A Boy of the Agoge

by Helena P. Schrader

  The woman was already beside them, silencing her dog with a single command. “Take him inside at once. Go on! Hurry up!” She pointed toward the open door, and the boys shouldered their burden a last time and went forward into the large, warm hearth-room.

  After almost a month in the wilderness, that fire-warmed room in the rainstorm was more wonderful than the finest palace of the Persian emperor. The floor was tiled, the roof beamed, the walls hung with woven hangings that kept out the cold and the damp. The smell of the wood fire mixed with the scents of a meal of meat and onions and rosemary.

  As the boys entered, two other women came to their feet, but the boys didn’t take much notice of them. They were following the staccato instructions of their hostess. “Put the stretcher down there! Right there!” Then over her shoulder to one of the women: “Fetch me a torch or a lamp!” To the boys again, “What happened?”

  “We don’t know for sure, ma’am” (as usual, the boys left the talking to Leonidas). “Just after the worst of the thunderstorm, we heard cries for help. We found Koiris clinging to an oak tree in the middle of the stream. We tried to reach a large branch across to him, but we lost hold of the branch. He was swept farther downstream until he was caught on a root. We dragged him ashore, but he had nearly drowned, and you can see he hit his head on something and his leg is broken.”

  Cleitagora was inspecting the naked boy closely as Leonidas spoke. “What were you doing out in weather like this in the first place?” she asked sharply without looking up from her inspection.

  “It’s the Phouxir, ma’am.”

  “What? You’re 13?” She looked at the three bedraggled boys and snorted rather contemptuously, but then she turned to the other woman who was standing over the stretcher as well. To Leonidas’ dismay he recognised this second woman as “that other woman”, his father’s second wife and the mother of King Cleomenes.

  “We have to get a doctor at once,” Cleitagora announced. “This boy’s eye is totally crushed.”

  In horror, Leonidas looked at Koiris’ eye. In the darkness they had not been able to see the extent of the damage, noting only the gash to his head that was bleeding profusely.

  “I’ll go down to Lysandridas’ kleros and have him send a horseman for a doctor,” Chilonis answered, pulling her shawl up over her head and heading out into the rain and darkness.

  Cleitagora meanwhile ordered the other woman, who was evidently a helot, to fetch poppy seed and wine. She administered this to Koiris, and then turned her sharp eyes on the other three boys. Her eyes made them all squirm uncomfortably, aware of their filth, the rags they were wearing—and the fact that they had no right to be here.

  “Let me see that hand!” she ordered, pointing at Alkander, and Alkander timidly held out his left hand. “Two fingers are broken,” she told him after a short examination. “How did that happen?”

  “When the b-b-branch t-t-tore l-l-loose in my hands. It t-t-twisted around....” Alkander fell silent, ashamed.

  “And your ankle?” she asked Leonidas.

  “When the earth gave away under me, ma’am...”

  She shook her head in evident disapproval. “Go with my woman here to the kitchen and get out of your wet things. Amycla, let them clean themselves off in hot water and hang their chitons out to dry. Bind up this boy’s fingers and that boy’s ankle. Give them some warm milk and broth as well.” Then, directing her remarks to the boys again, she advised firmly, “When the doctor comes, you best have ‘disappeared’ out the back again. I’ll tell the doctor ‘someone’ just called out and left your friend at my doorstep.”

  And that was exactly what they did. When they heard horses and voices in the drive, they ducked out the back door of the kitchens into the yard—by the smell of things they were near the pigpen and chicken coop. It had stopped raining, however, and the moon was actually starting to show through the ragged clouds. By the light of the moon they climbed over the fence of the yard and disappeared into the underbrush.

  Only now, as they trudged back along the side of the road, keeping to the trees and undergrowth, did Leonidas again ask: “Prokles, where did you suddenly come from?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  Just before dawn they passed through the glen that Leonidas and Alkander had used as their base these past four weeks, and continued up the slope until around the fold of the mountain they found the entrance to another cave. Prokles led them confidently into the cave—down a steep, now slippery incline, around a pit, and into a tunnel. They had to crawl on all fours for a short distance and then found themselves in a large, spacious room—in which the remnants of a fire still flickered.

