The Queen of Sparta (18 page)

Leotychidas continued, “The prisoner is hereby freed and will be kept under the protection and supervision of the clan Agiadae – particularly Regent Pausanias and Queen Gorgo. He will remain in Sparta as long as is deemed useful.”

A smattering of applause, instigated once more by Euro. Gorgo looked stonily ahead, displaying no pleasure at the Gerousia’s decision.

“And as for the list,” said Leotychidas when the applause died out, “I would like to confer immediately with the Regent Pausanias and Queen Gorgo and thereafter we shall consult the Ephors. I hope this is acceptable?”

There were nods of approval. The meeting was adjourned.

Leotychidas, Pausanias and Gorgo hurried out of the hall. Across the courtyard was a small hut-like structure in whose direction they headed. Euro took Pleistarchus by the hand and motioned Sherzada and the guards to follow. Halfway across the courtyard, the guards noticed that Leotychidas’ grandson, Archidamus, was shadowing them. Euro gave him an angry scowl, and young Archidamus quickly scampered in the opposite direction. Euro instructed the guards to block the courtyard entrance and let no one in. Then he, Sherzada, and little Pleistarchus headed for the hut.

Leotychidas, Pausanias and Gorgo had bolted the door behind them. But this did not stop Euryanax from putting his ears against the door and listening in. The door was not thick and there was a small window above, so the conversation could be easily heard by those standing outside. Something made Sherzada look to the ground. There he saw Pleistarchus sitting on the floor, looking at him and Euro, quite amused. Sherzada smiled as he realized how silly he and Euro must appear to the boy – two grown men eavesdropping like little children.

Through the door, they could hear a heated argument.

“How come my name is on the top of this list? There must be some mistake, or else this is a conspiracy against me.”

“There is no mistake in your case, your Majesty,” said Pausanias. “There is overwhelming evidence against you. We have testimonies from your closest associates.”

“Liars all!”

“We found your gold exactly where they said you had hidden it. We also found more in your private chambers, even inside your clothes. The Knights raided your house as soon as you left home this morning. All the coins are Persian Darics.”

“Let’s not be hasty, shall we?” said Leotychidas, changing his tone. “I have always been a friend to the Agiadae, haven’t I? This morning I helped you free your barbarian friend. I too have been useful to your family in the past. Without my help, Gorgo, your father could not have got rid of that clown, Demaratus. Without me, your father would not have got away with the murder of the Persian envoys. I supported him in all his mad schemes. Without my support in the courts, your
mothax
of a cousin would still be an outcast. Turn me in now, and you will lose your best ally.”

Gorgo’s voice was steadfast. “You only supported my family when it served your interests. Your Majesty did not free our prisoner for my sake; you did it save your own skin.”

“Leotychidas,” spat Pausanias, “you are no better than your predecessor, that filthy traitor Demaratus. You Eurypontids are all the same. You collaborated with the enemy and now you have the gall to ask for our help.”

“Turn me in and I shall tell everyone the truth about King Cleomenes and how he died. There will be hell to pay.”

Gorgo responded in a measured tone. “I grow tired of remaining silent. I want the truth known and I want those who were involved punished. I would be very pleased indeed, if your Majesty could tell the world what really happened.”

“Now, now, my child. No need to get worked up. It was but a jest. I will do nothing to damage your family’s good name. All I ask is to have my name removed from this list. I will do anything.”

“How dare you ask such a thing,” growled Pausanias. “You betrayed Sparta and expect us to cover it up just like that!”

“Perhaps,” said Gorgo, “King Leotychidas is right. We should not be too hasty. I am sure we can reach an accommodation with his Majesty. Remember at Plataea, when Aristeides discovered that some of his generals had taken Persian bribes; rather than punishing them, he forgave them. Consequently, those same generals fought with exceptional bravery in the battle that followed. I must believe that people deserve second chances. Not only him, but others also. We will expunge King Leotychidas’ name from the list. We will present the remainder of the names to the Ephors with a recommendation to pardon most of them. Only a token few would be chosen for punishment.”

“I don’t believe what I am hearing,” said Pausanias. “What would be the criteria for choosing those who will be punished?”

“It is simple,” Gorgo replied, “only those deserve to be punished who have held the highest elected office in Sparta. The office of Ephor is a powerful one. They have powers to prosecute, punish and even execute kings. We have to send a message that even the Ephors are not above the law. So any individual who has ever held the office of the Ephor and received Persian gold must not be allowed to escape the severest of punishments.

“Is that acceptable, Pausanias?” she asked, after a pause.

After a moment, she continued, “Good. I expect both you, Pausanias, on behalf of my son, and King Leotychidas, to work with our Ephors to ensure that what we have agreed is enforced.”

“It shall be done,” said Leotychidas.

As the three came out, Sherzada studied their expressions. Pausanias seemed confused, Leotychidas relieved, and Gorgo triumphant. Something was not quite right, he thought.

