Truth and Sparta

by Camille Oster

  He stepped back. “How would you suggest we keep control if we don’t give ourselves the leeway to remove threats?”

  “But your definition of a threat is too broad. You kill boys barely men—most of whom would never be a threat.”

  “But it is the pool amongst where threats come from.”

  “Then provide an incentive instead. Surely there must be a way that we can live together. The people who leave aren’t doing so for adventure, you have placed them in a position where they must. They would like to live in harmony, this is where they belong,” she urged.

  “And what would you suggest?”

  “You know what we want—a true incentive.”

  “As the Romans perhaps, serve Sparta’s army for fifteen years and you will gain your freedom?” he added. “Or we end up with skilled and militarized Helots.”

  “You would end up with freemen who have a vested interest.”

  “And the rest must serve the fields,” he said. “I will consider the proposal,” he said and turned abruptly.

  Chara watched him go. It had happened so fast, she wasn’t sure she’d gotten all the concessions she needed, but she knew that she’d covered the main one—the end of the Crypteia. A path for freedom for young men would provide a powerful incentive as well if the Spartans chose it. It would have been a path Doros would have chosen if available. It left no path for girls, but she would not have found some way of convincing that man that their servitude deserved freedom.

  She tried to think over what the implications of this pact would be. She could well imagine that some might be very angry with her for negotiating on their behalf, but she couldn’t see anyone mourning the loss of the Crypteia if nothing else was achieved. A path to freedom would be a powerful unifying tool and it would give the Spartans the additional men they needed along with less friction in their own land. It made complete sense to her, but then she wasn’t a Spartan.

  Her hands were shaking as she watched the man’s retreating back. She recognized the importance of the opportunity and hoped she’d done as well as she could have. The idea of a future in Sparta without terror was tempting, but she had no impractical ideas that it would become a harmonious place for Helots and Spartans, but it would be better. Sparta would always be domineering, it was their nature and that would not change, but the absence of the Crypteia would represent a vast improvement.

  Chapter 30

  Nicias took his seat in the Assembly amongst the others who’d chosen to attend. The hall was full and it was unusually noisy. He watched as his father entered the hall and searched for him.

  “We will see what occurs today,” his father said as he sat down. “Hopefully this disaster will be behind us by the end of the day.”

  Nicias knew it would end today and had prepared himself. He wasn’t sure what had been decided, but a conclusion had been reached. He knew so because he’d watched King Pleistoanax approach Chara the previous night. He’d watched from his spot in the dark from where he watched her every night, unable to interfere as the king approached. He’d expected her to be slain, but the king had left her untouched. They spoke at some length, before the departure of the man Nicias respected and to whom he had sworn complete loyalty and obedience.

  Nicias hadn’t mentioned what he’d observed to anyone; it wasn’t his right. But it was clear that Chara’s fate had passed from the elders to the King himself and today things would be settled. He was still churning inside with anguish and unresolved sentiments as she had robbed him of peace and comfort in his own skin. Even his conflicting emotions were a betrayal to his state and his own identity. His mind was still searching for answers, searching for a way to save her, even though he knew he shouldn’t. His hope was that if there would be a decision she would be left somewhere and forgotten—where he would carry her away to the coast and put her on a ship to never return. It was more than she was due, but it was what he wanted. He wanted her to live. He could then say goodbye to her and forget. If she met a brutal end, he knew she would stay in his mind for a long time.

  The King was not cruel, but he was not merciful either. Not everyone agreed with his views, but Nicias believed that the gods had blessed their King with wisdom.

  The King made his entrance and the room quieted. He took his seat and one of the elders rose.

  “The gods have shown their support for us by the resounding defeat of Athens at Delium,” the elder said. “It is indeed a fortunate event.”

  The news of the devastating losses the Athenians had suffered had started spreading. Nicias had heard about it in the mess, heard that a messenger had come with the best of news.

  The Assembly went on to argue about the implications. Some wanted to press forward now when Athens was disorientated and dismayed. Others challenged the purpose, saying Athens would recover and then they would reach the point where the war would run on forever with no one ever truly winning, that they needed to press the advantage for peace.

  The arguments were heated and went on as Nicias listened intently. He knew he wanted something other than war, but he was too weary to long for anything. Perhaps battle would be the best thing. It would distract him from the thoughts that plagued him mercilessly.

  He was starting to worry that they would not discuss the Helot desertion and the role that Chara played. He felt a stab of panic when he considered that her death may already have been delivered which he’d slept, but he was soon greeted with her appearance. She come into the chamber seemingly unharmed, her lithe form moving fluidly as she came to stand at the center of the hall.

  He could see the fear in her and he could see her fight against it as she held herself strong with her head high, but there was a tremble in her hands whenever she released her hands’ grasp. Her eyes were large as she took in the sights of the large chamber. It would be an intimidating sight for a slight female standing in a room full of war weary soldiers.

