Truth and Sparta (5 page)

He looked her
up and down, “Who are you here for?” he asked. She saw that he knew
exactly why she was here.

“
Nicias,” she said.

“
Follow me.” He stepped aside and she walked through the portal
into the courtyard. She recognized the courtyard, which seemed very
quiet in the evening compared to the activity during the day. He
led her through a door into an inner courtyard, which was greener
and not meant for pulling carts and beasts through. This courtyard
seemed to have no discernible purpose, but it was beautiful. The
moon was not high yet, but she could tell it was well tended with
plants, like the fruit gardens outside.

They entered
the building again and the man kept on walking down its corridors.
It was amazing that a house could contain so many rooms—she’d never
seen anything like it. Eventually he opened a door and indicated
that she step inside. Chara’s nerves twitches as he closed the door
behind her.

She was
definitely in a bedroom, but there was no one there. It was the
size of her entire house. She could see the tall and ornate bed by
the defused light of the oil lamp which stood on a table further
into the room. The furniture was of the kind she had knew were
provided by the master craftsmen—not the simple cut wood and hemp
string beds that the Helots built and used. It had a plush mattress
that looked incredibly soft. Seeing it only heightened her
nervousness.

Other than the
furniture, there wasn’t such in the room, just some weapons. She
looked them over. There was quite a collection—metal and leather
masterly combined. She wondered if he was testing her by leaving
them there for her to see, but then what was she going to do? No,
he had rightly assumed that she would not go near them.

These were the
tools of his trade, she thought as she looked over the collection
of sharp blades and other contraptions she didn’t know. They were
well cared for by someone, the metal reflected the light. She had
reached out to touch one when she heard a sound behind her and she
instinctively pulled her hand back and turned.

He walked
across the room to a table and Chara watched him walk. It was still
disconcerting to see him, she was again struck how large and
muscular he was—so completely alien. He moved smoothly and with
practice as he pulled his sword out of his belt and put it on the
table.

Chara didn’t
know what to do with herself, she wasn’t even sure he had seen
her.

“
You came,” he said, his deep voice breaking through the quiet
of the room.

“
You told me to.”

He wasn’t
looking at her, but she could tell that he smiled. He finally
looked at her and she felt the intensity of his gaze. He was
looking her over again and she wanted to pull her arms across her
body.

She didn’t
know what to say, but the silence just made her feel worse.

“
This is your room?” she asked after she couldn’t take the
pressure of the silence anymore.

“
It used to be.”

“
But not now?”

“
I don’t live here anymore and I visit but rarely.”

Chara was
encouraged to hear that. “Where do you live?”

“
In Sparta, in the barracks.” Chara already knew that Spartan
males of his age lived in Sparta, the metropolis and center of
their state.

“
You will inherit this when your father passes?”

“
Yes,” he said and sat down in a chair. “Do you
dance?”

“
No.”

“
Shame,” he said. He was watching her again. “What do you
do?”

“
I feed animals mostly. Lead the ox and cart, and help with the
sowing and the harvesting. I cook.” She didn’t know what else to
say.

“
A very simple life then,” he said. Chara wanted to snort. It
didn’t feel particularly simple at the moment; it had been at one
point in time and she missed that time desperately. “You were
married.”

“
Yes.” He seemed to wait for her to elaborate, but she didn’t
know what to say and wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to help this
conversation along. She didn’t know why he needed to know these
things. Why was he delving into this when he could be using her for
the purposes he wanted already?

“
But no longer?”

“
No. He died.”

“
And who was this man you were married to?”

A boy more
than a man, Chara thought but she saw no need to point that out.
“His name was Peracili and he died of a fever.”

“
And he lived in the village?”

“
No to the east, three days walk.”

“
Three days walk and you’re in the ocean.”

“
Three days walk for me then.”

“
And now you have returned to your family.” It was a statement
which didn’t need an answer. Silence fell in the room again. He
made no move to say or do anything, and Chara had the uncomfortable
feeling that she was supposed to do something.

“
How long are you staying?” she finally said partly to fill the
silence, but also to know what she could potentially be dealing
with.

“
Three days.” He was watching her more intently. “Why do you
ask?”

“
I suppose I want to know if there will be any more
interruption to my schedule.”

“
Your schedule,” he said with amusement. “Then yes, for three
days.” She nodded. She could deal with three days. He’d said three
days, which hopefully meant he wasn’t taking her with him wherever
he was going.

“
We are going to Pylos,” he volunteered. Chara had never heard
of it. “The Athenians have set up a colony there.” It obviously had
some significance, but it escaped her. “Can’t have them this
close.” She wasn’t sure whether he was telling her that they should
be worried about the Athenians.

She shrugged.
“It is your war, not ours.”

“
A bit of a rebel, are you?” he said with curiosity. She
probably shouldn’t have said that, she could potentially lead
herself into a world of trouble if she gave that
impression.

“
No. We just don’t have any particular vested interest in this
war.”

“
Liberate Greece from the Athenians is of no concern to
you?”

“
It will not end up liberating us, will it?”

He smiled.
“There is gumption in you. Come here.”

She
hesitated—maybe he was going to punish her for her impudence, but
she noted that he didn’t look angry. She tentatively took a step
toward him where he was still sitting.

“
Closer,” he said and she complied. He didn’t do anything for a
while and Chara almost jumped when he raised his hand. He placed it
on her leg and slid it up under her tunic. Chara felt a thrill of
something, maybe fear, but also something else, but she refused to
acknowledge it. His hand on her hip guided her a step closer. His
fingers undid the tie that kept her undergarments in place. It fell
to the floor and Chara felt her skin exposed to the cooler air of
the night. Her breath hitched as his fingers ran over the skin
around her hips and her backside.

