Marathon (Long War)
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Two and a half thousand years ago, the Greeks and the Persians fought an epic battle to decide the future of the world...
Arimnestos of Plataea grew up wanting to be a bronzesmith, like his father. Then, in the chaos of war, he was taken to a city in the Persian empire and sold as a slave. To win his freedom he had to show that he could fight and kill. Now, to preserve that freedom, he must kill again.
For the Persians are coming. A vast army sent by King Darius to put down the rebellious Greeks and burn the city of Athens to the ground. Standing against them on the plain of Marathon is a much smaller force of Athenians, alongside their Plataean allies. To defeat such overwhelming force seems impossible. And yet to yield would mean the destruction of everything the Greeks have dreamed of.
In the dust and heat of Marathon, in the clash of shields and the rush of spears, amid the thunder of hooves and the screams of the dying, those dreams will undergo their fiercest test - and Arimnestos and his Greek comrades will discover the true price of freedom.
said. ‘You need to get away from the farm before you turn into a farmer,’ he said. I had the glimmer of a suspicion that my mad hypaspist had kiled a powerful man merely to get me to come up the hil and drink with him. I sighed. Styges put a warm cup in my hand and led me to the fire circle, where al the former bandits sat. We sang hymns to the gods while the bowl of the heavens turned over our heads. The firelight dappled the ancient oaks around the hero’s tomb. Styges took out a
line of camp, and the spot closest to the enemy. We took the rocky end of the temple precinct, almost like a smal acropolis. It wasn’t much ground, but it would be easy to defend, and it had a big stand of cypress trees in the centre – good shade. As I considered it, I saw a man turn aside to relieve himself in the woods, and I caught him. ‘No man relieves himself inside the camp,’ I said. Even with the hunting, they’d never been on campaign. Most of my men had no idea how fast disease
them to you. The free men and the psiloi – I’l arm them and fil the back of my tribes with them. ‘Half of them won’t have spears,’ I pointed out. ‘They’l take up space,’ he said. ‘They can get up in the rough ground on your flank if you have to spread out – or help thicken your charge if you need. And if the cavalry gets around you,’ he shrugged, ‘wel, they’l buy you time while they die.’ I nodded. ‘Are we going to run at the barbarians? Or walk?’ Miltiades chewed on his moustache. ‘I
race in armour. Two stades with an aspis on your shoulder, a helmet and greaves in the early runs. I’ve run this race in armour. It is no picnic. Hoplomachia A hoplite contest, or sparring match. Again, there is enormous debate as to when hoplomachia came into existence and how much training Greek hoplites received. One thing that they didn’t do is dril like modern soldiers – there’s no mention of it in al of Greek literature. However, they had highly evolved martial arts (see pankration)
into the enemy centre, al the way through, and put fire in an enemy ship on their beach before the battle colapsed around him. He waved and rowed past, and his men were raising their boatsail. That wave was al the thanks we got, but it said enough. Black crouched by my feet. I had the steering oars in my trembling hands, and he was the only officer left, except Idomeneus, who had ralied my rowers behind me as I fought aboard Trident. He, too, was a hero. He was covered in wounds, as was