The trumpets sounded at the first flush of dawn, and by sunrise the army was flowing back through the Syrian Gates to the field where the fate of the world was to be decided.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE WORLD AT STAKE
With the sea on their left and the mountain cliffs on their right, Clearchus and Nathan rode on either side of Chares in the front rank of the squadron of Companion cavalry commanded by Leonidas. The crisp November air and the excitement of the coming battle made their blood tingle and raised their spirits to a pitch of reckless gayety. The Spartan rode in advance, without turning his head or moving a muscle under the fire of jokes that Chares directed at him.
Presently the cliffs ended and the mountain barrier curved away inland, leaving a plain of greensward and shingle, flooded with sunlight.
"There they are!" Clearchus cried eagerly.
Straight before them, perhaps three miles away, they saw a confused mass of gleaming banners and the glint of countless spears. The shallow Pinarus, flowing down from the mountains, rippled across the level, and on its further bank, where the ground was high, the Great King had taken his stand. For a mile and a half, from the hills to the sea, the plain was blocked by a living rampart, gay with the pomp of Oriental splendor.
As the squadrons of Macedonian cavalry emerged from the pass, they wheeled to the right and formed their line close to the lower slopes of the mountain.
"Here come the men of Thessaly," Chares cried.