Ancient SpartaBattle of Mantinea (418 BC)
The Arcadia Plains
Khasu walked with eight thousand Spartans marching down the plains of Arcadia, home to the god Pan. The giant arm of Ares rushed forward. The sensation of battle thrills surged into every Spartan. Ares task would be completed. The Athenians and their ragtag band of hoplites outnumbered them. The Spartans marched across the ridge of the high ground running from Mount Cyllene round to Mount Oligyrtus and halted. The leader of the Spartans thundered his horse into action moving towards the front of his army and halted with General Pharax. Khasu was buried deep into the reserves of the Spartan flanks. He could hardly see anything apart from a thin line of spears waiting for him. The enemy was right in front of them. Yet the two generals of the greatest warrior race in the world known to Zeus haggled at each other. The Pelagos Woods stood between the two armies.
A sword flashed in the sunlight. Khasu followed suit with the other Spartans. They were retreating back. He growled in annoyance. His father had put him here to train in the most prestigious warrior class of the world. Retreating was out of the question. The Spartans turned back, moving back towards the ridge until after five hours of continuous walking, they found the Sarandapotamos River nestled deep into the Pelagos Woods. When Khasu saw the river, it was turquoise blue. Reminding him of his home in Egypt. Ageis, his senior officer patted his back. ‘The wonders of Greece eh Khasu? You look like as if you’ve seen the river before.’
Khasu nodded. ‘Yes Syntagmatarchis. It reminds me of the River Nile.’
Ageis chuckled. ‘Don’t just stand doing nothing boy. Your father paid good money for me to train you. We’ll be working to divert the river. Draw them in and grab ‘em like in a fish caught in a hook. After that, we need to get the Heracluem camp where we can regroup and draw the bloody Athenians and their soft-boys out.’
The Spartans had discarded their armor, and working with Helots, they filled up the sinkholes of the river which in Zanovistas flowed. They would be flooding the Athenians and the Argive army when they arrived. More hours passed, as the river was diverted of water. Time had passed before Khasu found himself walking with the army again in column formation. The sound of eight thousand boots and clambering armor jangling and bumping against each other filled into his ears. The path to return towards the Heracluem camp was clear. Until Agis raised his hand. Khasu tried to look up but he could see nothing. The Polemarches barked orders as the troops shuffled and huffled at each other, shoving and moving closely.
The hoplites around him shuffled into formation as the morae, the officers roared and shouted orders. Ageis shoved the young boy into a phalanx. Khasu was taken into the front lines. Where ten other stronger well-built men kept pushing him at the back. He had never felt so tight in such a formation. Out of the woods, the Athenian Army emerged, boasting shields of the brightest colors and spears that were ready to plunge into their enemy’s body. The clouds thundered above. Khasu felt the Gods of the Greeks, especially Ares had come to watch to decide the winner. There was no time as the Athenian Army soon began to outnumber them.
Gods always loved a good fight.
Ageis growled from behind. ‘Damn the bloody Mantieans and the Arcadians! Bunch of rabid dogs! By Ares, men. I want their heads on a spike today when we dine with Ares!’
Silence soon engulfed them. A thousand cavarly seemed to be approaching from the left wing. The hoplites of the Athenians marched as rain poured down on their golden shields. A horde of slingers from the back of the army fired their rocks into the air. Khasu raised his shield. The first volley of rocks flung themselves onto the Spartan Phalanx but that did not deter them. The next volley consisted of javelins and spears.
Khasu stumbled back from the impact of a javelin before the disgruntled Spartan men pushed him back. Reeling from the hit, he tried to maintain his composure. The officers bellowed orders. Khasu and the men moved slowly. Trained in the arts of war, the Spartans knew when to attack, and when not to. The Athenian and Argive Hoplites formed into phalanx. The phalanxes moved slowly to face one another. Arrows, javelins and fire arrows flew into the chaos of the battlefield. Khasu noticed the Tegeans and the Sciritate, allies and elite units of Spartan fighting on the left flank as they fought back against a vigorous assault of Athenian Swordsmen and cavarly.
Spartan officers bellowed loudly. ‘Don’t let those Athenians cowards take the better of you Spartans!’
‘We will dine in the Acropolis tonight men! Bring me their heads!’
‘Leave none alive! You are the Sons of Ares! No disrespect to Ares, no cowardice. No mercy!’
And then Khasu stumbled again, feeling the impact of a large shield over towering his. Looking around, he saw the Spartans had thrusted their spears upwards, plunging into the Athenians. Khasu ducked an Athenian spear, before raising his spear up. He found it difficult to manvourere, trying to plunge his spear into the dense form of shields and helmets. His arm began to shake holding up the spear. Exhausted, he tried to move back but the dense formation of men wouldn’t let him. Ageis moved forward and grabbed his spear, plunging it into an Argive’s terrified expression. Thunder poured down onto the earth. The land shook. Flaming rocks flew into both ranks of the army as chaos enveloped them. The phalanxes were slowly breaking off, separating individual fights.
