Legends Never Die: Thermopylae (ch. 51) (Patreon)

“Sparta,” I named the settlement, looking at it with narrowed eyes. It was located in a mountainous area that reminded me of Norway, though admittedly less cold. It should be nearing winter -- I saw signs of it even here. People were pulling in the harvest and not planting anything except for what might grow over winter. It was a strange land, I decided. The winters here were warmer than the summers in Norway.

The city itself was seated in a fortified position. A river divided it in half, flowing through the valleys of the terrain. Clusters of buildings grew on one side of the river, where the farmers would come and go. On the other side of the river was a town that clung to a hill that turned into a steep cliff. At the very top of that cliff was a building that seemed to act as a castle overlooking the territory. Given the lack of busyness, I knew our approach had been noticed. "It has no walls," I observed.

"It was said that Sparta had no need for walls, for the Spartan soldiers with their shield wall was greater than any man could hope to build." Michalis remarked as we came to a stop on the path leading to the city. Our ships remained in Athens, along with two hundred and fifty men to hold the city. Plenty because we entrenched them near the Pantheon, as I had learned what the great temple was called.

"Spartans?" I questioned, thinking that was quite the claim. Looking at the city, and how unprepared it seemed for our arrival… It seemed foolish to me.

“Once it was home to the greatest warriors in the world,” Michalis told me, drinking in the sight with a hum of excitement. “Or so the stories say,” he added with a small shrug when I cast a glance his way. The greatest warriors in the world?

“What do the stories say?” Astrid asked, immediately interested. I saw Michalis fighting off a small smile, but I couldn’t tell what that smile was for.

“Many hundreds of years ago, there was a great empire to the east that sought to claim this land -- Greece, and all that lay beyond it. The city-states of Greece banded together for the first time in their history, yet it would not be enough. The empire that sought to conquer them had a vast army of hundreds of thousands,” he began, only for Astrid to scoff at the idea of such an army. I too found such a number hard to believe. That must be as many men that walked the world. “Worse, they had no time. The army was at their gates, entering their lands to plunder it.”

Michalis inclined his head to the city, “It was the Spartans that acted while others squabbled. A great king by the name of Leonidas took three hundred Spartans and led them to a place called Thermopylae -- a narrow mountain pass near the sea. And there, three hundred Spartan warriors fought day and night, rebuffing the army of hundreds of thousands under a canopy of so many arrows that the very sun was blotted out.” Then he shrugged, “Or so they tell the children.”

It sounded like a tall tale, I thought, but it did rouse some interest from me. “Do you believe it?” I asked him and he offered a small shrug in response.

“The enemy they faced is surely exaggerated, but it would be an odd thing for a tale to endure so long if there wasn’t a kernel of truth to it,” he spoke and I supposed that was a fair reasoning. Could this King Leonidas be like me? Or like King Charlemagne? I shuddered at the thought of twelve Paladins, but three hundred of them? In the right terrain… I thought it could very well be possible. Three hundred men against a hundred thousand. “In any case, it is no longer relevant today. The days of the Spartans are long gone. They were conquered by Rome and while their legacy endures, they are not the warriors they once were.”

“A shame, that is,” Astrid said with a wistful sigh. “And the empire? What happened to them?”

“The Persians. I suppose you could consider them the Abbasid's great grandsire. They once ruled everything to the east of Greece. They were pushed back by Rome, before eventually collapsing into nothing. From their ashes came the Sasanians who ruled for centuries before they fell to the Muslim Caliphates.” Michalis answered and I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

I had spent some time in his company -- more so now that we were in his homeland and he was acting as a guide. Enough time that certain things had started to stand out to me. Michalis introduced himself as a merchant, one that was willing to brave far-off lands that others dared not to tread for the sake of profits. However, Michalis… how he spoke, how he acted, how much he knew… for what reason would a merchant that traveled to the other side of the world need to know about such histories? Who taught him? Why was he taught in the first place?

There was more to Michalis than met the eye, I was beginning to think. I just wasn’t sure what.

