Screams of agony and fear echoed through the air. Both human and animal. A red glow was lighting the sky as the town was being put to the torch. Near the center of town Pandora shoved open the door to an elegant house. She walked in, and then up a set of stairs. She threw open a door at the top of the stairs and entered a room where a woman huddled in the corner, a baby in her arms.
“Please,” the woman pleaded.
Pandora walked over and took the child out of the frightened woman’s arms. “His name?”
“Phillip.”
Pandora nodded. “Philip the First.”
“What?” The woman was confused.
Pandora heard footsteps thundering up the steps. Two Immortals stormed into the room, blades drawn. Pandora put the child under her cloak. The soldiers looked at her briefly, then one stepped forward and separated the woman’s head from her body with an expert stroke. Then they left.
Pandora went down the stairs, keeping the child hidden. The streets of the city ran with blood and the flames were spreading, leaping from building to building. Pandora kept her eyes straight ahead as she strode out of the gate and into the darkness. She turned to the left, heading toward a cluster of hills. She paused for a second and her head swiveled back and forth, almost
like an animal searching for prey, then she moved forward.
In front of the hills was a stream bed and she went down into it. “Come out,” she called.
Nothing moved.
Pandora removed the child from under her cloak and held it up. “Come out.”
Bushes moved, then a woman stepped out. She stood tall, her jaw set. “You took your time.”
Pandora ignored the comment and held the child out to the woman. “His name is Philip.”
The woman remained as still as a rock.
“He will be your King.”
“We have a King.”
“You saw what Xerxes did to your city?” Pandora didn’t wait for an answer. “What he does to your capital will be worse. Your King will die as will every member of his family. This—” she indicated the child she held—“is a relative. A distant one, but the only one who will survive Xerxes’ march. He will be your King.”
The woman finally moved, coming forward. She held out her arms and took the child into them. She looked down at the child’s face, then up at Pandora. “His name again?”
“Listen closely. He is Philip. Philip the First. He will have a son who will take the same name. Then his son will have a son. His name will be Alexander. To those who follow he will be known as Alexander the Great. He will conquer all the world.”
“How do you know this?”
Pandora reached out and grabbed the woman by the shoulders, her fingers sinking in. “Trust me that I do. You are brave. You came out while the men still cower in the bushes. You will raise him to be King.”
Pandora turned and walked off into the dark, leaving the woman holding the child.
Leonidas woke and the first thing he realized was that he wasn’t wearing his armor. Indeed, he became aware that he was naked as a warm breeze raked over his body. It did not bother him. He felt at peace, most strange for a man who was to march off to war shortly.
Turning his head, Leonidas saw the rising sun, highlighting Thetis’s left breast. Leonidas leaned over, kissing it lightly.
Thetis’s eyes opened and she smiled, her face relaxed. In less than a second the calm look was gone.
“No,” Leonidas placed his fingers on her lips. “Let us have now like we had last night.” He rolled over, placing his body on top of hers.
Later, the sun was clear of the horizon and the King held his wife tight in both his arms. He felt the pressure of duty. He could hear distant yells and knew his troops were marshalling.
“Thetis.”
His wife buried her head into his scarred chest. “Yes?”
“I know I have not been there for you as I should have been.”
“You were there as you should have been as King.”
“But not as a husband who loves you. For that I am sorry.”
The Persian army moved past the smoldering ruins of the city. Pandora walked alongside the Imperial litter, which was carried by a dozen burly slaves. Immortals surrounded the King, a moving wall of humanity.
“I understand you went into the city,” Xerxes’ voice carried through the curtains enclosing the litter.
“I told you I was, my lord,” Pandora answered.
“I also have been told you carried a child out of the city.”
Pandora remained quiet.
“My orders were that all should die. You heard them.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Yes, you carried a child out, or yes you heard my orders?”
“Both, my Lord.”
“Disobeying my orders is punishable by death.”
Pandora noted that two Immortals had edged closer to her, their hands on the pommels of their swords.
“Who was the child?” Xerxes asked. “I do not see you moved by pity, so there must be another reason for your actions.”
“No one who need concern you, my Lord.”
The curtain twitched open and Pandora could see Xerxes now. He had a goblet in one hand and was reclined on a pile of pillows. The slaves were specially chosen and trained as the litter moved smoothly despite the unevenness of the road.
“I decide what is my concern.”
“Yes, Lord. The grandson of the child I saved could be very important in his time, long after you and I are gone.”
“A prophecy?”
“Yes, Lord.”
“Interesting.” Xerxes drank deeply, then stuck the goblet out of the litter. A slave grabbed it, quickly refilled it while keeping pace and handed it back to the King in one smooth motion. “I do not trust you.”
“I know, my Lord.”
“This important grandson,” Xerxes said. “Will what he does depend on what we do now?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“You did this in case I fail?”
Pandora hesitated, then told the truth. “Yes, Lord.”
“Fail in what, particularly?” Xerxes was holding out the cup for more wine. Pandora wondered if the wine or the smell of burning corpses accounted for his benign mood this morning.
“Defeating the Greeks.”
“I doubt that is your goal. I doubt also that you will tell me what you are really doing unless I let my master at arms loose on you. And that is something you might not recover from. If you violate another of my decrees, I will have your head decorate the front of my litter.” The curtain closed.
Leonidas’s heart felt as heavy as his shield. The six lochoi were lined up in battle formation in front of the Helenian, the squires and battle train already on the road before dawn and out of the city. Cyra had been gone when he and Thetis arrived home, a neighbor woman watching Briseis. The woman said the strange priestess had told her that she had gone off to consult with the gods and that she would meet the King on the march.
Wives and daughters were in the shade of the temple. The boys of the agoge were gathered in their own ranks to watch their fathers march off. A low sound, almost inaudible at first, came from the women. It grew in strength until the words of the hymn to the battle god could clearly be heard by all. The ranks stood still, their spear points aligned neatly.
When the hymn died out and silence covered the field, Leonidas turned to the western road. Without issuing a command, he strode forth. The first rank of the first lochoi turned in step and followed. Row after row of Spartans trod onto the dirt road and headed to the west, casting long shadows before them. When Leonidas reached a rise in the road where he knew he would disappear from view after crossing, he paused and stepped to the side. His eyes were on the men, noting their deportment. It was only after the last rank had filed past and he was covered in dust did he turn and look back at his city. Stepping out from the shadow of the temple he saw Thetis. He raised his shield. She raised Amphion in her arms.