Bless The Child

The Spartans Lament

Where does a man go when shame and betrayal have brought him down so low? When he can’t go home again; when friends and family would scorn him, spit upon the son they once anointed with oil, exalted, and loved?

I went to Egypt.

To protect the weak from the strong, I had followed near all my days the precepts of great Lycurgus, the wolf worker, founder of the Great Rhetra—Spartan Law. There was no truer son of Sparta than I, there could not be, but for one weakness—and for that I deserted my city, my people, and my honor.

Blood wouldn't wash away blood.

I do not expect you to fully understand, you who have not stood side by side with your blood brothers slamming the brazen spear into the naked breast of the wicked foe. Each man’s shield protected his brother, not himself. But it was who we are, it was how we were expected to live and to die. It was what I was born into and what I expected my sons to be born into. How could I have known the cruel fate cast against me?

Better a man should die for something than of something.

So I, a now cursed warrior, waited in Egypt, in a tavern near the docks of Heliopolis.

Before you judge me too harshly for the many awful and callous things I have done in this life, I ask but one thing. We Greeks have a saying: Look to the end of a man’s life, to see all that he did and accomplished, before fully judging his deeds.

I can only hope that in the end I have atoned for my heartless youth and the little lost child sleeping forever upon the cold mountainside beyond Taygetus.

Curse me, if you must, He-who-sits-above-Zeus, but please bless the child.

Divine Intervention

May the gods give my master strength and health, said the innkeeper as he dropped a red clay plate of triangular bread and a vessel of beer before me.

I sat in the corner of the dank and dirty tavern, brooding over my poor Egyptian fare. Did it take civilized men to prepare a decent drink? They had no wine but the libation made from barley. Was it so hard for them to make bread without sand? Spartan training led me to be simple of taste and excess, but this triangular bread and beer was akin to sand and water from the Nile. The sons of Cush were a strange people. Such a curious melding of folk, dark and light, rich and poor, strong and weak, devoted and godless, and yet not a single good bread maker among them.

My scarlet cloak remained unseen in the shadows by two Athenians who come inside, chuckling like rooting swine. Freely conversing with one another in their mother tongue, the fools did not realize there was anyone else present who could understand them. They glanced only at the innkeeper and a few Gypos dozing lazily away from the hot summer sun.

They remained unaware of me.

What luck of the gods, to have found him so quickly. I feared it would take weeks, said the first, a tawny haired youth of perhaps twenty.

Aye, we will return to Athens rich men. I wager he will not even put up a good fight, spoke the other, an older man, perhaps his father, or uncle, for the resemblance.

Did you see his build? Ha, he is no Olympian, that’s for certain. Why does the master fear him so?

Men say his strength is in the mind. It’s his ideas that are dangerous, certainly not his hands.

It matters not to me. Gold is worth more than a clean conscience. I know which will let me sleep easier.

You really are a fool, Aeides.

I tell you this. I would slay him for less, much less. Not that the Master needs to know that, said the youth as he gulped down the last of his foul Egyptian beer. My weight—my weight in gold! It’s incredible, he stammered. We will be rich as Gyges, feared as Minos and loved as Helen.

A third comrade of theirs stumbled into the tavern and slapped them both on the back. They handed him another mug of the Egyptian stout, which he promptly threw back, coating his sandy beard with foam. That other one is still with him, he and his boys. One gave me the stink eye for watching them so long. I thought it best to give them a little room and fetch you both. It will be dark soon enough.

It will, indeed. Let us go, then. This will be the easiest gold I have ever made, said the elder, patting the third on the back. Where are they now?

They sit beside the stables, deep in conversation over philosophy and gods. I could not follow that half of it.

Still? asked the youth.

Aye, affirmed the third man.

I say we just kill them both. Who cares who the other one is. We don’t want him identifying us, do we? the younger man said.

Wait, it gets better. This other one is a merchant of some kind. Precious metals I think. He is an Israelite, a Hebrew named Lehi. Spitting his beer as he spoke, the third affirmed, We slay Solon and this friend of his, Lehi, and we keep all of his spoils as well.

