When the boy was born
like old Spartans he was inspected.
If he had been small or puny or sickly or misshapen
he would've been discarded.
From the time he could stand, he was baptized in the fire of combat.
Taught never to retreat, never to surrender,
taught that death on the battlefield in service to Sparta
is the greatest glory he could achieve in his life.
At age seven, as is customary in Sparta.
the boy was taken from his mother and plunged in a world of violence.
Manufactured by 300 years, a Spartan warrior society
to create the finest soldiers the world has ever known.
The agoge is its goal.
It forces the boy to fight, starves him.
It forces him to steal.
And, if necessary, to kill.
By rod and lash, the boy was punished.
Taught to show no pain, no mercy.
Hunts to be tested, tossed into the wild.
Let to pit his wits and will against nature's fury.
It was his initiation. His time in the wild.
For he would return to his people as Spartan
or not at all.
The wolf begins to circle the boy.
Claws of black steel burned this dark night.
Eyes glowing red, jewels from the pit of hell itself.
The giant wolf sniffing,
savoring the scent of the meal to come.
It's not fear that grips him,
only a heightened sense of things.
The cold air in his lungs.
Winds swept pines, moving against the coming night.
His hands are steady.
His form... perfect.
And so the boy, given up for dead, returns to his people.
To sacred Sparta, a king. Our king!
Leonidas!
It's been more than 30 years since the wolf and the winter cold.
Now, as then, a beast approaches.
Patient and confident, savoring the meal to come.
This beast is made of men and horses, swords and spears.
An army of slaves, vast beyond imagining,
ready to devour tiny Greece.
Ready to snuff out the world's one hope for reason and justice.
A beast approaches.
It was King Leonidas himself who provoked it.
Subtitled by Mihai
300- Heroes of Thermopylae
My father taught me that fear is always a constant.
By accepting it,
it makes you stronger.
My queen.
The Persian emissary awaits Leonidas.
In the end, the Spartan's true strength is the warrior next to him.
So give respect and honor to him. It will be returned to you.
First, you fight with your head.
Then you fight with your heart.
What is it?
It's the Persian messenger. He awaits you.
Do not forget today's lesson.
- Respect and honour. - Respect and honour.
Councilman Theron, you found yourself needed for once.
My king and queen, I was just entertaining your guests.
I'm sure.
Before you speak, Persian, know that in Sparta
everyone, even a King's messenger, is held accountable
for the words of his voice.
Now, what message do you bring?
Earth and water.
You rode all the way from Persia for earth and water?
Do not be coy or stupid, Persian. You can afford neither in Sparta.
What makes this woman think she can speak amongst men?
Because only Spartan women give birth to real men.
Let us walk to cool our tongues.
If you value your lives over your complete annihilation,
listen carefully, Leonidas.
Xerxes conquers and controls everything he rests his eyes upon.
He leads an army so massive it shakes the ground with its march.
So vast it drinks the rivers dry.
All the God-King Xerxes requires is this.
A simple offering of earth and water.
A token of Sparta's submission to the will of Xerxes.
Submission?
Well, that's a bit of a problem.
See, rumor has it the Athenians have already turned you down.
And if those philosophers and boy-lovers have found that kind of nerve...
We must be diplomatic.
And of course, Spartans...
...have their reputation to consider.
Choose your next words carefully, Leonidas.
They may be your last as king.
Earth and water.
Madman. You're a madman.
Earth and water. You'll find plenty of both down there.
No man, Persian or Greek... No man threatens a messenger.
You bring your crowns and heads of conquered kings to my city steps.
You insult my queen.
You threaten my people with slavery and death.
Oh, I've chosen my words carefully, Persian.
Perhaps you should have done the same.
This is blasphemy. This is madness.
Madness?
This is Sparta!
Welcome, Leonidas.
We have been expecting you.
The ephors. Priests to the old gods.
Inbred swine, more creature than man.
Creatures whom even Leonidas must bribe and beg.
No Spartan king has gone to war without the ephors' blessing.
