Truth and Sparta

by Camille Oster

  Her schedule had to adjust and flow around Nicias and his activities. In all this madness, she had managed to keep from disrupting it too much, but there were days when she had to depend on the boy who was helping her. She would leave directions for him in the village and they would be passed on.

  The mule trotted along the road and Chara could see a group of Spartans ahead. She was too visible to hide so she had to continue toward them. She felt her mouth dry in worry. It was such a strange thing to see soldiers who looked just like Nicias in their dress and manner, but these inspired deep and unbaiting fear while he produced such different feelings in her.

  One of them took the reins of her mule and forcefully stopped her progress. “And where are you going, girl?”

  “I am running an errand,” she answered.

  “What kind of errand?” he asked her. He was looking around the mule and around her person, searching for something. She bent over and pulled a broken blade from her bag. She’d started carrying it around as a ready excuse for why she was on the roads.

  “What have you?” another man called.

  “Just a girl,” the Spartan interrogating her said dismissively in answer to the man who was older and Chara suspected the leader of the group. He came over and considered her.

  “Why are you fixing a plough blade now when it is not yet time for tilling?” he demanded.

  “Because it can take time to fix and we need to make enquiries now, else it may not be ready when we need it,” she said hoping that he would accept her answer. He took the blade and turned it over.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Near the Menares estate.”

  “You are far from your estate,” he said.

  “There is no one who can work the blade in our village. They sent me to find a metal worker in Velleia,” she said referring to the larger village a few hours ride away. “I am the only one they could pare to do it.”

  He nodded slowly and handed the blade back. Chara took it from him, almost dropped it with her nerves. She was sitting on the mule, but they were still as tall as her. He seemed to consider her for a moment longer then waved her away.

  Chara urged the mule forward and it seemed just as eager to escape as she was. Once away from them, she turned and looked back. They were conferring in a group. She knew they were searching for something, but she didn’t quite know what. Perhaps they were searching for her, but if they knew of her, they would have taken her, or maybe just slain her on the spot. Her body was shaking with the tension of it and she wanted to cry, but she held herself together.

  Nicias seemed to like taking her away from the house when he had time to. He would often ride out with her and spend some time in the sun, without any particular plan. It was a warm day with a cooling breeze as they rode up to the hills where no one lived. He found another spot with a view across a valley.

  Chara noted that the soil was poor here and too rocky to cultivate. Even with years of effort, this land would be unproductive. An idea came to her for an excuse for travelling. The next time she took a cart to the coast, she would gather seaweed for the fields to enrich the soil.

  “Your father has not returned yet?” he asked when they’d taken their seats. He’d brought bread, wine and honey for them to eat. Chara had never tasted honey before and it was an intensely sweet substance that almost overwhelmed her senses. It was like the sweetest of fruits, but golden.

  “My cousin came to tell me that Father has fallen ill,” she lied. “I am going to go visit him next week.” She reminded herself of the necessity of her deception. She hated when reality intruded on their time together. This whole thing would be much more difficult for her to reconcile if she could not view them as two completely separate things.

  “I was hoping to ride out to the place where my estate will be. I know I have mentioned it to you before. I was hoping it would be allotted to me by now, but this war continues. I would like to have my own house, to have a place to keep you. I don’t like you living in that little hut and I certainly don’t like you living on your own.”

  “It would be strange to imagine us together, in your house,” she said honestly. There was a part of her that would dream of such an impossible future, them living on their own, away from everything, with no pressures or danger. But she could not see that life without Elphia. The three of them made the perfect picture. “But it wouldn’t be a life without children,” she said carefully.

  She watched as his eyes clouded over. “It is not allowed.” He sat up and faced away from her. “I fear that your regard may turn again me when the time comes.”

  “A mother can be nothing but a mother.”

  “You breathe life into me,” he said with intensity, turning back to her seeking her eyes out. “I know that I should not do this, that it will ultimately end up hurting you. I just can’t bear continuing as I was—dead but breathing. Forgive me,” he said. “I know not how to fix this. Sometimes I look forward to the next battle; it may be the one that solves this dilemma I have caused. You would still remember me then.”

  “I will never forget you,” she said placing her hand on his arm. He looked away again. Chara moved closer so she could place her arms around him. “This should not be a sacrifice that should be demanded of you.”

  Chara felt the impossibility of his situation and the cruelty of the policies that were forced on him. The Spartan state demanded complete loyalty above all else—including family.

  “My hope is in time that the Assembly will change their policies,” he said accepting her embrace, but refusing to look in her eyes. “Things cannot continue as they are. There number of Spartan children born is lowering every year. Even the men with wives are not here to fill their bellies. We are paying for this ever continuing war in ways we cannot afford. The policy must change. That is my hope.”

