Plataea

[Hoplite Ariston]

The Spartan phalanx was a sight to behold upon the open plain of Plataea, demanding more consideration and respect than the formation’s left flank of Athenians atop Pyrgos Hill or middle section of Tegeans. Shields interlocked to form a nearly impregnable wall of wooden resistance against the impending Persian assault as each hoplite leveled his spear in the direction of the oncoming enemy. Twelve days of positioning, strategy, and sacrifice had finally come to fruition as the conglomerate of Greeks had finally broken the stalemate and lured the Persian general Mardonios and his troops across the Aisopos River.

Ariston gripped his shield tightly in his left hand, holding fast his position in the first rank. His gaze rested squarely upon the Persian infantrymen streaming toward the phalanx from the banks of the Aisopos. Once the signal had been given the Spartan war machine began an orderly advance to meet their opponents with each hoplite in sync, their initial trot soon evolving into a full fledged sprint. The inexorable Spartan line met the onrushing Persian infantrymen head-on, with those fortunate enough not to be impaled upon the lengthy spear of a Spartan hoplite instead meeting stiff resistance from the barricade of shields.

Ariston grunted as one of the Persian soldiers had managed to bypass the wall of spears and throw himself heavily against his shield. So closely engaged were the two men that Ariston could smell the hot breath of the Persian as he pressed forward. The entire phalanx responded with a surge of its own and those Persians unfortunate enough to lack the balance to stay on their feet soon found themselves trampled beneath the charge of Spartan feet. Several hoplites, including Ariston, had cast their spears aside as the rather brazen Persian infantrymen had begun latching onto them and forcefully snapping them in two. Soon the wall of spears had been decimated and the rumbling of hooves could be felt beneath Ariston’s feet. The sheer force of the Persian cavalry was enough to punch a hole in the midst of the phalanx and halt its forward momentum. Mardonios himself had taken charge of the horsemen and led the assault, shifting the once seemingly skewed confrontation into a rather bitter and protracted melee.

Ariston’s short sword found numerous victims this day, the xiphos felling any who dared venture too close to its owner. The Persians’ courage and strength were at least equal to that of any Spartan, though their training and armor proved vastly inferior. The rear ranks of the phalanx began to pour forward in an effort to fill the gaps caused by the Persian cavalry charge, which had put the contest formally in the Spartan’s favor suddenly in doubt. The strong arm of a hoplite in the middle ranks would prove enough to turn the tide as a heaved stone sailed above Ariston’s head, causing his gaze to flicker skyward momentarily to track the projectile. He would never know that stone unhorsed Mardonios, which would lead to a massive Greek surge on all fronts and the eventual retreat of over 40,000 Persian troops. Ariston’s final memory of The Battle of Plataea, 479 B.C., would be that of a Persian’s blade careening toward his head and the tumble into darkness that followed.