Steven Pressfield - Gates of Fire - An Epic Novel of the Battle of Thermopylae

This was too much for the Peers to endure. The boxer Actaeon now spoke. You dishonor your husband, and your brother's memory, even to propose such a course, lady.

If the child were my husband's, would my argument find favor?

But he is not your husband's.

If he were?

Medon cut her short. The lady knows full well that if a man, like this youth called Rooster, is found guilty of treason and executed, his male issue may not be allowed to live, for these, if they possess any honor whatever, will seek vengeance when they reach manhood. This is the law not merely of Lykurgus but of every city in Hellas and holds true without exception even among the barbarians.

If you believe that, then slit the babe's throat now, Arete stepped directly before Polynikes. Before the runner could react, her grasp sprung to his hip and snatched forth his xiphos. Maintaining her own hand upon the hilt, she thrust the weapon into Polynikes' hand and held the infant up, exposing its throat beneath the whetted steel.

Honor the law, sons of Herakles. But do it here in the light where all may see, not in the darkness so beloved of the krypteia.

Polynikes froze. His hand sought to tug the blade back and away, but the lady's grip would not release it.

Can't do it? she hissed. Let me help. Here, I'll plunge it with you…

A dozen voices, led by her husband's, implored Arete to hold. Harmonia sobbed uncontrollably.

Rooster looked on, still bound, paralyzed with horror.

Such a fierceness stood now in the lady's eye as must have informed Medea herself as she poised the steel of slaughter above her own babes.

Ask my husband if this child is his, Arete demanded again. Ask him!

A chorus of refusal greeted this. Yet what alternative did the Peers possess? Each eye now swung to Dienekes, not so much in demand that he respond to this ridiculous accusation, as simply because they were flummoxed by the lady's temerity and did not know what else to do.

Tell them, my husband, Arete spoke softly. Before the gods, is this child yours?

Arete released her hand upon the blade. She swung the babe away from Polynikes' sword and held him out before her husband.

The Peers knew the lady's assertion could not be true. Yet, if Dienekes so testified, and under oath as Arete demanded, it must be accepted by all, and by the city as well, or his holy honor would be forfeit. Dienekes understood this too. He peered for a long moment into his wife's eyes, which met his, as Medon's image had so aptly suggested, like those of a lioness.

By all the gods, Dienekes swore, the child is mine.

Tears welled in the lady Arete's eyes, which she at once quelled.

The Peers murmured at this defilement of the oath of honor.

Medon spoke. Consider what you are saying, Dienekes. You defame your wife by attesting to this 'truth' and yourself by swearing to this falsehood.

I have considered, my friend, Dienekes responded.

He restated that the child was his.

Take him, then, Arete directed at once, advancing the final pace before her husband and placing the babe gently into his grasp. Dienekes accepted the bundle as if he'd been handed a Utter of serpents.

He glanced again, for a long moment, into the eyes of his wife, then turned and addressed the Peers.

Which of you, friends and comrades, will sponsor my son and enroll him before the ephors?

Not a peep. It was a dreadful oath to which their brother-in-arms had sworn; would they, seconding him, be impeached by it as well?

It will be my privilege to stand up for the child, Medon spoke. We will present him tomorrow.

His name as the lady wishes shall be Idotychides, as was her brother's.

Harmonia wept with relief.

Rooster glared at the assembly with helpless rage.

Then it is settled, said Arete. The child will be raised by his mother within the walls of my husband's home. At seven years he will enter the Upbringing as a mothax and be trained as any other blood issue of a citizen. If he proves worthy in virtue and discipline, he will when he reaches manhood receive his initiation and take his place as a warrior and defender of Lakedaemon.

So be it, assented Medon, and the others of the mess, however reluctantly, agreed.

It was not yet over.

This one, Polynikes indicated Rooster. This one dies.

The warriors of the krypteia now hauled Rooster to his feet. None of the mess raised a hand in his defense. The assassins commenced to drag their captive toward the shadows. In five minutes he would be dead. His body would never be found.

May I speak?

This from Alexandras, advancing to intercept the executioners. May I address the Peers of the mess?

Medon, the eldest, nodded his assent.

Alexandros indicated Rooster. There is another way to deal with this renegade which may, I suggest, prove of greater utility to the city than summarily to dispatch him. Consider: many among the helots honor this man. His death by assassination will make him in their eyes a martyr. Those who call him friend may for the moment be cowed by the terror of his execution but later, in the field against the Persian, their sense of injustice may find an outlet opposed to the interests of Hellas and of Lakedaemon. They may prove traitor under fire, or work harm to our warriors when they are most vulnerable.

Polynikes interrupted with anger. Why do you defend this scum, son of Olympieus?

He is nothing to me, Alexandros replied. You know he holds me in contempt and considers himself a braver man than I. In this judgment he is doubtless correct.

The Peers were abashed by this candor, expressed so openly by the young man. Alexandros continued.

Here is what I propose: let this helot live, but go over to the Persian. Have him escorted to the frontier and cut loose. Nothing could suit his seditious purposes more; he will embrace the prospect of dealing harm to us whom he hates. The enemy will welcome a runaway slave. Them he will provide with all the intelligence he wishes about the Spartans; they may even arm him and allow him to march beneath their banner against us. But nothing he says can injure our cause, since Xerxes already has among his courtiers Demaratos, and who can give better intelligence of the Lakedaemonians than their own deposed king?

The defection of this youth will work no harm to us, but it will accomplish something of inestimable value: it will prevent him from being viewed by his fellows in our midst as a martyr and a hero. He will be seen by them for what he is, an ingrate who was offered a chance to wear the scarlet of Lakedaemon and who spurned it out of pride and vainglory.

Let him go, Polynikes, and I promise you this: if the gods grant that this villain come before us again on the field of battle, then you will have no need to slay him, for I will do it myself.

Alexandros finished. He stepped back. I glanced to Olympieus; his eyes glistened with pride at the case so concisely and emphatically put forward by his son.

The polemarch addressed Polynikes. See to it.

The krypteis hauled Rooster away.

Medon broke up the assembly with orders to the Peers to disperse at once to their berths or homes and repeat nothing of what had transpired here, until tomorrow at the proper hour before the ephors. He upbraided the lady Arete sternly, admonishing her that she had tempted the gods sorely this evening. Arete, now chastened and beginning to experience that quaking of the limbs which all warriors know in the aftermath of battle, accepted the elder's chastisement without protest. As she turned her path toward home, her knees failed. She stumbled, faint, and had to be braced up by her husband, who stood at her side.

Dienekes wrapped his cloak about his wife's shoulders. I could see him regard her keenly while she struggled to reclaim her self-command. A portion of him still burned, furious at her for what she had forced him to do tonight. But another part stood in awe of her, at her compassion and audacity and even, if the word may be applied, her generalship. The lady's equilibrium returned; she glanced up to discover her husband studying her. She smiled for him. Whatever deeds of virtue you have performed or may yet perform, my husband, none will exceed that which you have done this night.