“Well, it is time to test these Spartans and their might,” I said, urging a horse that I now rode forward to the unwalled city. My near thousand men marched with me, our eyes darting around for signs of an ambush. Instead, as we neared, we saw a man. A frail-looking man who looked like he had never seen an easy day's work in his entire life.

"Gone! Begone!" He shouted at me, waving me off. I fought off a smile at the sight of the greybeard who stood completely unafraid in the face of my men and myself. "There is nothing for you here, stinking barbarians!" He yelled out in Greek.

"I will be the judge of that," I returned, and the old man's eyes narrowed into slits. "I am here to remind the leaders of this land to whom they owe their allegiance," I added, and I saw surprise flicker across his face as he seemed to chew on something.

"You are not Bulgarians," he voiced, his tone doubtful.

"We are Norse. We are mercenaries for the Romans," I told the old man, and while I saw that his esteem would have been much higher if I was Roman myself, by not being a Bulgarian, he became downright friendly. "I am here for Sparta's surrender."

"Well, I can't give it to you, but those cunts up in their villas can. You won't find much resistance, milord. The boy-lord saw fit to march out with the fighting men to Patras. Scouts on the water said a fleet was headed that way. Suppose that's you, I reckon." The old man explained and my lips thinned. That was unwelcome news.

"He left you undefended?" I questioned, realizing that I never thought to account for such stupidity. What kind of moron left their home completely undefended to march on an enemy? If they knew about the other half of my army, then they had to know about me. Did they think I would still be tied up in Athens? Even still, the move was foolish. "How many men did he take with him?"

"Some four thousand. Took everyone that could hold a spear. You won't find nothing here but babes and old men like me," the greybeard told me. He was being very helpful. I'm guessing that he was less than happy with the young lords' decision, especially when it left them so exposed to an enemy that arrived at their doorstep.

This changed things. The plan was to take Athens and Sparta, then move onto Patras before they could muster a response. This young lord, in a fit of stupidity, took all his men to relieve a siege before it could even begin based on the timing. It also meant that there was an army of four thousand men bearing down on my thousand men.

"You have my word that you shall not be harmed. The nobles in the villas, however, will be our captives for the Emperor and their estates shall be looted," I told the greybeard and his gaze searched mine for a long minute before he offered a small nod.

"They left two days ago. Lord Gorgo fancies himself the second coming of Alexander but the damned fool took the slow path. He wants to recruit some levies along the way, I reckon. I'd say that gives you a good five days before he reaches Patras," he told me, and that was a relief to hear. "I know of some goat paths that'll make the trip quicker, milord."

I looked beyond the city, toward the direction that the old man had gestured to. I saw nothing but mountains and steep hills. "Authun," I said, calling for my lead scout, who stepped forward. "Travel ahead to warn Olek of the relief force. Take ten men with you and have them scout a place of battle -- I desire a narrow pass to limit the use of their numbers and vantage for the archers."

"I'll leave immediately," Authun said, bowing his head to me before getting ready.

"I'll see to it that you are rewarded for your information-" I began, but the old man waved me off.

"I'll take the reward for the sake of my grandchildren, but I do this for the Emperor. The young folk have forgotten the prosperity that the Romans brought because they never saw it with their own eyes. I did. And I would have my kin under the protection of the Emperor." He declared, and I inclined my head to him, finding myself impressed with his resolve.

All that was left was to see his wishes fulfilled.

…

The villas were taken with relative ease, and the nobles were captured. Much like the old man, they found themselves cursing their lords' shortsightedness as we sent them and the baggage train to Athens. The greybeard's advice was useful, but we could have plotted out where Gorgo was going based on the damage he was doing.

Every single village that his host came across was plundered so thoroughly that it was as if he were an invading army. Only what was taken was fighting men and food. Everything down to the last mouthful of grain was looted, and with winter so close, many villages were reluctant to give up their stores. Which left taking them by force. I became increasingly certain that there was some unknown rivalry taking place, because I found that was the only understandable explanation for the desolate villages we came across.

Because the raiding did get worse when the survivors of the host said that they lived in Patras lands. So, was Gorgo weakening a rival city while he had the opportunity? A play for power? But he could not truly think that the men in his army would fight for him if he ended up taking the city?

