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82
“Stay here,” commands the priest. He walks into the temple, but returns only moments later hand in hand with the weirdest looking woman you’ve ever seen.
She’s something over fifty years old with unkempt greying black hair, thin as a pipe cleaner and with a pale face dominated by huge wild eyes. Frankly, she looks daft as a brush.
“This is Pythia, our chief priestess and oracle,” the priest introduces you.
She stares as if she’s about to eat you alive, but says nothing.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” you nod.
“Now,” says the priest, “you’re supposed to have sponsors, but since you haven’t, I’d better take their place. I don’t suppose you have a pelanos either?”
“What’s a pelanos?” you ask blankly.
“Ritual cake,” the priest says. “Obviously you don’t, so we’ll use this one.” He pulls a small cake from a fold in his robe and hands it to you. “I don’t see any sacrificial animal either -”
“I’m a member of Animal Rights and the Anti-Vivisection League!”
“- Yes, yes,” the priest says hastily. “We’ll forego the sacrificial animal in this instance. Walk this way.”
The three of you walk a little way from the temple to a small river. “The Castalian spring!” announces the Pythia. To your amazement (and horror) she starts to throw off all her clothes.
“You too,” the priest tells you.
What is this - some sort of orgy? If you’re prepared to take your clothes off in front of these extraordinary people, you can do so at 11. If modesty forbids it, you’ll be a lot better off at 118.
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83
As you step back from the body, there is a sudden thunderclap and a large (but depressingly familiar) voice booms down from the sky: “You blithering idiot! That was Paris you just killed!”
“Paris, France?” you frown, bewildered.
“No -Paris, Troy!” shouts Zeus from his heavenly abode. “When he got involved with my wife and those two other trouble-makers, it was the start of this whole Trojan War business. Now you’ve killed him, the war will never get started.”
“But I thought that’s what you wanted!” you protest.
“I wanted you to cut it short, not stop it happening altogether!” Zeus snaps. “I’d better send you back in time a little while so you can undo this ghastly mistake.”
And before you can protest, you find yourself whirling through spacetime in a giddying manner.
Roll one die. Score 1 and land at 33. Score 2 and land at 135. Score 3 and land at 93. Score 4 and land at 58. Score 5 and land at 84. Score 6 and you’re caught in a time-loop and have to roll the die again.
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84
Dappled sunlight. You’re in a clearing in the woods.
Paths lead north to 135, south west to 42, or north west to 10.
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85
Ah, the merry sight of happy children romping in the school playground, the joyous sound of happy laughter tinkling -
Wait a minute, something wrong here. The place certainly looks like a school since it’s packed with kids of about seven years old and upwards. But it’s all boys - no girls at all - and scores of the boys must be old blokes of thirty, for heaven’s sake! What’s going on here?
You catch a passing youngster by the ear. “What’s going on here?” you demand.
He twists out of your grip with the expertise and speed of a judo Black Belt. “How dare you treat me like a slave!” he snaps. “I demand we fight to the death!”
You’re not really going to fight this seven year old child to the death, are you? You can refuse by telling him to act his age at 2 But it’s your choice and if you really want to have a go at somebody smaller than yourself, you’ll find the action at 158
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86
You can tell right away this must be a Spartan encampment. Soldiers are racing up and down carrying heavy loads of rocks, washing themselves in freezing water, eating live scorpions, impatiently amputating broken arms that hinder their use of weapons and generally behaving in a very macho manner.
Two guards approach.
“Oh, you!” one calls. “Lay down your arms and come with us!”
No preliminaries, no by your leave. This is Sparta all right. But if you don’t feel like doing what you’re told, you can fight these two goons at 37. Should you be weary of fighting at this stage of your adventure, you can equally well go with them at 144 And if you’re really quick off the mark, you can make a break for Troy at 59.
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87
Dappled sunlight. You’re in a clearing in the woods. But wait - there’s a bearded character with a brownish cloak over his linen tunic seated beside an array of weapons and armour set out on the grass.
“Interest you in a few little security devices?” he asks. “Take your pick from this list.”
The list he hands you reads:
Breastplate -3 - 3 obols
Catapult +1 - 1 obol
Helmet -2 - 2 obols
Long sword +6 - 1 drachma
Shield -5 - 1 drachma
Short sword +3 - 3 obols
Short sword +5 - 5 obols
You can buy what you like from this list, provided you’ve got the wherewithal in cash. Once you’ve finished your arms dealing you can follow the path north to 156, east to 99, or south to 107.
