Spartan (6 page)

‘Yes, maybe, but I think you’d like it there.’

‘I don’t know. Do you think there is anywhere a slave could be happy?’

The athlete stood up, gazing sadly at the boy. ‘I must go, now,’ he said, but instead of walking away, he turned to Talos, taking off his leather armlet decorated with copper studs,
and handed it to the boy.

‘This is for you, Talos. I wore it at the Olympics, but I don’t think I’ll be needing it any longer. Remember Philippides every now and then.’ The athlete tightened the
belt that lay across his hips and set off running towards Sparta. Talos stood speechless for a moment, and then took off after the athlete, already so far away.

‘Champion! Champion!’ Philippides stopped a moment and turned around. ‘Good luck!’

The athlete raised his right arm in a wide salute, and began running. He swiftly disappeared into the blinding rays of the sun.

*

The Athenian sat wrapped in his white pallium before the noble Aristarkhos, who was attentively listening to his words.

‘I thank you for your hospitality, Aristarkhos. The nobility and valour of the Kleomenids are well known even in Athens and it is a great honour for me to sit at your table.’

‘The honour is mine, Philippides. My house is proud to receive the champion of Olympia. You triumphed over the best of our youth and the Spartans respect such a worthy adversary. I regret
that my table is so sparse; I have no refined dishes to offer you. I know that you Athenians often joke about our cooking, especially our black broth. As you can see, I have spared you its
acquaintance.’

‘I’m sorry about that, Aristarkhos, I’d have been quite curious to taste it.’

‘I’m afraid it wouldn’t have been a very pleasant experience for you. I still remember the face of Aristagoras of Miletus when he tasted it at a dinner our government hosted in
honour of his mission to Sparta eight years ago. A mission that, as you well know, met with very little success. He asked our kings to send five thousand of our warriors to support his revolt
against the Great King of the Persians. Five thousand warriors meant the bulk of our military forces: to send them across the sea was a risk that we couldn’t take.’

‘Indeed, you refused him any aid, contrary to what we in Athens decided to do. We’re still paying for that gesture. But at that time the assembly felt that all possible aid should be
sent to the Hellenic cities that had rebelled against the Great King.’

‘Should I conclude that you judge our government’s refusal of Aristagoras’ request negatively?’

‘Not exactly, Aristarkhos,’ said the Athenian, realizing that he had pushed his sensitive host too far. ‘I appreciate that it wasn’t easy for you Spartans to make such a
far-reaching decision.’

‘That isn’t the point, Philippides. At first, that man seemed to be moved by noble ideals: he decried the conditions of the Greek cities in Asia under the Persian yoke. It seemed
that his only desire was to liberate them. In his speech in front of the assembly of the equals, he spoke with such vehemence that our warriors were fascinated. You know that we Spartans are not
used to such eloquence: we are simple people of few words, but we are not fools. The ephors who govern our city along with our kings were well aware of Aristagoras’ attempt to subjugate the
island of Naxos, which was populated by Greeks, using Persian troops. It was a bid on his part to gain favour in the eyes of the Great King Darius, who was then in Thrace fighting the Scythians
across the Ister river.

‘The inhabitants of Naxos repelled the attack and the Persian officers laid responsibility for the failure on Aristagoras. Terrified as he must have been at the thought of having to face
the ire of the Great King, he took advantage of an incident between Persian and Greek officers, and proclaimed a revolt. He was supported, naturally, by the Asian Greeks. This certainly
demonstrated their desire to be liberated from the Persians, but Aristagoras was only acting in his own personal interest. If he cared so much about the freedom of the Greeks, why did he try to
subjugate the island of Naxos? We have good reason to believe that he set off the revolt against the Persians solely in order to shield himself from the anger of King Darius when he returned from
his expedition against the Scythians.

‘You must admit . . .’ he continued, pouring wine into his guest’s cup, ‘you must admit that it’s not easy to trust a man who’s caught in such a difficult
situation, and yet insists that he is animated only by his passion for freedom. But I’m telling you things that you know better than I do.’

‘Certainly, I’m acquainted with the situation,’ answered Philippides, ‘but, please, continue. I’m interested in knowing your thoughts on the matter.’