Do they have any bodyguards?

No, just them boys. They’re young, they’re nothing.

One of them finally turned and noticed me. It was dark inside the tavern, so I don’t believe they saw my scarlet cloak, but they did speak in hushed tones afterward.

I never heard who was paying them, but for that incredible amount, I doubted this master really expected them to succeed. Either that, or he would pay them with a knife in the back once they returned to Athens.

Whoever he was, he must desperately want Solon dead. And for what? I had heard of this Solon. He was a poet and an Athenian statesman, but who would want him dead?

Pondering on what would happen if I interfered, I decided to attend to my own business. What if Solon deserved to die? The fates had been most unkind to me and there was no reason I should step in. But I did not like the idea of assassin’s in the dark, either. Men should face each other if they be enemies, not send dogs to nip the heels once their back is turned.

And these men were dogs. I had seen their kind before in Argos. Face them with bravery and they flee, turn your back and they will run you down.

The assassins cast wary eyes at me, then stepped outside to speak and plot while sitting under the veranda. Their laughter annoyed me like a fly taunts a spider.

Lifting my vessel, I drained the last of the foul brew. When I lifted my eyes, a man in a fine white robe stood before me. How had he approached so silently, so swiftly? The very words of Sappho were not so quick and surprising. Yet somehow I knew that he was no threat. I could allow him to speak and gesture without my guard being drawn.

You know what you should do, he said in flawless Greek, though he did not look like any Greek I had ever before seen. A Hibernian?

Who are you? I demanded, pretending to drain my beer again in feigned indifference.

He smiled and paused before answering. Gesturing to the door, he said, As a Spartan, is it not your duty to protect the weak from the strong?

How hard it is to feel pity and at the same time act rationally, I said and looked toward the door, expecting the white robed man to respond. When he didn’t, I turned my eyes back to him.

He was gone.

I glanced about the room, but he was nowhere to be found. There wasn’t anywhere he could he have hid, but he was gone. I told myself I no longer believed in the Gods, but this was something they would do. This was a heavenly messenger, and I would be a great fool not to listen.

Something must have guided me to this wayward tavern, if only to end those dogs’ sorry existence.

The assassins continued laughing outside with one another until dusk fell. They left and I followed. The sharp horns of the waning moon spread, cutting a sharp sickle through the twilight.

Keeping back a discreet distance, I watched, always keeping the three shades within sight. We walked for some time when they suddenly stopped. We were before a higher-class lodge, near the docks and markets that catered especially to foreigners.

I pressed myself into a doorway. I could no longer hear them, but as I paused, it was easy to surmise their intent and design. The assassins watched their quarry as they sat talking.

I quickly circled around the stable beside the lodge so that I could come up behind the intended victims. I would face the assassins from the front. As I neared, I could hear the two men deep in conversation.

And for the good of the city, I would legislate it into being, declared the Athenian.

The Hebrew answered him, saying, I would take my sons from such a place, were it in my city.

Ha! Lehi, then I shall make it a law. No father shall pursue his son into a brothel, nor have a constable arrest a man inside either. It would damage the very institution if men could be waylaid that way. Such a service is needed in a realistic society.

I doubt it. Respect is needed more.

Ah, but in this world with things such as they are, this is the necessary evil that is needed to keep—.

The assassin’s bloodthirsty cry and the shuffle of sandaled feet upon dry cobblestone broke the friendly argument.

The two men only had time to glance up, as doom charged them. Flee my sons! cried the Hebrew as his boys vanished.

It was easy to feel justified when the assassins drew their daggers. I felt no compunction against slaying them. I’d done this before, I could do it again.

I stepped from the shadows with my sharp Xiphos bared.

To be a Spartan is to be a weapon. A weapon that in a single fluid motion cleaved the first man across the arm and heart. The second raised his blade in a shocked defense and lost an eye and all behind it. The third had but a moment to scream to Athena before my blade silenced his wind-gate.

Three dogs fell before me, their red life seeping into dry brown Egyptian ground.

