by L. E. Waters
“Did you care about your husband?” Judging by the “forced” comment I gather she did not.
“He had these disgusting big toes.” She starts laughing with her knife pointed up in the air. “I would look down and see these two, hairy, oversized toes, and it would make me sick.” She laughs so hard she has to look up. I laugh along with her.
“Do you miss your family?”
I drizzle the honey over the kneaded loaves, making golden glistening swirls.
She glances up. “I miss my mother, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I can’t believe I’m this happy.”
That night I make her practice running with me since the next day is the annual Festival of Naked Youths. We take our clothes off and sprint around the fields. Ever faster than Ophira, it is so much fun to hear her complain as she falls farther behind me. After racing, Ophira and I dance up on the cliffs to the rhythmic sounds of the ocean. This is something she does better than me, though. I sit back and watch her move, never needing music. I imagine steady, mysterious hip-drum beats, meandering abdominal harps, accented with the cymbaled climax of her delicate hands and expressive eyes. Even though she is a helot, she could’ve turned many suitors’ heads at the race tomorrow. It’s a shame I can’t bring her. Nereus is also forbidden, since Sparta punishes those who never married by not letting them attend any state events. I’ll have to brave it alone, but I’m sure I will win.
Chapter 3
I strip my short, belted tunic off and rub oil all over until I shine along with all the other young men and women. We’ve been competing with each other since we were small: wrestling, throwing javelins, tossing discuses, and racing. Sparta believes that to make stronger men, you have to make the women who give birth to them stronger, and I’m glad for it. Once all the girls are oiled, we parade around and flirt with the boys we most admire. This is the time we can catch their attention and coax them into considering us for marriage. Many of the young men have been allowed a pass from their military school, Agoge, to compete.
Even though I’m not light-haired, as most men cherish, I have the ideal female shape. I’m tall, almost as tall as a man, with long, thick legs that curve in taut muscle. My back and middle are powerful, with broad shoulders and strong arms.
I am the racehorse of women.
It’s my turn to wrestle, and I’m in the highest heat. I’ve already won the discus, javelin, and all three short-distance races. Although those were only against females, wrestling is much more challenging since I can compete with the boys.
I pin the first two boys quickly by staying low and keeping my feet moving. I know I’m going to have trouble when Leander enters the ring. He’s taller, has fully developed chest muscles, and biceps much larger than mine. If I’m going to win, I’ll have to use my leg strength and not let him pick me up. We get into our wrestling stances, and my eyes focus on the two large moles he has on his jaw.
The match begins, and we collide low. He tries to get under to throw me, but I fight to get under him. He catches me in a number of holds, yet I always manage to squirm free. The match goes on like this until it is announced he wins. Disappointed, I throw my tunic back on, gather all my laurel wreaths, and walk out before the feasting begins.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I’m surprised to see Leander standing there.
“Are you leaving?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Before the feast begins?”
“I have to get home,” I say over my shoulder as I walk away.
He follows behind me and calls out, “Is it true you have no parents?”
I stop. “What is it of your concern?”
“I’ve some business to discuss with the head of your household.”
“They died in the earthquake,” I answer. “I have to go.”
I turn and nudge through the current of citizens on their way in for the feast.
Unfazed, he catches up to me. “Then you run your own household?’
“Leave me be, I must get home.” I begin to make some headway, but he pulls me back toward him, within the swirling mass of the crowd.
“I’m interested in marriage, and I’d normally ask your father or brother, but you have none.”
Leander’s one of the strongest young men, and at twenty, he’s only days away from initiation into the revered full-citizen hoplite army.
“You can ask me,” I say, pulling my chin up in the air, pretending not to be surprised.
“Will you meet me in secret to wed?”
“Which day?” Chin still high.
“Meet me in your barn on the new moon.”
“I might be there.”
I walk away and head home thinking of how his black eyes sparkled like polished onyx, yet something strangely unsettling gnawed down deep.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Seven days later, under the first night of the new moon, acting as my bridesmaid, Ophira shaves my head.
She holds the shears up to my hair and asks, “Explain to me why I’m doing this horrible thing to you?”
“It’s tradition to display how I’ve changed my maiden hair to the shorter hair of a married woman.”
She snips the first lock of hair and starts laughing. “I can’t do this!”
She tries to shove the shears back in my hand.
“It’ll grow back.” I shove them back. “Now do as I say!”
After she’s done, she holds up a mirror, and I truly look like a man. We both hold our sides in laughter. Ophira can’t even look at me after without laughing.
“Get yourself together and fetch the rest of the things I need,” I say, still laughing.
She helps me get on the ceremonial red soldier’s cloak and sandals.
On our way down to the barn in the dark, Ophira says, “This is the strangest wedding I have ever witnessed.” A rooster flaps in from behind the hen house, late to roost, causing Ophira to erupt in a high-pitched hoot and grab on to me.
“No moon aids Leander, but it certainly doesn’t make it easier for us.”
She breaks out in laughter again looking at me, but now I’m in no mood to laugh. It seems so real now.