  He was proud of her for not breaking down and crying—or worse begging. Perhaps she knew such behaviour would garner her little mercy or respect. From speaking to her, he knew she expected neither.

  “Now to internal matters,” Pleistoanax said after the discussion on Athens was drawing on. “Before you, you have the culprit of all the problems regarding Helot desertion.” All eyes turned to Chara, whose cheeks were taking on a pink color under the scrutiny. Still she refused to cower. “A threat more insidious than any we have faced in the past from the Helots, leaving our fields bare and unworked, robbing our stores and our families of nourishment. These are the charges before you, girl. How do you answer?”

  The whole room was silent, waiting for her response.

  “I have been assisting any amongst my people to leave this land if they wish to,” she said trying to steady her voice.

  “You are not the leader amongst your people that we were expecting or searching for, which has left your activities unchecked for too long—long enough to do damage.”

  Chara didn’t respond; she just held herself strong.

  “And you have found a unique weakness. There is no one in the world we cannot fight and defeat, but it requires the enemy to front up and fight. But you leave us nothing but quiet absence. Not by any means an honorable warfare,” Pleistoanax said.

  “Warfare was never my intent. Not something I have any interest or suitability for. I was simply providing an alternative to people who face peril for themselves and their family here.”

  “Thereby incurring significant strife on our state.”

  “Your state, not my state.”

  “An unfortunate attitude amongst the Helots,” he said to the crowd who was watching the conversation between king and prisoner. “Particularly as our enemies have proved so willing to accept our deserters.”

  Nicias noted that the Pleistoanax didn’t establish the link between Chara and the Athenians directly. She had admitted that she had gone to the Athenians and made her proposal. It was an important point, but the King did not refer to it.
/>   “The Helots want us to cease the Crypteia,” he said to the Assembly. Murmurs filled the hall as people spoke amongst themselves. “The girl here says the Helots are deserting to avoid it.”

  “They deserve it for their disobedience,” someone called. There were voices of assent throughout the hall.

  “Perhaps so, but they also know without a doubt that our enemies will accept them with open arms—and give them freedom from what I hear.” The murmurs grew louder.

  “Then we must ensure they don’t leave,” General Barrias said.

  “Which would require resources we cannot spare. We are not great because we spend our army watching over the people tending our fields. There are too many of them and not enough of us, which creates quite a problem for us. If we pay attention to our enemies, they will bleed our labor from behind us.”

  “What choices does that leave us?” one of the elders said.

  “We must strike a bargain with the Helots,” the King said.

  There was outrage amongst the Assembly.

  “I welcome any alternatives. If you have any suggestions, voice them now.”

  The Assembly discussed alternatives, including holding Helot children as ransom, and killing them all and replacing them with slaves. There were also suggestions of killing any Helot who was seen outside of their own fields. Each solution was discussed, but nothing seemed to solve problems without creating more. The task of enforcement was too onerous for many of them. Many of the solutions included killing Helots to inspire fear, but some in the Assembly recognized that killing Helots only reduced the workforce available to them and that it would motivate Helots to continue their desertion.

  Eventually they voted and the Assembly grudgingly agreed to accept the terms.

  “We will cease the Crypteia,” the King said. “But we will seek to harness any energy amongst your restless young men. They will serve Sparta, the model for which the elders will discuss and decide. Now that business is concluded, we must turn our attention to you,” he said switching his attention to Chara.

  “Behead her in the square,” someone called out.

  “For we must take care,” Pleistoanax’s loud voice cut through the murmur. “Her death could well create a legend. She has achieved extraordinary things and her death will only bolster the imagination of her people. We cannot have that.” The Assembly was quiet now. “It would be a much better solution that we turn her attention to the betterment of Sparta and her people will follow her lead.”

  “They will not,” she said.

  “Oh, I think they will. You are the first true leader that has emerged amongst the Helots for a very long time, but we will use that to serve our purposes. No, we must take your leadership and turn it to our advantage. You destiny and happiness will be entwined with this state. You will feel each blow inflicted on Sparta and you will work to serve her advance.”

  Chara was shaking her head slightly, confusion written all over her features.

  “We must ensure that you will never cause trouble for us again and perhaps the best way to do so is to use your strongest instincts. We will take the strength in your nature and character—traits that will serve us well.”

  Nicias had lost track of the conversation. It had moved so fast and it was ceased to make sense.

  “Your sons will be Spartan,” the King finally said. “Your people will still look to you, and you will seek the continued strength of Sparta. Betrayal of Sparta would betray your own blood.”

  The hall broke out into a roar of noise, protestations, even laughter. Barrias wasn’t pleased and left the hall.

  “You have one week,” the King said after the noise subsided a bit, “to find a husband—a Spartan. Or I will pick one for you. We will meet back here in one week. You may roam the city, but you may not leave. Don’t challenge me on this—the gates of the city will not let you pass. Do you understand?”

  Chara stood there silently.

  “Do you understand?” he repeated more harshly.

