Truth and Sparta

by Camille Oster

  These were the tools of his trade, she thought as she looked over the collection of sharp blades and other contraptions she didn’t know. They were well cared for by someone, the metal reflected the light. She had reached out to touch one when she heard a sound behind her and she instinctively pulled her hand back and turned.

  He walked across the room to a table and Chara watched him walk. It was still disconcerting to see him, she was again struck how large and muscular he was—so completely alien. He moved smoothly and with practice as he pulled his sword out of his belt and put it on the table.

  Chara didn’t know what to do with herself, she wasn’t even sure he had seen her.

  “You came,” he said, his deep voice breaking through the quiet of the room.

  “You told me to.”

  He wasn’t looking at her, but she could tell that he smiled. He finally looked at her and she felt the intensity of his gaze. He was looking her over again and she wanted to pull her arms across her body.

  She didn’t know what to say, but the silence just made her feel worse.

  “This is your room?” she asked after she couldn’t take the pressure of the silence anymore.

  “It used to be.”

  “But not now?”

  “I don’t live here anymore and I visit but rarely.”

  Chara was encouraged to hear that. “Where do you live?”

  “In Sparta, in the barracks.” Chara already knew that Spartan males of his age lived in Sparta, the metropolis and center of their state.

  “You will inherit this when your father passes?”

  “Yes,” he said and sat down in a chair. “Do you dance?”

  “No.”

  “Shame,” he said. He was watching her again. “What do you do?”

  “I feed animals mostly. Lead the ox and cart, and help with the sowing and the harvesting. I cook.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “A very simple life then,” he said. Chara wanted to snort. It didn’t feel particularly simple at the moment; it had been at one point in time and she missed that time desperately. “You were married.”

  “Yes.” He seemed to wait for her to elaborate, but she didn’t know what to say and wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to help this conversation along. She didn’t know why he needed to know these things. Why was he delving into this when he could be using her for the purposes he wanted already?

  “But no longer?”

  “No. He died.”

  “And who was this man you were married to?”

  A boy more than a man, Chara thought but she saw no need to point that out. “His name was Peracili and he died of a fever.”

  “And he lived in the village?”

  “No to the east, three days walk.”

  “Three days walk and you’re in the ocean.”

  “Three days walk for me then.”

  “And now you have returned to your family.” It was a statement which didn’t need an answer. Silence fell in the room again. He made no move to say or do anything, and Chara had the uncomfortable feeling that she was supposed to do something.

  “How long are you staying?” she finally said partly to fill the silence, but also to know what she could potentially be dealing with.

  “Three days.” He was watching her more intently. “Why do you ask?”

  “I suppose I want to know if there will be any more interruption to my schedule.”

  “Your schedule,” he said with amusement. “Then yes, for three days.” She nodded. She could deal with three days. He’d said three days, which hopefully meant he wasn’t taking her with him wherever he was going.

  “We are going to Pylos,” he volunteered. Chara had never heard of it. “The Athenians have set up a colony there.” It obviously had some significance, but it escaped her. “Can’t have them this close.” She wasn’t sure whether he was telling her that they should be worried about the Athenians.

  She shrugged. “It is your war, not ours.”

  “A bit of a rebel, are you?” he said with curiosity. She probably shouldn’t have said that, she could potentially lead herself into a world of trouble if she gave that impression.

  “No. We just don’t have any particular vested interest in this war.”

  “Liberate Greece from the Athenians is of no concern to you?”

  “It will not end up liberating us, will it?”

  He smiled. “There is gumption in you. Come here.”

  She hesitated—maybe he was going to punish her for her impudence, but she noted that he didn’t look angry. She tentatively took a step toward him where he was still sitting.

  “Closer,” he said and she complied. He didn’t do anything for a while and Chara almost jumped when he raised his hand. He placed it on her leg and slid it up under her tunic. Chara felt a thrill of something, maybe fear, but also something else, but she refused to acknowledge it. His hand on her hip guided her a step closer. His fingers undid the tie that kept her undergarments in place. It fell to the floor and Chara felt her skin exposed to the cooler air of the night. Her breath hitched as his fingers ran over the skin around her hips and her backside.

  He got up and pulled her to him at the same time. Before she knew it, she was being lain down on the soft mattress of the bed. His hand was roaming up her side, pushing her tunic higher. He leant in closer and kissed her. She didn’t know what to do with the intimate contact or the soft sensations it stirred. He tasted of dates and meat—it wasn’t odious, just overwhelming.

  His kiss was urgent and he wanted access into her mouth. She ended up relenting in the confusion and he deepened the kiss. Once he had access into her mouth, he seemed to slow down. His tongue seemed to tease her, exploring her mouth, running along the edge of her lips and her teeth. She tried to suppress any reaction she felt to it.