He got up and
pulled her to him at the same time. Before she knew it, she was
being lain down on the soft mattress of the bed. His hand was
roaming up her side, pushing her tunic higher. He leant in closer
and kissed her. She didn’t know what to do with the intimate
contact or the soft sensations it stirred. He tasted of dates and
meat—it wasn’t odious, just overwhelming.

His kiss was
urgent and he wanted access into her mouth. She ended up relenting
in the confusion and he deepened the kiss. Once he had access into
her mouth, he seemed to slow down. His tongue seemed to tease her,
exploring her mouth, running along the edge of her lips and her
teeth. She tried to suppress any reaction she felt to it.

She could feel
the hardness of him further down and she knew he was ready to take
this further. She wondered why he didn’t hurry; get to the end with
a little more speed as she wanted this to be over. This leisurely
teasing was not something she thought she could tolerate; it felt a
little too intense. He pulled out of the kiss and moved his
attention down the column of her neck.

Somehow in the
process, her knees had come up around him, seemingly welcoming him.
She felt incredibly guilty, but she couldn’t entirely put her
finger on why. He moved, then she could feel him pushing inside
her. It was a strange feeling of fullness. He was watching her now;
she could feel his gaze of her. She quickly looked in his eyes
noticing that there was no reproach or malice in there, they were
just dark and distracted. He liked this, a lot, seemingly caught in
the sensations of the experience.

He moved in
and out of her. Chara tried not to see or feel the sensuality of
the act. It seemed a strange thing that a soldier—so harsh and
stoic—would be so caught up in such sensations. His eyes seemed to
close slowly and he leant down to kiss her again. She wondered what
was going through his mind—maybe nothing was, but she was curious
how he saw her, if she was just an object he used like any other
tool. He had once said that she was pretty.

He got more
vigorous as he got closer to his release. Chara watched him as he
was completely absorbed in what he was doing and feeling. He pushed
her forcefully down in the mattress as he found his release,
groaning as he spent himself in her. She knew she’d distracted
herself from the sensations by watching him intently, seeing the
process as if an impartial observer.

He rolled off
her, his skin was wet with sweat and he was breathing deeply. It
was a funny act, Chara thought, intimate and messy. She watched as
his breath started to slow. His eyes were closed and he was facing
away from her slightly. She wasn’t entirely sure exactly when it
had happened, but his tunic was gone. She could see the broad
planes of his chest, the muscles that seemed to cover every bit of
him in constant motion as he drew deep breaths. She could also see
his manhood, resting on his tight lower abdomen.

He really was
quite beautiful, his skin darkening slightly along his arms and
legs. He was a very different creature from her husband, in more
ways than one.

He was
sleeping now; she could see the much slower rise and fall of his
chest. Chara slid out of the bed and pulled down her tunic which
had bunched up by her arms. She tied her undergarments back in
place as quietly as she could. Surely if he was asleep, she could
leave. She could at least get away with a misunderstanding if that
wasn’t the case. He had gotten what he wanted after all.

She picked up
her sandals and quietly let herself out the room. She more or less
remembered the way she’d come.

“
Leaving?” a voice said beside her, startling her. It was the
Helot servant.

“
Yes,” she said.

“
This way,” he said pointing her toward the garden. She already
knew the way and was going to tell him so, but then wondered why
she would bother. She followed the man and he let her out of the
main gate.

Chara ran all
the way home. It hadn’t been that long and perhaps she could return
without anyone knowing that had happened. Luckily there was enough
moonlight to show her the way without too much trouble.

Chara remained
indecisive all day whether she should go to Nicias that evening or
not. Technically he hadn’t ordered her to be there in direct terms;
she’d snuck out before he’d had the chance to, but on the other
hand, he had said that her ordeal would last three days. Or rather,
the question was if he would refrain from punishing her based on a
technicality. Spartans weren’t known for their fairness or mercy on
anything, let alone arguments about terms. Maybe she could just
stay clear until he left and then forget all about it. Or he could
be here tomorrow morning looking for her.

She wouldn’t
admit it to herself, but she also harbored some curiosity about
him. She didn’t quite know what to make of the time they’d spent
together, or the act that he so clearly enjoyed. He was so very
different from Peracili in every way she could describe.

When it came
down to it, she couldn’t risk the punishment of not going. It was
one more night, it hadn’t taken more than an hour the evening
before and it hadn’t been strictly awful. She really couldn’t
justify the defiance.

She reached
the Menares house a little later than the day before. It was well
past dark by the time she got there and the same Helot answered the
door. He didn’t bother asking her anything this time, just led her
quietly through the house to the same room. Chara felt less anxious
this time because she had a better idea of what was about to
happen.

She waited a
little longer which made her wonder if she was supposed to come at
all. She couldn’t sneak away now as he would have been told she was
there. Maybe he would tell her to leave, having had enough of her.
She hadn’t even considered taking on the idea that she might be
rejected by him. She should be ecstatically happy, but a rejection
was a rejection.

“
Who gave you your name?” he said. She hadn’t even heard him
come in.

“
My parents,” she responded. “I don’t know exactly.”

“
Do they love you?”

“
Yes.” It was an odd question.

“
What about your husband, did you grieve him?”

She didn’t
answer. The answer was no to the both of his question. Her
relationship with her husband hadn’t developed like she’d hoped.
She had foreseen a sweet relationship, but he was a surly boy who
didn’t particularly like anything about her.