Page 104 of Eryx
“Our flank is weakest on the right side,” I said quietly. “We hold our shields with our left arm, protecting the man at our left. It leaves the men on the far-right of the line vulnerable, for they have no one on that side to cover them.”
Axios paused as he thought. “So, he is moving our best fighters to the right to strengthen the line?”
Before I could answer, Polycharmus, one of our cavalry commanders, rode his horse up and down the line of battle-ready men. His dark hair blew behind him, matching the mane of the beast he rode upon, and his long black beard was braided and tied off at the end.
“Spartans!” he shouted, pulling on the reigns to stop in front of us. “Take a look at the cloak you wear upon your backs. Do you know why we choose red? It is so our enemies do not see us bleed. We are gods in their eyes. Powerful. Invincible.”
“Huah!” the men in our ranks roared, hitting the ground with their spears. I joined them, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
This is what I was born to be.
I will make Sparta proud.
Axios was positioned between me and Haden, and I looked over his head to meet Haden’s gaze. I had spoken with him before we had set course for Olynthus, asking him to help me protect the man between us at all costs.
Haden nodded before facing forward as we began to march.
Theon and Quill were two rows ahead, their short statures making them hard to see. Though small, they were quick and strong. I had faith they’d prevail. I knew the risks of war, but I refused to consider a scenario where any of my brothers fell.
The gates loomed before us as we drew closer to the enemy lines, progressing at a slow pace. With lances raised and shields in position, we moved in unison. Some men began to chant the Song of Castor, a war song named in honor of a fallen Spartan hero. Others soon joined in before hitting their shields to the rhythm.
Axios stared ahead, his body trembling. His grip tightened on his spear, and he looked over at me. The opening in the helmet allowed me to see his eyes, as well as the nerves shining in them.
I nodded to him, hoping it gave him encouragement. I wished to speak with him again, to tell him all the things I so often kept locked inside. But the time for words had passed.
Our army halted outside the city. When the gates opened, the chants stopped, as did the rumbling chorus of lances against shields.
The Olynthian cavalry emerged from the gates and headed for our right flank. Just as Teleutias had predicted. As the enemy reached the wall of shields, roars filled the air as they were impaled by Spartan spears. Orders were shouted for our unit to continue marching forward. More enemies attacked the hoplites on the right.
And still, we advanced forward.
The phalanx gave us a tight formation. If one man fell, another stepped forward to take his place to keep us from breaking the line. Once it was broken, there was no reforming it. Battle waged to the sides of us, but being in the middle of the lines, we hadn’t yet joined the fight. I knew it was only a matter of time before we did.
Each row of hoplites had an officer who gave orders and helped keep the formation in sync.
“Halt!” he shouted. “Lances forward!”
The Olynthians stormed our ranks, searching for a weakness in our defenses. Gaining momentum, we collided with them and pushed them back with our shields. The men in the front lines drew their swords and took down the enemies at close range.
But the enemy kept coming. More and more of them emerged from the city, some on horses and others on foot.
One row of Spartiates broke formation as too many of them were charged at once, and the men behind them stepped forward, using their shields to push the enemy back.
The Spartan general Eudamidas and his hoplites defended the right side of the battlefield. Our allies fought alongside him, but they lacked the structure of the Spartan phalanx. Many fell. But many more held their ground, at least for a while.
Polycharmus rode along the enemy lines, slicing off one of their heads. With the bloody blade, he continued hacking at them, grinning like a mad man. His arrogance blinded him to the threat around him.
Men swarmed him and pulled him from his horse. He shouted as he fell to the dirt. Swords plunged into his chest and stomach repeatedly, painting the ground red. The commander’s blood splashed on the enemy as they continued stabbing him long after he had died.
Absolute chaos followed his death.
So much happened at once. My whole life had prepared me for battle, yet experiencing it was quite different.
The line of the right flank finally broke. Spartan hoplites fought individually instead of as a single unit. We had been taught how to fight this way, but the Spartiates had been taken off guard by the breaking of the phalanx. They struggled to recover as the enemy stormed them.
Then, the hoplites began to fall.
Spartans and allies alike met their ends with blades and arrows. We were told our men were the strongest and bravest in all of Greece, yet we all bled the same color as the Thebans and Macedonians. The Olynthians launched another attack, sending their infantry toward the weak point in the line.