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88
“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” the priest smiles as he bites the drachmas and drops them into a pocket in his robe. “Here’s your clue.”
With which he hands you a small piece of Egyptian papyrus on which is written:
If the gods live on Mount Olympus, go at once to 5, unless Apollo is a sun god in which case turn to 19. But if Apollo is not also known as Phoebus and has absolutely nothing at all to do with divine distance, ignore that last instruction and go instead to 28, unless Aphrodite is the goddess of light in which case you should go to 32 except when you believe Hera is the wife of Zeus, but was not the daughter of Titans in which case you should go instead to 72.
“I can’t understand this mumbo-jumbo!” you wail, shaking the paper under the priest’s nose.
“Tough,” he replies. “Did you ever know a priest who gave a money-back guarantee?”
No, neither did I. But you’re still faced with the same lethal old choice, I’m afraid. Are you going to 5, 19, 28, 32, or 72?
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89
“Whee, isn’t this fun!” shouts Achilles as he whips up the horses. Behind the chariot, the body of Hector bumps on the rocky ground.
But before you can reply, the familiar figure of Paris steps out of a small gate in the walls, an arrow in his bow.
“Hey, Paris,” Achilles taunts, “see what I’ve done to Hect -”
He stops abruptly as Paris’s arrow catches him in the heel, killing him instantly.
“Now you,” mutters Paris, notching another arrow.
Which misses your heel completely, but passes through your heart, deflects on your rib cage, punctures your lung then rips out your throat and lodges in your brain. Go to 13.
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90
“Baby?” you ask innocently. “Did you say baby? No, I’m afraid I haven’t seen him. Not at all. Not even in the distance.”
“How do you know my baby is a boy then?�
� the woman demands. “I never mentioned that.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” chant the four young men in Greek, drawing short swords and hurling themselves upon you.
Each of those swords gives the boys +4 on a successful hit. Since their mother’s bringing them up to be gentlemen, they’ll attack one at a time, but the fact remains you’ll have to dispatch all four to get out of this with a whole skin. As you’ve no weapons, you’ll fight the first one empty-handed, but if miraculously you succeed, you can use his sword for subsequent fights. Each lad has a strapping 50 Life Points.
If the boys succeed in doing what their mother told them, go to 13. If you manage, against all odds, to make it through this early punch-up, you can turn triumphantly to 69.
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91
“Right!” exclaims the huge man. “Have three obols!” With which he presents you with three small coins.
“Can I go in now?” you ask, testing the coins with your teeth.
“Not yet,” he says. “That was only the first question. The second question is: how many children has Hera? One, two, three, four or five?”
Nice to get a bit of money, but can you answer his second question. If you think the answer is one, turn to 3. If two, turn to 15. If three turn to 27. If four turn to 57. If five turn to 71. If you haven’t a clue, you can always get back to 61 and select another destination.
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92
“I’m afraid it’s going to be a fight,” you say reluctantly.
As well you might. Not only are you tired from your fight with the guards, but Achilles has an infinite number of Life Points on account of his Mum (the sea nymph Thetis) dipping him in the River Styx when he was a nipper to make him immortal. Your only chance is to get him in the heel, which was the only bit didn’t go into the water since Thetis was holding him by it at the time. If you can strike a heel blow, only possible by throwing a double six, you’ll knock him unconscious long enough to stop the fight. If not you will score no damage against him whatsoever, despite what the dice may show. If you manage to stop the fight, turn to 79. If Achilles kills you, read about it at 13.
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93
Dappled sunlight. You’re in a clearing in the woods.
Paths lead north east to 99, south east to 58, south to 78 or south west to 107.
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94
“Well done!” exclaims Achilles, absently tying Hector’s corpse to the back of his chariot so he can drag him about in full view of the city walls. “Now, do you want to come with me while I bounce this body a bit or would you prefer me to write you a note of safe passage to King Menelaus who’s an old friend of mine?”
Decisions, decisions! If you fancy a tour of the city walls with Achilles (and Hector in tow) turn to 89. If you’d prefer safe conduct to King Menelaus, go to 101.
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95
You wake up with a pounding headache. The first thing that hits you is the smell. The second is the gloom. You pull yourself painfully to your feet, every muscle aching and look around. You’re in a tiny stone-flagged chamber that feels suspiciously like a prison cell. You’ve been lying on a bed of filthy straw, your only covering a scrap of paper that turns out to be a map of Sparta left by the last miserable wretch who used this place.
