Athens could do nothing for the relief of Platæa. The brave garrison had begun to suffer from the failure of provisions; and, as their condition grew hopeless, two of their leading men, Theænetus a soothsayer, and Eupompidas, one of the generals, conceived the project of escaping across the enemy’s lines. When it was first proposed, it was unanimously adopted: but as the time for its execution approached, half of the men shrank from the danger, and not more than 220 adhered to their resolution. The contrivers of the plan took the lead in the enterprise. Scaling ladders of a proper height were the first requisite; and they were made upon a measurement of the enemy’s wall, for which the besieged had no other basis than the number of layers of brick, which were sedulously counted over and over again by different persons, until the amount, and consequently the height of the wall, was sufficiently ascertained. A dark and stormy night, in the depth of winter, was chosen for the attempt; it was known that in such nights the sentinels took shelter in the towers, and left the intervening battlements unguarded; and it was on this practice that the success of the adventure mainly depended. It was concerted, that the part of the garrison which remained behind should make demonstrations of attacking the enemy’s lines on the side opposite to that by which their comrades attempted to escape. And first a small party, lightly armed, the right foot bare, to give them a surer footing in the mud, keeping at such a distance from each other as to prevent their arms from clashing, crossed the ditch, and planted their ladders, unseen and unheard; for the noise of their approach was drowned by the wind. The first who mounted were twelve men armed with short swords, led by Ammeas son of Corœbus. His followers, six on each side, proceeded immediately to secure the two nearest towers. Next came another party with short spears, their shields being carried by their comrades behind them. But before many more had mounted, the fall of a tile, broken off from a battlement by one of the Platæans, as he laid hold of it, alarmed the nearest sentinels, and presently the whole force of the besiegers was called to the walls. But no one knew what had happened, and the general confusion was increased by the sally of the besieged. All therefore remained at their posts; only a body of three hundred men, who were always in readiness to move toward any quarter where they might be needed, issued from one of the gates in search of the place from which the alarm had arisen. In the meanwhile the assailants had made themselves masters of the two towers between which they scaled the wall, and, after cutting down the sentinels, guarded the passages which led through them, while others mounted by ladders to the roofs, and thence discharged their missiles on all who attempted to approach the scene of action. The main body of the fugitives now poured through the opening thus secured, applying more ladders, and knocking away the battlements: and as they gained the other side of the outer ditch, they formed upon its edge, and with their arrows and javelins protected their comrades, who were crossing, from the enemy above. Last of all, and with some difficulty—for the ditch was deep, the water high, and covered with a thin crust of ice—the parties which occupied the towers effected their retreat; and they had scarcely crossed, before the three hundred were seen coming up with lighted torches. But their lights, which discovered nothing to them, made them a mark for the missiles of the Platæans, who were thus enabled to elude their pursuit, and to move away in good order.
All the details of the plan seem to have been concerted with admirable forethought. On the first alarm fire signals were raised by the besiegers to convey the intelligence to Thebes. But the Platæans had provided against this danger, and showed similar signals from their own walls, so as to render it impossible for the Thebans to interpret those of the enemy. This precaution afforded additional security to their retreat. For instead of taking the nearest road to Athens, they first bent their steps toward Thebes, while they could see their pursuers with their blazing torches threading the ascent of Cithæron. After they had followed the Theban road for six or seven furlongs, they struck into that which led by Erythræ and Hysiæ to the Attic border, and arrived safe at Athens. Out of the 220 who set out together, one fell into the enemy’s hands, after he had crossed the outer ditch. Seven turned back panic-struck, and reported that all their companions had been cut off: and at daybreak a herald was sent to recover their bodies. The answer revealed the happy issue of the adventure.
[427 B.C.]