The Persians claim their forces number in the milions.
I hope, for our sake, they exaggerate.
But there's no question we face the most masive army ever assembled.
Before your plan is heard, what do you offer?
We will use our superior fighting skills,
and the terrain of Greece itself to destroy them.
We will march north, to the coast.
- We'll make sure... - It is august, Leonidas.
The full moon approaches.
Tha sacred and ancient festival.
Sparta wages no war at the time of the Carneia.
Sparta will burn!
Our men will die armed
and your women and children will be slaves or worse.
Now, we will block the Persian coastal assault,
by rebuilding the great Phocian wall.
From now, we will funnel them into the mountain pass
we call The Hot Gates.
Now, in that narrow corridor, their numbers will count for nothing.
Wave after wave of Persian attack would smash against Spartan shields.
Xerxes' losses will be so great, his men so demoralized
he will have no choice but to abandon his campaign.
We must consult the Oracle.
Trust the gods, Leonidas.
I'd prefer you trusted your reason.
Your blasphemies have cost us quite enough already.
Don't compound them.
We will consult the Oracle.
Diseased old mystics.
Worthless remnants of the time
before Sparta's ascent from darkness.
Remnants of a senseless tradition.
A tradition even Leonidas cannot defy.
For he must respect the word of the ephors.
That is the law.
And no Spartan, subject or citizen,
man or woman, slave or king is above the law.
The ephors choose only the most beautiful Spartan girls
to live amongst them as oracles.
Their beauty is their curse.
For the old wretches have the needs of men...
...and souls as black as hell.
Pray to the winds.
Sparta will fall.
All Greece will fall.
Trust not in men.
Honor the gods.
Honor the Carneia.
The king's climb down is harder.
Pompous, inbred swine.
Worthless, diseased, rotten.
Corrupt.
Truly you're in the God King's favor now.
Oh, wise and holy men.
Yes.
And when Sparta burns, you shall bathe in gold.
Fresh oracles shall be delivered to you daily,
from every corner of the Empire.
Your lips gonna finish what your fingers have started.
Has the oracle rogued you of your desire as well?
It will take more than the words of a drunken adolescent girl
to rogue me of my desire for you.
Then why is it distant?
Because it seems now I'am a...
...slave and captive of luxurious old men.
The oracle's words can set fire to all that I love.
So that is why my king loses sleep
and is forced from the warmth of his bed?
There's only one woman's words
that should affect the mood of my husband.
Those are mine.
Then what must a king do to save his world
when the very laws he has sworn to protect force him to do nothing.
It is not a question of what a Spartan citizen should do,
nor a husband, nor a king.
Instead ask yourself, my dearest love:
What should a free man do?
- This is all of them? - As you ordered. 300.
All with born sons to carry on their name.
We are with you, sire. For Sparta, for freedom.
To the death.
He is your son.
He is too young to have felt a woman's warmth.
I have others to replace him.
Astinos is as brave and ready as any.
No younger than we were the first time you stood next to me in battle.
You are a good friend.
But a better captain... There is none.
My good king.
My good king, the oracle has spoken.
The ephors have spoken. There must be no march.
It is the law, my lord.
The Spartan army must not go to war.
Nor shall it.
I've issued no such orders.
I'm here just taking a stroll, stretching my legs.
These 300 men are my personal bodyguard.
- Our army will stay in Sparta. - Where will you go?
I hadn't really thought about it, but I...
...now that you ask, I suppose I'll head north.
The Hot Gates.
Move out!
What shall we do?
- What can we do? - What can you do?
Sparta will need sons.
Spartan!
Yes, my lady?
Come back with your shield or on it.
Yes, my lady.
Goodbye, my love.
He doesn't say it.
There's no room for softness, not in Sparta.
No place for weakness.
Only the hard and strong may call themselves Spartans.
Only the hard, only the strong.
We march.
For our lands, for our families, for our freedoms.
We march.
Daxos, what a pleasant surprise.
This morning is full of surprises, Leonidas.