‘Well,’ Aristarkhos went on, ‘the equals present in the assembly may have been convinced by his pleas, but the fact is that the final decision rested with the ephors and the
kings, and Aristagoras had made quite a bad impression on them, apart from what they already knew about the man. I remember an episode that will make you smile: one day by chance I found myself at
King Cleomenes’ house, where Aristagoras was a guest. He had just got out of bed, and must have been cold, you see, because in the house of the king they wait until sunset to light the
hearth. Well, there he was, sitting with his hands under his mantle, as one of the servants was lacing up his boots. The king’s little daughter, who was only six years old at the time,
pointed her finger at Aristagoras and exclaimed: ‘Look, daddy, our foreign guest has no hands!’ I swear to you that I myself had to turn aside and cover my mouth so as not to burst out
in laughter. In short, the man who presented himself as the leader of a revolt couldn’t even lace his own shoes without help!’

‘So we Athenians were too credulous regarding Aristagoras,’ said Philippides with a bitter smile.

‘Oh no, my friend, that was certainly not the meaning behind my words! I do not wish to criticize the action taken by Athens, which was undoubtedly quite generous. The decision to send
ships and troops was certainly not solely a response to Aristagoras’ request. After all, racial ties unite you to the Ionians who settled in Asia, and it is understandable that you would want
to help them.

‘Our refusal at that time depended largely on our natural diffidence: it seemed to us that Aristagoras wanted to involve us in a futile venture that only his own ambition was responsible
for,’ concluded Aristarkhos.

‘I can understand what you mean to say, but the substance of the matter is that the Persians are now in Greece, endangering the liberty of all Greeks,’ his Athenian guest
replied.

The Spartan was pensive, pulling at his beard with his left hand. ‘I realize full well’, he said, ‘how useless it is to recriminate past events now. We Spartans could say that
if Athens had not interfered in Asia, we would not have the Persians in Greece now. You Athenians could claim that if Sparta had intervened in Ionia, the expedition would have met with
victory.’

‘I see your point, Aristarkhos, but the situation at the present is desperate: Sparta must absolutely intervene at our side. United we can win, divided we can’t but lose. Today,
danger is impending over Athens and the cities of Attica, but tomorrow it will be the turn of Corinth, then Argos, and even Sparta itself. The King of the Persians has hundreds of ships ready to
set thousands of warriors ashore at any point in Hellas.’

‘Yes, the argument you made today in the assembly; undoubtedly a convincing speech.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Certainly. If I know my people, I’m sure that your words had the right effect. Your government made an excellent choice in sending not a politician or an orator to Sparta, but the
champion of the Olympics. The Spartans are more inclined to believe in personal valour than in elegant rhetoric.’

‘So you think that tomorrow I’ll be able to bring the promise of your immediate military intervention to Athens?’

‘You will probably obtain a pact of alliance. As far as any immediate intervention . . .’

‘Well then?’ asked Philippides anxiously.

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the full moon, when the festival of the goddess Artemis will take place. The assembly of warriors will meet then to approve the decisions
of the ephors. This is the law.’

‘That’s absurd!’ exclaimed the Athenian. Quickly, noting his host’s expression darken, he added, ‘You must excuse me, but asking me to wait for the full moon is the
same as giving a refusal. The Persians can attack at any moment.’

Aristarkhos rubbed his forehead. ‘You could close yourselves up inside the walls and hold out until we arrive.’

‘And abandon the countryside to be pillaged and destroyed? Dozens of villages have no fortifications, and even if they had, there would be no hope of resisting. Don’t you know what
happened in Eretria? The whole island of Euboea was put to fire and sword and in the end the city itself was forced to capitulate. The entire population was enslaved. No, Aristarkhos, there will be
no second chance here. We must stop them on the shore, but we can’t do it alone. I just don’t see how we can do it alone,’ Philippides repeated, disheartened. He fell into
silence, his head in his hands.

‘I understand all this,’ answered the Spartan, rising to his feet and pacing nervously back and forth across the room. ‘But, on the other hand, these are our laws.’

‘Then there is no hope.’