  “It is not the only thing that cannot be kept as they are,” she said but regretted it immediately.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Chara grasped for something to say to justify her statement. “They need men to manage their estates too. Sparta falls into neglect if there is no one here to manage its strength.” She could see his eyes watching her; he seemed to accept her answer and Chara hid her sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was more Spartans around to notice what she was doing, but she needed to say something. She’d lost sight of herself and said something she shouldn’t have. She questioned how she could have been so stupid.

  She didn’t want to be in this position, to be here deceiving him. She knew it was necessary, but she also wanted to fight for this relationship. “We could leave,” she said quietly after a while, “come back after things have changed.” She had no intention of coming back but if it meant she could keep him, keep this, she would—provided her children could live in safety. If he was right and they had to change their policy at some point, there was a potential future for them. It filled her with hope and a sense of foreboding that the small hope would likely cause her nothing but pain, make her entertain thoughts she shouldn’t—dangerous thoughts.

  “There would be no going back,” he said. “If you leave Sparta behind when things are difficult, it will not accept you back.”

  She sat silently waiting for him to talk further. She felt that she should not push too far at this point.

  “I am Spartan; I will never be anything else. Whatever it demands of me, I must give. That is just what I am.”

  Chara felt a stab of pain in her heart. He would never come with her.

  Chapter 24

  “There is someone causing problems amongst the slaves, we suspect it is someone of Helot origin, but we don’t know for sure, perhaps someone who has served with the Messinians. The only information we have is that he refers to himself as the Lynx. He is encouraging desertion—as are the Messinians—but this man has been more effective. Desertion is rife,” the Polemarchos said indicating to areas on the map where there were areas of high activity. “His reach is
wide. We have uncovered activity here, here and here, but we understand it has reached much wider. He is specifically targeting crop producing segments of the Helot society and there has been a noticed reduction in the intake this year.”

  “I knew there was something,” Nicias’ father confirmed, looking at the tall man who had come but a half hour earlier.

  “This activity must be stopped and this individual found—and dealt with,” the Polemarchos continued. Nicias had seen this man before but didn’t know him well. He was responsible for planning regarding affairs within the state. “They are all to be searched and questioned. The elders have given this priority, but you are to keep your activities quiet; we do not want the Athenians to hear of this.” Hi serious look conveyed the gravity of the decree.

  Nicias frowned. He was being commandeered for internal matters, something he hadn’t experienced before. It did give him an excuse to be home for longer, which did please him. By the look of the men that had been gathered in his father’s house, this was something the leaders did take seriously. All the landowners from the district had been summoned and were waiting when the Polemarchos arrived with his men.

  “Find this man,” the man reiterated. “Keep regular communications. It is important that we keep oversight of all the learnings.”

  He rolled up his map and nodded to the gathered men before leaving. Nicias suspected that the Polemarchos’ group would continue into the neighboring districts and spread the same message. Whoever this Helot man was, the noose would tighten very quickly.

  “Why do we care about some deserting Helots?” one of the neighbors asked once the Polemarchos was gone.

  “Because they aren’t harvesting,” Nicias’ father replied.

  “Then whip them harder until they do.”

  “Except they have a means of objecting and leaving. What are we supposed to do, put men in the villages to ensure no one leaves? Oversee the harvest? We don’t have men to waste on such absurd duties.”

  “We find the man who is encouraging them. We find him, we stop this.”

  “How are they leaving?”

  “By sea apparently,” one of the men said.

  “From where?”

  “That we don’t know.”

  “I suppose we will start by searching the villages,” Nicias’ father said. “We will do it with the arrival of the men that the Polemarchos promised. Now let’s eat.”

  Nicias followed the men as they walked to the dining area where food and wine was laid out for them. Nicias hadn’t realized that the problem with the Helots were as serious as the elders perceived. They had always feared organized revolt, but he had never suspected organized desertion, and he was certain it was not something the elders had anticipated either. He searched through his memories trying to see if there was any knowledge he could garner. The only person he knew was missing was Chara’s father, but he had also seen how the man tried to protect his daughter, he couldn’t imagine him leaving her behind, but he would question her about it later.

  Nicias saw their guests out to the courtyard after the meal from where they would all say farewell. They didn’t actually see each other that often. It was more likely to see them in the messes in Sparta. Out here they were too far apart to regularly share meal together.

  “I despise the Helots,” one man said. “Their insipid whimpering. I think we should kill them all and replace them with proper slaves.”

  “Slaves always take work,” another said. “One variety or another, it is the same.”

  “Surely it cannot be a Helot planning all this. It seems too inspired. Someone must be guiding it, someone we are unaware off.”

  “You always see conspiracies,” Nicias’ father accused.

  “Likely they are working with the Messinians—this is their tactic after all. Cowardly as it is. Cowardly and underhanded. What glory is there in such actions?”