  Not only was there a fire, there was a reed bed, complete with blankets; there were sacks apparently full of provisions; there were two skinned hares hanging out by their hind feet, a bow, and a quiver of arrows. “Have you been living here all along?” Leonidas wanted to know.

  “Of course. I found it two years ago. I’ve been planning and provisioning it ever since.”

  Leonidas was at a loss for words. Part of him was shocked that Prokles had broken the rules to this extent. Part of him admired him for it. And another part of him was angry that Prokles hadn’t let him in on the secret from the start.

  “You always want to do things by the rules, Leo,” Prokles declared, as if reading his thoughts. “I would have brought you here if you had ever been in real trouble, but you seemed to be getting along just fine.”

  “You mean you knew we were at the glen?”

  “Of course; I used to watch you from a distance and even listen to your conversations sometimes,” Prokles admitted with a little self-conscious grin.

  Leonidas felt like a perfect fool.

  “And what brought you out last night?” Alkander wanted to know.

  “The storm. I’d never heard anything like it, and I stood in the cave entrance watching it. Then just when I was about to go back inside, I thought I heard someone calling for help. I thought it might be one of you and followed the sound of the cries. Let’s get some sleep now. Tomorrow night you can go fetch stuff to make up your own beds.”

  And so they made themselves as comfortable as they could and fell asleep almost at once.

  At the end of their 40 days, the 13-year-olds emerged from wherever they had been hiding and returned to the agoge. They were mustered on the drill fields by unit in the state in which they returned—filthy, in rags, their hair already growing out, scratched and bruised, or even with broken bones as in Alkander’s case. The Paidonomos inspected them, looking at each boy with a penetrating glance that seemed to see exactly who had cheated most. Many of the boys, like Leonidas and his friends, had lost their himations. A few were completely naked. Some of the boys really looked terrible—skin and bones, or badly cut up. Some, like Prokles, hardly looked the worse for wear at all.

  The Paidonomos stepped on to the stones from which the commanding officers and sometimes the kings addressed the army. Slowly the excited chattering among the boys died away, and they waited expectantly. The Paidonomos congratulated the boys in front of him for passing the survival test. He assured them that all mustered here would graduate to “youth” at the winter solstice.

  The Paidonomos then announced that three boys had been caught “breaking the rules”. He was not more specific, and boys would have to use their own network to find out the details—in which, of course, they were morbidly interested. Then the Paidonomos raised his voice, and Leonidas thought it quivered slightly. “Five others of your age-cohort will also not be with you when you receive your new himations. They lost their lives in the terrible storm last month.” When the Paidonomos intoned the name of Koiris, Leonidas felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. They had failed after all.

  CHAPTER 6

  Age 14

  AT 14 THE BOYS OF THE agoge were given their first set of leather training armour, and wooden swords and spears. They were taught the fundamentals of their use and were also taught the basic bui
lding blocks of formation drill: to advance, halt, turn, and reverse. They had to learn to do all this to the signal of pipes.

  Of course, the first thing they learned was that all these things that looked so easy when performed by their fathers on the drill fields were surprisingly difficult. It required endless hours of drill to get it right, and Leonidas was not alone in wishing (sometimes) that he was still only a “little boy” enjoying half a day of freedom and self-government, rather than spending his time in mind-dulling, body-aching drill on the dusty fields beyond the Eurotas day after day after day.

  Naturally, the 14-year-olds only got use of the drill fields when it suited the older age-cohorts. The men on active service, unless there was some special exercise, generally used the fields in the freshness of the early morning. Only after they were dismissed and went home did the youths of the agoge have access to the fields. The older agoge classes might take the fields immediately after the adults left, in the heat of the noonday sun, or they might leave that “honour” to the younger cohorts. The drill instructors, who were officers of the reserve, were intent on ensuring that the boys developed the endurance and skill necessary to fight in the heat of the day as well as in the dark of night. Drill, therefore, could be scheduled at any time of the day or night, and it took precedence over all other activities.

