Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 1191: Spartan Landing Battle (3)

Between yesterday afternoon and dusk, under the cover of the 1st Fleet's feint, nearly four hundred fleet infantrymen quietly landed on the cape east of the Laconian Gulf. They laid low among the ridges, planning to rest for the night before trekking north over the mountains at dawn to reach the beach where the main fleet infantry force was scheduled to land.

Unfortunately, they ran into a shepherd tending his flock in the hills. They detained him to prevent him from revealing their whereabouts.

As it happened, the shepherd hailed from Minoa, a coastal town just east of the cape. (This was not the City of Minoa on Sicily in the Daonian Kingdom, but a small settlement on the fringes of Spartan territory populated primarily by perioikoi.) The town lay close to the ridges where the fleet infantry had hidden. Urged by the missing shepherd's family, the townsfolk of Minoa scoured the mountains early the next morning. To avoid premature discovery, the infantrymen had to steer clear of the searching civilians and take a long detour. By the time they hurried back toward the battlefield, the fighting was already in full swing.

Anxious as the infantrymen were, the temporary commander of the ambush did not blindly throw his troops into the fray. Standing on a high ridge in the woods, he carefully observed the battlefield and quickly formulated a plan: fifty soldiers armed with torches would rush the enemy camp in the rear, while he would lead the remaining three hundred men to strike the Spartan army's left wing from behind.

The maneuver yielded immediate results. Already struggling to hold their ground, the helots broke and routed when struck from behind. Seeing their rear camp engulfed in flames, the fleeing helots screamed in terror, and panic rapidly infected the Spartan ranks...

The helots and perioikoi scattered in all directions. Only the Spartan Warriors stood their ground.

Seeing that defeat was inevitable, Xenophon let out a long sigh and joined the fleeing crowd. He had to hurry back to the City of Sparta; perhaps he could offer some advice to the panicked Spartan Elders.

By the time Secilian took a small boat to shore, the battle on the beach was not entirely over. More than 360 Spartan Warriors—including several veterans—had formed a circular formation. Surrounded by the fleet infantry and the soldiers of the Seventh Legion, they were still fighting tooth and nail.

Assessing the situation, Secilian deduced that the Spartans were fighting like cornered beasts because they were completely surrounded. He ordered his men to open a path to the north.

After a moment's thought, Secilian simply ordered all his men to fall back and put some distance between themselves and the Spartans.

He wasn't worried about the Spartans launching a counterattack. The besieging Daionian soldiers held an absolute numerical advantage and were far fresher. The fleet infantry were lightly armored, and the men of the Seventh Legion had only recently joined the fray. Meanwhile, these Spartan Warriors had been fighting with everything they had since the battle began. How much stamina could they possibly have left? They were only holding on by relying on their tightly packed defensive circle; the moment they tried to go on the offensive, their formation would naturally fall apart.

The Daionian soldiers cautiously pulled back. With their wealth of combat experience, the Spartan Warriors remained rooted in place. They stood shoulder to shoulder in a dense, compact mass. Every man in the outermost rank dropped into a wide stance, hefting a round shield in one hand and a spear in the other. Tucking most of their bodies behind the shields, only the upper halves of their heads remained exposed. Through the narrow eye slits of their helmets, their cold gazes watched the outside world with high vigilance.

The warriors in the second rank pressed their shields against the backs of the men in front, bracing them. At the same time, their spears jutted over their comrades' right shoulders to help keep the enemy at bay... The entire Spartan formation looked exactly like a hedgehog curling into a tight ball in the face of danger.

However, once the two sides disengaged and the din of slaughter faded, their ragged, rapid breathing became plainly audible. One could see the bronze shields in their hands trembling slightly from exhaustion. The corpses of Spartan Warriors lay haphazardly around their circular formation. A few surviving wounded had been repeatedly trampled during the clash; with injuries too severe to allow even the slightest movement, they could only utter low wails that sounded like heavy sighs.

Seeing this, Secilian grew even more confident. Stepping out from the Daionian ranks, he shouted complacently, "I am Secilian, commander of this Daionian Army! Spartans, you are defeated! Surrender now, and I will spare your lives!"

The circular formation remained motionless. The Spartan Warriors acted as if they hadn't heard a word.

After a long while, Eudamidas shouted from the center of the formation, his breathing ragged, "We... we can surrender... We can even allow you to occupy the Port of Ision and the Port of Helos... but you must swear to the gods never to march your army into the City of Sparta!"

Secilian burst into laughter. "Spartans, you must be dreaming!" he mocked. "The days when you dominated Greece and flaunted your might are over! We, Daionia, have already conquered Messenia, and we will conquer Sparta next. Before long, your families will become slaves, and the helots who were once your slaves will become their masters!