Ageis roared at him. ‘Boy! Take hold of yourself! I thought Egyptians were warriors! You don’t seem one!’ He said, plunging his spear again into an Athenian.
‘I…’
‘Keep quiet! Pay obedience to your Gods! Now, take the spear and launch!’ He let Khasu take the spear, and shoved it together deep into an Argive’s throat.
The bearded Argive gurgled before flopping down. Another hoplite took his place, and plunged his spear in between their shields. Khasu resolved his courage and bumped into the hoplite, trying to push him back. The hoplite kicked him before Ageis took his sword and slashed onto the hoplite. ‘Spartans! You wretched bastards! I want to see victory! Victory so you can suckle the nectar of Zeus’s mistresses! Forward!’
The Spartans, encouraged by Ageis’s grand speech, whooped and cheered. Yelling war cries, the phalanx moved forward. Like a slow machine, they crushed the opposing hoplites. Walking over their bodies until it resembled a mountain. Khasu moved slowly, his legs exhausted from the fighting that enveloped them. The Athenians had broken out of phalanx formation and fought desperately.
Khasu kept moving to the top of the human mountain. Three Athenians moved forward. Khasu gripped his shield and jumped into the air, raising his sword as he landed onto the bodies. Thunder bellowed behind him. Khasu had just enough time to make sure he wouldn’t get engufled by the increasing number of bodies. The Athenians tried to plunge their spears, but Khasu’s shield was large enough to deflect them. Khasu swung his sword at the Athenian’s throat. The Athenian gagged before collapsing. Khasu sliced back and forth with the second Athenian, kicking him before grabbing him by the throat. Khasu strangled his neck. He let him go and plunged his sword into the Athenian’s neck. The last Athenian fled.
Khasu felt the pouring of rain bear down heavily upon him. He prayed to Ra to give him strength in battle, and Anubis to unleash the hounds of death within his spirit. His Ka would be strengthened. The moon stood in bright view. A ripple of flaming rocks unleashed a fire upon the battlefield. The woods burned.
The left-wing of the Spartans had been routed, before the Scirtiaite came and enveloped the victorious Archives. As Khasu watched, men used tooth and nail to kill each other. An Athenian smashed a Spartan’s head with a rock. A Spartan reeled back from the injury on his guts, struggling to maintain his composure. Fire consumed an entire phalanx. They screamed and yelled to their mothers and their Gods. The catapults from the Argives were relentlessly firing and sparing no Spartan. The Argive slashed his sword into his skull. War and chaos. No wonder then, then Ares, the Greek God would be celebrating his glory today.
By noon, the battle had been won. The Spartans had driven away the superior number of the Athenians, and the Argives and their rag-tag band of allies.
The Spartans celebrated and cheered when their King arrived in order to inspect the enemies captured. He had ordered their execution. Only the Argives elites had defected to him. In the meanwhile, Khasu had been resting in the hastily set up camp. Ageis came to him as they sat near the fire. ‘You outdid yourself you know that today, I didn’t think Egyptians had it in them.’
Khasu nodded. ‘And I thought you Spartans were just known by reputation.’
‘We’re known for more than that.’
‘Well then, I better get some rest.’
Khasu smiled before leaving Ageis. He entered the tent. He found a small box. And there he touched it. A door of light opened. He went inside.
****
Khasu paced down the corridors of the history department of African and African American Studies. He was ready to submit his final thesis on Egyptian history to Professor Marshall. A student of history, Khasu always wondered whether heProfessor Marshall opened the door from his office and smiled back at Khasu. ‘Khasu Campbell, third-year student. Haven’t you graduated already?’
Khasu chuckled. ‘Of Course I have, professor. I’m just submitting my final report on the American Civil War, and that’ll be it. History as we know it. Summarized by one student’s opinion.’
Marshall removed his glasses and wiped them off using his leather jacket. ‘You know, sometimes history isn’t as you know it.’
‘What do you mean professor?’
‘What I mean Khasu is that people are always the same. No matter even if it’s a damn lost language that one idiot in the academic circles tries to learn, no matter if it’s a subject on the Suebi, the Marcomanni, or Europe, or any tribe in the universe. No one will know, they won’t care. It’s always been sex, lies, and betrayal. That is human history.’
‘Indeed it is Professor.’
He handed over the final thesis to the Professor and proceeded down the halls of the Quad, before entering a smaller corridor. A black door was shrouded in darkness and mist. Khasu turned around to make sure no one was looking at it. He touched it as it transformed into a golden stelae. Opening the stelae as a door, he went back to his homeland.
