David Robbins: Spartan Run

Blade thought of Rikki, and hoped the martial artist was all right. His weapon leveled at the Spartans, he came to the middle of the room and idly gazed at the magnificent vaulted ceiling.

“Don’t move!”

The stern command seemed to emanate from the very walls.

Crouching, Blade swung from side to side, searching for the source.

“Drop your gun!” the voice directed.

Unwilling to relinquish the M-16, Blade was confounded by the lack of a target until he abruptly recalled a statement made by General Leonidas.

“There are also riflemen concealed behind the walls.” He’d automatically assumed the marksmen wouldn’t be there when the chamber was empty, and his carelessness had cost him. In his understandable zeal to eliminate Agesilaus and save Rikki, he’d committed a cardinal blunder, a bad mistake even a novice Warrior knew to avoid: Never take anything for granted.

“This is your last warning! “the concealed man stated. “If your weapon isn’t on the floor in three seconds, we have orders to open fire in four.” He paused. “One.”

Blade wanted to smack himself in the head with the stock for his stupidity.

“Two.”

His broad shoulders slumping, Blade eased the M-16 to the floor and lifted his hands into the air. “Satisfied?” he snapped.

“Quite,” responded a different voice, and a section of wall behind the thrones slid aside to reveal King Agesilaus and a dozen soldiers.

Scowling, the Warrior faced the dais.

Other hidden panels all around the chamber opened and disgorged a score of Spartans armed with high caliber rifles.

“Isn’t this grand?” Agesilaus asked, and pranced to his throne. “Isn’t this positively wonderful?”

“It would be more wonderful if you’d go take a long leap off a short cliff,” Blade stated.

The monarch tittered. “Now, now. Where’s your sense of fair play? You outsmarted me earlier and escaped. Now I’ve outsmarted you and lured you into my trap.”

“I did it to myself,” Blade said bitterly.

“Where are your two companions?”

“I have no idea.”

Agesilaus gestured, and all the soldiers in the chamber converged on the giant with their weapons trained on him. “I trust you won’t try anything foolish?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Smiling contentedly, the dark-haired ruler descended the dais and approached the Warrior. He glanced at the bearded man, then the major.

“And what have we here? How did you manage to get yourselves captured?”

“He took us by surprise,” replied the Spartan with the beard.

“Am I to understand, my dear General Agis, that this barbarian took the head of the Crypteia unawares?” Agesilaus inquired, his tone reeking of sarcasm. He gazed at the general’s empty scabbard. “Look at this! No wonder he took you by surprise. You apparently left your sword at home this morning.” He laughed uproariously.

The leader of the secret police controlled himself with a visible effort, his cheeks acquiring a scarlet hue.

Major Xanthus glanced at Agis, then at the monarch. “You sent for us, your lordship?”

The question had an immediate sobering effect. Agesilaus frowned and placed his hands on his thin hips. “Yes, I did. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“We were unduly delayed, your highness,” Xanthus said.

“What could possibly be more important than an appointment with me?”

It was General Agis who answered. “I’m the one to blame. I was in the middle of a meeting when your messenger arrived, and I felt it wiser to finish the meeting before coming here.”

“What was the nature of this meeting?”

“I called together every member of the Crypteia and impressed upon them the need to remain totally neutral during the dispute between King Dercyllidas and yourself.”

Agesilaus grinned. “How wise of you.”

“Many of my younger recruits might have been tempted to take sides.

The Crypteia must always remain above petty politics if we’re to survive as an institution. Our first loyalty must always be to Sparta.”

“Wise and noble,” the ruler stated, smirking. “I wonder if the good people of our illustrious city-state know how fortunate they are to have such a dedicated protector.”

“Service is its own reward. I don’t want the gratitude of the people.”

The major cleared his throat. “About the reason we were sent for, sir?”

“Be patient, Xanthus,” Agesilaus said. “I’m getting to that.” He regarded them both for a moment. “What would you say if I told you I plan to reorganize our armed forces after I’ve defeated Dercyllidas?”

“You must defeat him first,” General Agis said.

“And I will,” Agesilaus declared passionately. “Once I do, and since I will be the sole king in Sparta, there will be no need for the royal bodyguard to include three hundred men. I intend to muster any of Dercyllidas’s men who live through the conflict into the regular army.

Naturally, Major Xanthus, since you’re the officer in charge of the regular forces, these men will come under your command. I fully expect you’ll have four hundred men at your disposal by tomorrow evening.”

“How interesting,” the major said.

“Interesting? I should think you’d be delighted at the opportunity to increase your command.”

“Of course I am, sir.”

“But you realize this will only be achieved if I prevail?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Agesilaus turned to the general. “And as for you, dear Agis, I’ve decided the Crypteia should be permitted to increase their number by fifty. How would you like a hundred secret police to ferret out traitorous Helots and other rebels?”

“There are currently fifty, your highness, and they do the job admirably.”

The king appeared flustered. “What is the matter with the two of you?

Here I offer you the greatest gift imaginable, more power, and you both treat my generosity in a cavalier fashion. Don’t you realize that power is the only thing that matters in life? You’re Spartans. You’re military men.

You, better than anyone else, should appreciate the sublime feeling that comes from knowing you have unlimited authority over others.”

“We realize it fully, your lordship,” General Agis stated.

“Then I fail to understand your attitude.”

“Forgive us. But being military men, we know better than to let our hopes soar when your victory hasn’t been assured.”

“It will be. A messenger is on his way at this very minute to General Calchas with the orders that will enable me to triumph.”

“We’ve heard that Calchas defeated Uonidas,” Major Xanthus commented.

Agesilaus blinked. “Where did you hear the news?”

“From him,” Xanthus said, and indicated the giant.

“Ahhh, yes. Well, he told you the truth. Leonidas and his men were no match for my bodyguards. By sunrise his forces will be crushed.”

General Agis looked at Blade; “And what about this man, your majesty?”

A sly grin curled the ruler’s lips. “I have special plans for our honored guest.”

“May I ask what kind of plans?”

“Certainly. He’s going to run the Marathon of Death.”

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi dropped to the floor and quickly slipped the scabbard under his belt, slanting it over his right hip…

“To your posts!” General Leonidas bellowed, and the Spartans on the bunks rose and dashed to nearby windows, their swords out and ready. He walked to the shattered window and peered out at the row of troops, none of whom had moved. “Who claimed we were being attacked?” he asked.

“I did, sir,” a soldier responded.

“A Spartan must never lose his head, Lieutenant Idomeneus. You are hereby reduced in rank to sergeant and you’ll consider yourself on report.”