  She could feel the hardness of him further down and she knew he was ready to take this further. She wondered why he didn’t hurry; get to the end with a little more speed as she wanted this to be over. This leisurely teasing was not something she thought she could tolerate; it felt a little too intense. He pulled out of the kiss and moved his attention down the column of her neck.

  Somehow in the process, her knees had come up around him, seemingly welcoming him. She felt incredibly guilty, but she couldn’t entirely put her finger on why. He moved, then she could feel him pushing inside her. It was a strange feeling of fullness. He was watching her now; she could feel his gaze of her. She quickly looked in his eyes noticing that there was no reproach or malice in there, they were just dark and distracted. He liked this, a lot, seemingly caught in the sensations of the experience.

  He moved in and out of her. Chara tried not to see or feel the sensuality of the act. It seemed a strange thing that a soldier—so harsh and stoic—would be so caught up in such sensations. His eyes seemed to close slowly and he leant down to kiss her again. She wondered what was going through his mind—maybe nothing was, but she was curious how he saw her, if she was just an object he used like any other tool. He had once said that she was pretty.

  He got more vigorous as he got closer to his release. Chara watched him as he was completely absorbed in what he was doing and feeling. He pushed her forcefully down in the mattress as he found his release, groaning as he spent himself in her. She knew she’d distracted herself from the sensations by watching him intently, seeing the process as if an impartial observer.

  He rolled off her, his skin was wet with sweat and he was breathing deeply. It was a funny act, Chara thought, intimate and messy. She watched as his breath started to slow. His eyes were closed and he was facing away from her slightly. She wasn’t entirely sure exactly when it had happened, but his tunic was gone. She could see the broad planes of his chest, the muscles that seemed to cover every bit of him in constant motion as he drew deep breaths. She could also see his manhood, resting on his tight lower abdomen.

  He really was quite beautiful, his skin darkening slightly along his arms and legs. He
was a very different creature from her husband, in more ways than one.

  He was sleeping now; she could see the much slower rise and fall of his chest. Chara slid out of the bed and pulled down her tunic which had bunched up by her arms. She tied her undergarments back in place as quietly as she could. Surely if he was asleep, she could leave. She could at least get away with a misunderstanding if that wasn’t the case. He had gotten what he wanted after all.

  She picked up her sandals and quietly let herself out the room. She more or less remembered the way she’d come.

  “Leaving?” a voice said beside her, startling her. It was the Helot servant.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “This way,” he said pointing her toward the garden. She already knew the way and was going to tell him so, but then wondered why she would bother. She followed the man and he let her out of the main gate.

  Chara ran all the way home. It hadn’t been that long and perhaps she could return without anyone knowing that had happened. Luckily there was enough moonlight to show her the way without too much trouble.

  Chapter 7

  Chara remained indecisive all day whether she should go to Nicias that evening or not. Technically he hadn’t ordered her to be there in direct terms; she’d snuck out before he’d had the chance to, but on the other hand, he had said that her ordeal would last three days. Or rather, the question was if he would refrain from punishing her based on a technicality. Spartans weren’t known for their fairness or mercy on anything, let alone arguments about terms. Maybe she could just stay clear until he left and then forget all about it. Or he could be here tomorrow morning looking for her.

  She wouldn’t admit it to herself, but she also harbored some curiosity about him. She didn’t quite know what to make of the time they’d spent together, or the act that he so clearly enjoyed. He was so very different from Peracili in every way she could describe.

  When it came down to it, she couldn’t risk the punishment of not going. It was one more night, it hadn’t taken more than an hour the evening before and it hadn’t been strictly awful. She really couldn’t justify the defiance.

  She reached the Menares house a little later than the day before. It was well past dark by the time she got there and the same Helot answered the door. He didn’t bother asking her anything this time, just led her quietly through the house to the same room. Chara felt less anxious this time because she had a better idea of what was about to happen.

  She waited a little longer which made her wonder if she was supposed to come at all. She couldn’t sneak away now as he would have been told she was there. Maybe he would tell her to leave, having had enough of her. She hadn’t even considered taking on the idea that she might be rejected by him. She should be ecstatically happy, but a rejection was a rejection.

  “Who gave you your name?” he said. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

  “My parents,” she responded. “I don’t know exactly.”

  “Do they love you?”

  “Yes.” It was an odd question.

  “What about your husband, did you grieve him?”

  She didn’t answer. The answer was no to the both of his question. Her relationship with her husband hadn’t developed like she’d hoped. She had foreseen a sweet relationship, but he was a surly boy who didn’t particularly like anything about her.

  “Did you wish him dead?” he asked teasingly.

  “No,” she responded. Actually there had been a few times when she’d wished just that, but it wasn’t like she had prayed for it. She hadn’t thought it would actually happen.

  She felt her heart beat faster as he stepped closer. There was something instinctively intimidating about him even though she knew he was not going to hurt her. His hand came up and he stroked her hair. She didn’t know how to react so she didn’t.

  “Was he considered a lucky man?”

