above this hill, without a doubt, is also the village idiot!”
More laughter.
“But what I don’t see up there,” he continued, “even after searching again and again through this crowd of Mantineans … is a single warrior. The Mantineans have brought here all sorts of men of all sorts of professions, but they forgot to bring their soldiers.
“Brothers!” he continued, “Look at us! There is not a single potter among us, no beekeeper, no ironsmith, not even a part-time plumber. We are all soldiers. So what, I ask myself, stands between us and the top of that ridge today … if anything at all?”
The Spartan warriors responded with a loud collective grunt. For some moments, Gorgo’s gaze had rested at the Mantinea force arrayed across the ridge, looking quite formidable. But at the point the Spartans grunted, she saw something strange happen to those troops on the ridge. She saw the knees of some begin to quake. Some vomited and she could clearly see others defecating where they stood.
She was so busy observing the Mantineans that she did not realize the Spartans had started charging up the steep slope. Having grown up in a warrior society, and often instructed by her father on matters military, Gorgo knew it was generally considered a folly to attack your enemies uphill, especially if they were well dug in as these Mantineans were. And it was an even greater folly to do so if the enemy outnumbered you, as on this occasion. And so her first instinct was to think that her husband had lost his mind.
A deafening crash shook the valley as metal and wood collided in fury. The Spartans had struck the enemy lines. The night before, Leonidas had chided his generals that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. On that serene spring morning, it was the Mantinean army that did not survive first contact. It simply collapsed under the weight of the Spartan onslaught. The battle of Gortys, if it could be called a battle, was over in no time. The few Mantineans who had the courage to resist were cut down as swiftly as blades of grass before a slicing scythe. The vast majority of them, however, turned and fled. Their shields were the first things they threw away; and then their helmets. Some kept their spears for comfort, others simply let them go. It soon became a chase by the victorious Spartans after their Mantinean prey – the latter trying to run as fast as they could away from their pursuers. For reasons no one could explain, all the Mantineans raced down the other side of the ridge and sought refuge in a wooded grove nearby, where the Spartans quickly surrounded them.
Leonidas shouted to the Mantineans, “We will burn you alive in there if you do not come out,” and quickly ordered the outer trees to be set on fire. First in dribs and drabs – one soldier and then two, and then as the fire spread through the grove a huddle of men and then a mob – emerged from the smoking woodland, until finally the entire Mantinean army had surrendered.
Leonidas had them strip almost naked and bade them sit in neat rows on the very ridge the troops had charged up.
“Worthless maggots,” he said as he walked among them, “you are a disgrace to the good name of Greece.
“If my late brother, King Cleomenes, may the gods forgive him, were alive today he would have personally slit your throats. His daughter, my Queen,” Leonidas pointed as she walked towards him, “I am sure would love to do us the honour in his stead.”
Of course, Leonidas was joking, but Gorgo saw the entire Mantinea army shudder in horror as she approached. One or two, she noticed, began to vomit uncontrollably.
“… But killing you would be an insult to our weapons,” continued Leonidas. “The lambs we slaughter have more courage than you ever will. Why did you don your helmets and carry your spears if had no intention of fighting? Why did you not fight and die like men? Why did you run so quickly from this field of honour?” He looked
More laughter.
“But what I don’t see up there,” he continued, “even after searching again and again through this crowd of Mantineans … is a single warrior. The Mantineans have brought here all sorts of men of all sorts of professions, but they forgot to bring their soldiers.
“Brothers!” he continued, “Look at us! There is not a single potter among us, no beekeeper, no ironsmith, not even a part-time plumber. We are all soldiers. So what, I ask myself, stands between us and the top of that ridge today … if anything at all?”
The Spartan warriors responded with a loud collective grunt. For some moments, Gorgo’s gaze had rested at the Mantinea force arrayed across the ridge, looking quite formidable. But at the point the Spartans grunted, she saw something strange happen to those troops on the ridge. She saw the knees of some begin to quake. Some vomited and she could clearly see others defecating where they stood.
She was so busy observing the Mantineans that she did not realize the Spartans had started charging up the steep slope. Having grown up in a warrior society, and often instructed by her father on matters military, Gorgo knew it was generally considered a folly to attack your enemies uphill, especially if they were well dug in as these Mantineans were. And it was an even greater folly to do so if the enemy outnumbered you, as on this occasion. And so her first instinct was to think that her husband had lost his mind.
A deafening crash shook the valley as metal and wood collided in fury. The Spartans had struck the enemy lines. The night before, Leonidas had chided his generals that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. On that serene spring morning, it was the Mantinean army that did not survive first contact. It simply collapsed under the weight of the Spartan onslaught. The battle of Gortys, if it could be called a battle, was over in no time. The few Mantineans who had the courage to resist were cut down as swiftly as blades of grass before a slicing scythe. The vast majority of them, however, turned and fled. Their shields were the first things they threw away; and then their helmets. Some kept their spears for comfort, others simply let them go. It soon became a chase by the victorious Spartans after their Mantinean prey – the latter trying to run as fast as they could away from their pursuers. For reasons no one could explain, all the Mantineans raced down the other side of the ridge and sought refuge in a wooded grove nearby, where the Spartans quickly surrounded them.
Leonidas shouted to the Mantineans, “We will burn you alive in there if you do not come out,” and quickly ordered the outer trees to be set on fire. First in dribs and drabs – one soldier and then two, and then as the fire spread through the grove a huddle of men and then a mob – emerged from the smoking woodland, until finally the entire Mantinean army had surrendered.
Leonidas had them strip almost naked and bade them sit in neat rows on the very ridge the troops had charged up.
“Worthless maggots,” he said as he walked among them, “you are a disgrace to the good name of Greece.
“If my late brother, King Cleomenes, may the gods forgive him, were alive today he would have personally slit your throats. His daughter, my Queen,” Leonidas pointed as she walked towards him, “I am sure would love to do us the honour in his stead.”
Of course, Leonidas was joking, but Gorgo saw the entire Mantinea army shudder in horror as she approached. One or two, she noticed, began to vomit uncontrollably.
“… But killing you would be an insult to our weapons,” continued Leonidas. “The lambs we slaughter have more courage than you ever will. Why did you don your helmets and carry your spears if had no intention of fighting? Why did you not fight and die like men? Why did you run so quickly from this field of honour?” He looked
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