“But what about the oracles?! They told us to restore the Alcmaeonidae to power,” Eirana pointed out, incredulous.
“Oracles! I should have known you would quote oracles to me!” There was a sneer in Kyranios’ voice that Leonidas could not overhear. “Bought! That’s what those oracles were! Bought with Alcmaeonidae bribes! That should show you the measure of priests and seers. Nothing but corrupt cowards who write their oracles to suit the highest bidder!”
“Kyranios!” His wife was shocked. “Don’t talk like that!”
“Well, it’s the truth. Cleomenes had proof of it. The Alcmaeonidae had bribed Delphi to give judgments that pushed us to support them. And once they were placed in power by our spears, they laughed at us for fools and imbeciles, so easily bamboozled by the ‘cheap sayings of corrupt priests’. Well, they’ll soon see what fools we are! Demaratus refuses to support the war, but Cleomenes got approval for taking ‘volunteers’. They jumped up on the spot. So we’re deploying the equivalent of two lochagoi to drive Kleisthenes and his priest-bribing family and their pack of upstart followers out! The sooner we march, the better. And the sooner you get back to your charges, eirene, the better for you, too! Be off before I decide to report you!” He flung the last at Leonidas, who was more than happy to comply.
By the time Leonidas was back in the city, the mobilisation had been announced, and the streets were filled with agitated people: the volunteers were making a quick trip home to take leave of loved ones and collect their personal provisions, while their helot attendants were making last-minute purchases and repairs to their own and their hoplites’ equipment. Meanwhile, the army’s purveyors were delivering supplies, and the state helots were loading up the wagons from warehouses. Trains of horses and mules were being led to the blacksmiths to have their feet trimmed and shod. An unusual number of people could also be seen going in and out of the temples, from which the smoke of sacrifices was rising.
Leonidas had only to stop the first eirene he saw on the street to learn that the march-out was set for the following dawn. “Why the rush?” Leonidas asked.
“It’s either tomorrow or the moon will be waning—and you know how inauspicious that is. No one wants to risk starting a campaign during the waning moon. Some of the old men said it was against our laws to do so, but then some of the others said it wasn’t a law, just ‘advice’ from Chilon. And they fought about it for a long time, with the old men getting all worked up about it, while the young men kept trying to get things focussed again on the campaign against Athens.” (His informant had evidently attended the Assembly as an observer, something the eirenes were encouraged to do.) “Finally Cleomenes made the suggestion that he leave tomorrow, and he got support for that from the younger cohorts that had volunteered to follow him, and so the decision was made—although Demaratus said he wanted nothing to do with this campaign and announced he would stay home.”
“Cleomenes alone will be commanding? Is that legal?”
“Apparently, as long as it’s just volunteers—not a regular deployment.” (Many of Sparta’s laws were not written down, resulting in ambiguity on the fine points, particularly on issues that did not come up every day.)
Leonidas thanked his informant and continued on to the palaestra, where he found his charges in excited discussion. “Have you heard the news, sir?” they asked him eagerly.
“Unfortunately, from Kyranios himself. How can Cleomenes be so certain that 2,000 troops is enough? Last time he took almost 5,000.”
Whatever their source, the 18-year-olds were well informed: “He is in contact with Isagoras, who assures him that many Athenians will rally to their cause. Indeed, Cleomenes has sent an order to Athens, warning them that if they do not throw Kleisthenes out, we will come and throw him out. The troops are there to give credence to our threat, but Cleomenes says they will not have to fight.”
Leonidas was not sure what to think of all this, so he said nothing, and waited to see what would happen.
The first thing that happened was that as soon as Kyranios left Sparta, Leonidas started encountering Asteropus at Eirana’s kleros. Usually, he ran into him on the road coming or going. Once he found Asteropus already there when he arrived. On the road they merely greeted each other, but at the kleros they were forced to make polite conversation.
