The Argive Ch. 131-135

"I think we had a similar problem in Corinth," said Agemon. "Either way, we'll just have to show them how to fight. And how they are already the deadliest fighting force in all of Greece."

Praxis grinned. "Well said, my friend, well said. I'm glad to have you by my side again."

Agemon nudged him. "Until the end, Praxis."

There was something in those words that remained unspoken. Praxis never got the sense that any "ending" was near, even when the situation was dire in Messene. There was always another place he could go to rebuild and start over.

But this time felt different. He'd recovered Argos and Corinth, and this was likely their only shot at taking on Sparta. If the Spartans won again, their victory would be so utterly demoralizing to the people of both cities that Praxis guessed no one currently living would even think to challenge their power again. A full generation would have to pass before the living memory of that humiliation was forgotten.

This was very much a do-or-die situation, and the consequences of failure were too jarring to contemplate.

At least they still had some time left. The Corinthians were separated into groups and added into the training with their new allies. Asterion and the Messenians pulled some of the more veteran men to see to their training, the hope being to catch them up to the base level shared by the existing army.

Their work was cut out for them, and Praxis knew that he could still get word that the Spartans were marching at any time.

The biggest question for him was when they would strike out to end this rebellion for good?

*****

"By the gods, you expect me to admit this...filth to my army? You can't be serious."

Nikandros of Sparta was disgusted. Looking at these raw, Arcadian warriors in front of him caused his stomach to tremble with revulsion. They looked too skinny, or too weak, and many of them had battered, useless shields that would hardly survive a few minutes in any genuine battle.

There were some who didn't have any shields at all.

His fellow co-king, Cleomenes, looked back at Nikandros with aloof disinterest. "You said you wanted more men for this fight. The Arcadians are willing to fight for us. They've provided nearly a thousand of their men to answer the call."

"But they aren't Spartans," spat Nikandros. "Not even close. I wanted real warriors, not this rural peasant filth."

Cleomenes let out a deep sigh. "We have to make do with what we have. Your recent wars have depleted not only us but our allies. To get more men like you wanted, we can't have such a high standard."

Nikandros grunted. This was hardly a standard at all. This was more like a rabble mob. In fact, these men would be better off with scythes than they would be swords. What he wouldn't give for a thousand more better-trained warriors of the Spartan skill set. Or even with the Messenian or Argive fighting ethos?

Alas, there was nothing more that could be done. Nikandros wanted to start marching within two days, and these Arcadians would have to suffice. If they weren't great in quality, he would have to be satisfied with quantity, as this now put his army around four thousand men strong.

Which should be more than enough to put down this uprising by Argos and Corinth.

"Just keep them segregated from the rest of the army," barked Nikandros as he started walking away. "The last thing I need is their ill-disciplined rancor rubbing off on the true warriors of this army."

Nikandros didn't see Cleomenes roll his eyes as he walked away, or else he might have been tempted to address it. The older king of Sparta had been especially defeatist ever since the revolt of the two northern cities, and he even had the courage to suggest that Nikandros just let them go.

Nikandros laughed in his face at such a cowardly suggestion.

"I will crush them with every ounce of my might," boasted Nikandros. "The entire League needs reminding that they are here to serve Sparta. This is not a league of equals. Sparta is at the top of this hierarchy, and I will permit no challenge to our hegemony in the region. I will raze their cities to the ground just like I did with Messene!"

That was enough to put an end to the discussion, especially since the older king still deferred to the younger king's confidence and aggressive posture.

And truthfully, the Argives and their Corinthian dogs needed to be punished. Especially this Praxis of Argos, who'd been a royal thorn in Nikandros' side ever since he appeared on the scene. Nikandros was going to drown him in numbers, so that this new formation that everyone was talking about would have no chance of success.

In the end, Nikandros was willing to put the hearty, well-trained strength of his Spartan warriors against the cowardly spear phalanx of Praxis. And Nikandros knew if he could overwhelm them enough to break the phalanx so that they reverted to a more traditional style of fighting, they would win the day.

These increased numbers would allow him to do that.

Even if that meant throwing every living Arcadian at the enemy's line, Nikandros would break them for all time.

And nothing would stand in the way of Spartan dominance for centuries to come.

Chapter 135: Marching North

Two days later, Nikandros and his army were ready. The entire force of four thousand men were lined up in four columns just outside Sparta. The line of men was long enough that it ran for the length of the entire city, even wrapping around the southern tip.

It was the largest muster of the Peloponnesian League, and Nikandros was prepared to lead them to glory.

In the front of the ranks were his vaulted Spartans. Their shields were freshly painted and their discipline was second to none. There were nearly twenty-five hundred of them, by far the largest component of his army. It was on their shoulders that he pinned his hopes for victory, for if the Spartans couldn't get the job done, then no one could.

Just behind them came the contingents of their allies. Five hundred men from various cities, of which most were from Cynuria. Many of these men had been fighting with Sparta for a long time, and even if they weren't a match for Spartan bravery, they could be relied on to do their jobs well.