The entire thing seemed mad to me, but I was forced to deal with the situation as it developed. And it was a situation -- in the journey, Gorgo' host swelled to six thousand men. Closer to seven. There was a bit of fear at the prospect of fighting such a host, but the fact of the matter was that most of them were armed with pitchforks and scythes. They didn't even possess any gambeson. It was a large host, as large as some of the armies I saw in Francia, but I was feeling confident despite the seemingly stacked odds.

More so when I reached the battlefield the day before the battle. A relatively narrow pass that fifteen men could walk shoulder to shoulder, with a sharp incline on one side and  a sharp fall on the other, with a river running through the bottom of it before another shape rose in the terrain. The dirt was rocky and loose in a number of places, which worried me, but I imagine it would worry the Greeks a great deal more.

"I'll position my archers here -- a good vantage point to their side. The river and cliff will protect us from attack, and if they try to overcome them, we'll have plenty of time to escape. They don't have scouts, so Olek's advance has been missed. As has yours," Authun informed me, and it truly was a marvel.

"I feel like I'm missing something," I admitted, looking at where the battle would take place. The plan was simple -- Olek would position himself here and the Greeks would attack. I would attack from behind, with the archers feathering them from the sides. I expected the men to break and they would spill out over the cliff. A bit of a drop, but nothing that couldn't be walked off, and I doubt that they would be so eager to rejoin the battle. And, if they did, Authun would kill them before they could regroup.

"You aren't used to having stupid enemies, Wolf-Kissed," Authun remarked with a shrug. Could that really be it? Would this be my first time facing a shortsighted fool? I almost found him as dangerous as Charlemagne, because I could at least anticipate what he might do. Gorgo… I genuinely had no idea what his general plan was. What his intentions were. How any of this made sense in his head because, undoubtedly, he should have heard that we took Sparta by now. "I caught sight of him. He was leading from the front like a puffed-up chicken with a strut."

I hummed, “I suppose that I will see it myself soon enough.” I said, earning a nod before breaking off to leave Authun to prepare for his part in the battle. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was walking head-first into a trap, even as I made my way back to camp, slipping by the enemy host because it didn’t send any scouts ahead or behind.

The next morning, I still felt uneasy about the battle, even as I put on my armor. A gambeson with a long hauberk of riveted chainmail over it. Out of anticipation of a colder winter, around my neck was a wolf pelt that helped to prevent chafing. It was as I got ready for the day that Morrigan ventured into my tent, not bothering to announce herself. I cocked an eyebrow at her as I strapped a belt that held my sword and a handaxe around my waist, leaving me free to pick up a shield and a daneaxe.

“Thoughts?” I asked her, glancing in her direction.

“About the battle? None. Disperse them like the rabble they are. T’is a fine message you shall be sending to the emperor,” Morrigan dismissed, approaching me with a sly gait. “A territory conquered, free of charge. I have learned a great deal between all the marching -- the Roman Emperor is not in a good position. The Bulgars to the north have been terrorizing his frontier, and to the east the Abbasids take more and more territory. Worshiping the true gods will put obstacles in our path, true, but reliability matters more in times of crisis.”

She came to a stop in front of me, “However, in nature, it is not always the strong that rule. To do too well is to become a target. This victory will shame those that said it could not be done. That it was too costly to take these lands back. You shall find yourself with enemies within Constantinople, and they shall seek your destruction for no reason more than that shame.” Was that the trap that I sensed? To suffer from success?

“There’s nothing to be done about that,” I decided. “We have already committed to our course.” Perhaps that was a falsehood. We could leave. We could raid through the area, fill our ships with plunder, then simply sail back home. I didn’t want to do that, though. Not when the slightest glimpse of Constantinople had been so… intoxicating. The splendor of the city was glorious and I wished to see all that it offered. I wished to learn what made it so great.

“I agree. Yet, the only hardships you have suffered have been due to daggers in the dark,” Morrigan agreed, her golden eyes burning a hole into mine. “I shall learn Greek. And Latin. You will teach me both in secret and I shall be your knife in the dark.” She did not make a request but uttered a statement. I looked at her, knowing what she was saying.

