David Robbins: Spartan Run

“As you wish. But please remember that if we can ever the of assistance to you or your Family, you have only to say the word. After all the three of you have done for us, we’ll always be in your debt.”

Rikki-Tikki-Tavi cleared his throat. “If it’s permissible, I’d like to make a request.”

“Name it and it’s yours.”

“There was once a Spartan by the name of Sarpedon, a brave, loyal man devoted to Sparta. He was unjustly banished from your city and forced to wander the Outlands. I knew him well, and I can safely say that no Spartan has ever been more worthy of the name.”

“I’m familiar with his case,” Dercyllidas mentioned.

“Then perhaps you’ll see fit to grant my request. Sapredon’s name was deleted from the plaque of distinction after his banishment. I came here specifically to ask that it be restored to the position of honor it deserves.”

The king stared at the martial artist, a tinge of melancholy etching his countenance. “As you wish, so shall it be done.”

“Thank you.”

Dercyllidas gazed at the bowman. “And what about you, archer? You seldom speak. Is there anything we might do for you?”

“No,” Teucer answered.

“No honor would be too great or too small,” the ruler said, and added partly in jest, “Perhaps a statue would be in order.”

Teucer chuckled. “ Even This Shall Pass Away .”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s the title of a poem by one of my favorite poets, a man who lived a couple of centuries ago, Theodore Tilton.”

“And what did this poet have to say?”

Teucer surveyed the assembled Spartans, feeling uncomfortable at the idea of quoting poetry in front of so many people he didn’t know. But what difference did it make? he reasoned, and responded to the king’s question.