The Queen of Sparta (23 page)

CHAPTER 28

DEPARTURE

Agiadae Compound

Sparta

A week later

The sun was setting as Sherzada returned to the Agiadae compound, after a stroll through the main streets of Sparta. He had seen enthusiastic preparations underway to welcome one of the great heroes of the Greek resistance against the Persians, Themistocles of Athens. Spartan soldiers were practicing impressive drills and young Spartan girls were rehearsing their dance moves. The entire city was alive with activity. Sherzada remembered how this man, Themistocles, had risen from humble beginnings to become a redoubtable leader of the Athenian democracy and the genius behind the Greek naval victories over the Persians. All of Sparta was preparing to receive their famous guest the following day.

But it was Gorgo and not Themistocles who had been on his mind all this time. What did she mean by saying that Leonidas was ‘not meant to return alive from Thermopylae’? On more than one occasion Sherzada had tried to draw Gorgo back to the question of Thermopylae, but the Queen simply changed the subject each time.

Two days earlier, Gorgo had introduced her son Pleistarchus and asked Sherzada to share his experiences with the young King, “so that he would learn that there is a whole world outside Sparta.” The meeting had been awkward for Sherzada, but not, it seemed, for the boy. “Perhaps he sees in you something of what I have already seen,” Gorgo later explained.

But despite spending an ever-increasing amount of time with the Queen, Sherzada was beginning to feel restless. He was no longer a prisoner, and yet he had remained in Sparta for some time now. And he could not forget what she knew, nor the insinuation that his presence in Sparta was a threat to her.

Sherzada had lately struck another friendship, an unusual one, with Menander. The Helot said he had changed his view about Sherzada even though he had killed his beloved King. “If the Queen trusts you, Highness, so can I.” But Sherzada felt there was more to it than that. Though obsequious in front of most Spartans, Sherzada would allow him to freely speak his mind, giving Menander a kind of freedom he had not been used to. So he visited Sherzada frequently to speak to him of matters he could not discuss with others, even fellow Helots.

Returning from his walk that day, Sherzada found Menander waiting at his porch. Sitting on the ground, the Helot gave him a grim look. It was the same look Sherzada had seen in the eyes of the Messenian Helots who had charged his positions at Thermopylae.

“Helots are meant to be seen, not heard. And so I hear a lot of things,” began Menander.

Sherzada invited him into his room and sat down on the floor cross-legged, motioning Menander to do the same.

With a little reticence, Menander sat down next to Sherzada. “There are those in Sparta who doubt her Majesty,” he said. “They say she has made too many concessions to us Helots – concessions that are dangerous for Sparta. These people also say that Her Majesty has been seduced by you, Highness, and your outlandish ideas. That you possess an evil influence over her.

“But these are the very people who took Persian gold. Those who once tried to betray Sparta now hide behind the mask of patriotism. They promise a new dawn but all they will do is pull Sparta into the depths of darkness.”

Menander got up and looked down at Sherzada. “Tell me, Highness, why does the Queen refuse to take a husband?”

It was true that Gorgo was a woman under pressure – pressure to remarry. Had she been just another young widow, a Spartan warrior would either propose to her, or simply carry her off. But she was a Queen and not an ordinary one at that. Out of respect for her father and her late husband, no Spartan warrior dared propose to her. Carrying her off was simply out of the question. And while Spartans were reluctant to approach Gorgo with a marriage suit, it did not stop other Greeks.

Sherzada had witnessed how Gorgo treated her suitors. A Cretan prince, a famous warrior and a champion wrestler, was reduced to tears when Gorgo told him his flirting was effeminate. She went on to compare this, the most masculine of men, with the most vulnerable of women. The man left in a state of shock.

Menander left soon afterwards, and Sherzada spent the night thinking over what the Helot had said to him. By early morning, he had made up his mind.