"You spoke to my mother," I ventured and Morrigan inclined her head to me.

"She is a most formidable woman. One that knows your strengths well. As well as your weaknesses, of course," Morrigan admitted freely. "People are animals. T'is a harsh truth for most, but we are only three missed meals from descending into beasts. I understand animals. I know how animals think. I know what they desire, what they hate, and how to distract and herd them." My brow furrowed and she offered a sly smile, "You are the greatest example of all, fool." She said with some affection.

That… was a fair point, I had to admit. I genuinely had no argument I could offer there.

It was also a statement, I think. Of her intentions. And I… I should have done this some time ago, I decided. "Give me your hand," I told her, making her brow furrow but she did as bid. Reaching within myself, I pushed the Prestige into her. Morrigan's eyes shot open at the sensation, her lips parting as she gaped up at me.

Blessing bestowed:

Intrigue: Web of Lies

The webs of intrigue are vast and complex, yet it has never been easier to see who is connected to who, and by what.

It was not the blessing that I expected Morrigan to receive, I would admit, but I could not deny that it would serve her well in her chosen task. Thorkell and Mother had given me an idea of how the blessings worked, though this one sounded more complex than I expected. Especially when Morrigan looked down at the space between us, her eyes narrowing at something that wasn't there, before she looked back up at me with a pinched expression.

"You-" she began before the tent flap was pushed to the side, revealing Astrid.

"We're set to moovvveee…" she trailed off, narrowing her eyes at Morrigan and me. Morrigan took a step back and withdrew her hand from my palm, looking at Astrid, then her gaze following something that led to me. What did she see, I wonder? Whatever it was, it got a scowl from Morrigan. "What's going on here?"

"Morrigan wants to learn Greek," I have a half answer, heading to the tent flap. "You and Jill should learn as well. If all goes well, we shall spend some time in this land."

"... Right," Astrid replied, sounding like she didn't entirely buy it before glancing over her shoulder at Morrigan. "Sounds good to me. I tire of not understanding people when they speak. I'll be fighting with you in the vanguard." That got a grunt from me and a nod.

"Siegfried," Morrigan called out before I left my tent. I looked back at her, and her lips thinned as she seemed to swallow what she intended to say. "Don't die," she settled, earning a chuckle.

"I don't intend to." I replied before we set off for the battle. We had seven hundred men -- well, closer to six hundred and fifty on account that archers were already in position. The formation was rather simple when it came to it.

Those confident in their ability to hold the line, like myself, Thorkell, and now Astrid, would be at the front. Our armor would be a great advantage. All we needed to do was to provide a solid wall to send the pedants over the ledge on a panic and they would disperse.

Astrid tossed me a helm as we matched along the path. She had earned her own hauberk of chainmail -- it was all in the same style, though she had the neck of her gambeson lined with white wolf fur and her face obscured by a nasal helm with a mail coif hanging from it. Putting my own helm on, I caught sight of the Greek host and heard the sounds of fighting. "Pick up the pace!" I shouted out, serving as the tip of the spear aimed at their backs.

I heard panicked shouts in Greek as those in the back tried to muster up a defense. It was far too late and they didn't have the discipline. My warriors fell upon their rear in a devastating charge that had the same ripple effect as the Frankish cavalry. Choking up on the haft of my daneaxe, I carved my way through the host. Blood flew free, along with limbs and heads. The shieldwall pushed some over the edge, and like I predicted, they took off running for their lives.

My archers fired in a continuous pace into the sides of the Greek army that was scrambling to muster a response beyond blind panic. I couldn't see them, but I believed Olek was holding strong as well. Meaning that we had to squeeze.

"Ten paces!" I shouted out, taking a large step forward against the people that lashed out with hand scythes and hand axes. Tools rather than weapons. They died easily in the face of our unified shieldwall, but I found that even with just sheer numbers, they had a terrible weight on our formation. Our feet dug in, pushing to take the ten paces and killing a dozen men with each step we took. Those behind us would toss the bodies over to keep them from becoming obstacles.