"I only offer you the chance to surrender out of pity, because I see you are all brave warriors. I cannot bear to leave your corpses to rot in the wilderness as food for wolves and seabirds. Though, naturally, I understand why you might choose death. After all, if you die, you won't have to face the painful reality of a world without Sparta—"

As Secilian was speaking, a Spartan Warrior in the front rank suddenly unleashed a furious roar and hurled his spear right at him.

Startled, Secilian hastily scrambled backward. He was about forty meters away from the Spartan formation. Since the enemy were heavily armored infantry, he had assumed this distance was perfectly safe. He hadn't expected them to launch such a sudden attack.

The soldiers on his flanks quickly rushed forward, raising their leather shields to protect him.

Under normal circumstances, a javelin hurled with full force by a well-trained Spartan Warrior could easily cover over forty meters, and the leather shields of the fleet infantry wouldn't offer much protection. But after such a grueling battle, the Spartans' stamina was entirely spent. The javelin failed to pierce the leather shields and was easily swatted aside. It was nothing more than a false alarm.

Secilian, however, was infuriated. His face darkening, he retreated behind his own lines, though he still did not issue the order to attack.

The two sides remained locked in this bizarre standoff.

After a long while, the Spartan Warriors watched the Daionian soldiers pull further back in all directions, even opening a large gap on the side facing the sea.

Then, less than a hundred meters away, they spotted six wooden frames—each taller than a man—lined up side by side. Daionian soldiers were operating something behind them. Although the Spartan Warriors had never seen a ballista up close before, a deep sense of unease gripped them.

"Fire!" the ballista commander roared. The latches released, the tensioned arms snapped back, and stone projectiles howled through the air. Traveling in a flat arc, they crashed precisely into the Spartan Warriors' circular formation.

Round shields were sent flying. Blood sprayed through the air amid severed limbs, caved-in chests, and shattered skulls... The once perfectly impenetrable defensive formation was instantly transformed into a gruesome slaughterhouse. The extreme density of the Spartan ranks allowed the ballistas to unleash their maximum destructive potential.

Eudamidas, the commander of the Spartan army, collapsed into a pool of blood before he could even utter a scream.

The surviving Spartan Warriors immediately realized that maintaining their position meant certain death. "Fight the Daionians to the end!"

Roaring furiously, they broke ranks and swarmed toward the ballistas.

Having waited precisely for this moment, the Daionian Army swiftly closed the net around them...

...

When the battle ended, not a single one of the surrounded Spartan Warriors had surrendered. Every last man fought to the death.

The 1st Fleet's landing operation was a total victory, but Secilian didn't look particularly thrilled. Ever since stepping ashore, he had seen far too many corpses of his own fleet infantry.

"Hurry up and cremate our fallen soldiers, but make sure to carefully preserve their belongings and ashes so they can be returned to their families in the future... Have the small boats ferry the medics ashore immediately to treat our wounded."

Secilian spoke in a somber tone. He glanced up at the sky, then turned back to check the tide. "The tide will start receding soon. Order all the fleet crews to pull out those wooden stakes in the water. Clear a path first so we can bring our rations in and unload them at the Port of Helos. Otherwise, our infantry won't have anything to eat tonight, and they'll be forced to pillage the Spartans."

"Understood, my lord! I'll see to it at once," a subordinate replied before hurrying off to execute the orders.

Only then did Secilian look ahead, shouting with rekindled vigor, "Follow me! To the City of Sparta!"

In the battle to land on the Spartan coast, the Daionian Army suffered over 1,500 casualties, the vast majority being wounded. These losses primarily stemmed from the assault against the Spartan Warriors on the left wing and the long-range fire from the archers stationed in the coastal watchtowers. On the other side, the Spartan army suffered around 2,000 casualties. The active-duty Spartan Warriors were entirely wiped out, and the majority of their veteran warriors were slain as well. As a result, the main combat forces defending Spartan territory were all but annihilated.

Due to the stubborn resistance of the Spartan Warriors, Secilian had been delayed on the beach for quite some time. Leading three hundred soldiers of the Seventh Legion and 1,200 fleet infantrymen, he marched north. Along the way, he spotted neither his own troops nor any fleeing enemies. The only things he saw were scattered corpses being pecked by crows and wounded stragglers lying in the dirt, groaning in agony...

After marching for nearly three hours, they finally spotted the dense outlines of buildings in the distance. Secilian also found the main force of the fleet infantry resting in a wheat field, and he soon met up with their commander, Cephisodorus.

Seeing that Cephisodorus's right arm was wrapped in bandages soaked through with blood, Secilian asked with concern, "You're wounded. Is it serious?"