CHAPTER 22

THE HALF-CASTE PRINCE

Sparta

The following morning

The rising sun shone on a grisly sight in the centre of Sparta. Five bodies were strung up in front of the Temple of Athena of the Brazen House. They had been executed in the traditional Spartan way, just before dawn with the sword. But breaking from tradition, the bodies of these former Ephors were publicly displayed for the first time as a sign that treason would not be tolerated.

Gorgo was staring at the hanging corpses when she saw Leotychidas approach accompanied by his tall, long-haired daughter, Lampito. Though very attractive, there was something quite masculine about her. Gorgo always felt uneasy in the company of this often aggressive young woman.

“So it is done,” Leotychidas whispered to Gorgo. “As you had wished.”

“I did not wish it. They brought it upon themselves.”

The Senior Ephor walked over to where Gorgo, Leotychidas and his daughter were standing. “So perish all traitors,” he said. “No one is above the law. Not Ephors; not even kings.”

“Wouldn’t you agree, King Leotychidas?” Gorgo asked mischievously.

Leotychidas mumbled something but realizing that no one understood him, simply nodded.

Gorgo smiled and bid the company good day. As she began to walk away, Sherzada came up behind her and said, “I know what you have done. These men you have had executed. They were a part of the conspiracy to kill your father. Were they not?”

“You think too much, my Prince,” she responded evasively. “At times it can be dangerous.”

They walked across the training area next to the mustering field; the place where Sherzada had first seen Gorgo. In the centre of the training area was a sandpit where seven young Spartan men stood in a circle. Each wore the grey tunics of recent graduates of the Upbringing. They stood in a circle, their swords drawn.

As the sun rose behind him, a lone warrior entered the pit. Though he too wore no armour, except for his face-covering helmet, his tunic was dark crimson. The horse-hair crest was traversed sideways rather than back to front; an indication that he was a Spartan General. He carried no weapon except a tall staff. As soon as he reached the centre of the ring, the other seven men attacked him.

With amazing agility and dexterity, he evaded some of his attackers while striking others down with his staff. But the young men did not stay down for long. They got up as fast as they could and again lunged at the helmeted officer. He countered each of them by his skilful use of his staff. Yet, in spite of having their limbs shattered and noses broken, they kept on coming; for this was the Spartan way.

Gorgo left Sherzada alone to watch the spectacle; and he did so with considerable interest. A Greek helmet may be the ideal protection in a phalanx like formation, but it is a hindrance in single combat. The vision is restricted and the hearing impaired, forcing the warrior to rely on his instincts and his training.

And yet, the helmeted General continued to dominate the struggle in spite of being outnumbered. It was as if he could anticipate their every move – all seven of them. He repeatedly whirled his staff over his head and brought it down on his attackers with devastating effect. In the end, the youths were exhausted, lying on the sand with faces, bloodied. The General remained standing, unscathed.

Once it was over, he helped each young man back on his feet. “Next time,
Strategos
,” said one of them, smiling as he wiped the blood from his mouth and limped off the field.

Even before he had taken off his helmet, Sherzada already knew who this
Strategos
– this General – was. There could not be a better specimen of the perfect Spartan warrior – not only in skill and discipline but also in outwards appearance, for he was tall, lean and muscular with tresses of long hair hanging down to his chest. Dropping his bloodied staff on to the ground, the man took off his helmet and greeted Sherzada with a nod. “Gorgo said you wanted to ask me something?”

“Yes, Prince Euryanax.”

“My friends call me Euro,” he said as he came over and sat beside Sherzada. “It is less of a mouthful.”

Indeed, Euro was a curiosity to Sherzada. In all his years of gathering information on Sparta, Sherzada had never encountered his name or any information about him. And yet he was the deputy commander of Sparta’s land forces and a cousin of the Queen. He said, “I have extensively studied your family’s history, but I can’t seem to place you in it. I know of the names of all of the male members of Agiad family but not yours.”

“Have you heard of Dorieus?”

Sherzada nodded. He was the elder brother of Leonidas and also the younger half-brother of Cleomenes; the brother who lost the claim to throne after their father King Anaxandridas died. He was the brother who died in exile, in battle against the Carthaginians in Sicily.

“I am his son,” said Euro.

“If you don’t mind me prying, Prince Euryanax, if you are the son of Dorieus, the second son of King Anaxandridas, under Spartan Law it is you who should have succeeded King Cleomenes, not Leonidas. Is that not so?”

“Under normal circumstances, I would have indeed been King Cleomenes’ successor. But my circumstances are anything but normal. I am the son of a Spartan Prince and a Helot woman. Do you think the Spartans will ever accept the son of a Helot as their king?”

Sherzada was taken aback by this revelation. Spartans usually considered offspring of such unions as
mothoi
– ‘illegitimates’; who were treated as outcasts, often forced into exile. Yes, Euro was right that no
mothax
could ever become king. But making one a general, even if he was the son of a royal Prince, was just as unusual.

“You see,” continued Euro, “my mother was from Messene. Its proud Achaean kingdom was destroyed by the Dorian invaders who were my ancestors from my father’s side. These invaders became the Spartans – the rulers – and made the original inhabitants of Sparta, Laconia and Messene their slaves – their Helots. Ever since that time the Helots have been kept in their place by the Spartans. When the Spartans are not coercing the Helots themselves, they send in
Peroikoi
to keep the Helots in their place. The Helots know no existence other than subservience to the Spartans. This was the culture into which my mother was born.

