Truth and Sparta

by Camille Oster

  Chara tried not to think of Nicias and his fate. She tried to distance herself from the events that occurred when he was here. She never mentioned it to anyone, but she had the feeling that they knew. Only Doros could have told people, she guessed. It didn’t matter, it was over now.

  She had thought it was over, until she started to get sick—constant nausea made her whole life unpleasant. She had suspicions, but she didn’t want to confront them. She had missed a bleed, but that did happen to women sometimes, she knew. It had even happened to her once with great commotion in her husband’s family—their hopes later to be quashed.

  “You are carrying the Spartan’s child,” her mother said one day. Chara didn’t answer, but she knew it was true.

  “I thought I was barren,” she responded. It hadn’t been an outcome she had anticipated even when the signs had grown clear.

  “It must have been Peracili that was barren.” No one had ever mentioned that men could be barren, and Chara hadn’t realized that it could have been his fault. Her mother came over and stroked her back.

  “He will take the child,” her mother said after a while. “They always do.” Chara knew it was true—everyone knew. It was their policy. They didn’t want more Helot women spawning even stronger Helots with Spartan blood, continuing to widen the Helot population while the Spartan one was shrinking.

  “He might be dead,” Chara responded. She couldn’t in her mind even conceive of a child yet, much less losing one. She realized she would be much better off if it was true and he had perished.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  Chapter 8

  Pylos had turned into a nightmare. They’d lost men—not lost on the whole, trapped—prisoners on an island and hemmed in by the Athenians. The Gods had not been with them and no one understood why. The enemy had 400 of their numbers—close to half of them citizens. It left the Spartan generals uncertain of what to do. They couldn’t fight and they weren’t prepared to leave, so they were just there waiting. The rains had started and it was getting colder. They hadn’t been prepared to stay this long, but they simply couldn’t afford to lose these men. The prisoners made up a sizeable proportion of their army and there would be a heavy price to pay back in Sparta. Not only was this a devastating defeat, but the Athenians held prisoner the sons of some of the most influential families in Sparta.

  Nicias had been lucky, he’d been on the other side of the bay at the time they were surrounded on the island a short distance off the coast. But now he was stuck here, not able to leave and not able to do anything to rescue his compatriots. The greatest fear was that the Athenians would execute every prisoner they had; although the Spartan reinforcements lying in wait across the bay was perhaps the only thing keeping them from doing it. They could not move and there was no resolution in sight. Winter was coming and the camp was miserable enough as it was.

  Nicias felt like he hadn’t been dry for weeks. The whole camp was muddy and wet. At least, the supply lines from Sparta were established now so they weren’t hungry like they had been. The Athenians received supplies by sea and they didn’t have the means to stop it. The enemy had the power at this point and it was an awful feeling, sending the morale in the camp very low. Nicias was certain it would be the same back in Sparta. General Agis would be under close scrutiny for the failure of the campaign, the leaders in Sparta would see this as a monumental failure on his part and they would need some kind of retribution. Agis would have to defend himself well or he would find himself exiled.

  The days dragged on with nothing to do but to seek some shelter from the rain, attempt to keep a fire going with the soggy wood they had and pray for forgiveness for whatever had caused the Gods to require their suffering. Nicias couldn’t help his thoughts drifting back home, to the more carefree days of the summer. He also thought about the Helot girl he had claimed, her sweet face and tempting body. If he could get a wish to be somewhere at the moment, it would be to be there with her waiting in his bedroom. His body tightened at the thought. There was little relief to find here, there was little privacy and he did not find other men to his taste. He would perhaps be a little less miserable if he did, but it just didn’t call to him, he much preferred the soft curves of his Helot girl. He envied her simple life—not that he would trade his life for being a Helot, but just the simplicity of it.

  He would claim her again, if he was ever released from here. He couldn’t take her back to Sparta as he had no means to keep her there. It was best to have her at his father’s estate. He would just make more of an effort to travel back there when he could. He rarely went back when he was younger, he’d felt no reason to as there was enough diversion in Sparta, but lately he felt more like there was something absent. He harbored hopes that a bride would come his way, but there were no signs yet. His father was not quite powerful enough to draw the attention of ambitious fathers seeking fortuitous alliances. His father’s estate was too far away from Sparta and his influence didn’t extend to sway the fathers of one of the rare Spartan daughters.

  Nicias knew he would eventually be given an estate, probably along the borderlands where they needed people to oversee the Helots and make sure they were not plotting mischief. He understood their desire to revolts, but it was not something Sparta could afford—especially during a war. The Helots had to be contained—the Spartan way of life was dependent on it. Once he had his estate, he could keep a Helot girl with him. Whether it would be Chara or some other girl, he didn’t know.

  For now the thoughts of Chara were keeping his mind occupied when there was nothing else.

  Chara’s belly grew relentlessly. She wished and prayed for it to stop, but it wouldn’t. She knew this innocent creature would meet suffering and she wished the Gods would claim it before it met its fate. Nicias would come for the child, he was duty bound to do so—half caste children were not tolerated. They feared the Spartan strength, any strength in the Helot people. A boy he would take to serve in the army, but would never be a citizen—a girl he would take to expose.