You move across to the door and examine the lock. From your modern, sophisticated viewpoint it appears a simple mechanism, probably fairly easy to pick, given time. But before you can test your skill, you hear footsteps outside and a cheery voice calls, “Wake up inside - it’s time for the slops they call dinner round here!”
Obviously a guard, so now you have a choice. You can jump the guard when he comes in at 134 or you can eat your slops, regain your strength and try to pick the lock later at 74.
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96
“Well,” you remark cheerfully, “I could do with an honest day’s toil slaving in the sun for a pittance of a wage.”
But in fact it isn’t too bad at all. Everybody’s extremely chatty and quite prepared to talk about their life in Sparta. One of the women and two of the men turn out to be slaves.
“I was captured by pirates and fetched 300 drachmas when I was sold,” says the man who spoke to you first.
“You mean you don’t own this place?” you ask, amazed.
He shakes his head. “No, I just run it. Lots of educated slaves like me end up running businesses. I’m saving up tips to buy my freedom. When I do that, I might go into partnership with my present master.”
This isn’t at all the way you imagined slavery to be. “Are there many slaves in Greece?” you ask curiously.
“About one third the population in Athens,” he tells you. “Much the same in Sparta, although most of us are sent to the hinterland to farm since the Spartans are tough and don’t much like house slaves looking after them.”
“What do you do if you’re not farming?”
He sniffs. “House slaves help the women look after children and the old people. Others do building work. The clever ones are in craft shops like us. There’s a sword maker down the street owns more than thirty slaves in his forge. And you know Lysias, the orator -?” You shake your head, but he ignores you. “- well, he has a shield factory that keeps a hundred and twenty slaves busy.” He shrugs. “Anyway, it’s better than the silver mines. There are about forty thousand of us down there. Dreadful conditions.”
Enlivened by the conversation, the day passes quickly. You collect your wages and are about to leave when the freeman of the party suddenly calls after you, “Want to spend the night at my place? You’re good company for a barbarian and it’ll save you looking for digs.”
Nice offer. You can take it up at 131. But if you’re feeling anti-social, you can give him the finger at 151.
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97
“Wrong!” shouts the huge man, casually hurling you all the way to 61.
So pick yourself up, dust yourself off and select another destination from your 61 map.
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98
Achilles leads you to the largest of the tents, with guards at the entrance. They salute him smartly and gesture him to enter. A muscular, grey-haired man looks up as you walk in.
“I want you to meet an interesting young barbarian, Menelaus,” Achilles says easily.
Menelaus? Oh wow, this must be the King Menelaus, Helen’s husband, who started the war when Paris nicked his wife. He looks you up and down, frowning thoughtfully. “You aren’t the youngster working for Zeus by any chance?” he asks.
“Yes, I am,” you nod.
The king stands up and dismisses Achilles with a wave. “Good,” he says. “So you can tell me how to shorten this war. What I want to know is if I should fight that villain Paris in single combat or try some other tactic. What do you think?”
Interesting question. If you think he should fight Paris go to 129. If you think he should try something else, turn to 108.
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99
Dappled sunlight. You’re in a clearing in the woods.
Paths lead north east to 143, south to 33, south west to 93, west to 87 and north west to 104.
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100
“Maybe I’d better look after this myself,” you tell the men and walk on down the hillside.
As you approach the tree line, a fit-looking woman in her thirties emerges with a sword in her hand. She places the other ha
nd on her hip and watches your approach with a small grim smile. “I see you’ve found Heracles,” she says as you come within earshot.
“If that’s his name,” you nod. “Are you his mother?”
“I am and proud of it. Little devil’s been racing off to get into mischief within a few hours of being born. I expect he’ll grow up into some sort of superman.”
“He will if he’s the Heracles I’m thinking of,” you mutter, trying desperately to remember if the Heracles/Hercules of Greek/Roman myth came from Sparta.
“But anyway,” the woman is saying, “I’m very grateful to you for bringing him back safely. You’d scarcely credit it, but there are people who’d actually leave a baby in the open to fend for itself. No, since I notice you don’t have a weapon - and you’ll certainly need one to survive in a place like Sparta - let me show you my gratitude by giving you this.” With which she hands you the sword she is carrying.
GreekQuest Page 6