‘Listen, Philippides, tomorrow I will speak in favour of your request to send our army immediately. I can do no more than this. But at the worst, it’s only a question of gaining
time. The full moon is not so far off; in a little more than a week we could be side by side at Marathon. Believe me when I say that this is sincerely what my heart wishes.’

‘I do believe you,’ said the champion, warmly gripping the Spartan warrior’s hand, ‘and this is a great comfort to me. I hope that your words will be heeded; I am sure
that together we can defeat the enemy, and then it will be my honour to return your generous hospitality. Now I must ask you to excuse me, I’m very tired and would retire. I pray that the
night brings counsel to you, Aristarkhos, and to your fellow citizens, in whose hands rests the destiny not only of your own country, but that of all Hellas.’

‘May the gods’ wisdom be with us,’ said Aristarkhos, rising to accompany his guest to his room.

*

‘Brithos! Brithos! Hurry, our men are on their way back! You can see the vanguard from the road to Argos.’

‘I’m coming, Aghias, wait up!’

The two boys ran along the road that crossed the centre of the city in the direction of the northern port. They got past a crowd of women, old men and children thronging on the main road, and
managed to find a good vantage point. Having been informed by a messenger, the ephors were already at the gate awaiting the army’s arrival.

‘Look, Aghias,’ said Brithos to his companion, ‘there’s the head of the column, and there’s the king!’

King Cleomenes advanced on a black thoroughbred, surrounded by his escort. The king’s rather curved shoulders and greying hair revealed the weight of his years.

‘It’s strange,’ said Brithos to his friend, ‘I don’t see my father; as a relative to the king, he should be at his side.’

‘No reason to worry,’ Aghias reassured him, ‘there was no battle, so there couldn’t have been any fallen; that’s what the messenger told the ephors. They said that
our warriors arrived after the Athenians had already won the battle. The field of Marathon was still covered with Persian bodies. We’ll soon know more. Look, the king is meeting the ephors.
The herald will be making a public announcement in the square this afternoon.’

The boys drew closer to the column of warriors entering the city, who broke ranks as they met family and relations waiting for them.

‘There’s my brother Adeimantos,’ said Aghias, pointing to a hoplite of the rear guard. ‘Let’s go hear what’s happened. Surely he’ll be able to tell us
about your father. ‘Look,’ he added, ‘your mother’s arrived too, with your nurse. They must be worried.’

Abandoning their observation point, the two boys ran together towards Adeimantos, who at that moment was stepping away from the ranks and removing his heavy helmet. Aghias nearly tore it from
his hands.

‘Give us your weapons to carry, Adeimantos, you must be tired.’

‘Yes, we’ll carry them home for you,’ echoed Brithos, slipping the shield from his left arm.

The group moved towards the western section of the city, where Adeimantos’ house was. The warriors had been allowed to return to their own family homes instead of to their respective
barracks, as was usually the case.

‘Where’s my father?’ Brithos asked immediately. ‘Why didn’t he come back with you? The women of my house are troubled.’

‘Don’t worry,’ answered Adeimantos, ‘your mother will be notified immediately by one of the horsemen of the king’s guard. Your father decided to stay to participate
in the funeral of a fallen Athenian warrior.’

Meanwhile, they had arrived home. The returning warrior was greeted joyfully by his family. He loosened his armour and sat down, waiting for one of the women to prepare his bath.

‘Do you know who it was?’ asked Brithos curiously.

Adeimantos frowned. ‘Remember that Athenian champion who came to Sparta to ask for our aid?’

‘Of course,’ replied Brithos, ‘he was our guest when he stayed in the city.’

‘The champion of Olympia?’ asked Aghias.

‘Yes, exactly,’ answered his brother. ‘When the battle was over, the defeated Persians returned to their fleet to attempt a surprise attack against Phaleros, the port of
Athens, which they thought was unguarded. But Philippides, the champion, had been sent by the Athenian commander to announce victory and to warn the city’s defending forces. He covered the
two hundred and fifty stadia from Marathon to Athens without ever stopping, after having fought the entire morning on the front line. It cost him his life. He arrived in time to bring his message,
then he collapsed to the ground, dead from exhaustion.’

The two boys were silent, fascinated and struck by his words.