300

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 (steer).

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.

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.