CHAPTER 29

HEADS OF THE HYDRA

Velathri (Volterrae)

Tuscany, Northern Italy

Early summer, 478
BC

Perched high above the most charming Tuscan countryside, Sherzada saw neatly marked fields of olives and vines in a perfect patchwork covering the landscape. Directly below him was a valley centred around a gentle hill, Cyprus trees dotting its periphery. Squinting into the distance, he could see rolling hills bordered by lush trees. He felt cradled in beauty and serenity. Sherzada had spent the past months travelling through this truly bewildering land. And certainly, he had not met a stranger people. The Etruscans, or rather the
Ra’senna
, as they called themselves, were an enigmatic lot. While Sherzada found strong similarities between most Italian languages, especially Latin, with that spoken by the Persians, the Indians and his own people, he could not link the Etruscan language to any other linguistic group that he knew. There were a few odd Etruscan words in common with Sanskrit and the Saka dialect – but nothing else. And yet, the Etruscans were claimed to hail from Asia. And interestingly, the name
Ra’senna
reminded him of the Persian name for his own homeland,
Paruparaseanna
.

He found the religion of the Etruscan equally bizarre. Although it claimed to have been a revealed religion, it bore little resemblance to revealed religions elsewhere. His impression was that the Etruscan religion may have originally been a monotheistic one, but had been changed over the course of time. The religion now placed more emphasis on auguries and prophecies than a moral code. And indeed the Etruscans were criticized by their neighbours, sometimes unjustly, for having no morals or ethics whatsoever.

And yet the Etruscans were an enterprising and ingenious people, who had devised fascinating ways of transporting water and oil across mountainous terrain using structures called aqueducts and had developed irrigation systems that could drain marshes and at the same time make arid soil fertile. Etruscan influence extended all over northern Italy. But they were ever casting covetous glances at central Italy, particularly the lush plains of Campania in the south, and even beyond the high mountain ranges in the north called the Alps. They sought to strengthen their control over Sardinia and their sea-raiders plundered the lands on the northern end of the Mediterranean Sea. Their greed for gold, slaves and lands was boundless.

The Etruscans had all the makings of a great nation, and yet their land, once a proud confederation of twelve cities, was no more. Now even though more Etruscan city-states had emerged, the land itself was descending into chaos. Tuscany was hard at war with its neighbours and even more fiercely with itself. Not so long ago, their cities had been run in a manner which was very close to a Greek democracy; now each city was ruled by a warlord or tyrant. Although the city-state of Velathri, by far the most remarkable of them, existed in relative peace and harmony, mutual jealousies and rivalries among the Etruscans continued to weaken the Ra’senna as a nation.

Velathri was ruled by an elderly woman, the wisest of all Etruscan rulers. Long ago, she had tried to keep the Ra’senna united as a nation; now she was struggling to protect Velathri against the threats from Etruscan tyrants, ever eager to expand their territory and power. Lady Velia, the Zilath, or ruler, of Velathri had been kind to Sherzada, hosting him during his stay. But he knew it was only a matter of time until the strife that was spreading across Tuscany would engulf beautiful Velathri as well.

Velathri’s lucrative northern trading post, Florentia, across the Arno bridge, had already fallen to ambitious ruler of an emerging city-state of Viesul. Armies of other warlords were inching ever closer, reducing Velathri’s once extensive domains by fire and sword. As Sherzada sat on the ramparts of Velathri, reflecting on this sad state of affairs, a slave came with a message forwarded by the Spartan ambassador Timaeus, Gorgo’s trusted envoy in Taras.

Sherzada had been writing to Gorgo each month, and this was the first time he had received any correspondence in return. But his forehead frowned in disappointment as he began to read the letter. It was not from Gorgo.

Prince Sherzada from Euro, Greetings

Pausanias has just returned from his naval expedition which took him all the way to Cyprus. Of course, if you ask him what happened, he will give you a glorious account of how he chased what was left of the Persian fleet all the way to the eastern edges of the Mediterranean Sea and gave the Barbarians a bloody nose. What a piece of horse manure! It was our side that got beaten up pretty badly. While he did make it all the way to Cyprus, he did not quite succeed in liberating it. And on his way back his fleet was almost ambushed and destroyed by the second Persian naval squadron – the one you had spoken about. Like the thunderbolt he is, Admiral Barqa appeared out of nowhere and inflicted severe damage on our fleet. It would have been completely destroyed, had it not been for an unexpected thunderstorm which enabled our ships to disengage and escape.

