"That is true," said the honest fellow, "but you have been in the camp."
"Well, we are not going back," the Spartan said deliberately. "Are you going to try to force us? There are thirteen of you and only three of us, but if you want a fight, you can have it. We don't intend to risk our lives for such leaders as Arsites. Which shall it be—shall we go, or shall we fight for it?"
"Let them go," interposed one of the soldiers who had drawn near to learn what the controversy was about. "They saved us yesterday. I have half a mind to go with them myself. I would if I had my pay."
"Yes, let them go, if they wish," others chimed in. "They are not enrolled."
"Farewell," Leonidas said, sheathing his sword and extending his hand to the captain. "You can say we were killed in a skirmish with the Persians if you like."
"That's it, I'll say you were killed," the captain exclaimed in a tone of relief, clasping the proffered hand. "Only, you will not come back?" he asked doubtfully.
"Never fear," cried Chares, giving him a slap on the back that almost felled him to the ground. "If we do, we'll swear you told the truth."
So they turned north and passed on, while the remainder of the party drove in the sheep to camp.
It was mid-afternoon when they separated from the mercenary company, and they had no means of knowing how many miles they would have to travel before they fell in with the Macedonian army.
"Now for it," cried Leonidas, swinging his shield over his shoulder. "Come on!"