“The Messenian Helots, in particular, have always been recalcitrant. The Spartans have never tolerated that. They have repeatedly gone into Messene to crush the Helot. It was during one of these expeditions that my father found my mother among the captives. He immediately fell in love with her. He not only freed her but he also married her. She was not his Helot slave–concubine, which some Spartan men are known to keep; my mother was his wife.

“So when my father claimed the Spartan throne on my grandfather’s death, the weakness of his claim compared to that of my uncle Cleomenes became less of a concern in Sparta than his marriage to my mother. My father’s attempts to legalize his marriage to my mother were blocked by the Ephors. The only solution for the Spartan elite was to get rid of him – which they did. They effectively exiled him by sending him away on colonizing expeditions, first to the Libyan coast of Africa, and when that expedition failed, they packed him off to Sicily. There must have been sighs of relief when news came that he had died fighting there.”

“And what of your mother?” asked Sherzada.

“She wanted to accompany my father abroad, but was forbidden to do so by the Ephors. In any case, she died from some sickness when I was four. At the time, my father was in exile, and the most unlikely person came to my aid – my uncle Cleomenes, King of Sparta; the same uncle who had fallen out with my father. It was he who took me in and raised me as his own son. Gorgo was born much later. Cleomenes, who did not have a child then, used all his political clout to have me adopted as his son.

“While there have been precedents of half-Helots being adopted as
Hypomeiones
– Spartans of an inferior status – provided their fathers were full Spartans, most Spartans were concerned about the legal implications of giving Spartan citizenship to someone who was a son of a Helot and could conceivably become their king one day. After a great legal battle in which Cleomenes had to expend much of his personal and political capital, the Ephors finally agreed to give me full status as a Spartan citizen – with all rights, except one. I had to relinquish my claim on the throne. It was, and still is, forbidden for a son of a Helot to become a Spartan king.”

Sherzada was sitting on the floor of his new accommodation. It was a larger room in the same building as Gorgo’s, only two doors down from hers. To Sherzada, the room did not look very different from the cell he had been in. Only it was larger, it had a large window – without bars – and a proper bed rather than a damp reed mattress. The rest was the same.

He was lost in thought when he heard a gentle knock on the door. Moments later, Gorgo entered. As always, he rose for her, but he did not smile as he usually did. “You seem pensive, my Prince. What is on your mind?”

He rose and offered her the single chair, which she took. “I have traveled through many lands,” he said, sitting back down on the floor, “and I did not find a single place where slavery did not exist in one form or another. Sparta is no different in that regard, and yet there is still something savage about this society of yours.”

“The Spartan system,” she explained with some indignation, “is designed to protect Sparta from enemies foreign and domestic. Had it not been for this, Sparta would have been overrun long ago by our enemies and the Peloponnesus would have remained in perpetual chaos. Sparta’s supremacy has provided a degree of peace and stability to this region that is missing in many other parts of Greece.

“Most Spartans fear that if we do not suppress the Helots, they will rise up and wipe us out, as they have tried to do in the past. And while we oppress our Helots, we are brutal to ourselves also, as you saw on the training ground today. Our military education is incredibly harsh and many do not survive it. The system demands our citizens be tough and disciplined. If we cannot even do that, we might not survive – and we might not deserve to survive. We even kill our weak babies so that only the strong survive.”

Gorgo bowed her head. “Why do you think I did not have a second child? I knew that my first baby, if it was a male, would not be that closely examined, even if it was weak … and Pleistarchus was certainly the frailest of babies. Being the first-born son of a king, the Ephor gave him the benefit of the doubt, and thus his life. But I knew my second child would not survive a similar inspection. It is one thing to lose a grown-up son on the field of battle, it is quite another to lose a child before he or she has even started to live. You are right, my Prince, there are aspects of our culture which are truly savage.”

Sherzada got up and looked back at Gorgo. “Well, change this savage behavior of yours,” he urged. “For a start, stop killing your infants.”

Gorgo shook her head. “Survival of the fittest babies is part of the Code of Lycurgus – our ancient Lawgiver. Spartans would never accept any change in the Code.”

“Then, at least, change those practice that are outside the Code,” he suggested. “I too have studied the Code. It says nothing about killing Helots. This measure was instituted much later, only after the great Helot rebellions, if memory serves me right.”

Gorgo again shook her head. “Any leniency towards the Helots will be interpreted as weakness on our part. We will be seen to be compromising on our security.”

Sherzada began to pace about impatiently. “Security,” he scoffed. “Do you think your outnumbered Spartans can continue to control this multitude of Helots forever? There will come a day when your enemies will use your Helots against you. Spartans must find a way to accommodate the Helots before that happens. Not for their sake, but for your own.”

Sherzada waited for Gorgo’s reaction but none came. It was a rare moment to see her at a loss for words. But then, after the longest pause, Gorgo’s lips began to curl in a sly way. Sherzada knew she had come up with an idea.