  She kept thinking of solutions, following Nicias wherever he took the baby and stealing it back once he left it. A baby would be hard to hide, especially with the ever present spies.

  It didn’t take long before everyone could see what state she was in and there were a lot of questions, but they were asked behind her back.

  Doros stayed away more and more and Chara was almost relieved because she didn’t like seeing the recrimination in his eyes whenever he looked at her. She didn’t like seeing the curiosity and sometimes hostility in other peoples’ eyes either, so she stayed home even when she had cause to go to the village. Her growing belly was making it more difficult to work, but she tried her hardest; she didn’t want to father to despair because of it. He refused to mention it, but she knew that it was not something he wanted for her. Working the olive trees became more taxing for her, but she pushed herself, collapsing into her cot as soon as the sun went down.

  “We need to take our olives to the press,” her father said one morning. “Stelio has given us a slot for today so we must hurry. You will have to help me,” he said with a smile and Chara nodded. She normally love going to the press this time of year as it had quite a jovial atmosphere when the village came together and pressed the very last of the olives into oil. She felt nervous going this year because of her state, but her father needed help so she would go.

  The ride over was rough and slow, the uneven road meant that Chara had to watch the pots full of olives to ensure they didn’t fall off. As expected, there were many people from the village when they arrived, but it had a much more subdued feeling to it. Chara wondered if it was her arrival, but she soon spotted the real reason—Menares was sitting on a little stool along the wall. Chara could see some of his servants darting in and out of the press and she wondered why he was here. Technically it was his press, but he never came here in person.

  It didn’t matter, she determined and busied herself with the tasks she needed to do
to help her father.

  Stelio came over to them. “I am afraid you’ll have to wait. The Spartan has come and taken the press. He likely won’t be finished until tomorrow. He doesn’t care about how we plan for its use. Maybe you can leave your harvest here, you can have use it in the morning when they’ve cleared his stuff out,” he said indicating toward Menares with his head. He then looked at Chara, noting her belly. “Panos will have to work through the night. I think it is better that way.” Chara knew it was an act of compassion; it should be them that worked through the night, but she would not be capable of it and it seemed that Doros was not interested in such duties at the moment. It annoyed her greatly that he could go off and leave her father to deal with their harvest on his own.

  Chara could only carry the very smallest pots into the building housing the press as the village men helped them unload the larger ones.

  She had to walk past the older Spartan as she carried the small pot she’d pulled off the cart. She didn’t like walking past him, but there was no other way.

  “You’re Nicias’ girl, aren’t you?” he asked as she did. She faltered in her step. She didn’t know what to say. He was looking at her belly then sniffed. She took it as dismissal and kept walking, placing the pot down and returned to the cart without looking back as she passed him again.

  He had seen her belly and he had likely understood about the baby, which meant that Nicias would now know before long. It made it much more real for her. Nicias would know of the baby and he would come for it. She felt her inside twist with fear and anxiety. Even though she knew this would happen all along, the outcome actually being in motion was hard to bear. This innocent child didn’t deserve to be so cruelly treated. She wanted to plead with Nicias, but she knew that it would do no good—his father knew, so he had to rid himself of the child or there would be recriminations for him if he didn’t. Chara felt trapped.

  The ride home was long and cumbersome. Chara went straight to the little shrine she had set up and prayed for an answer, for a solution to the predicament she was in.

  Chapter 9

  Chara started to feel more desperate when she felt the baby move. It was going to arrive soon and she knew there was nothing she could do to slow it down. She was getting tired earlier in the day as well, and she was struggling to keep up with her duties. Her parents were sympathetic, but they were also getting older and had trouble dealing with the extra workload.

  “The Spartan’s child is going to pop out before long,” Doros said one day.

  “Not something I have failed to notice,” she replied curtly. Actually her mother told her it was some time yet before the baby came, but her belly was growing heavy. Her mother said her belly would change when it was time and Chara hadn’t seen any change other than it growing bigger.

  “He will take it.”

  “Yes, I know Doros,” she said tersely. “You need to help father more. It’s harder and harder for me and you need to pull your weight.”

  “So I can feed the Spartans? No thanks.”

  “You are going to get yourself killed acting like this.”

  “Spartans don’t have time to worry about me—they have bigger problems to deal with. In case you hadn’t noticed, Athens has them hamstrung. They have taken prisoners—lots of them. Athens is full of Spartan prisoners. Rumor is that they’ve taken Cythera, which means that the Spartans have lost their grain supply.”

  “Which will make them worry more about where their own food comes from.”

  She feared that Doros was planning a revolt. It would lead him into serious trouble when it was noticed—it would get them all into trouble. “They are still paying attention back home. Your activities will be noticed.”

  “I met a Messenian the other day. They’re fighting with the Athenians.” He looked around and quietly added. “They support us.” Chara hadn’t known there was an ‘us’, but apparently Doros had found some likeminded people.