The two men, an Athenian and a Hebrew, stared in awe.

Who are you? asked the Athenian.

Do names matter? Your lives were just saved. You don’t even have any weapons, I said in contempt mixed with surprise.

My mind is my weapon, said the Athenian.

Fair enough, but I have saved your lives judiciously, as all things are done in Sparta—with my weapon in hand; that should be worth something. I am hungry.

Are you such a mercenary? asked the Athenian.

Hard times call for hard men. I get by as best I can.

Are they dead? asked the older of the boy.

If they are not, they soon will be, answered the Hebrew, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Tonight, the luck the God’s deny most men was with you, for I overheard these murderers speaking Greek when they should have been more careful. Advised by Heaven, I stopped them.

Advised by Heaven? asked the Hebrew.

Yes, the strangest thing that has ever happened to me. Perhaps it was Hermes, perhaps not.

A messenger advised you to help us? asked the Hebrew. What did he look like?

He looked like a man, perhaps something more. He wore only white and he vanished after admonishing me of my martial duty.

That’s all I needed to know, he said.

The Athenian noticed my scarlet cloak. You are a Spartan?

I am.

Are you with Necho’s army?

No, I have not been able to enlist as yet. I have to wait for whatever incoming legion appears in the next few weeks.

You have not heard, then? How long have you been here?

I have heard nothing as yet. I have been here but a day.

Then you do not know. Necho has already taken the army north to aid the Assyrians against the Babylonians.

By the son of Cronus, I wish I was with him! I have a score to settle with the Babylonians!

I am Solon of Athens; this is my dear friend, Lehi of Jerusalem. He has only just given me the news of Necho’s archers slaying Josiah, King of Judea.

I shrugged. King Josiah meant nothing to me.

In any case, said Solon, extending his hand, I thank you for your timely assistance. I have little gold but will do what I can to assist you wherever I may.

I did this because it was the right thing to do. But these killers said the Hebrew was a merchant of precious metals. Perhaps he can spare some coin for me while I await employment.

You are no better than those robbers! shouted the younger boy.

No, boy, I am better. They are on the ground while I stand. Ask the Athenian. We have a saying: ‘Look to the end.’ The end, that is, of a man’s life before judging him.

Lehi held his son’s shoulder. Forgive my youngest son, Spartan. I do appreciate your intervention and I will reward you. He signaled the elder son, who scowled darkly but went into the stable. Somewhere behind their wagon, I heard him open a wooden latch on what must have been a not-so-secret compartment where they kept their valuables. He fetched a jingling bag.

Lehi handed me a princely sum, which I tucked into a goatskin bag on my wide leather belt. The eldest son would not stop scowling at me. You seek employment. I may be able to find something for you, said Lehi.

I would welcome whatever service you could find for me. A weapon does not like to go unused, I said, cleaning my sword blade on the cloak of a fallen robber.

Weapons don’t feel anything, said the younger son.

If only that were true. A weapon needs to be used continually or it may lose its edge.

The boy stared but left it at that.

Solon looked to Lehi, who nodded. We will find a place for you on the morrow, but for the now, would you accompany me to the Temple of Neith, where Psenophis dwells? If there are any more slayers about, I would like to have you with me. Besides, we can speak on the way. As I get older, I am constantly learning new things. And you, my friend, may teach me a thing or two.

Nodding in acceptance, I finished cleaning my sword.

I will take care of the bodies. The Egyptians will not fret over barbarian Greeks being slain in their streets. We are blessed that it was not Egyptian assassins, said Lehi.

Can’t be upsetting the Gypos, I muttered, taking an assassin’s dagger for myself.

Solon shook hands with Lehi as we turned to go. Tomorrow.

Beyond the Pillars of Hercules

I followed Solon down a wide avenue, farther into the dark Egyptian city.

I can pay you more, but I shall be returning to Athens soon and will not need you to return with me. I think you understand. Sparta and Athens are not on the best of terms.

I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been in Greece for three years. Much has changed.

Where have you been, why are you here? Does not Sparta need all of her sons?

It doesn’t want me.