  “Well, he died very young of a fever, so I don’t think so,” she said feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

  “Am I ruining your prospects for remarrying?”

  “Not more than a dead husband.” His death had pretty much seen to that, particularly as there was such a shortage of marriageable male Helots. He stroked her cheek slowly with his thumb.

  “You are so very pretty,” he said. She couldn’t hide the fact that she liked hearing it. It wasn’t something she had heard before.

  He kissed her. She was getting used to his touch now—and to his taste. The kiss felt less awkward and less confronting than the previous ones. But he wanted more than a kiss. He lifted her up and carried her to the bed. He pulled her tunic off and exposing her.

  He directed the whole act and he made her ride him while his gaze roamed her body. It was much more confronting than the previous night where she’d just lain there. She complied, but it was much more difficult to keep a distance in her mind as his eyes sought connection with her the entire time. She wondered what he wanted from her. Her curiosity only grew as she watched him being increasingly overcome by the sensations she was harnessing in him. He had given her control—why would he want to do that, she wondered.

  Chara flatly ignored any sensation what was being drawn in her. She knew it was there and she chose not to delve into it. She’d had brief flashes of it with her husband and she’d chased the elusive thing with everything in her. Now, it sat there waiting to be acknowledged—so very close, but she skirted around it—pretended that it wasn’t there. It was almost going to overtake her when he was getting close to his release. She felt it coming for her as she watched him struggling with containing his release, his groan echoing around the quiet walls. It was like a dream when she was being chased and was just about caught when she woke up and it was over. She sighed out relief intermixed slightly with frustration.

  She watched as he recovered from the exertion, staying where she was—sitting on his hips.

  “We march for Pylos tomorrow.” He pulled her down into the bed and rolled over to face her, supported by his elbow. He had said as much last time, so it was not news to her. “There will likely be battle.”

  Chara wondered if he would perish in it. She had teased her mother with that fate just a few days ago. Maybe her wishing men dead made it so. Abstractly, it would be a shame. It was a shame when anyone died, particularly someone so young and vital. She saw no purpose to it—it was just a tragedy.

  “Why do you care about recapturing Pylos? What is there that is of such importance?”

  “There is nothing there, but it is on the Peloponnese and the Athenians don’t belong on the Peloponnese.”

  “What will happen if they stay?”

  “They could march on anywhere. They could come here, burn everything. Kill everyone.”

  “Like you have done in Attica? It would seem they are only doing what you have done.”

  “You seem keen to martyr yourself to the cause of fairness. It is your family that will suffer. The Atticans run to Athens and hide behind their walls.”

  “But you will not protect us the same way.”

  “We cannot afford to let our food supply be attacked.”

  “I can’t say I understand the point of any of it,” Chara admitted.

  “It is about the future of Greece. It is the right path. The Gods are on our side, they sent the plagues on Athens to prove it.” Chara couldn’t even pretend that she understood the politics behind it—from what she saw no one could win. It wasn’t like Sparta could ever control Athens or the other way around, so how was a true victory ever possible?

  “The only reason they could be at Pylos is to engage with you, if you do not engage, there is no purpose for them,” she said trying to understand why this long winded war was still continuing with no end in sight.

  “Doesn’t mean that a challenge can go un-answered. What message would that send to our allies? It is only in unity that we will defeat Athens.” It was unusual to hear a Spartan say they needed anyone but themselves.

  He got out of the bed—he
’d had enough of the conversation. Chara felt no more enlightened about the reasoning behind their action either, but then she hadn’t really expected to. The faint light in the room cast shadows on the walls, shadows of his very perfect form. It shined off his golden hair as it curled around his neck. Chara watched him as she walked around the room, then settled in one of the chairs.

  “Should I leave?” she asked. He didn’t immediately answer. She started to rise out of bed when he said no.

  She wondered if he was scared of the battle he was about to face—he would have faced many over the last six years. But then it was his purpose, he had been born and raised to be a soldier.

  He sat for a while longer before extinguishing the lamp. It was black inside the room when he did and she felt him return to the bed. His heat filled the bed with comfort, but she didn’t sleep. When his breath began to slow, she lifted the blanket up to get out, but his arm came around her waist and pulled her back. His arm stayed around her as he returned to sleep and after a while she could only do the same, lulled by the warmth of his body.

  Chara’s life quickly returned to normal with Nicias’ departure. Her absence that evening she’d spent with him was not mentioned by any of her family, but they must have known what happened.

  Chara didn’t know if she’d ever see him again. She was somewhat confident that she would never be attending to him in the same capacity. He would probably forget all about her as he moved onto wherever they were going after Pylos.

  Time passed, but the Spartan engagement at Pylos seemed to stretch out—there was mention of it in the village. There were never outright discussions because everyone feared spies recounting their words, but it seemed that things had not gone in the Spartans’ favor. There were dead and there were captured they said, and lots of them.