traditional black soup made with water, blood, vinegar and salt. Next came olives, goat cheese and almonds, all harvested from Demaratus’s land. Then the final course arrived, a succulent lamb that had been slow roasted over an open fire – a rare treat. Usually, Gorgo would have devoured every morsel, but distracted by the presence of the strange visitor, she hardly touched her food. Her initial uneasiness dissipated and was replaced by an overwhelming curiosity. Who is this young man the gods plucked from my dream and placed right before my very eyes?
As agreed, business was not discussed during dinner, but when the meal began to wind down, the mood grew tense again. Aristigoras was clearly anxious to address his reason for journeying so far.
Myia, Korinna and the other women excused themselves to go for a walk in the garden and catch up on the details of Erinna’s wedding.
“Are you coming, Gorgo?” her mother turned and casually called over her shoulder.
“No mother, I wish to stay with father and listen.”
For the first time, Perseus suddenly seemed to notice her.
“These are serious discussions, Princess. Wouldn’t you rather walk with your mother and hear about young Erinna’s nuptial?” Aristagoras asked, momentarily intrigued.
“Thank you for your concern, sir, but I am an educated Spartan with a keen interest in international affairs,” she responded politely.
Aristagoras smirked knowingly, but Perseus looked at her with wide, inquisitive eyes.
Cleomenes straightened with pride. “That’s right. Gorgo and I regularly discuss politics.”
“Thank you for agreeing to listen to my proposal,” Aristagoras began, wasting no further time in beginning the conference.
“I am curious to hear what a Persian tyrant like yourself wants from Sparta. We are but a tiny city-state, whereas Persia is a vast Empire. What do we have that the Emperor Darius wants?” Cleomenes asked.
“As I stated before, I am not here on behalf of Persia, I am here as an Ionian tribesman.” Aristagoras began, staying focused and ignoring Cleomenes’s insults. “You are a Dorian tribesman, I know, but Great King, can you not see that we are both Greek? We speak similar tongues, we wear similar clothing, and we worship the same gods.”
Gorgo knew from her lessons that Greece’s ethnicities were divided into four tribes: Ionian, Dorian, Aeolian and Achaean. Each ethnicity related to a tribe’s geography. Spartans were Dorian, while the residents of Athens and the islands to the east were Ionian. Aeolians lived to the north, and Achaeans lived inland in the mountains. Although divided by mountains and sea, the four tribes shared similar language, religious customs, and mythology.
Cleomenes furrowed his brow in disagreement. “You say we are the same, but when you attacked Naxos, you betrayed any lingering ties to Ionia and mainland Greece. Thank the gods, the people of Naxos stood strong and smartly defended your attack.”
Gorgo had heard her father speak of the Siege of Naxos before. Last year, the little island to the southeast of Sparta cleverly anticipated and defeated a Persian attack. It dawned on Gorgo that the man before her was the one who led that very same invasion.
“The Naxians taught me a lesson, one not soon forgotten,” Aristagoras protested. “Surely you learned a similar lesson in your attempts at conquering the Greek Argives – Great King.”
Demaratus quickly looked down at the table to hide his wry smile. Cleomenes grew flush with anger, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, no doubt reminded of the Argive woman who gave him nightmares. Gorgo held her breath as she stared at her father, anticipating his reaction, but Cleomenes remained silent.
“Nevertheless, I think we can agree – Greeks shouldn’t be fighting other Greeks,” Aristagoras pressed. “That’s why I am here – fifty years ago, your cousins, my people – the Ionians of Aeolis – were not as fortunate as the Naxians. We were conquered and subjugated by the Persian Empire and have lived under their oppressive rule ever since.”
“That’s true, but you are not Ionian, Aristagoras,” the King countered. “You are a Persian tyrant appointed by the Emperor himself.” Cleomenes struggled increasingly to keep his anger under control.
“That isn’t true. My Ionian grandfather lost his life when the Persians invaded Miletus. You cast judgement on me, Cleomenes, but you have not had to live under external rule like I have. Of course, with the Persians already at your doorstep in Greece, perhaps one day you will.” Aristagoras paused allowing his words to take hold.
He reached out and lifted a goblet of wine to his lips while staring at Cleomenes to gauge his response. Cleomenes grew stoic and remained still for what seemed like a long time, staring back at Aristagoras.