She stops laughing and breaks the tension. “Why is this a secret?”
“It’s called a bride capture, and it’s done in secret because the man steals away from his mess group in the night to meet his bride in a hidden place. They share a moment, and then he returns before anyone notices his absence. The marriage can’t be made public until she’s pregnant, since it would be easier to go their separate ways if one is unable to conceive.”
“This is all very strange. You don’t see this?” She squints with her palms up to me.
“I think it’s exciting and mysterious, and if I don’t like him, I’m not stuck with him for life.”
“Make sure you check his toes, then.”
We both laugh so hard we stumble down the hill. In jet dark, we hold each other’s hands to find our way.
“Don’t you find it a little odd how you’re made to look like a boy for him?”
“It’s done to ward off bad spirits that might get jealous of our youthful passion,” I say, but pause and quickly add, “or soldiers might like boys.”
Our laughter carries off through the valley and I put a finger to my lips before entering the large barn. Ophira gathers up a straw bed and lays me down. I whisper her good-bye. She leaves swiftly, unsure when he’ll appear. It’s strange to be out here in total darkness. I hear some field mice running past me as I hold my breath. I wonder then, if I should have confirmed I’d definitely be here. Maybe he thought I wasn’t serious and I’d be sitting here all night in the dark. Or maybe he’s waiting in one of the smaller out-buildings. Something moves in the corner; someone has been there waiting this whole time. He steps toward me, and his tall form looms above me.
Leander reaches down, releases my thick belt effortlessly in the dark, and pulls me out of my robe. I feel weightless in
his strong arms and welcome his warmth with the night air so cold. He places me back down in the straw and presses himself against me. He puts his hands up to feel my shaved head. No stranger to what it feels like to have a man so close when undressed, I’m unprepared how different it is in the dark, alone.
He rolls off to my side, panting. “We’ll meet again in two new moons.”
“Two moons?”
“It’s the earliest I can sneak away. If I’m caught leaving, I’ll be punished.”
“But everyone knows men leave their messes for such secret meetings.”
“It’s a test for the soldiers to practice stealth and I can’t be caught. This is the most I can sneak away.”
“All right, then, we’ll meet again in two new moons.”
With that, he puts back on his cloak and leaves without sound. I, on the other hand, bump into every tool and bucket left out by the helots and receive a good bruise to my shin in the process. When I return, Ophira’s waiting up by the fire. I tell her all the details, which lasts all of two minutes.
She giggles, saying, “That was about what it was like for me, except mine was soaked in wine.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
I watch the next moon come and go, wait all month, and when the full moon appears, I’m never happier for it to disappear. Ophira gives me an exaggerated wink before I run down to the barn. Dressed again in only my cloak, I sit on the straw, searching every dark corner.
Something moves to my left, and when I hear two helots talking, I shout, “Everyone out of the barn! It is nightfall, you’re not permitted here!”
He will not come if anyone is near. I wait twenty more minutes and have to kick curious mice away. Finally, I hear the barn door close quietly, and I became so excited I forget to breathe. He walks over to the hay, puts his hand down checking to see if I’m there, and is startled when he finds me.
He steps back and whispers, “Alcina?”
“I’m here.”
He casts off his robe, pulls off mine, and takes me immediately. When it’s done, he lays next to me. I’m hoping he’ll stay a moment so I can talk to him.
I wait for him to speak, but he only reaches around for his robe.
Hoping to stay him, I spurt out, “You’ve given me a child.”
He sits up in surprise. “So soon? After only one meeting?”
“I am sure.”
He looks slightly suspicious for a moment but then tilts his head to one side. “Good.”
He gives me a light belly pat and gets his cloak to go.
I stop him when I see the faint light coming in through the door. “We don’t need to meet in secret any longer. When will I see you again?”
“I will come when I can.”
The barn door slams.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Happily, the Artemis Ortheia Festival comes during the wait, and I’m hoping to see Leander there. I ride Proauga down to the Evrotas river valley, nestled deep within the cleavage of Mt. Taygetos and Mt. Parnon. The snow on the highest summits stands out oddly among the rest of the warm greenery. I leave Proauga to graze in lush grasses and make my way toward the crowded theater to find a seat among the stone benches. Alone, I find a seat in front of the many steps that lead up to the Goddess of the Hunt’s altar. Winged Artemis stands frozen in stone, her arms outstretched and grasping a bird in either hand. She looks down upon the bloodstained steps where many years ago human sacrifices were made, but now Sparta’s found another way to satiate her bloodlust as well as entertain the people.
Beside the altar, young men dance naked as choruses of girls sing war songs to flutes, lyres, and cymbals. Women hurry to place wheels of cheese in various positions on the steps. I hear a commotion to the west and can’t help but smile when I see a troop of young men run down the valley driven by their leaders on chariots. Leander’s leading the sandal-less pack of bare-chested men. The residing priestess chooses her favorite male dancer and bequeaths him a prize sickle as Leander and the others are allowed to drink from the river before the rite begins. I can’t help but cross my fingers for him to do well. The leaders leave their chariots and take out their whips tied to their kilts. Each powerful man chooses his position among the steps carefully as the doomed lot gathers in racing position at the foot of the steps. The priestess brings her hands up in front of Artemis and claps them together to start the competition.