Leonidas could not see what Eirana saw in the man. Although tall, he was overly thin, and his skin was marred with several unsightly pockmarks. His response to Leonidas’ presence was to start lecturing him on how disrespectful his entire family was towards the Gods. First his brother Dorieus had set off on an adventure without so much as consulting Delphi, and now Cleomenes was manipulating oracles and provoking the Gods with his ill-advised campaign against Athens.
“What do you mean about manipulating oracles, sir?” Leonidas asked defensively, as he watched the way Eirana gazed admiringly at Asteropus. It wasn’t exactly “cow’s eyes” as Alkander had claimed, but she seemed to take every word he uttered unduly seriously—or at least more seriously than she took the things Leonidas said.
“Well, first your brother brings us the oracles that suggest we must support the Alcmaeonidae. Then he brings us evidence that they were false—bought with Alcmaeonidae bribes. But my father says the signs are completely against this campaign. He says it will end badly for us. He says that the claims of bribery might be lies. Or even if not, still we should have waited until the signs were good. Cleomenes is arrogant. He does not think he has to wait on the will of the Gods.”
Leonidas remembered that one of the adjectives his mother had coined for the hated “bastard” was “impious”, but he did not think it would serve any purpose to mention that now. On the other hand, he also remembered the eager way the Athenians at Persiai had learned of Sparta’s willingness to comply with Delphic advice. He tended to think the oracles had indeed been bought. But if oracles could be bought, how trustworthy were they?
At all events, the signs Asteropus’ father had seen proved right. Within two months, Cleomenes and his 2,000 volunteers were trapped on the Acropolis of Athens, surrounded by a hostile mob. Kleisthenes had fled even before the Spartans arrived and Cleomenes had entered Athens triumphantly, but he had then set about trying to impose a new constitution on the Athenians that would have institutionalised the power of his friend and host, Isagoras. The Athenians had no intention of letting the Spartans dictate their form of government to them, and they had taken up arms against the Spartans. Cleomenes and his entire army had fled to safety on the Acropolis, where—fortunately—they found the vast stores that had been feeding Hippias and his supporters when they had been the besiegers rather than the besieged.
Clearly this situation was even more ridiculous and humiliating than the stalemate of two years earlier. The news therefore created outrage, lamentation, and confusion in the city. While Demaratus and others who had opposed the campaign (including Asteropus, Leonidas noted sourly) appeared almost smug, the majority of the citizens were distressed by the “humiliation”. Furthermore, it seemed obvious that unless Cleomenes negotiated, the food stores found on the Acropolis would eventually run out, and then they would all starve or be forced to surrender—an appalling thought to the proud Spartans.
Leonidas went to Eirana’s kleros to express his concern over the fate of Eirana’s father Kyranios, trapped on the Athenian Acropolis with the others, but unfortunately her mother was absent on some errand and his reception from Eirana was outright cold.
“It’s his own fault,” Eirana told him, as she vigorously clipped roses from a vine in the garden behind the kleros and laid them in a flat basket for arranging in the house. “He shouldn’t have been so eager to go against the Gods and fight this war that has nothing to do with us.” Eirana was dressed in a very fine peplos that fluttered about her as she worked in the light breeze that came off the Eurotas. She had looped her long hair on to her head, and her lovely long neck was exposed. Everything about her was both beautiful and graceful; but Leoni
das could hardly overlook her hostility to him, either. She avoided looking at him whenever possible, and she never smiled for him. He was beginning to despair.
“How can you be so sure it was against the Gods’ wishes?” he asked cautiously.
“All the signs were bad,” Eirana insisted.
Leonidas could not stop himself from remarking bitterly, “No doubt you heard that from Asteropus.”
“Yes, I did,” Eirana declared, stopping her work and looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t know why you don’t accept that I love Asteropus, and I don’t want your attentions. As long as you insist on coming, my mother hopes she can marry me off to an Agiad. She likes the idea of being related to one of the kings. But if you just stop coming, then she’ll let me marry the man I love.”
