It is the year of 480 and Xerx…

It is the year of 480 and Xerxes, King of Persia, leads an army of 5.3 million soldiers against my lacking army of 7,000 men, 300 of which are my own Spartans.1 Many advantages are ours in battle, including unprecedented battle tactics and determination, but even that is not enough to defeat the army of Xerxes. We have no hope of winning, but for honor and glory we must fight to the last man and hope that Greece does not fall into the hands of our enemy. It is the eve of the battle.

I lay in my pallet with the words of the Oracle swirling in my mind. “The Persian king possesses the might of Zeus and shall not be stopped until either death befalls a Spartan king or Sparta is conquered.”2 Those retched words of the Oracle could not be vanquished from my mind. Must I die? Is there not another way for favorable victory? No answers are forthcoming and I can do nothing but wait.

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We are up before daybreak when a lone, Persian messenger on horseback approaches with a message. My men and I stop eating what very might be our last meal. I take the message from the Persian, break the seal, and read it loudly to my men.

Within the message is a polite greeting and words of false flattery that are meant to stroke our egos. Finally, Xerxes finishes the letter with the advice to surrender. Xerxes writes that if we are wise and accept this cowardly, alternate way no harm shall befall a single Grecian. “Is this meant to be an insult?” I sneer at the Persian who now trembles with fear. How dare the Persians think we are cowards who are so easily wrought with fear that we would even think to surrender. I turn to my men, “No, my countrymen, we will not surrender this day nor any day! We shall fight to the last and bring honor and glory to our homeland!” Shouts of Greece’s honor and the glory of battle ring throughout the troops. One of my officers suggest that we send the head of the messenger to the Persian King to show him what we think of his message.

The messenger, whose face has gone as white as that of a ghost, drops to his knees prostrating himself at my feet. “I beg of you noble king, do not take my life. I am but a lowly servant and if you will, allow me to live and deliver your return message,” begged the disgraced messenger. I laugh at his pitiful state, “I wonder, are all Persians so easily terrified as you, little messenger? For if they are, this shall hardly be a fair fight.” My men roar with agreement. Looking down at the messenger, I say, “Get up you poor excuse of a man and deliver my words to your king. Molon labe (come and take them).

“3 With the messenger gone, my men and I now geared ourselves for battle. Not long after organizing the troops in a phalanx formation, the Persians descend on us. The battle continues all day and ends with the death of many Persians but few loss of Grecian lives. I know this first day preludes to a much longer and gruesome battle. We are still doomed to defeat, but, I and my countrymen will die honorable deaths with the knowledge that we will take the lives of many Persians to Hades with us. The next day is much the same as the first. With so many Persians fallen, hope begins to bloom in my heart.

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Perhaps we shall have a chance at victory. I lay in my pallet, pleased with the outcome of the past two days. Suddenly, an officer bursts into my tent and reports damning news. A traitor has told the Persians of a pass that was left unguarded because of its secrecy. At this point, all hope of victory is crushed and I know defeat is imminent. The Persians have outmaneuvered us and death is at hand. The dawn of the last day of battle comes all too quickly.

A council had already been called and all but the Spartans, some Thebans and Thespians have been sent away to live another day. I cheer my men on, “A new life awaits us. Tomorrow we dine with full glory in the halls of the gods!” Not long into the battle I am struck by an arrow.4 As life flows from my veins, I pray to the gods to save all of Greece. I close my eyes for the final time and embrace the arms of death.Epilogue: Ultimately, the words of the Oracle proved true. The Battle of Thermopylae ended the life of a king, but from it, brought forth a noble legend.

The name of Leonidas will go down in history as the name of a great warrior, leader and king.