Thermopylae - the Hot Gates. The entrance to the Underworld. This is where King Xerxes of Persia and his
army of hundreds of thousands are headed. He seeks to lay waste to Greece and all of
her great city-states. He intends to put all the world under his
foot. That is why I am here. To stop him. To cripple him. Or to at least slow him down. Because we are a force of just 300, taking
on what is perhaps the largest force ever assembled. But though we are few, I will show him a class
of warrior he is not ready to meet, and I will make him suffer. For I am King Leonidas of Sparta. The Persian Empire has long sought to conquer
Greece. It is a personal vendetta from the time of
King Darius. Nearly two decades ago, Athens helped Ionia
in a revolt against its Persian occupiers. The revolt was crushed, but Darius never forgave
what he called an “unprovoked” attack by the Athenians. He swore vengeance - on them, and all of Greece. First he sent his son-in-law, Mardonius, on
a campaign to subjugate the Aegean coast. His fleet was caught in a storm, badly damaged,
forcing him to return. Then he sent envoys to the Greek nations,
demanding we pay tribute by sending earth and water back to Persia. Athens and Sparta refused. Both of us executed the messengers. Finally, Darius sent an invasion fleet across
the sea. They landed at the bay of Marathon, 25 miles
from Athens. The Athenians marched to meet them - 10,000
of them, plus 1,000 allies from Platea - against the 25,000 infantry and 1,000 calvary from
Persia. The Persian calvary snuck away in the night
on ships bound for Athens. But the Athenians remained, and attacked the
remaining troops in the morning. They easily broke through the flanks. The Persian army fled to their ships. By battle’s end, the Greeks had lost 203
men; the Persians, 6400, and they retreated back to their homeland. The defeat haunted Darius. His thirst for vengeance passed to his son,
Xerxes, who is now the sole ruler of a kingdom that encompasses 20 provinces, stretching
from the Nile to the Oxus. But Xerxes is greedy, for him half the world
is not enough - He wants the whole world, and perhaps even more, for the son to do what
the father could not, to destroy the Greeks. I must admit, he has a fantastic plan. A bridge is built across the Hellespont - the
channel between his continent and ours, between the Aegean and Black Seas. He intends to march his army across the bridge
to Byzantium. To take Thessaly and Macedonia. Work his way to Athens, reducing that city
to ash. Then onwards to the Peloponnese city-states
- including Sparta. Xerxes seeks to put all of Greece under his
foot. It would not be difficult to do so, either. Not with his army. His bodyguard alone is made up of 1,000 infantrymen
and 1,000 cavalrymen. Following his entourage are Xerxes’ favored
spearmen, the Immortals - so-named because when one is lost, he is immediately replaced
with another, so that their numbers are never below 10,000. Army and navy, Persians and allies, soldiers
and followers - a grand total of at least a million, possibly double that. All marching across the Hellespont bridge. Marching into Greece. All of the Greek nations must put aside our
many differences and come together if we have any hope to survive. Representatives of thirty city-states meet
in neutral Corinth. A coalition is formed. Corinth will remain our center, but who will
take charge? Who will lead the command? Though Athens spearheaded the movement, other
members of the coalition do not trust their leadership. They have a Navy, but it is new and untested. And besides - they bear the brunt of Xerxes’
enmity. Would we even be in this predicament had they
not taken part in the Ionian Revolt that so angered Darius? It is decided by all: Athens will not lead. Sparta will take command. And after all, it is the only logical choice. We are bred for battle. The day we Spartan men are born, we are washed
in wine to strengthen us. If the elders deem us too weak, we are left
at the base of Mt. Taygetus. The infant that can survive such an ordeal
is a true Spartan, and returned to his family. But not for long. At the age of seven, we are sent to be educated
through the agoge. For the next 23 years, we live with, dine
with, are educated and train with our fellow men. It is here that we learn the laws of our land
- literacy, diplomacy - and most importantly warfare. We are encouraged to fight each other, to
see who is the strongest. We go without food, forced to devise our own
plans for feeding ourselves or learning to do without. When we exercise outside, the women are encouraged
to jeer and berate us for being such poor specimens. It only encourages us to do better. In our twenties, we enjoy active service. By age 30, those who fail the rigors of the
agoge will never become full citizens. But those who succeed are allowed to wed,
to vote, to hold office. And still, we must dine with our agoge brothers
every night - forever in the reserves. Ours is the only standing army in all the
Greek city-states. Only the royal heirs are exempt from the full
experience of agoge. But I, King Leonidas, am an exception. I grew up among my people - trained with my
people. But then, I was never supposed to be king. I was never even supposed to be born. My father was Anaxandridas II. For years he and his queen were without child. She was deemed barren, and the elders of Sparta
encouraged him to divorce her and marry again. My father refused. But for the good of the empire, a compromise
was reached - his wife would remain queen regent, but a second wife would bear him a
son. It worked. The second wife gave birth to a boy, and while
she was rarely heard from after, her son would become heir to the throne - Cleomenes. Not long after the birth, my father’s first