  Holidays became even more important under the circumstances, and Leonidas counted the days between holidays, already looking forward to the next when he returned to barracks from the last. As before, the holidays were usually spent with Prokles’ family; and when Philippos asked the boys if they wanted to come with him to Prasiai on the Gulf of Argos to help deliver a colt he had sold to a Lydian horse breeder, the boys jumped at the chance.

  With great excitement, the party consisting of Philippos and Lysandridas with their attendants, the chief groom and two assistant grooms, and the three boys set off on horseback. The colt that they had sold was on a lead, and they also had four pack mules with feed, grooming equipment, and emergency medical supplies for both man and beast.

  They followed the road to Chryssapha and crossed the Parnon range over the pass to Kosmas, and then descended down to the Gulf of Argos. As before, Leonidas was thrilled by the sight of the sea. He couldn’t get over the sheer limitlessness of the water when he stood at the shore and could see into infinity without anything getting in his line of vision.

  The port was exciting, too. This east-coast port received more ships bound for the busy harbours of the Aegean and Ionian coastline than did Gytheon. In the inn where they took lodgings, they saw men from Naxos and Miletos, Chalkis and Andros. There were even Medes, looking very outlandish and speaking a completely incomprehensible language, stopping at the inn.

  The Spartans shared their table with some Athenians. Indeed, the two Athenians actually sought them out, asking if they were Spartiates and then asking if they could join them. Leonidas held his breath and all eyes turned to Lysandridas, as the oldest man present. Leonidas had been very curious about Athenians ever since his last encounter at the Hyacinthia, and he was afraid that Lysandridas would decline; but Lysandridas graciously invited the Athenians to join them.

  The landlord arrived almost at once with large jugs of both white and red wine, and took the Athenians’ orders for a meal. The introductions were made. The Athenians identified themselves as Alcmaeonidae, which meant nothing to Leonidas, but his elders nodded knowingly. Even to Leonidas it was obvious that they were very rich. They wore heavy gold signet rings, and broad armbands of gold on their upper arms; and the pins that held their himations in place were as large as a man’s fist and studded with jewels, as were their belts. The Athenians wore long silk chitons with magnificently embroidered borders, and their sandals had turquoise and coral beads on them. Leonidas was very grateful he was not in his agoge attire, but instead wearing a proper linen chiton and a bright blue himation of good quality. Although he tucked his bare feet deeper under his chair to hide them, nothing could hide his shaved head, and for the first time in his life he was ashamed of it.

  Meanwhile, the Spartan adults introduced themselves. When Lysandridas gave his name, the Athenians evinced surprise.

  “Not the Lysandridas, son of Teleklos, who twice drove the four-horse to victory at Olympia?” Apparently the Athenians knew about horses, Leonidas concluded.

  Lysandridas admitted that this was he, and now the Athenians grew even more animated and friendly. “Noble Lysandridas, weren’t you also instrumental in bringing down the Tegean tyrant Onomastros?” This had nothing to do with horses or sports, and it seemed strange to Leonidas that they had come up with such a silly notion. Prokles’ grandfather had been a slave in Tegea, not a citizen active in politics.

  Lysandridas exchanged a glance with his son before admitting, “I played a very minor role.”

  Leonidas stared at the old man, wondering what more he didn’t know about his past.

  “But surely you, as a man who has opposed tyranny, must understand the plight of Athens?”

  “I do not envy you living under Hippias,” Lysandridas said dryly. “Is it true his brother was murdered on the open streets?”

  “It is true—and now Hippias’ hard fist has grown even heavier.” The Athenians agreed intently. “At least that is what we have been told.” The adults nodded; what else would one expect? The Athenian continued, “Sparta has freed many cities oppressed by tyrants. Why won’t it come to the rescue of the queen of all Greek cities?”

  “Athens is a long way from Sparta,” Philippos said dryly, and a touch sharply.