Gorgo felt like she was going to burst from the magnitude of these implications. Since the Persian invasion of Ionia, the Spartans feared Persian aspirations would turn across the Aegean Sea toward Sparta to feed their insatiable appetite for conquest.
Finally, Cleomenes spoke, “What do you want from me?”
“What I am asking for, is your assistance in avenging my grandfather’s senseless death and ending our people’s enslavement to a cruel Emperor. I am asking for your support in a rebellion to liberate our people. An Ionian revolt!”
Gorgo covered her mouth with her hand to keep from inadvertently yelping in surprise. Cleomenes coolly looked to Demaratus and Pausanias. Her father’s demeanor had changed and he now seemed more controlled. “Did you know about this? Did you know he wanted to start a war?”
Pausanias licked his lips. “I learned of it a week ago when Aristagoras had sent a messenger telling me he had urgent matters he wished to discuss and that he was traveling to meet with us.”
“I was informed only late last night. Pausanias had asked me to arrange an opportunity for Aristigoras to have audience with us to outline his proposal,” said Demaratus. “That is why I sent you the skytale early this morning.”
“I know such a proposal deserves thoughtful consideration,” said Aristagoras. “I would like to continue our congress tomorrow. I have something I want to show you. Something that will help me explain my strategy.”
“What is it?” Cleomenes asked, looking at Demaratus.
“I haven’t shown King Demaratus or Pausanias,” said Aristagoras, “I want to show you all together. I promise you it is a treasure. And if you agree to assist me—”
“Agree to help you instigate a war with Persia,” Cleomenes interjected.
“—I will give it to you as a parting gift.”
Gift? Or bribe, thought Gorgo. She looked at her father who finally nodded his head in acquiescence.
“I will see you and your treasure in the morning,” Cleomenes said.
Aristagoras then turned to Gorgo, startling her as the attention of the group unexpectedly turned in her direction, “Perhaps you can assist me tomorrow morning as well, young lady. I have brought my nephew, Perseus, with me so that he can observe the Spartan culture and learn the art of soldiery from your greatest warriors. Would it be possible for you to meet us tomorrow morning, so you can provide him with a tour?”
Gorgo had momentarily forgotten about the young man while she immersed herself in the conversation between the elders. She looked at Perseus, who had returned to a state of disinterest, picking absently at some leftover grapes. What a puzzling young man, she thought with disgust. While his uncle speaks of war and rebellion, he remains completely detached, as if these were merely unwelcome distractions.
“Yes,” Gorgo responded, “I would be honored to show him the glory of Sparta.”
The party broke up after that, and Gorgo and her family returned home by chariot. While her father sat quiet and pensive, Korinna updated Gorgo on the story of Erinna’s wedding night.
“Erinna agonized all day that Gaius wouldn’t turn up. She had shaved her head and dressed in a boy’s chiton and waited in her dark room all night. Then during pre-dawn, he finally appeared at her window, but by then Erinna had fallen fast asleep. He had to shake her to wa
ke her up, and when she saw him, she started yelling and slapping him,” Korinna giggled. “They began to wrestle so aggressively that the whole house woke up! Apparently as Demaratus was charging toward the room, Gaius hoisted Erinna over his shoulder and escaped before Demaratus burst through the door. She returned home by morning, of course.”
“Sounds perfect,” Gorgo said struggling to listen to what sounded like a very traditional Spartan wedding. Her mind was spinning with all she had heard this evening.
The people of Sparta were always buzzing with whispers of impending war. It was a national past time. A day did not pass without the citizenry discussing rumors of secret plans to conquer far off lands or looming invaders that were plotting Sparta’s demise, but little ever came of it, and the many rumors always proved untrue. Of course, her father had taken the army to war before, but this felt different. She was older now, educated in politics and history, and had just witnessed first-hand a most dangerous proposition. One that could have dramatic consequences for her father, her family and the people. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. Then there was Perseus – a mysterious young man who had leapt from her prophetic dreams into reality.
The chariot lurched to a stop outside her home snapping her from her inner world. It was late, and everyone retired to their chambers without a word. Sleep will not come easily tonight, Gorgo thought, but