Page 164 of Eryx
King Cleombrotus noticed the altered formation as well. He shouted for us to shift position, and our cavalry advanced toward the front of the lines. We banged our shields and shouted, our battle cries echoing in the air.
The battle had begun.
The Theban cavalry charged and met ours, their swords clashing in midair. As men were beheaded and trampled, I tore my attention away from them to focus on the enemy hoplites. They would advance any moment. We needed to be ready when they did.
Axios faced ahead, his spear shaking in his grasp. Men around me began to shift in place, growing anxious with the anticipation.
“Whatever happens, stay strong,” I said in a loud, clear voice. “Hold formation and protect the man at your side. Remind them who we are… why the Greek world fears us and trembles in our presence.”
My unit roared and hit their shields.
I focused on Axios and said so only he could hear, “Do not leave me.”
I needed him by my side so I could protect him. But my words went even deeper. If he were to fall this day, then I would go with him.
“I will not leave you,” Axios vowed.
A promise of forever. In this life and the next.
“They’re retreating!” a man toward the front of the line shouted. “And so are our allies!”
The Spartan horsemen turned and rode toward us, their numbers greatly reduced. The survivors were drenched in blood and one was missing an arm. Seeing their retreat, many of the allies took it as a sign to do the same.
I cursed under my breath as they fled the battlefield. The allies had only agreed to aid in the battle due to treaty obligations. They had no loyalty to us.
As the Spartan cavalry reached our lines, the men at the front screamed for them to turn back around and fight. Instead, they broke through, leaving a large gap in our defenses.
“Do not panic!” I yelled. “Hold the line!”
Our cavalry had been hit hard, but our infantry hadn’t yet engaged in the battle. The fight was far from over.
However, the Theban hoplites took advantage of the gap created by the retreating horsemen and burst through it, attacking within our ranks. With my attention on them, I didn’t see the second attack until it was too late.
The Sacred Band charged directly at the Spartan right in a slanted formation, fifty men deep. They broke our lines with ease and proceeded to slaughter the men up front. Blood sprayed and deafening cries rang out in the morning air.
The force of the attack pushed our lines back, and soon the phalanx broke apart completely. One glance at Epaminondas told me this had been his strategy all along: to destroy the Spartan wing. We had been the sole focus. The allies andperioikoimattered not.
If Sparta fell, the rest would surrender.
The king roared as he blocked an attack, having been pulled from his horse. They had separated him from our unit. Much like a predator does to their prey before moving in for the kill.
“They’re heading for Cleombrotus,” I said, realizing their plan. “Protect your king!”
The men closest to him obeyed my order and gathered around him, protecting him with their lives. The Thebans swarmed them, and I gritted my teeth when I heard my men screaming as they were slain like animals. I lost sight of the king as more enemy hoplites reached us.
Axios fought by my side, but when the Thebans crashed into our wall of shields, he was knocked to the left.
“Ax!”
I couldn’t see him through the sea of bloody bodies. But there was no time to search for him. The Sacred Band were no ordinary soldiers. Their strength and skills matched ours. One moment of distraction would be my last. I roared as I sliced through the men in front of me, their blood spraying my chest.
One man cried out as I stabbed another in the neck, and I wondered if I’d just slain his lover. I held no sympathy for him. Not when he was my enemy. I then used my shield to knock his head back. Blood flew from his busted lip as he fell backward on the field, his body trampled moments later.
Someone grabbed my arm, and I flipped around, prepared to attack.
“Demetrius?” I asked.
He was covered in blood, though it didn’t appear to be his. “The king has been wounded.”