I wish I could say that everything is going well for the Greeks, but it is not. Now that the Persians have left our old rivalries are coming back – between Thebes and Athens, Doris and Plataea, between Chalcis and Eretria, Thessaly and Phocis, the list goes on and on. Greece, once again, is a land divided.

And so is Sparta. There are certainly people who would support Gorgo in bringing change, though without compromising on our principles. Others, however, want to return to the closed society of more than three generations ago.

You must have heard the legend of the Hydra? It is one of those stories we Greeks love to tell. The Hydra is a monster with several heads. Every time you cut off one of the heads, another two will grow in its place. The problems of Greece are like a Hydra. The moment you solve one, two more immediately present themselves. There is no end to it.

Enough of our politics. I am sure you want to hear about other things. So I should mention the real reason I wrote this letter to you. Gorgo tries not to show it, but she eagerly awaits your missives. She rushes into the privacy of her bedroom and does not come out until she has read each new arrival many times over. But she refuses to write back, saying what if her writing were intercepted by our enemies – an inconvenience we both know she could avoid.

In the last letter that you sent us, you included a sketch on a piece of parchment of an exceptionally beautiful young woman, who you called the Zilath of Velathri. Gorgo flew into a jealous rage. It was towards the end of your letter that you had clarified that this sketch had been made over half a century earlier, and this lady, your current hostess – the ruler of Velathri – as you explained, was in her dotage and in poor health.

Putting aside the letter, Sherzada did not know how to react. A part of him wanted to rush back to Sparta, but he knew that he had to await Gorgo’s word. He could not go back until she called him.

Looking over the troubled land before him, he did not know what he would do in the meantime.

CHAPTER 30

THE WALLS OF ATHENS

Royal Compound of the Agiadae

Sparta

Summer, 478
BC

“Where is Prince Euryanax?” Gorgo asked Theras, the Captain of the Knights.

Theras pointed towards the garden below.

Noticing that he had a black eye, Gorgo asked him what had happened. When Theras refused to discuss it, she smiled. “Oh, you had a disagreement with Princess Lampito again.”

The young long-haired Captain sheepishly nodded. “She refused our offer to escort her to her father, King Leotychidas’ country estate. We then paid the price of insisting – all six of us. But it was only for her protection. We were just doing our duty.”

“When it comes to Lampito, it is not her protection I am ever concerned about,” Gorgo said, barely holding back her laughter, “but yours. Don’t worry, Theras, your secret is safe with me.”

Theras managed to pull a slight smile onto his otherwise serious face.

Gorgo lifted her gown and raced down to find Euro. She found him sitting on her favourite bench writing on a parchment. “What are you doing?”

“Writing back to our Barbarian friend,” he replied. “He has been writing letters to you consistently and you have not answered a single one. So whenever I have a chance, which is not very often, I reply on your behalf. Sitting on this bench of yours gives me great inspiration,” he chuckled.

“Put that letter away,” chided Gorgo. “We have more pressing matters at hand.”

They looked across the garden and saw Pausanias approaching, accompanied by the five Ephors and Sparta’s leading generals. They were all of a similar appearance, with long flowing hair, long beards, and crimson cloaks. Only Pausanias, with his shorter hair and moustached beard, looked a little out of place. Gorgo noted that King Leotychidas had not come. “Shall we wait for him?” she asked.

Then Theras came down and made an uncomfortable gesture, pointing to a newcomer who had entered the garden. It was the long-haired Lampito. She wore a crimson Spartan cloak, with a tunic made from coarse material underneath, slit up to the thighs in typical Spartan fashion. Lampito gave the suffering Theras a mischievous, mocking look. However, as she came up to Gorgo, she addressed her in a serious tone. “If the Agiadae can be represented here by a woman, so can the Eurypontidae. My father has sent me here on his behalf.”