Even though Leonidas had long sensed Eirana’s feelings, now that it was out in the open he found himself saying, “But what about Asteropus makes him better than me?”
“It’s not a matter of being better!” Eirana protested, adding the complaint: “Why do you men always see everything as a competition!? He’s not better; he’s just special to me. He’s intelligent and learned. He’s not only interested in sports and war.”
“I’m not only interested in sports and war,” Leonidas tried to tell her, but it only exasperated her.
“Maybe not, but you aren’t the same as Asteropus! You’re one of them! Like my father! You’ll be an officer one day, and Sparta will be at the centre of everything! I don’t want to marry a man who’s more interested in his troops than his children!”
Leonidas, who had neglected his duties to spend so much time with Eirana, felt the accusation was very unjust; but he also felt he couldn’t take any more rejection. “All right. I won’t ever bother you again,” he told her and departed.
He didn’t hurry back into the city as he should have. Eirana’s father, after all, was trapped on the Athenian Acropolis and could not surprise him here, and his unit was diligently training for the championships in the ball games. They were very good as a team and stood an excellent chance of being a finalist this year, so they took training seriously and could be counted not to get in trouble. As a mediocre ball player himself, Leonidas was not much use to them even as a coach, and it was this which had turned their training afternoons into his opportunity to go to see Eirana. With a glance towards the afternoon sun that was still above the Taygetos, he was confident that they were still at training and he need not rush.
Instead he lingered along the road, feeling sorry for himself. He really didn’t understand why he was so unsuccessful with women. He was no longer the ugly duckling he had been when younger, and with his assignment to the 18-year-olds he had demonstrated that he could earn responsibility. But unlike Alkander and Prokles, none of the maidens took any particular interest in him—except that hussy Lathria, and he detested her.
He dawdled all the way, and the sun was behind the mountains when he reached the bridge over the Eurotas. He was startled to find Euryleon waiting for him there. He called out: “Leonidas, sir! Come quick! Something terrible has happened.”
The guilt was almost paralyzing. Something had happened to one of his charges while he was off indulging himself on a futile courtship. He sprinted over the bridge and reached Euryleon. “What is it?! Has someone been hurt?”
“They’re saying the boy is dead, sir,” Euryleon told him over his shoulder, even as he started jogging back toward the ball field beyond the acropolis.
“Dead? But how? Who?”
“Oh, I don’t know the details, sir, but your friend Alkander is there. He knows more.”
Now Leonidas was completely confused, but the only thing to do was to keep running. He was sighted before he reached the ball field where, astonishingly, a game appeared to be in progress as if nothing had happened. (Euryleon didn’t play because his bad eyesight made him useless.) Alkander, however, rushed to meet him. “Have you heard?!”
“No. What?”
“One of Prokles’ boys died—drowned—in an accident last night. Prokles has been arrested again. This time for neglect of his duties, negligent homicide—and drinking. He was drunk, Leo. He and two other eirenes were drinking off by themselves after turn-in during a four-nighter. They were camping on the beach beyond Gytheon and had gone behind the dunes to be by themselves. The boys of their units decided to take advantage of their inattentiveness to “borrow” some fishing boats and go out for a moonlight sail. One of the boats capsized in a sudden squall; and although the other boys roused their drunken eirenes, they were unable to get out to the capsized boat in time to save one of the boys from drowning.”
Leonidas was staring at Alkander. He felt a horrible chill, knowing that he too had been neglecting his charges just now. “What about the other eirenes?”
“They’ve been arrested too, of course; but it’s Prokles who’s in the most trouble. It’s not just that the boy who died was from his unit; it’s that after the rape incident, there are a lot of people who think he needs to be taught a lesson.”
Leonidas knew it was all too true. He knew also that he wouldn’t be allowed to see Prokles. “Do his parents know?”
“They must. They would have been sent word. I only found out about it by chance—we happened to be near the jail when Prokles and the others were brought in. I got the story from the meleirenes who assisted with the arrest. Prokles is in a bad state, Leo. He looked terrible.”
