Evening was drawing on and they had approached to within a few miles of the city when they met a rider whose horse was dripping with sweat.
"Ho, there; what news of Thebes?" Leonidas shouted as he passed.
The man looked at them, but made no answer. He bent low on the neck of his horse and his cloak flew out behind him like the wings of a huge bird.
"There has been a battle," Leonidas said. "Was he Theban or Macedonian?"
Burning with impatience, they urged their horses to the crest of a low hill, where they came suddenly upon half a dozen cavalrymen, who had halted in a small grove to bind up a wound which one of their number had received in the shoulder.
"What has happened?" Leonidas asked, drawing rein beside them.
"Know you not that the city has fallen?" one of the soldiers replied. "The accursed Macedonians forced us in through the gates and came in with us. Not a soul is left alive in Thebes, and my wife and children were there!"
"And that is where you should be," the Spartan replied contemptuously.
The poor fellow burst into tears at this reproach as he thought of the fate of his little family. Clearchus, touched by his grief, drew out his purse and gave it to him.
"If they are still living, this may aid you to ransom them," he said.