I think I understand Spartan. Are you in any debt or obligation that I should know of?

I decided I could admit an honest debt of battle and intrigue. I do owe a blood-debt to a Babylonian, should I ever cross his path. His name is Eri-Nergal, and he stole my shield on campaign. For such insult, I will take his heart. But it is also doubtful I shall find him again. He is likely dead.

Many things in this life string together. I think you are here for a great purpose. Lehi should be able to find work for you with some relative of his, said Solon, sounding very firm, as if it was discussed before I came into their lives. He stopped to get his bearings and then led us up a sloping road to cyclopean structures that were ancient when the Trojan War raged. I believe the relative of Lehi will find you a most welcome addition.

What does the relative do?

The same as you. His name is Laban, and he does not plant wheat.

What about the Gypos and Pharaoh Necho? If he has slain the Israelite king Josiah what need will this Laban have of me?

Then the Israelite warriors will need you all the more, won’t they? Come along, I am running late. I know two men that are greater visionaries than all others. They know many great mysteries. Lehi is one and the other is Psenophis, said Solon, scratching his beard.

I shrug, having had little to do with seers and diviners. To see the future would be both a curse and a misery. What use to know fate, if you cannot shape the outcome? Are we only to be travelers’ on a rudderless ship? Drawn inexorably by a deep dark river, falling into the abyss, helpless to save ourselves from Hades grasp? No, there must be something else. There must be.

So tell me, Spartan, where else have you been these last three years? I sense not in Laconia.

I have been trading my skill. I fought in Syracuse and along the Acheron’s bloody banks. I warred in the Hellespont and have recently journeyed from Lesbos.

Ah, Sappho, the poet’s island. Did you meet her? asked Solon.

No, I lied, and he knew it.

I suppose not. What use would an exiled Spartan have for both the poetry and mystery of love? Such things would be trivial, a nuisance even I think.

Gritting my teeth beneath the horsehair plumed helmet, I hid that particular pain.

Violet-haired, pure, honey-smiling Sappho. He looked at me and continued, I heard on the voyage here that she was not smiling so much anymore. He let out a sigh.

I wouldn’t know.

Seems I heard tell that a renegade Spartan warrior broke her heart.

You can’t break what doesn’t exist.

All for the best, I am sure. Look, we are here, he said, pointing at the monument.

Looming before us, a citadel awash in dark sands, stood the temple of Neith. Home to the Egyptian sage Psenophis. Solon bade me follow him inside the darkened walls which were supported by wide pillars that reached into the night sky. I was reluctant; for priests and soothsayers were not my friends.

Psenophis stood there in the darkness waiting. He was average looking for a Gypo, with no athletic build, nor did he appear very venerable. He was possibly only a few years older than Solon, in his middling years. His shaven head and pale brown robe make him appear all the plainer. He greeted Solon with a warm embrace and cast a raised and wary eye of Horus at me before ushering us inside the temple.

We were taken to his simple hall and seated upon the floor. We ate and drank like Barbarians. It was obvious Psenophis’s many young acolytes revere him. They almost fawned over him with fans of ostrich feathers and ready goblets of scarlet wine. There was no denying it was much better food than the tavern. Once we finished feasting, the two wise men began to talk. First of genealogy, exalted and respected fathers and grandfathers, then of our travels and future destinations. It was all incredibly polite and incredibly boring. Then the tones changed, and the real conversation began.

I spoke Egyptian poorly, only understanding words here and there. But I understood enough to know the priest was asking Solon about me without ever looking my way. Could I be trusted to hear of this sacred knowledge unknown even to many Egyptians?

So sly he was, never once looking directly upon me.

Solon affirmed I could be trusted. He wore an expression of gratitude as he mimed me saving his life, as well as those of Lehi and his sons. The dusky skinned priest nodded and said more I couldn’t possibly follow, something about the sea peoples. Solon laughed and confirmed that some Greeks raided the Egyptian coast, but not the scholars of Athens nor the warriors of Sparta.

Psenophis stood, pleased with that particular revelation and said he would show us the living tablet of stone that