Gorgo welcomed the girl with a warm smile and a gentle hug.

It was not long afterwards that a lone man strolled into the garden. He was dressed in a white robe, edged with purple, made of the finest linen. His hair was a bit dishevelled, and his beard a little scruffy. A heavy-set man with a prominent bull neck, his forehead was large, his nose small and his lips thin. His demeanour was that of a thug, were it not for his winning smile that had not very long ago made him so popular back in his home city. Almost a year ago this man had been welcomed in Sparta like a hero, but the Spartan eyes that now beheld him did so with suspicion.

“Welcome, former Archon Themistocles,” said Gorgo. “How nice of you to visit Sparta again.”

“Majesty,” said Themistocles, bowing to Gorgo and presenting her with the most charming of his smiles. “I am but a mere citizen of Athens, sent by our Assembly and Council to consult with our Spartan allies – seeing that I am, at least amongst my countrymen, the most honoured in Sparta. My task is to clear up a little misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” retorted Pausanias. “You have repaired the walls of Athens against our express instructions and you are building additional fortifications. How can you dismiss this gross violation of trust as a ‘little misunderstanding’?”

“Spartans,” replied Themistocles in a testy voice, “were our friends and allies, Regent, the last time I checked; not our masters. You have the right to make requests, but not to hand down instructions. You did indeed ask us not rebuild our walls and I assure you we have not. As you know, Athens was twice burnt down by the Persians during their recent invasion. There is a lot of reconstruction work going on in the city, some of which can easily be confused with rebuilding our walls. But nothing of the sort is happening.”

“He is lying,” whispered Pausanias into Gorgo’s ear.

Lampito nodded. “Remember what they say about the Athenians,” she said under her breath, “after shaking hands with them, be sure to count your fingers.”

Themistocles smiled again. “I know there are many of you who don’t believe me. I have been here several days now, trying to convince both your Gerousia and your War Council that the rumours are untrue. So I have asked to be joined by another colleague, whose words might carry more weight in Sparta than mine. Perhaps you would listen to him.”

“I trust that pompous lout Cimon even less than yourself, Themistocles,” replied Pausanias.

“Oh … It is not Cimon I speak of,” said Themistocles, using his silver tongue. “And by the way, Regent, we do have something in common, after all. I share your sentiments about Miltiades’ haughty son. However, the man I speak of has already arrived in Sparta. He will join us here momentarily.”

The Spartans began to speculate among themselves.

“Please let it not be Aristeides. Aristeides hates Themistocles. Let him not be his accomplice in this farce,” said Gorgo to herself.

And sure enough, Aristeides arrived a few minutes later and was warmly welcomed by everyone. No Athenian was more loved in Sparta than he. Gorgo had not seen him in years, and while the Athenian had aged considerably, he had lost none of his elegance and charm. He greeted each Spartan with great affection, embracing everyone, shaking every hand and asking after each man’s health. He then spent a considerably long time with Lampito, asking kindly about her parents, recalling fond memories of the last time he had seen her when she was but a small child. The Princess appeared genuinely enchanted. And then he walked over to Gorgo and hailed her, “
Megisto-Anassa
, the Greatest of Queens.” Then he went down on his knees before her and kissed both her hands, calling her, “Our saviour.”

Gorgo wondered whether the man humbling himself before her was one they called the Just, or the Fox.

Finally, Aristeides got up and addressed the gathering. He began by describing his fondness for Sparta and its proud martial traditions. He extolled Spartan leadership in the war against Persia, which he said could not have been won if Sparta had not led the Greeks. He spoke of Spartan courage at Thermopylae, Salamis and Plataea, giving individual examples in each case. He spoke of an alliance between Sparta and Athens that had saved Greece; an alliance that had survived many storms since it was first formed by King Cleomenes.