  “A day beyond Corinth—surely that is nothing to an army that boasts of being able to cover 500 miles in 10 days.”

  “Who boasts that?” Philippos asked, more sharply still. Boasting was not Spartan custom.

  “I heard it said that your young king, Cleomenes, made the claim,” the Athenian insisted with an air of injured innocence.

  “Oh.” Lysandridas glanced at Leonidas, and then remarked, “Cleomenes is young and full of ambition—as a young man should be. But he has not taken the army anywhere.”

  “But you cannot approve of tyranny. Spartan foreign policy has consistently opposed tyranny. The leading citizens of Athens would show themselves grateful for any assistance Sparta gave them in ridding them of Hippias. Very grateful indeed.”

  “Last year the Samians sought to buy our help to expel the Persians. This year it was the Scythians. King Cleomenes sent them both away empty-handed—and they, too, offered huge rewards. I do not think our army is for sale—no matter how grateful anyone might be,” Philippos replied firmly.

  “Nor did we free Tegea for gold,” Lysandridas added as a reminder.

  The Athenians glanced at one another, and then one hastened to assure the stuffy Spartiates, “We did not mean to imply Sparta was mercenary; but as the oldest democracy in the world, surely you have a moral obligation to protect democracy wherever freedom-loving Greeks are struggling to restore it?”

  “That is surely beyond the power of so small a city as Sparta. We have just one-fifth your number of citizens,” Philippos insisted.

  “And ten times that number of perioikoi—not to mention your helots and the entire wealth of Messenia, your forests and mines.”

  “We have neither silver nor fleet, much less gold. Sparta is poor compared to many other cities.”

  “Poor in riches, which you scorn, but rich in courage—at least that was what we were led to believe....”

  “Courage, no less than gold, should not be squandered.”

  “Isn’t helping a friend in need the noblest use of courage—short of fighting for one’s own city and children?”

  “Sparta will fight for her allies no less than for herself; but to my knowledge, Athens does not belong to the League.”

  “Can Sparta not look beyond the horizon of the Peloponnese?”

  “When Croesus came to us asking friendship, we were happy to give it—far away as Lydia is—because it was the will
of Delphi. If only Croesus had heeded the oracle more precisely, he might still stand between Ionia and the Persian menace. As it was, we had no chance to even come to his aid.”

  “Are you are saying that you require an order from Delphi to set foot outside of the Peloponnese?” The Athenian leaned forward as he asked this, evidently acutely interested in the answer.

  Lysandridas and his son exchanged an uneasy glance, and Lysandridas answered for them. “It was at the advice of Delphi that we adopted our Constitution, and at the advice of Delphi that we became involved in Tegea. If it is the will of Apollo that we assist Athens, I do not think the Spartan kings or Assembly would risk refusal.”

  “Your new Eurypontid king, Demaratus, what is he like?” the Athenian asked next, reaching out to help himself to more wine as if relaxing after the previous exchange.

  “Demaratus is an excellent charioteer,” Lysandridas remarked. “I believe he plans to drive his own team at the next Olympiad.”

  The Athenians looked pleased. “Then we will undoubtedly see him there—as I presume we will see you?” The conversation turned to horses.

  The next morning was spent making the final arrangements for the transport of the colt, and Lysandridas and Philippos were closeted with the agent representing the distant buyer. Bored with all the details of who paid what when and to whom, the boys wandered out to the waterfront.

  Leonidas was drawn to the exotic, brightly painted merchant vessel that was identified as “Persian”. Not knowing very much about ships, it was hard for him to define what made it seem so different from the various Greek vessels tied up around her, but there was certainly something different about her. Maybe it was the smell of exotic spices that seemed to emanate from her, or the woven baskets on the deck filled with dark nuts he had never seen before. Or the huge, heavily muscled man on the foredeck with a live snake draped across his shoulders.

  Leonidas and his friends stared so intently at the man with the snake that they jumped in surprise when suddenly a voice close behind them asked, “Would you like to come aboard and look around?”