Leonidas was remembering Lysandridas begging him to stand by Prokles, warning that he was too rebellious. He remembered all the times Prokles had chafed at the rules, broken them surreptitiously. But what else had he been doing just now at Eirana’s kleros? “How can we possibly help?” Leonidas asked in genuine distress.
Alkander shook his head in perplexity. “I don’t know exactly, but I’m sure we’ll be questioned. Did you ever know Prokles to drink? I mean, drink excessively?”
“No,” Leonidas answered honestly; and yet he knew that Prokles could so easily be tempted by anything that was forbidden.
As Alkander had predicted, they were questioned separately by the magistrates. The horrible thing about the interrogation was that everyone knew Leonidas was not a witness to the incident: he was being questioned exclusively about Prokles’ character. The last time he had been interrogated about Prokles, he had been able to swear with conviction that Prokles would never have used force with his girlfriend, that he had no need to, and that it just wasn’t in his nature. But now, asked if he thought Prokles respected Spartan law, Leonidas’ brain was filled with all the phrases of contempt and impatience that Prokles had uttered over the years.
He squirmed and wriggled and tried to find a way to defend his friend. He tried to make Prokles’ rebelliousness seem harmless, but each time the magistrates confronted him with: “A boy is dead! Is that harmless?!” Of course it wasn’t. It was terrible, and Leonidas felt partially guilty—because he had been at Eirana’s kleros so often when something could have happened to one of his charges.
“A young life has been snuffed out before it even had a chance to show the world what it was capable of. Do you want to face the boy’s mother and tell her that it was all just a harmless little breach of discipline? Drinking oneself into a stupor so profound they did not hear the boats being dragged down the beach and launched? Did not hear the shouting of the boys when the boat capsized? And when woken by the survivors, were still too drugged to be able to respond promptly and effectively?”
Leonidas wanted to put his hands over his ears to block out the words, the images.
“There are reasons for our laws!” the magistrate hammered into him. “We prohibit drinking for exactly this reason: it incapacitates us. Makes us slaves of wine rather than masters of our own bodies! Prokles is a strong youth! A good swimmer! If he had not been drinking, he would very likely have been able to save the boy. He would have dived into the water right away and reached the capsized fishing boat in time. Instead, he was hardly able to drag hims
elf to his feet, vomited several times before he even seemed to grasp what had happened, and then staggered down to the shore and plunged into the water so uncertainly that the boys thought he was likely to drown himself.”
Leonidas could think of no excuse for or defence of what his friend had done. He found himself whispering hopelessly, “I’m sure he’s learned from his mistake, sirs. He’s intelligent and—”
“The boy who’s dead doesn’t have a second chance, does he?”
Leonidas looked down miserably.
“Does he?” they pressed him cruelly.
“No, sir.”
Almost as bad as the certainty that Prokles was going to be punished in some terrible way was the malicious commentary of some of the townspeople. To Leonidas’ horror, he overheard citizens making slurs about Lysandridas. “What could you expect of the offspring of a coward and traitor?” they murmured self-righteously. Coward and traitor? Just a year ago, most of the city had turned out to honour him as a man of wisdom and courage. Leonidas wanted to spring at the throats of these people who implied that Lysandridas had “spent too long in Tegea” and failed to raise his offspring to be “true Spartans”. They conveniently forgot that the other two eirenes had been no less guilty, really—just luckier.
Leonidas and Alkander both tried to comfort Prokles’ parents; but Prokles’ mother refused visitors, and Philippos seemed to blame them for what had happened, implying they had been a “bad influence” on his son. Hilaira had to run after the youths, catching them up on the road and throwing herself into Alkander’s arms. “They’ve all gone mad!” she wailed miserably. “The whole city and now Dad, too! If only Granddad were still alive! He’d have knocked everyone’s heads together.”
A Boy of the Agoge Page 24