Then he said, “I had come here to tell you that the walls being erected are part of our reconstruction work for buildings destroyed by the Persians on the edge of our city. And that they would be pulled down as soon as the renovation work was completed. That is no doubt what Themistocles has already told you.”

Some of the Spartans nodded.

“But that is a lie,” Aristeides admitted. “You are my friends,” he continued. “I cannot lie to you. Athens has indeed constructed its walls. But our army is not as strong as yours. And Athens is vulnerable to attacks by land as well as by sea. Had Athens not had its walls, the Persians would have surely sacked Athens twelve years ago instead of landing at Marathon. We need the walls to protect ourselves and our fleet in case the Persians return. It is merely a measure for our own protection. However, we will fight alongside you wherever you wish us to. We are your allies, after all. Whenever you need us, we will come to your aid, as you have always come to ours. This is a solemn pledge I make on behalf of the Democratic Assembly and Council of Athens. We need the walls but we also need Sparta. Let us not choose between the two. Our alliance is too important for that.”

The Spartans turned to Gorgo, expecting her to come up with a challenge. She looked around, and then she nodded. “Our alliance is far too important for a matter of masonry to get in the way. We would require certain assurances from Athens, of course. But let us not sour our relations at a time when our two great cities can unite all of Greece behind us.”

Later that evening, Gorgo sought out Aristeides. The Queen found him alone in the courtyard of the city’s official guesthouse. Fittingly, it had been designed by an Athenian architect. The building made extensive use of marble and contained several comfortable quarters. This was the closest thing Sparta had to a palace. But only foreign dignitaries stayed here. This was a preferred alternative for them, sparing the discomfort of hard Spartan living. Greeting him, she asked, “Why did you build your walls without telling us? And why are you doing this for Themistocles? I know this is his idea; but you hate him.”

“Despise Themistocles,” replied Aristeides, “I most certainly do. However, while your Majesty has always hastened to put Greece’s interests before Sparta’s, we Athenians always put Athens’ interests before anyone else’s.”

“But surely the interests of Athens lie in a united Greece?”

“Majesty,” said Aristeides. “Times are changing. Each city must now look after its own interests. But this does not mean we cannot continue as partners.”

Gorgo sighed. “Having all Greek cities tear down their walls was my idea. I issued the instruction at the height of the Persian invasion, when it made more sense for all of us to fight the Persians together at one place rather than allow them to besiege us and take each city separately. But I am no longer in favour of these instructions. However, though your walls do not directly threaten us, they will do so indirectly. If Athens rebuilds its walls, then Megara will do the same. Corinth will not be left behind, nor Mycenae, nor Sicyon. And then nothing will stop our arch-enemy Argos from refortifying and rearming itself. Thus by increasing the security of Athens, you are undermining ours.”

“Forgive me, Queen Gorgo,” responded Aristeides, “but that is the least of our problems. There are increasing numbers of Spartans who view all outsiders with suspicion – even fellow Greeks. They think they are superior to all other Greeks and that is not helping Sparta’s relations with other Greek states, not least Athens. It was not long ago that all of us together fought more or less on the same side. But listening to people here in Sparta, sometimes I think it is almost as if the Persian invasion had never happened. At least then we had something noble to fight for.”

“How wistful your words,
Alopex
,” said Gorgo, calling him by his nickname – the Fox. “You seem to suggest that the Persian invasion was the best thing that ever happened to Greece.”

“Well, it kept us together for a while, rather than at each other’s throats. And I believe you also found someone because of that very invasion. Where is he these days?”

“Relaxing on some Italian hillside, I imagine. I forgot to thank you for saving Sherzada’s life and sending him to me. You have always been a good judge of character.”

Gorgo bade farewell to Aristeides and returned to her compound. Then she went looking for Euro and found him in his lodgings, where she uttered a request that was not without pain to her. Complying, Euro wrote down her words:
My Prince, I must ask you to remain away a little longer. You will hear from me before long. In the meantime, I trust that you have found in Italy the peace you have been longing for.