your answer shortly. I must consult the Ephors and the Generals, and perhaps also seek the will of the Heavens. In the meantime, you must rest.”
Leonidas had bought himself some time, but still he did not know what to do. That night, he spent hours arguing with the Ephors and the Generals. So perplexed was he, he returned home and sought his wife. He found her with their Helot servants helping them to sew clothes for their children for the approaching winter. While her husband did not exactly approve of Gorgo’s compassion for the Helots, he tolerated it, seeing it merely as a sentimental quirk she had inherited from her father. Like him, she too was viewed as a little strange.
When she saw him, Gorgo followed him into their bedchamber, where he sat down upon the bed. He held his head in his hands. They said Leonidas knew no fear. And indeed, he feared nothing, except confusion. “I don’t know what do. Cleomenes would have known exactly how to handle this,” he said. “Tell me, what would you do if you were in your father’s place right now?”
In battle, Leonidas was a lion among men. As a commander, he was skilful and decisive. He was everything Spartans could admire in a king, but in politics, he was completely at a loss. She gave him the most honest advice she could. “Sparta does not have a large army. If the invading Persian force is as strong as the reports suggest, then it does not matter whether Athens fights alone or with Spartan help, the Greeks will be defeated. If Spartans lose this battle and the Persians decide to move against Sparta, we will have no one to protect us. Is it wise, my Lord, to take such a risk?”
After a long silence, Leonidas got up and walked over to the hearth in the centre of the room. “But how can I refuse the Athenians’ request without violating the terms of our alliance, and without being seen a coward?”
“My Lord,” she said calmly. “The Carneia festival begins tonight, and our laws forbid any military activity during this period. All you need to tell Pheiddipides is that Sparta will send a force to support the Athenians as soon as the Carneia is over.”
“And after that?”
“If the Persians defeat the Athenians by then, it will have meant the Barbarian army is much stronger and our absence from Fennel Field has been prudent. But if they are weaker than the Athenians, they will delay battle and if you lead our army after the Carneia, you and the Athenians will have a good chance of gaining victory.”
Leonidas continued to frown; this strategy went against the very grain of the warrior in him. He was dying to go and fight at Fennel Field.
Next morning, he told Pheidippides that military activity was forbidden during the period of the Carneia. As soon as the festival was over, he would personally lead a Spartan force to help the Athenians. “And we shall come running,” Leonidas promised.
Disappointment appeared on the face of the young Pheidippides. He bowed and said, “I shall convey your decision to the Assembly and
“The Barbarians have landed at Fennel Field. Athens needs Sparta to stand by its side. How soon can you send troops, Majesty?” Pheidippides asked, still panting.
By the terms of the alliance that Gorgo’s father had crafted shortly before his death, they were bound to come to Athens’ aid. Yet Sparta’s leaders were unsure. Some feared they might be sucked into a trap, even more so if the Persian army was as large as reports claimed; even more so when intelligence was coming in that Athenian traitors were planning to deliver their city to the invaders. Others argued, however, that no self-respecting Spartan warrior would pass up such a glorious opportunity to repulse a hated enemy.
Leonidas was caught in a bind. Though a warrior of Sparta, he was also her king. “Thank you for your message, good Pheidippides. You shall have your answer shortly. I must consult the Ephors and the Generals, and perhaps also seek the will of the Heavens. In the meantime, you must rest.”
Leonidas had bought himself some time, but still he did not know what to do. That night, he spent hours arguing with the Ephors and the Generals. So perplexed was he, he returned home and sought his wife. He found her with their Helot servants helping them to sew clothes for their children for the approaching winter. While her husband did not exactly approve of Gorgo’s compassion for the Helots, he tolerated it, seeing it merely as a sentimental quirk she had inherited from her father. Like him, she too was viewed as a little strange.
When she saw him, Gorgo followed him into their bedchamber, where he sat down upon the bed. He held his head in his hands. They said Leonidas knew no fear. And indeed, he feared nothing, except confusion. “I don’t know what do. Cleomenes would have known exactly how to handle this,” he said. “Tell me, what would you do if you were in your father’s place right now?”
In battle, Leonidas was a lion among men. As a commander, he was skilful and decisive. He was everything Spartans could admire in a king, but in politics, he was completely at a loss. She gave him the most honest advice she could. “Sparta does not have a large army. If the invading Persian force is as strong as the reports suggest, then it does not matter whether Athens fights alone or with Spartan help, the Greeks will be defeated. If Spartans lose this battle and the Persians decide to move against Sparta, we will have no one to protect us. Is it wise, my Lord, to take such a risk?”
After a long silence, Leonidas got up and walked over to the hearth in the centre of the room. “But how can I refuse the Athenians’ request without violating the terms of our alliance, and without being seen a coward?”
“My Lord,” she said calmly. “The Carneia festival begins tonight, and our laws forbid any military activity during this period. All you need to tell Pheiddipides is that Sparta will send a force to support the Athenians as soon as the Carneia is over.”
“And after that?”
“If the Persians defeat the Athenians by then, it will have meant the Barbarian army is much stronger and our absence from Fennel Field has been prudent. But if they are weaker than the Athenians, they will delay battle and if you lead our army after the Carneia, you and the Athenians will have a good chance of gaining victory.”
Leonidas continued to frown; this strategy went against the very grain of the warrior in him. He was dying to go and fight at Fennel Field.
Next morning, he told Pheidippides that military activity was forbidden during the period of the Carneia. As soon as the festival was over, he would personally lead a Spartan force to help the Athenians. “And we shall come running,” Leonidas promised.
Disappointment appeared on the face of the young Pheidippides. He bowed and said, “I shall convey your decision to the Assembly and
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