When the ten paces were taken, we took ten more. Then ten more. And ten more again. With each step, the host became more compact until men were dying on our shields, the men behind them crushing them because the men behind them were trying to break through to escape. Eventually, something had to give, and it wasn't the shield wall.

The Greek host, despite being near three times our number, shattered when the first men started jumping over the ledge for freedom. Like a water skin under too much pressure, they flooded over in a rush, trampling over each other to flee. Even before we secured the baggage train in the center of the host, the battle was won.

"Let them flee!" I called out, slaying only the men that fought back, before repeating the words in Greek. It was a full route after almost three hours of battle, but, in truth, it hardly felt like one. It felt more like a slaughter.

As the host disintegrated, I did have some horsemen on reserve to make sure they scattered back to their homes instead of joining back up. In the end, we took a good number of prisoners. Though, it did seem that some hadn't got the message because I saw sporadic fighting where Olek was. Approaching, my bloodied axe on my shoulder, I saw who it was.

A puffed up chicken indeed. He was a young man, probably only a year older than me, if that. He wore a crown, dressed in fine silks, and waved a sword around with such fervor that he was more likely to cut his own head off than anyone else's. The men were having their fun, poking at him with spears to get a reaction. And a reaction they received! "I am the inheritor of the Spartan Empire! All of Greece shall fall to me! I-" he shouted, only to go silent when I gave him a firm whack to his head with the back of my axe. He went to the ground, clutching his head in pain.

"Chain him. And gag him," I added when Gorgo began screaming once again, redoubling when I ignored him in favor of approaching Olek.

"Well met, Wolf-Kissed," Olek greeted me with a rare smile. I could tell that he was pleased with the victory. "Your orders?"

"Have men return the food to the villages that Gorgo passed in the name of the Emperor. A few hundred men should do the trick. In the meantime, we shall continue on to Patras." I decided. Olek nodded, falling into step.

"I hear you had a man killed for rape," Olek remarked as the plunder was sorted, men were claiming weapons to smelt down into armor. I'm not entirely sure how he heard about that unless one of the scouts mentioned it to him.

I glanced at him, "He disobeyed an order." I told him and Olek's smile simply grew in size.

"Good," he said and that was the closest thing I had ever heard to praise coming from him about anyone. But, if I had to venture a guess, it wasn't the punishment for rape that pleased him so.

As far as I could tell, Olek had one love in this world, and it was discipline.

…

The taking of Patras was uneventful and routine, I found. They had tried to be bold by sending out some of their defenders to attack Olek from the rear, but the battle was over before they managed to reach us. They chose to flee rather than fight, but they brought word of their defeat. The surrender of the city came as soon as we breached the gate. Olek ended up overseeing the discipline of eight Saxon soldiers, but beyond that, the looting was practiced now. The method held and when the final tallies were taken, everyone seemed pleased with what they found.

In the following days, I found that Morrigan was avoiding me. I gave her the space she desired as I awaited a response from Aetios in regards to the pacification of Greece. Once the food was returned, the people were quick to swear allegiance and with the greatest of them taken, the other cities were quick to swear the same oaths. I didn't want to leave the area on account that I suspected they would swallow those words as soon as it was convenient for them, which left me in Athens as I waited.

It was a full week before I heard anything. And that messenger came at the head of a small army -- a garrison, I suspected as I looked out over the wall at their approach. I noticed that they all wore the same lamllar armor. Some of their helmets were decorated with red fur or feathers. All of them possessed a spear that was the exact same length and shape. They walked as one in a column leading up to the gate of Athens.

Climbing down, I got on my horse and had the gates opened to greet them. A messenger rode forward before unfurling a piece of parchment. "On behalf of his imperial majesty, we give thanks to Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed, and acknowledge him and his company as a friend of Rome. He, and his body, are henceforth invited to the greatest city in the world, the glorious Constantinople, where he will receive rewards and honors. So says Logothetes tou dromou Staurakios." The messenger read out and I fought off a smile.

I would finally see Constantinople in all of its glory.