Making up the rearguard of the army were the rabble of Arcadians. Many of them had been outfitted with Spartan equipment for this campaign (which was considered a loan by Nikandros, not a gift). They lacked the discipline of the others but that was okay for this upcoming fight.

Nikandros had another use in mind for this bunch, especially once he saw how the rebels under Praxis were positioned.

With the men ready to depart, Nikandros took his place at the head of the army alongside his small bodyguard while the rest of Sparta gathered to watch their army depart. Chief among them were Cleomenes, who would be staying home as was the custom for the two kings during war.

Cleomenes was defeatist until the last moment before departure.

"You don't need to do this, Nikandros," warned the older king. "We don't need more blood on our hands."

"Put your tongue back in your mouth before I have it removed," snapped Nikandros, his eyes ablaze with fury. "Your pathetic words are not suitable for a king of Sparta!"

Cleomenes took a step back as a variety of emotions appeared on his face. Most prominent was anger.

"You can't speak to me like that," replied Cleomenes. "No matter your prowess on the battlefield, I'm still a king of Sparta. I've been king since you were a baby."

"Perhaps it's time for new blood then," suggested Nikandros. "Especially someone who isn't nearly as cowardly. When I return from this battle, that's something I'll have to address."

"You wouldn't dare do that to a fellow king," said Cleomenes, his mouth agape.

"Don't test my patience," said Nikandros, glaring back at him. "Perhaps you've ruled for too long, Cleomenes. Age has made you docile and weak. For the good of Sparta, it's the first thing I'll address when I return home."

Cleomenes opened his mouth to say something but he closed it just as fast, making Nikandros sneer. Even when faced with the loss of leadership, Cleomenes was still too anemic to fight back.

Sparta would be better suited with a new, more aggressive king.

Even as Nikandros began to march out with the army, his mind turned toward a more revolutionary idea.

Why did Sparta need two kings? Would he not suffice as their sole ruler? Had he not always delivered victory on the battlefield and at home?

Perhaps the answer wasn't finding another king? Maybe the answer was becoming the sole king.

Nikandros wore a smug smirk once he realized the path in front of him. When he returned victorious, Sparta was going to have a change of her own.

And he would stand atop the battlefield with his army as the true, sole master of the Peloponnese.

*****

"And that was when I told him the only way he was getting my shield was if the gods helped him steal it!"

Howls of laughter erupted from the dinner table as Agemon told his lively story from his journey across Arcadia. Praxis was one of the ones laughing the hardest, especially as Cora tried to give them a more accurate version of events.

"He wasn't that aggressive," said Cora, rolling her eyes at Agemon playfully. "But I've never seen a bandit run away as fast as that one did."

"Damn straight," boasted Agemon, puffing out his chest. "No one attempts to rob Agemon of Corinth and gets away with it."

More laughter erupted from the table, and it wasn't long before someone else took up a story of their own. It was late in the evening and all of them had been well plied with food and drink for the night, which naturally led to storytelling. Everyone had a tale to tell, even Zenais and Cypselus, who regaled them with stories after Agemon.

By that time, it was getting late, and Praxis was already thinking about bed. Tomorrow would be another full day of training, and he was eager to rest his weary body before the morning's tasks.

Yet, before the group could disperse, Praxis received the dreaded message he'd been waiting on. A runner burst into the room, earning the attention of everyone as he struggled to catch his breath.

"The Spartans are marching!" he huffed. "They are moving north on the road to Argos as I speak!"

In that moment, all the joyous revelry and good feelings evaporated as they were confronted by a truth that they'd all been waiting for.

"How long until they reach the city?" asked Praxis.

"No more than two days at most with their current pace," replied the runner. "Their numbers are large too, my king. They have nearly a thousand Arcadians marching with them."

"Athousand?" repeated Asterion. "Where could they have gotten that many men?"

"They would have had to comb through every hill and village in Arcadia to get that muster," said Cypselus. "It's the only way. And we all know the Arcadians look to Sparta for protection."

"That changes things to a great degree," said an alarmed Asterion. "That would give the Spartans nearly four thousand men! We can't stand up to that. We only cracked over nineteen hundred today."

"Nineteen hundred and fifty," corrected Praxis. "Don't forget the King's Band."

"Even still, they will drown us in numbers," said Agemon. "And these are Spartans we're talking about, under the command of Nikandros. Nikandros isn't Xanthos. He won't throw away his men so easily."

"We've faced those odds before and triumphed," said Praxis. "Even more outnumbered than we already are."

"But this time we're facing the entire might of Sparta against us," said Asterion. "In Messene, our group only faced a small column of Spartans, and they nearly broke us. Now we'll need to stand firm in the face of Nikandros alongside a thousand Arcadians to bolster his ranks."