wife became pregnant - not so barren after all! Indeed, there would be three of us in all
- Dorieus, the eldest; myself; and Cleombrotus. We are the sons of the queen - yet we are
not firstborn, and therefore, not heirs apparent to the throne. And so, we lived and trained and fought like
other Spartans. My father ruled for 40 years and after his
death, Cleomenes, took the throne. My older brother, Dorieus, refusing to be
ruled by him - took a group of men to establish a colony in Libya. That colony collapsed within three years. He then went to help the city of Kroton in
its battle against Sybaris and was killed in battle. Meanwhile, I had grown into manhood. I wed Gorgo, daughter and only child of my
half-brother Cleomenes, known throughout the Greek world for her outspoken manner. Athenians and other Greeks consider this impertinent. In Sparta, our women are our equals, free
to roam outside their homes, be educated. Gorgo even takes part in state affairs - as
a child, she famously advised her father against helping the Ionians in their revolt against
the Persians. If only the Athenians had her in their court! But Cleomenes was a king who needed as much
help as he could get. He started strong, but his increasingly violent
and erratic behavior showed evidence of madness. He invaded cities, then abruptly left after
the fighting was done. He overthrew Athens’ tyrant Hippias - only
to try to replace him with another tyrant. Following numerous plots to overthrow and
remove the co-regent of Sparta, Cleomenes exiled himself, seemingly out of shame...but
then began to raise an army of his own. Rather than do battle, Sparta allowed him
to return. My brother and I had him imprisoned. For everyone’s safety, of course - he was
mad. And it was there that he died, choosing to
nobly end his own life - by flaying himself alive. Rumors abound that he was murdered, that no
man can tear himself apart such as he did, but I assure you, he was mad enough to do
it. Because he had no male heirs, Cleomenes’
title could only pass to the husband of his daughter Gorgo. And so it was that I, Leonidas, third some
of Anaxandridas II and second of his so-called barren wife - became King. As King, it is my duty to lead my soldiers. Our constitution states that a King must be
the first on the battlefield and the last to return home. So now I find myself at Thermopylae, about
to face the most powerful army in history. Xerxes will not risk splitting his force,
wanting his land troops and naval fleet to remain in each other’s sights. That means keeping to the coast - which means
if he wants to get into the heart of Greece he must march through Thermopylae’s mountain
pass, a route that narrows at points to just 15 meters wide. A bit of good luck for us, as this means the
pass can potentially be held by a much smaller force as the thousands of Persians are funneled
into a gap. But there is a problem. The Olympic Games are upon us. Every four years, the Greek nations come together
for a friendly showcase of athletics. The Games are dedicated to the mighty Zeus. There is fear that if any of us misses out,
Zeus will be moved to anger, and not look after our armies when we need him most. And not only that. Now is also the Spartan festival of Carnea. A time where our religious beliefs prevent
us from marching into battle until it is over. The full Spartan army will not be available
until the next full moon. But if we do not meet the Persians in Thermopylae,
we will miss our best chance of delaying their force! Luckily, Spartan Law allows for emergencies. I volunteer to lead a reduced army of 300
soldiers. All of them have living sons, so their bloodlines
are guaranteed, and each has been hand-picked by me. These are the best of the best - The King’s
Guard. We leave Sparta before the end of Carnea - my
co-king Leotychides will mobilize greater forces for the next full moon. On our march to Thermopylae, we pass through
Thebes, and add another 400 soldiers to our number. When we finally reach Thermopylae, we set
to work restoring the stone wall of the Middle Gate. It is one of three gates built by the Phocians,
all of which have long fallen into ruin. We will refortify them. As we work and wait for the Persians, the
other soldiers from the coalition arrive. Corinth sends 400 men. Phlius sends 200, accompanied by 80 more from
Mycenae. Arcadia sends 1,120. Thespiae, another thousand. The locals of the area, the Phocians, add
another thousand as well. Almost 5,000 soldiers I am now in command
of. This will be enough to hold the Persian Army
off until the end of the Olympiad. It is lucky the Phocians joined us. They tell me the Persians are closer than
we thought, just a day or two away. They also tell me of another route through
the mountains, a goat track. Tricky territory, but the Persians could use
it to avoid our forces and attack us from the rear. We can’t take any risks. I send the 1,000 Phocians to the pass to protect
it, along with two of my soldiers. The wall of the Middle Gate is rebuilt in
time and I keep my Spartans on the outer edge of it. If any Persian scouts see us, they will think
we are a force of 300. They will fail to see the thousands of coalition
forces on the other side of the Gate. Indeed, a scout does come. I see him with my own eyes. It means the Persian army is near. Finally, the day comes. Xerxes has sent his two half-brothers against
us, leading a force of Medians and Cissians. We shall meet them on the battlefield. I lead 4,000 soldiers deeper into the pass. I take the front line - a wall of men standing
shoulder to shoulder. Behind us, a gap - then another line of soldiers. Repeated. Where the Persians expect 300 Spartans, there