****
Prince Khaemweset etched his quill on the ink before putting it to papyrus on the table as he sat. The candle’s fire was about to be extinguished in the royal room of his residence at the palace of Thebes. The decision to grant a new temple in the village of Siwa was an extraordinary case. The chief priest had denied a woman married to her lover. It was based on the fact that the women had cheated the priest. Likewise, the priest had cheated the woman off her property. And a criminal called Hotesphut, ran the criminal empire rife in the Empire. Hotesphut had turned the three people against each other. Ironic. While Rameses, his glorious father ruled the Empire and carried on Tutmois III’s legacy, these criminals were bound to start from a golden age only. Khaemweset chuckled at the ironies of his future subjects.
He turned to see Khasu entering the room. ‘You seem to have gone through a lot, Khasu. Tell me. How was your day today?’
Khasu bowed before grabbing a chair and sighing. ‘Exhausting. I fought with the Spartans against the Athenians centuries ago. Then I moved to the 21st centuries to complete my studies and finally I’m here.’
Khaemweset nodded. ‘Good. The collection of our books from the 21st century is complete.’
‘Complete?’
‘Take over Egypt? When my grandfather rules?’
‘After. Ramesses II is destined to live a life of turmoil and regret despite his military strategy. We will change all of that.’
‘Are you sure about this father?’
‘You have a scholarship…or whatever they call it in the 21st century. Already I have scientific books and engineering that will make us progress to rule the world.’
‘Father, you know that’s impossible. We cannot even solve our own logistical problems!’
‘No. That’s where you’re wrong Khasu.’
He arose. ‘If Egypt is to rule the world, then it will rule as much of it as it can.’
‘You must be mad-‘
‘We find Ophir.’
‘Ophir?’
A thin smile spread on Khameweset’s face. ‘Yes.’
****
Sidon, Phoenician harbour
Abdhamon chewed on the rope. It was tight. The boat flunked up and down. The tide was strong today. His name had been given to him as servant of the great God Baal-Hammon. As one of the wealthiest fishermen of his time, the proudness that had been written into his fate felt alive. Destiny was working with him. Today’s catch would be bigger than anything else. The fishermen could sense it. Of course the only bad aspect of the job was then handing over a portion of captured fish to the funny Egyptians. Their men wore make up just as their women. How that went against proper Phoenician ties.
The net was cast by three fishermen on his glorious boat. They waited before an odd catch of lobster and fish went into the net. Abdhamon caught a wheat straw and started chewing. ‘Come on you lazy bastards! Put your backs into it! I don’t pay you for nothing!’ The three young fishermen stared at each other, ready to let go of the net. Abdhamon sighed. You couldn’t rely on youngsters to do anything. Until a small hand came out of the net. Abdhamon shoved the first fishermen aside and pulled onto the net. The net became heavy. Today was really going to be a good catch. He and the other fishermen pushed it for one final time before it broke.
A net of fish, lobster and three human beings dropped on top of them. Abdhamon bobbed his head. Today was a really weird catch. What was most odd, was the people in front of him. Almost shirtless, like most Egyptians. Except they didn’t like Egyptians. They wore bright feather hats, wearing gold and bronze earrings. Awaken, they carried a small boy with them. A women and a man. Parents. Abdhamon shook his head. ‘Where did you lot come from?’
The family looked at them and couldn’t understand.
Abdhamon nodded. ‘Right. Then you will know Egyptian then.’ He cleared his throat and attempted his best ever Egyptian. ‘Phas…nut….mata..pah?’
No response.
Abdhamon scowled. ‘How dare you idiots come to Sidon fishing yourselves on a boat? You could be Hitties or Assyrians!’
No response. The family looked more scared, except for the father who glared at him. Abdhamon sighed. ‘What, do you think you’re doing? You’re in front of Abdhamon, servant of Baal-Hammon, the greatest God in the world! I am the most wealthiest fashionable fishermen there is!’
A young fishermen giggled.
Abdhamon scowled.
The man said a word so strange that not even Abdhamon could pronounce. ‘Chalchuapa.’
Abdhamon struggled to even speak the words. ‘Chall…chua-appa?’
The man frowned.
‘Right then. Off to the Governor!’
****
Abdhamon secretly despised the Egyptian Governor, Hastut for many years. Since he was a young boy. Hastut had him tortured, locked up and only released him since he defected to the Hittites a year ago before realizing they were crazy people. How Abdhamon desired the days when Phoenicians would rule as a free people. That was never going to happen. Egyptian troops were amassing for a fight with the Hitties, and their crazy Pharoah was bent on conquering the world.
That didn’t matter to him. They stood in the Governor’s palace. Hastut was seated on a table while two guards flanked him. Hastut was eagerly observing the gold and vibrant colourful feathers on the table. He burst out laughing which took Abdhamon by surprise.