The Theban took the lead, tearing like a wild bull through the crackling stems. Clearchus followed at his heels and Leonidas brought up the rear, retaining for himself the post of danger. Although their figures were hidden, they knew their pursuers would have no trouble in following them, for they left a broad trail, and, moreover, the elevation of the backs of their horses would enable the barbarians easily to mark their progress by the waving of the rushes.
For a mile and two miles the race continued without a word being spoken. The Persians had ridden headlong into the marsh after them and were slowly gaining upon them, although the speed of their horses was checked by the rushes, which caused them to stumble, and by the softness of the ground, into which their hoofs sank to the fetlock at every stride.
Clearchus was panting for breath and he heard Leonidas breathing hard behind him. Sweat streamed from the face and neck of Chares, who broke the path. The Athenian knew that the pace could not be maintained much longer.
Still another half mile they struggled on with the endless brown walls of reeds before them and around them. Long ago they had cast away their javelins and their shields, which caught in the reeds and hindered them. Even if they could find a barrier behind which to make a stand, they knew they would have no chance for their lives against the enemy, who outnumbered them six to one and had the advantage of being mounted.
Clearchus thought of Artemisia, and his temples throbbed with anguish as he nerved himself to fresh effort. Was he never to see her again? His bones would bleach in the middle of that vast morass and she would not know. He thought of the high-spirited young king who had sent them to obtain information that might save his army from destruction and the hopes of Greece from ruin. On them alone might depend the result of the battle that was to be fought and the destiny of two nations.
He saw Chares stumble once and again. His own muscles were benumbed by the long strain. The shouting at their backs was growing louder and more near and he could hear the thudding of the hoofs upon the spongy, black soil.
"Stop!" Leonidas gasped behind him, and looking over his shoulder, Clearchus saw that the Spartan had fallen to his knees.
"Back, Chares," he shouted. "The end has come!"
The Theban halted and they both ran back to Leonidas, drawing their swords with a fierce determination to defend themselves to the last.
"Beat down the rushes!" Leonidas cried hoarsely. "Let in the wind!"