“With only the sound of his snorting steeds and the heavy breaths of the Hellenes on the wind, Xerxes commanded in a stern but respectful voice, ‘Brave Spartans, your valor in the face of certain death is unmatched by any men. There is no shame in what you have done here. Receive Xerxes’ mercy and return to your wives and children. Throw down your weapons and be spared by the Great King.’
“… At that moment, the lives of the surviving warriors were in the hands of Leonidas, not Xerxes. Hellene defeat was imminent, but I knew it was not the Spartan way to surrender. ‘With it or on it,’ the Spartan women would tell their men as they marched to war: return home carrying your shield or being carried dead upon it. I feared that neither these shields nor the men who clutched them would ever return to Sparta. Leonidas gazed from left to right, at the giant army before him, and at the valiant men around him. He took his time to answer and as he inspected his remaining troops, I’m sure his eyes locked with each and every one of his soldiers who had stood beside him through this bloodbath. His men knew what their king’s answer would be, but Xerxes waited while his horses pawed the bloody ground … Finally, Leonidas removed his helmet and his long locks, soaked with sweat, cascaded beyond his shoulders.
“The Spartan king raised his helmet to the sky and in a loud and clear voice yelled back to the King of Persia, ‘Molòn lábe’ - ‘Come and take them.’ The Spartan king rushed forward brandishing a bent sword and his men followed…. They awaited the final Persian onslaught yelling all the while, “Come and take them, come and take them …” as each pounded whatever weapon he still held on his shield, helmet or cuirass to make an intimidating racket that I hoped might cause the earth to split and swallow the invaders. Men with no chance of escape, refusing to surrender, stood proudly and arrogantly in the face of their last moments on earth. Not a man turned aside.
“… my gut tightened as 20 ranks of 100 archers moved forward from the sea of men who stood silently behind the Persian king. They encircled the hill upon which Leonidas and his men waited. The Lakedaimonians showed no panic or fear. Those who could stand did so; those too maimed to rise to their feet sat or lay on the ground with whatever weapon they had lifted defiantly in the air. Xerxes raised his right arm, and as he did, more than 2,000 archers pointed their bows toward the sky in the direction of the hill and drew back their arrows.
“As the Persian bows flexed, the Spartans raised what shields they had and locked them together as best they could. This, their only source of defense, had been greatly depleted. No shield remained whole and without damage and what bronze facing would have shone brilliantly in full sun was now dull and tarnished with the dried blood of thousands of men who had been crushed before them. Heavy, wooden bases were no longer intact, and some men raised large pieces of naked oak, the bronze covering having been knocked clean off in previous confrontation. No Spartan screamed or cried with fear and all waited boldly now in silence for the first wave of arrows.
“Xerxes lowered his arm and another trumpet blast signaled the archers to loose their shafts of death. The sound of thousands of arrows was terrifying as the feathered bolts cut through the still air with the deadly hiss of a striking snake. They arced through the sky and some even reached a height equal to where Theo and I watched. The shadow of these bolts moved across the ground like a creeping predator and converged on the hillock. I prayed that Zeus would stop time and freeze the arrows in flight, but I knew it would not happen. They came from all directions, and so many were there that when they turned back toward the earth to fall upon the hill, they momentarily hid the scene before us. Theo rolled to his back and stared at the charcoal sky. He grabbed my shoulder and I could feel the strength of his grip.
“I could not turn my eyes from the sight and watched as 2,000 arrows fell upon a hundred men. The sound was deafening and it sickened me. Many struck the oak shields with the quick, short ‘plunk’ akin to hailstones striking the farmer’s cart in a powerful summer storm. Too many more found flesh and blood. The wooden wall of broken shields held above the defenders began to collapse. The first rush of death lasted only a few racing heartbeats, but when it was over, fewer hearts on that hill continued to beat.
“…. After the first wave of arrows, the Spartans lowered their shields to dislodge the shafts and relieve their burden of additional weight. At first, I could not see Leonidas, but then, midway through the ranks, I saw his body rise in the hands of a giant of a man. The king’s head lay back and his helmet fell to the ground; both arms hung limply. There was no mistaking his fate. I remembered the words the Pythia had spoken to the ephor Leon, “Your king or your city….”
“Amid the fallen bodies that surrounded him, the giant maintained his balance and struggled to the crest of the hill where he gently placed the fallen king on the ground. He and his comrades surrounded the lion’s son…. He stood on the top of that hill, undefended, above the body of Leonidas, and raised his broken sword to the heavens. He repeated the words of Leonidas, and his voice ripped through the stillness that had fallen upon the masses, “Molòn lábe!” Those were the only words I ever heard the man speak.”
That, my friends is the defining ‘Molon Labe Moment’ (MLM) as I’ve come to call it. When I originally sketched The Olympian: A Tale of Ancient Hellas, my original intention was to bring my protagonist and his friend [Theagenes and Simonides] to Platea where the combined Greek forces destroy the remnants of Xerxes’ army subsequent to the Greek naval victory at Salamis. When I wrote my ‘Molon Labe Moment,’ I was physically and emotionally exhausted and I knew without question that I was ready to bring the story to its end.
Two years later, as I complete my second novel, The Hamsa, I recognize that I have created another ‘Molon Labe Moment;’ it just naturally occurred. When I wrote the MLM sequence, I concluded that many, if not all of us face a ‘Molon Labe Moment’ in our lives. What is the Molon Labe Moment?
At that moment in time 2500 years ago, Leonidas has reached a crossroad, a defining moment in his life and is faced with a decision:
· He can accept the king’s clemency, save his life and the lives of his remaining soldiers and return to his home and family or
· He can do what he believes is the right thing to do for the greater good of his country.
Leonidas chooses the latter. In The Hamsa, my second historical novel, the protagonist is given a similar choice with the same results: clemency or death. He can take clemency and escape death and the miserable conditions with which he is faced, or he can do what he believes is the right thing to do, which ultimately lead to his death. His conscience leads him to the right thing. In 1972, I read The Last Temptation of Christ by Nikos Kazantzakis. I always refer to that as the most faith-affirming book I’ve ever read. As I think back to it, Mr. Kazantzakis created the ultimate Molon Labe Moment with Christ – or more appropriately, Christ created the ultimate MLM using Kazantzakis as his mouthpiece. Given the choice of death by crucifixion or life with a beautiful woman and the promise of a family and old age, Christ the human is tempted mightily, but Christ the God chooses his gruesome death and makes the ultimate sacrifice to benefit of all mankind.
The Molon Labe Moment is that moment in time when we can make the simple choice and take the easy road, or we can make the more difficult choice that very well will lead to hardship, difficulty and possibly even death.
We may never be able to anticipate when that moment will come. A lesser man may be fortunate and never face his moment, but I believe it is a life-defining moment that all of us have the potential to face. Will we have the courage to do the right thing?