  “They have no risk to take, you do and you are risking our lives.”

  “Slavery is no life.”

  “You have no right to decide for us.”

  “You are too subservient to do anything but what the Spartans tell you to.” He looked down at her, nodding to her belly before turning away. “Revolt is coming whether you like it or not,” he said as he walked away. Chara watched his angry, aggressive strides as he left. It felt like they were always at odd ends since she had gotten back—their little family felt fractured.

  Della came to visit in the afternoon to Chara’s delight. Her friend didn’t normally walk all the way out to their home, but Chara rarely went to the village these days.

  “You babe will be here soon,” Della said. “Are you afraid?”

  “I am afraid for the baby.”

  “He must know by now.” Chara had not told Della about the father, but it only went to show how much the people in the village already knew. “What does Doros say?”

  “Not much—that we should revolt.”

  “He’s been saying it in the village too. He is not keeping check on his tongue.”

  “He’s mentioned something about Messenians urging revolt.”

  “They have come though the village. Their spies are in the village every other day or so. They are recruiting men for their army.”

  “Helot men?”

  “Yes—or to desert,” Della confirmed. “Not that we have that many young men left, but I could see how a life in the Messenian army would tempt Doros.”

  “I worry that Doros’ attention is more focused on causing trouble here.”

  “If that is the case, he will attract trouble before long.”

  Della didn’t stay long, but her words preyed on Chara’s mind. Desertion was a grave charge and it was punished with death more often than not, and the punishment was metered out to the whole family to serve as a deterrent to others. She felt a kick in her belly and she rubbed the spot where she could feel the baby’s movement. She knew she had to find a way to save this baby. The Messenians weren’t interested in pregnant women, but there had to be something she could do. She made up her mind that she would find one of these spies.

  She went to the village the next morning, telling her father that she had to ask a friend about a cot for the baby. She hated lying, but this was important, she needed to talk to one of these spies and she would not have her father talk her out of it—or forbid it.

  She wandered around the village for a while, resting often. For a long time, there was no one who didn’t belong there, but then she spotted a man she didn’t know. He was dark, with dark hair tied back. He had the look of a soldier—not the well-honed physique of Spartans, but the wariness in his eyes as she approached him showed that he was concerned about his safety.

  “Are you looking for someone?” she asked. She didn’t want to ask him outright until she got a sense of him.

  “I am looking for an old friend.” Chara could tell by his accent that he was not a Spartan. He spoke like the Messenians, not like a Helot. Chara watched him for a moment. Spartan spies were always Helots. She would never know for sure, so she had to take a chance. If she was wrong, she would suffer.

  “I understand that people are being urged to desert,” she stated blatantly trying to keep her voice steady; she didn’t see any point in mincing her words. She certainly didn’t want to be misunderstood and then have him walk away.

  “There are rumors regarding such things, I understand,” the man said carefully. He was wary of her as well. “Who would you be talking about? Obviously you are in no state to serve in the Messenian army. In fact, you don’t look like you should be walking around at all.”

  “I need to find somewhere to go.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help you,” he said and started to turn, but Chara grabbed onto his arm.

  “They are going to kill my baby,” she pressed. “There must be somewhere I can go.”

  “You can sell yourself into slavery.”

  “That’s hardly
an option.”

  “It will keep your baby alive.”

  “But it has to live as a slave. You are heartless,” she accused. She let go of his arm, ready to let him walk away—he had nothing for her, she decided. But he stayed longer than she expected him to, his eyes darted around to see if anyone was watching them.

  “We can’t help, but perhaps the Athenians can. They require people to help in Attica. Their lands have been ravaged, as has the population. They would need people who are skilled with growing food.”

  “I have worked the fields all my life,” she confirmed.

  “Then I suggest you find an Athenian to talk to.”

  Chara watched as he left. It sounded simple, but she knew full well that she couldn’t just approach any Athenian—she needed someone who could say yes. She knew there were Athenians along the coast, she’d heard they raided coastal villages on a regular basis, but she knew they were hardly going to listen to her during a raid—she would just end up a slave that way. She needed an administrator, not some soldier she met during acts of aggression and war. But dealing with Athenians—the enemy of the Spartan state—was an act of treason, but since seeking out ways of desertion was punishable with death, why not go the whole length?

  She searched her mind trying to find some way forward. Travelling to Athens was impossible in her condition, besides, her absence would be noted. Nicias would come looking for her and if she was not there, he would know that she was not only defying him, she was acting against the wellbeing of Sparta, which counted as a more severe charge. She had to be here when he came, at least for a little while, until he saw that there was no baby. Later, she could sneak away and join her child.

  Chara felt like a massive load had been lifted off her. She had a plan now. She didn’t know if she could make it work, but she had something to strive for. She didn’t just have to sit there and wait for him to come take her baby. A whole future opened up to her, one with a child she could care for. She had given up on that dream once her husband’s family convinced her that their barrenness was her fault. As it turned out, it was his and not hers. The accusation bristled now with its unfairness, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter anymore, only the baby—her baby.