We've been tricked. Can't be more than a few hundred.
- This is a surprise. - Silence!
We heard Sparta was on the warpath.
We were eager to join forces.
If it is blood you seek, you're welcome to join us.
But you bring only this handful of soldiers against Xerxes?
I see I was wrong to expect Sparta's commitment to at least match our own.
Doesn't it?
You there.
- What is your profession? - I'm a potter, sir.
And you, Arcadian, what is your profession?
- Sculptor, sir. - Sculptor.
- And you? - Blacksmith.
Spartans, what is your profession?
See, old friend?
I brought more soldiers than you did.
No sleep tonight.
Not for the king.
All his forty years have been a straight road
to this one gleaming moment in destiny.
This one radiant clash of shield and spear,
sword and boone and flesh and blood.
His only regret is that he has so few to sacrifice.
We're being followed.
It has followed us since Sparta.
My king, look!
What happened here?
Where are all the people?
Persians.
I put their number around 20.
Scouted path.
But these footprints.
Leonidas.
Child.
It's quiet now.
They came with mist from the blackness.
With their claws and fangs they grabbed us.
Everyone... but me.
The villagers... They found them.
Have the gods no mercy?
We are doomed.
Quiet yourself.
The child speaks of the Persian ghosts.
Known from the ancient times.
They are the hunters of men souls.
They cannot be killed or defeated.
Not this darkness.
Not these Immortals.
Immortals?
We'll put their name to the test.
Into the Hot Gates we march.
Into that narrow corridor we march.
Where Xerxes' numbers count for nothing.
Spartans, citizen soldiers, freed slaves.
Brave Greeks all.
Brothers, fathers, sons.
We march.
For honor's sake, for duty's sake, for glory's sake, we march.
Look!
Persians.
Into hell's mouth, we march.
That's our seas, motherless dogs,
as they're embraced by the loving arms of Greece itself.
Come.
True.
It does look like rain.
Zeus stabs the skies with thunderbolts.
And batters the Persian ships with hurricane wind.
Glorious.
Only one amongst us keeps his Spartan reserve.
Only he.
Only our king.
My queen.
My queen, the courtyard is no fitting place for a married woman.
I'm afraid gossip and protocol are the least of my worries now, councilman.
Such secrecy needed.
How am I to trust beyond the walls of my own home?
Even here, Theron has eyes and ears which fuel Sparta with doubt and fear.
You speak as if all Sparta conspires against you.
I wish they were only against me.
Many on our council would vote to give all we have
and follow Leonidas.
But you must show them favor.
And you can arrange me to speak to the council?
If it is reason they want, I will let them know.
Know what, my queen?
Freedom isn't free at all.
That it comes with the highest of costs.
The cost of blood.
I will do my best to gather our council
and its chambers shall be filled with your voice.
- I'm in your debt. - Nope.
Leonidas is my king as well as yours.
I saw those ships smash on the rocks.
How can this be?
We saw but a fraction of the monster that is Xerxes' army.
There can be no victory here.
Why do you smile?
Arcadian, I've fought countless times
yet I've never met an adversary that could offer me
what we Spartans call a beautiful death.
I can only hope,
with all the world's warriors gathered against us,
there might be one down there who's up to the task.
Move!
Keep going, you dogs.
Move!
Forward I say.
Stop here!
Who commands here?
I am the emissary to the ruler of all the world.
The god of gods.
King of kings.
And by that authority, I demand that someone show me your commander.
Listen. Do you think the paltry dozen you slew scares us?
These hills swarm with our scouts.
And do you think your pathetic wall
will do anything except fall
like a heap of dry leaves in the face...
Our ancestors built this wall,
using ancient stones from the bosom of Greece herself.
And with a little Spartan help,
your Persian scouts supplied the mortar.
You will pay for your barbarism.
My arm!
It's not yours anymore.
Go now. Run along and tell your Xerxes he faces free men here.
Not slaves. Do it quickly.
Before we decide to make our wall just a little bit bigger.
No, not slaves.