  She nodded awkwardly and he dismissed the Assembly. The King left as did the others, flowing past her as she stood where she was, looking confused and deflated. No one spared her any attention on the surface, but there was hidden curiosity there. She stared into space as the men walked around her, not making eye contact with anyone.

  “And it will not be you,” Nicias father said with deepest gravity. “That creature has done enough damage to us, you will not go anywhere near her. I will disown you.”

  Chapter 31

  Chara returned to the alcove where she had been held prisoner, she didn’t have anywhere else to go. She tried to get her mind around how her circumstances had just dramatically shifted. She’d resigned herself to dying and now she wasn’t. Not only would she live, she would live as the wife of a Spartan, which for all intents and purposes made her one of them.

  She appreciated the cunning in King Pleistoanax’s actions. It was the ultimate betrayal, being practically adopted by the people she saw as the enemy—making her a corrupt leader. But she had never wanted to be a leader; she had only wanted to save her daughter.

  She knew there were people who likely felt that she should die just out of spite, but she didn’t want to die. The hope of living flared too brightly in her chest, even if she didn’t want it to. She hadn’t asked for any of this. She’d just wanted to go on with her life with as little strife and trouble as possible.

  There was also the temptation of just accepting this turn of events. She’d prayed for some way that things could change so they would all be safe, and so they could be together. The gods had answered her prayer—she just hadn’t foreseen the means. She could be with Nicias now, there was nothing standing in the way technically, except Nicias, and she was fairly certain that he would reject her. She wouldn’t blame him if he did; he’d been abused roughly in this process.

  There was also an underlying fear of being married again—and to a Spartan this time. They held their women to high standards. She would have a husband and she would need to support him as he required, she would have to manage his affairs in his absence—potentially a perfect stranger, someone who had been ordered to marry her. She recognized that there was the distinct potential for resentment there, which could make for a very unhappy marriage.

  Things had gone from relatively simple to very complex. There were no chains on her wrists now, but the new invisible chains were heavier. But it wasn’t all bad, she recognized that there were potential benefits to the arrangements. Her presence amongst the Spartan could provide a means of dialogue between her people and them. She hoped her presence would also hold them to their promise of ceasing the Crypteia. It may also give her the opportunity to pass the mantle and position of leader to someone else, which was what she truly wished—she’d had a lifetime of worry already and she’d never asked for it or wanted it. Her family was safe, her people were better off and there was a path for freedom for any young man who wanted it. The ultimate outcome of this path was the end to their subservience. It would take time, but it meant a slow change to the structure of this society. It was a big concession.

  She needed to speak to Nicias. If she had a choice, she wanted him for her husband. She recognized that the chances were not good, but she would take him under any conditions over a perfect stranger.

  She had to ask around in order to find him, but eventually she was directed to a long building with many doors. She found him in one of the large rooms, which was filled with beds. This was where he lived, where he had spent the bulk of his life, having nothing more than his weapons, his armour and this bed. But these were the things that the Spartans valued, the austerity that they prided themselves on, believing it made them stronger.

  He was cleaning his armor. He didn’t look up when he heard her, but he knew she was there. She watched as he spread polish on his shield, coaxing the metal to shine and telling of all the scars it had endured in battle.

  “What do you want?” he asked quietly. She didn’t
answer, didn’t know what to say. “You have a need and seek to use me for your purposes again?”

  “I just wanted to say that I am sorry.”

  He moved quickly, took her by surprise and had his sword at her throat before she knew what was happening. “You’ve betrayed me; you’ve used me, toyed with my name like it means nothing and now you think I will forgive you? Do not tell me that you are sorry, because you both know you would have done it exactly the same given the chance again.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “No,” he said loudly, “you had choice, but you chose them instead of me, you said so yourself. Not a great quality in a wife if you are deluded enough to think I would marry you.”

  “I never intended to hurt you,” she said feeling herself tear with the strength of his reaction. He truly despised her. She wasn’t surprised, but it was confronting actually seeing it.

  “Then I dread to think what you would do when you intend it.”

  She could feel the cold metal at her throat. It was the first time he’d drawn a weapon on her. He look on his face was cold and calculating. This was Nicias the soldier, shrewdly considering the choices before him—a sight she hadn’t really seen before. He was completely different when they were together, where he was relaxed and enjoying himself, away from all the stresses of his life.

  “What I did wasn’t about choice. I did what I had to do,” she said.

  “Really, you had to wage war against Sparta?” he said with incredulity.

  “We all did what we had to do,” she said, her anger coming in now. “You as well. You did what you had to do, or were going to and I responded.”

  He had a look of disbelieving confusion. “Are you saying this is my fault now?”

  She didn’t say anything, but the accusation was in her eyes. She needed to think, she told herself. She was going down the path of telling him about Elphia and it might not be the best thing. On one hand, she wanted him to know about her, on the other, it might be better that he never does—especially as she didn’t know how deep his anger went. “It doesn’t matter now,” she said. “I have said what I needed to.”