  “No glory, but it’s effective. Has gotten the leaders in a stir.”

  “They are keeping it very quiet though.”

  “Will do us no good to have the enemy know that we are having trouble at home. The Athenians would pounce on it if they knew.”

  Chara met with the volunteers who wanted to help plan getting the Helot girls out of Sparta. It was the most dangerous thing they’d done so far and it needed meticulous planning. None of them had any particular experience with planning, so they didn’t know exactly how to go about it. They argued over every detail and were getting nowhere. Chara had to finally pick a course of action.

  A boy rushed into the hut they were in, barely able to catch his breath. “Spartans, riding this way,” he stammered out.

  “We all know what we have to do,” Chara said quickly. She covered over the dirt where they had drawn the map of the city and how they would travel through it.

  “You need to leave, Chara,” Panos said. “They should not find you here.”

  She nodded. “Which way are they coming from?”

  “East,” the boy said.

  “You leave too,” she said to the boys. “Hide in the fields until it’s over.”

  Chara ran across the fields in the direction of her house. She could see the Spartans coming—they were riding into the village fast. There were more of them than the groups she’d seen before. Fear and anticipation hung in the air—they were there to cause trouble. She just hoped they didn’t kill anyone. She wondered at the courage of Panos; he would stay in the village and face them. Courage drew their attention like nothing else and it was the thing they despised seeing in the Helot population.

  She could see Nicias riding with them. She felt a stab of disappointment, but she knew she shouldn’t, he was one of them and it did her no good thinking otherwise.

  She felt bad sneaking away, but she also knew that it was her they were looking for. She stayed out of sight and watched. She should return home, but she couldn’t help it. She watched as they searched the whole village, dragging people out of their houses—bashing and terrorising. This is what they did. The fact that she had developed tenderness for one of them was incidental and unimportant. She anger reasserted itself as she watched the scene down in the village—terrified children clinging to their mothers as the Spartans inflicting their violence. There weren’t killing which was the most important thing, but every short of.

  She had to get these people out. She couldn’t imagine anyone choosing to stay in the village after this. The Spartans were really doing her job for her. If anyone was ambivalent about leaving, they would be more than eager after the Spartans were done.

  She finally turned and left.

  “He calls for you”, the Menares servant said standing at her door. Chara nodded and he turned to leave, expecting her to follow like she always did. She checked her emotions, tried to push them down. She couldn’t define them even if she wanted to. Having seen him ride into the village this morning had quelled some of her concern about deceiving him. She had to do what she must and she was not going to be concerned with her tactics. If he got hurt, that was incidental as well.

  He smiled when she entered the room, strode over to her and kissed her. The familiar touches soothing her as it always did.

  “It is good to see you; it’s been a terrible day. One I wish to forget,” he said. “You will make me forget.”

  Chara let him embrace her, but she frowned away from his gaze. It would make things easier if she knew he had no remorse or regrets about the things he did in the village, but if that had been the kind of man he was, she would never have developed any feelings for him.

  “I heard you were in the village today,” she said. She shouldn’t have, but she needed to know. She regretted this thing in her that always had to push then it came to him, the thing that kept hope alive. Just when she was ready to dismiss him entirely from her thoughts and regard, he did something, or said something to claw back.

  He stepped away and poured two cups of wine. “It was necessary. We are searching for someone by the name of Lynx.
Have you heard of him?”

  She noted that they thought it was a man. It was a natural assumption on their part and one that worked in her favor. There was a part of her that wanted to know what he would do if she told him it was her—a perverse desire that would for once and all prove his feelings for her. But her head knew better even if her heart was prone to stupid inclinations. She shook her head.

  “He is convincing people to desert,” he said and took a sip from his cup.

  “Perhaps he only provides the means. Perhaps the Crypteia is all the encouragement people need.”

  Nicias considered her. He placed his cup on the table and crossed his arms.

  “Surely you must see that,” she said.

  “You support this man.”

  “How could I not? Would you do any different if you were in my position?”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “Then why are you still here?”

  “I have things that keep me here.”

  “But not your father?”

  “I don’t know,” she responded after hiding a panic that rose from her stomach. “He left to seek his brother and he hasn’t returned.”

  “He would not leave you—a sentiment I saw in his eyes.”

  “His perspective changed with Doros’ death. Perhaps they took him, I don’t know. I don’t know where he is.”

  “Did you discuss leaving with him,” Nicias said softly. “Please don’t lie to me, Chara.” He closed his eyes waiting for her answer. She knew he would think it a lie if she said no.

  “Yes.”

  He moved like he had been prodded, like something had stung him.

  “How? How did you hear of it?”

  “A man came to the village. I didn’t see him, but my father heard of it. Messinians first, then this other man.”