The men dart to reach the cheeses closest to them as the whips crack hard against every back. Some men recoil to grab the sting of ripped flesh as others, like Leander, ignore the pain to reach a wheel of cheese. Leander’s whipped again as he descends the steps to lay down his offering of cheese but only grimaces and spins to his left to climb ten more steps to another wheel. Other men are not faring so well; at least two are badly bleeding from wounds that tore around their backs to slice their necks or chests. They stand hesitant at the steps, trying to pick an opportune time to attempt another try, but the leaders are watching them out of the corners of their eyes as they whip the stronger boys piling up their cheeses.
One of the weaker men makes a move to go behind, but the leader spins around with a crack so loud it sounds like thunder over our heads. The man screams in agony and falls upon the steps. A splatter of blood sprays the crowd when the whip is brought back. The leader spits in his direction, waiting for him to try to get up once again. Leander makes his way to the top step to the last wheel under the priestess’s foot and receives two whips on either side of him before making it back to his pile. With all the cheese snatched, the priestess brings her hands together again, but not before the fallen man receives one last punishing sting. Pride wells up within me as Leander is chosen as the winner and allowed to present the cheeses to his goddess. The rowdy crowd cheers, and I try to make my way toward him in the chaotic crowd as the men wash their blood off in the river.
“Leander!” I cry, and I catch a quick glimpse from him as he climbs back out on the banks. He looks away, though, and assembles behind his leader who ties up his whip and lashes his chariot forward. The red tiger-striped backs of men disappear over the mountain as they leave their fallen disgrace back upon the steps; no one dares to help him. It will be a miracle if he makes it back to his men that night.
Chapter 4
It’s amazing what you cling to when you’re given very little. Those moments in the barn and later in the darkness of our bedroom, I made a love story. I made his rare appearance, quick movements, and few words into a fantasy, yet every time was like the first. Since I’m pregnant, we’re officially married, but we will not move in together until he turns thirty, when he’ll be given a household by the military. The bigger my stomach grows, the less he wants to meet me, and after four meetings, he tells me to send notice when the baby arrives.
My mother had prepared me for this life. Spartan men belong to the state. They’re sent away to school at seven, suffer agoge until twenty, live with their military group until thirty, and from thirty to sixty, they’re at the beck and call of the military. If something comes up and the army needs reinforcements, they’re forced to join until the campaign is over. However, I’m just as content to be in control and with Ophira.
At about nine months, I have a terrible dream:
I hold a large melon, the size of a horse head. I drop it, and it splatters into many pieces. A huge pig comes at once to eat the melon, and I try to shoo the pig away. I’m protecting two seeds, but the pig pushes me over, eats the smaller seed, and then jumps off the cliff I’m standing on. I watch as it plummets down into the dark chasm squealing like a baby.
I wake up crying and think for an instant I wet the bed. I feel my stomach tightening, and I call for Ophira.
She comes running. “I’ll go get Leander.”
But I yell to her as she opens the door to my bedroom. “No Ophira! Stay here!”
“He told me to fetch him at once.” She stands there confused.
“I don’t want th
em throwing my baby off a cliff!” I scream out, trying to breathe between pains that are worsening.
She closes the door, understanding. “We’re going to get in trouble Alcina! Sparta’s the only one who gets to decide who’s fit or not.”
I try to sit up. “I’ll say I was outside in the fields, and the baby came so fast.”
Ophira helps me get through hours of labor. She tells me to get on the floor and kneel while she supports me. Kneeling feels much better than the pressure my belly put on me. When I feel the urge to push, I push, not able to stop as I feel myself tear open. I can only scream as Ophira catches my squirming baby boy. She cleans him and lifts him up for me to see. Strong and so loud, he’s every Spartan woman’s dream. I know he’ll pass the Spartan test for sure. I feel foolish now, realizing my dream was nonsense.
I start getting contractions again, and Ophira instructs, “Push the afterbirth,” but she soon screams, “Another son!”
We’re crying from the shock, and I use all the strength I have left to push off the bed to see the surprise in her hands.
My heart sinks.
He must be half the size of the firstborn. His color is poor, and he isn’t making any noise, even after Ophira spanks him—no cry, only struggling fish-like gulps of air. We don’t speak for a long time, and the air carries the metallic smell of blood. I stare on as Ophira cleans and bundles up each one. She puts the firstborn baby in my arms; I name him Arcen. She drapes her cloak around her shoulders, cradles the second baby, and she comes over to get him.
I hold on to Arcen and say, “There must be something we can do?”
She speaks through her tears. “There’s nothing we can do; it is your Spartan law!”
“Wait a moment, I have to think.”
She hesitates but looks like she lost all hope.
