Spartan A Novel by Valerio Massimo Manfredi

Author:Valerio Massimo Manfredi
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781447211334
Publisher: Macmillan Publishers UK
Published: 2011-09-23T06:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

That which comes from the gods must be borne with resignation, that which comes from our enemies, with courage.

Thucydides, II, 64, 2

12

THE CROSSROADS

KLEIDEMOS REMAINED THE WHOLE night next to the fire that had devoured the body of his brother Brithos. Found for a moment and lost for ever. He stared stonily at the fiery shadows slipping through the embers, gasping softly like a wounded animal. Behind him stretched the endless field of death that was Plataea; the stench of the blood that saturated the earth rose and was carried by the wind from the banks of the Asopus to the solitary columns of the temple of Hera. Dozens of stray dogs, emaciated by the long famine, roamed howling among the slaughtered bodies, ripping flesh from the stiffened limbs of the warriors of the Great King.

A trumpet from the Greek camp announced the third shift of guard duty as an enormous moon, red as a bloody shield, rose over the heat-scorched brush. Kleidemos raised his eyes to the gigantic disc, staring with wild pain. A terrifying figure was taking shape and substance behind the bleeding moon: Ares, god of war, glittering with metallic scales like a serpent. He wielded a double-bladed axe which he whirled through the air with an evil roar. The corpses suddenly came to life, spilling their guts, faces disfigured; they rose to their feet in the field of blood and marched silently towards the great warrior. He spun his obscene hatchet, renewing the carnage, seeding the plain with yet more mangled limbs, more and more . . . until the night dissolved.

Kleidemos shook himself, looking around with red eyes. His thoughts were awakened by the impending dawn. The din of the massacre that had sounded incessantly in his mind all night began to quieten.

A trumpet sounded fall-in at the Greek camp and a soldier soon appeared to collect Brithos’ ashes and consign his weapons. Kleidemos rose to his feet. He slowly put on his brother’s armour, took up his shield and his spear and began walking. The buzz of flies vibrated all around him . . . the flies, companions of Thanatos. He crossed the field unseeing, as if he were dreaming. A guard’s voice startled him.

‘Follow me, Kleidemos. Regent Pausanias awaits you in his tent.’

He entered the tent a short while later, passing between two guards who raised the mat hanging at the entrance. As soon as his tired eyes could make out his surroundings, he realized that the king was standing before him. Not very tall, he had grey hair and a short, pointed beard. His manicured hands did not seem those of a warrior and even his clothing had an air of elegance that Kleidemos had never seen in a Spartan. Two silver cups filled with red wine gleamed on a little table.

‘Drink,’ invited the king, handing him one of the cups. ‘Today is a great day for Greece and this Konos wine is delicious. We found abundant quantities of it in Mardonios’ tent, and these cups are part of his tableware.

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