are thousands. In full armor, shields in front of us, spears
ready, our helmets masking our faces. A wall of anonymous warriors ready to meet
our enemy. The Medians come first, armed with short spears
and daggers, confidently rushing at us, still thinking our numbers are few. They crash into us, but we hold, our shields
unbreachable. Above our shields - our spears thrust through. They are longer than the Midians’ weapons
and they find their targets easily. The dead pile up through the morning and into
the afternoon. Xerxes’ half-brothers are among the slain. A retreat is called! The Medians flee, but Xerxes has been angered. He intends to bring his full wrath down on
us. In place of the fleeing Medians come the 10,000
Immortals. The elite. It is real fighting this time. We hold them off as long as we can, but the
Immortals are a fierce foe. As our shield wall begins to falter we retreat
- turning our backs, running. The Immortals pursue us, breaking ranks as
they attempt to finish us off. As we reach our next formation of soldiers,
with a technique practiced since we were boys, we turn as one and continue the battle. It was no retreat and the Immortals are caught
off guard. No longer in formation, they are cut down,
driven back. And they keep falling for this trick. They have become accustomed to rolling over
their foes. They don’t expect a retreating army to suddenly
turn and continue the fight. They do not expect more Spartans waiting for
them. Finally, the Persians make a full recall,
forced to retreat back to their camp. The first day of fighting is done. Thousands dead on their side; a mere handful
on ours. But much of the battle was fought by Sparta,
and we are weary. Tomorrow, the rest of the Greeks will have
to prove their mettle on the battlefield. The dawn comes. Day two. The fighting begins. This time, the other Greek nations take turns
at the front, using the same tactic we used yesterday. We fight in close formation - we retreat,
causing the enemy to break ranks and pursue us - and then our next line of soldiers takes
over, catching the Persians by surprise. Xerxes seems hesitant to use his archers - it
seems if he did, he could easily finish us. Yet it appears he wants us alive...he has
a reputation for wanting survivors to humiliate and enslave. Folly on his part, fortune on ours. Thousands more of his men are cut down before
he calls for another retreat. So we have had two days of victory. The next morning, the priest and adviser Megistias
makes a ritual sacrifice, as he has every dawn. This time, however, he is concerned. The entrails are blemished - a bad omen. It means death comes with the dawn. Then, messengers from the nearby town of Alpeni
arrive. During the night, the Persians sent the 10,000
Immortals across the mountains, using the goat path. The 1,000 Phocian troops who were supposed
to be guarding it didn’t even fight. It is our worst fear - the elite Immortals
on one side of us, the rest of Xerxes’ troops on our other. We are cut off, surrounded on both sides. I call a conference. The other commanders want to leave while they
still can. Rejoin their nations’ troops as the Olympiad
comes to an end. But I know that we must remain. To delay the Persians. To chip away at their fighting force. To show Persia, to show Xerxes, to show all
of Greece, that we can fight. I plead with the commanders to stay. Demophilus of Thespiae pledges to stay with
his troops. No one else does. So it is to be Spartans and Thespians - as
well as the 400 Thebans, who I command to stay. The others leave us. Just 1,700 of us remain. Before long, Xerxes will march on us from
the west - the Immortals from the east, cutting us off. It is to be a last stand. I lead my men back into the pass. This time, we march further than we have before. On one side, marshland; on the other, sheer
cliffs. We make our formation - wider this time. The Persians do not expect us to meet them
so close. They are surprised when their detachment,
commanded by Xerxes himself, arrives. No more tricks. No more retreats. This time, a fight to the death. And fight we do, with a ferocity never seen
before. The Persians have never had to face such a
foe and many flee in fear. Some are driven into the marshes, where they
drown. Others are trampled by their own men as they
seek to retreat. Still others are felled by their own commanding
officers’ whips. We hold our ground and fight as a unit, endlessly
jabbing our spears forward! The Persians that stay to fight are relentless
with their daggers and small spears; our weapons are hacked, broken - the wood splinters, the
sharp points lost to the earth. Our spears useless, it is now time for swords. My brothers and I draw our weapons and hack
at every enemy soldier that we can, slaying countless numbers. Many fall, but it is overwhelming and - Ahh! What is that? Something has pierced me. An arrow? I ignore the pain and push forward! Another sharp pain! And another! Yes - it is Persia’s famed archers. They have finally taken their stand. I continue swinging my sword but know...I
know I am slain. I fall to my knees, blood roaring in my ears
as I see the Persians advance. I feel myself being dragged away by my countrymen
and I remember a prophecy. Before coming to Thermopylae, the Oracle of
Delphi told us that Sparta would either be completely destroyed… or mourn a dead king. A king must die for the nation to survive. The light begins to fade and a smile forms
on my face. We have delayed the Persians just as needed
to, and this will be enough time for the other city-states to muster a resistance. And so we have saved Greece by sacrificing
a king, me… King Leonidas of Sparta. Commander of the 300.