Your women will be slaves.
Your sons, your daughters, your elders
will be slaves, but not you.
By noon this day, you will be dead men.
A thousand nations of the Persian Empire descend upon you.
Our arrows will blot out the sun.
Then we will fight in the shade.
The wall is solid.
It'll do the job of funneling the Persians into the Hot Gates.
Captain, have the men found any route through the hills to our back?
None, sire.
There is such a route, good king.
Just past that western ridge.
It's an old goat path.
The Persians could use it to outflank us.
Not one step closer.
Monster!
Wise king, I humbly request an audience.
I'll skewer you where you stand.
I gave no such order.
Forgive the captain. He's a good soldier.
But a bit short on manners.
There is nothing to forgive, brave king.
I know what I look like.
You wear the crimson of a Spartan.
I am Ephialtes, born of Sparta.
My mother's love led my parents to flee Sparta
lest I be discarded.
But your shield?
And armor?
My father's, sir.
I beg you, bold king,
to permit me to redeem my father's name
by serving you in combat.
My father trained me to feel no fear.
To make spear and shield and sword as much a part of me
as my own beating heart.
I will earn my father's armor, noble king,
by serving you in the battle.
Fine thrust.
I will kill many Persians.
- Raise your shield. - Sire?
Raise your shield as high as you can.
Your father should have told you how our phalanx works.
We fight as a single, impenetrable unit.
That is the source of our strength.
Each Spartan protects the man to his left,
from thigh to neck, with his shield.
A single weakspot and the phalanx shatters.
From thigh to neck, Ephialtes.
I am sorry, my friend.
But not all of us are made to be soldiers.
But I...
If you want to help at a Spartan victory...
- Yes? - Clear the battlefield of the dead.
Tend to wounded, bring them water.
Why?
But as for the fight itself, I cannot use you.
Mother, father, you were wrong.
You are wrong, Leonidas.
You are wrong.
Dispatch the Phocians to the goat path.
Pray to the gods nobody tells the Persians about it.
Earthquake.
No, Captain.
Battle formations.
This is where we hold them.
This is where we fight.
This is where they die!
On these shields, boys!
Remember this day, men,
for it will be yours for all time.
Spartans, lay down your weapons!
Persians!
Come and get them!
Hold!
Give them nothing.
But take from them everything.
Stay ready.
That's the best you can do?
Push!
Now!
Push!
No prisoners!
No mercy!
They look thirsty.
Well, let's give them something to drink.
To the cliffs.
Hold!
A hell of a good start!
Tuck tail!
Persian cowards.
What the hell are you laughing at?
We had to say it.
- What? - We fight in the shade.
Recover.
Today, no Spartan dies.
Easy, son.
We do what we were trained to do.
What we were bred to do. What we were born to do.
No prisoners, no mercy.
A good start.
I was afraid you might not come.
- I'm sorry, my son is... - Is doing what children do best.
Please don't apologize.
Your son starts the agoge next year.
That is always a difficult time for a Spartan mother.
Yes, it will be hard but also necessary.
You will speak before the council in two days time.
My husband does not have two days.
Think of the two days as a gift.
It's no secret.
Theron wants what you control. It's his voice you must silence.
Make him your ally and you will have your victory.
Thank you.
You are wise as you are kind.
Ah, there's your mother.
You should keep a better eye on him if he is to be king one day.
It would be unfortunate if anything were to happen to him.
Or to his beautiful mother.
Our Greek comrades are begging for a crack at the Persians, sire.
Good. I have something I think they can handle.
Tell Daxos I want him
and 20 of his best, eager, sober,
ready for the next job.
King Leonidas!
- Stelios, catch your breath, boy. - Yes, my lord.
The Persians are approaching.
A small contingent. Too small for an attack.
Captain, I'll leave you in charge.
- But, sire... - Relax, old friend.
If they assasinate me, all of Sparta goes to war.
Pray they're that stupid.
Pray... we're that lucky.
Besides...
...there's no reason we can't be civil.
Is there?
None, sire.