Praxis had never seen the fear in Asterion's eyes like he did at that moment. The Messenian could usually be counted on to be level-headed but his panic was beginning to spread to the others in the room.

Truthfully, Asterion had a point. This would be the biggest test for the army yet, and Praxis would have preferred going into battle with more men. Although more Argives had been showing up daily to join the army, there just wasn't enough time to put an army on the field with equal numbers to the Spartans.

Instead, they would have to rely on their tactics to carry the day.

"Get the word out to the army," Praxis said to the runner. "I want men to carry the message to the entire city that we muster in the morning to battle the Spartans. Every warrior will meet on the training grounds at dawn for departure."

The runner nodded and left to begin carrying out the orders as Asterion pulled Praxis to the side.

"Are you sure that's wise, my king? Why march south to meet him? We have two more days before he gets here. Let's use that time to bring in more men and we can fight outside the city."

"It won't make a difference," said Praxis. "Word will spread amongst the city that the Spartans are coming, and if they haven't joined us now, all the remaining men will be too frightened to even contemplate standing up to them. I don't want to fight this battle within sight of the city. Let us march south tomorrow and pick good defensive ground near Cynuria. If we can do that, we'll give the spear phalanx the chance to prove their worth."

"What about the men though?" pressed Asterion. "They need more training! Some of the newer recruits have only had a day's training in the formation."

"We can train them along the way," said Praxis.

Asterion looked like he didn't know what to say. Neither did anyone else. All of them, including Agemon, Cypselus, Lysandra, Astara, and Zenais, looked at him with frenzied eyes like their moment of doom was swiftly approaching.

And it once again fell on Praxis' shoulders to remind them that they stood a chance after all.

"Listen, I know all of you are scared," said Praxis. "And we would have preferred a lot more training and a lot more men. But this is the hand we've been dealt. The gods know our intentions are peaceful, that we only want to live our lives free of Spartan interference. There is nothing more that we can do now than march out to fight for our cities and our lives. If we keep our wits about us and remember our training, wewill carry the day."

Praxis expected more opposition but it was a testament to the strength of his friendship with Agemon that caused the most immediate reaction. The large man assumed a look of solemn responsibility on his face as he nodded his agreement to Praxis' statement.

"You heard the man," said Agemon. "This is the fight we've been waiting for. It is only by working together that we can stand up to the Spartans. We all knew this fight wouldn't be easy but now is the time for us to stand together. We will not fail."

With Agemon's backing, some semblance of confidence was starting to return to the group. Zenais nodded her head, no doubt prepared to do much of the fighting on her own. Cypselus showed raising spirits, and even Asterion lost the look of panic on his face.

"I will ready the men," he said finally. "And we will depart in the morning."

"And we will win," added Praxis. "I have no doubt."

*****

"Hippias! Where are you?"

Thorax had only just heard the news that evening. At this very moment, agents of King Praxis were scouring the city to deliver the news.

Tomorrow morning, they would be departing for their fight with the Spartans.

Thorax found his brother asleep in his bed already, and he shook him awake gently. Hippias blinked several times before his gaze focused on Thorax.

"What's wrong, Thorax?"

"It is time, brother. Time for us to defeat the Spartans. We march in the morning."

"So quickly!" said Hippias as he bolted out of bed. "But we aren't ready yet."

"We will have to be ready," insisted Thorax. "The city needs us. We won't have much time for further training so our best will have to suffice."

The brothers had made much progress over the last several days. Though they weren't leading their own squads, they were an example to the new men with much less training, a model of what could be accomplished with enough dedication and training. Thorax had gone from being the whipping boy of his squad to being one of the leaders, and Hippias was in much the same position.

Even though they were getting better, there were some like Hippias who believed that no amount of training could make them truly stand up to the Spartans.

"This isn't good, brother," said Hippias once he'd gathered his weapons and shield. "This might be our first and last fight."

"If it is, then we will die together covered in glory," replied Thorax. "This is what we've been preparing for. You're still with me, aren't you?"

"I am," said Hippias with a shaky voice. "I just wished I believed we were marching to victory."

"Have faith, brother. The gods won't desert us in our time of need."

Hippias nodded and said no more. The two brothers continued to gather their items for marching in the morning, and they only caught a few hours of sleep before dawn approached. They said their goodbyes to Maera before departing, with a heavy amount of tears being shed in the process.

Finally, it was time for them to leave. The two brothers stepped outside their door and onto the street, where there were other Argives in the process of doing the same.

All of them were here for one purpose--to defend their city.

And they would do their utmost when that battle finally came.

"I'm proud to be fighting next to you, Hippias," said Thorax as they walked outside the city's walls. "I wouldn't want to stand next to anyone else."

Any other time, Hippias might have mocked him for such a statement. He might have rolled his eyes or retorted with some kind of insult.

But that wasn't the new Hippias. Both brothers had grown throughout the course of the week, and Hippias gave him a small smile as they approached the training grounds.

"I will fight by your side until the end, brother."