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Bonus Story: The Nubian Princess

Legends speak of the prowess of the ancient Spartan warriors: their determination in battle, their fierce pride, and their unyielding spears cutting down enemy after enemy.

Yet there is another legend, one that is less well-known. In the hills surrounding Sparta lived the true source of Sparta’s power—brutal wolf-men, trained in the ways of the Spartan army, who could transform into hideous, hulking beasts at will. Their story has been effaced by history but the locals say that if you listen very closely on a chilly, Greek winter night, and if it is very clear, you can still hear their howls, echoing from across the ages as they charge into battle…

My father’s face fell as the two diplomats entered our chambers. It was clear from their posture, from the way they held themselves and from their glum demeanor that they did not have good news to share.

“Well? What have the Spartans said?” my father demanded from his throne. I was busy sowing, as I was expected to be. Nonetheless, I dared to raise my head and listen to what our men had to say.

My name is Aphrodisia and my father is Thales the Younger, king of Baratheos. Ours is a small city-state, lying about halfway between Sparta and Athens, those two ancient rivals. I am adopted—my real, blood father was a Nubian merchant who served for many years as Thales’ chief advisor and, upon whose death, entrusted his daughter’s upbringing to his closer friend. For centuries, we had played the two states against one another, allying with neither but making a tidy profit by serving both. Our land is all but barren and we’ve few resources besides, so it’s only through cunning that we’ve been able to survive. And yet, it seems that even that won’t be enough to save us now…

“The Spartan King says that this offense is most grave,” one of the diplomats said, easing off his helmet and holding it respectfully at his side. Diplomats don’t usually wear helmets but they do when they go to visit the Spartans. “He’s enraged that we dared to hide Gracchus for this long.”

Gracchus was a Spartan who defected to Athens. I didn’t know the details but the end result was that he had hidden out in Baratheos to avoid Spartan spies in Athens.

“We’ve offered the Spartans tribute! What else could they want?” my father demanded, shifting uncomfortably in his marble throne, his jeweled robes clinking. I exchanged worried looks with my sisters as mothers. Of course, we knew that any of us could be offered as a wife or concubine or even slave, and it would be a worthy trade if it meant that war would be averted.

“Blood, and nothing else,” the other diplomat responded, looking grave. A sickening silence descended over the court.

“That’s preposterous! The Spartans have better things to do with their armies than besiege us over a single disloyal bastard!” my father roared. “They’d be fools to divert their men over something as silly as this.”

“Your lordship, they do not intend to divert their armies,” the first diplomat said.

“Then what do they plan on doing? How do they expect to get blood from us? Are we to offer it up ourselves?”

The diplomats were silent, allowing my father’s words to hang in the air. I watched my father’s face change, going from enraged to terrified, crumbling under the weight of his sudden realization. He looked horrified beneath his curly beard and his crown and all his regalia.

“No… They wouldn’t dare…”

“The wolves, your lordship. The wolves will be here in a day’s time. We ought to evacuate the city as soon as possible.”

“You fool! They’ll run us down, hunt us in the hills and forests like wild animals.” My father placed his head in his hand and let out a sob. I heard one of my little sisters start to cry as well. What could this possibly mean? What were these wolves? Who were they?

“They’ll slaughter everyone in the city if we stay,” the diplomats replied, almost in unison. My mother began to gather up our sewing supplies, leading my sisters out of the court. She reached for my hand but I drew it away. I wanted to hear. As my father’s oldest daughter, I had always been privy to his discussions with his advisors, as he had no sons. My husband would someday be the ruler of Baratheos and it was up to me to provide a link between our government and his someday. I had to be present for these discussions.

I was eighteen now and certainly, if I do say so myself, a beauty. Not that I would ever say so—pride is a bad virtue in anyone and besides, I didn’t think myself all that beautiful. It was only my mother, my sisters, my father, the men of the court, and my suitors who seemed to insist on it. All they could talk about were my long, dark curls, my skin the color of a deep, almost black bronze, so exotic among these pale Greeks, my behind and my breasts, which had filled out admirably in the years since I began to become a woman.

“We’ll fight them,” my father decreed. He turned to one of his advisors, an older, stooped man who could still surprise you with his vigor and his resolve. “Put out the order: I want the walls manned. We won’t allow the Spartan wolves to bully us. We won’t be sent running into the hills, nor shall we grovel for our lives like slaves. We’ll fight, as proud Baratheosians.”

I had always known my father’s men to be brave, to be cunning, to be determined. But now, I watched as this old man’s face crumbled.

“But, your lordship… You know the last time the Spartan wolves descended on a city, they devoured the entire populace—that was Grathos, nearly twenty years ago, far away in the mountains. The wolves travelled night and day to reach the city from Sparta and the survivors claimed that there were fewer than ten. That was all it took—ten men, or beasts if you will.”

“Cowards!” roared my father. “I won’t have my family and my people raped and murdered like animals in a forest! We’ll stand and we’ll fight! Surrender is not an option, nor is retreat.”

“Your lordship, this is suicide!”

“All is suicide! We’ve no choice, so we may as well win glory and give our ancestors something to be proud of.”

The high priest from the local temple of Apollo was also in attendance. My father turned to him.

“Begin burning offerings now. We’ll have the gods on our side, if no one else. Everyone else—rally the citizens, tell the men to gather their arms and give their sons shields. Wives and daughters shall take up knives and butchers’ cleavers. Arm even the slaves—they’re in as much danger as we are. Let them know that I’ll give freedom to any man who brings me the head of one of those lupine bastards.”

Their orders given, my father’s men began to troop out of the court. Before I could ask my father anything, before I could seek clarification as to who these men were who were on their way to ravage our city, my father rushed to his chambers.

~

I waited an hour before attempting to speak with my father. I found the door to his study locked and when I knocked, he gave only a curt reply.

“I don’t want to see anyone right now,” he growled. “I’m planning the defense of our city.”

“Father, it’s me—it’s Aphrodisia.”

There was silence on the other side of the door which was finally broken by the sound of the clasp coming undone. My father eased the door open and ushered me in.

“Father,” I began. “Just who are these Spartan wolves?”

“Fairy tales. I doubt they’re real.”

“Everyone seems so afraid of them.”

“They would be a thing to fear, were they real. But they are not.”

I looked at him askance, feeling doubtful.

“Truly, I believe they’re a ruse by the Spartans. They know they cannot divert their armies to punish us and so they seek to trick us. They seek to drive us from our city without drawing a single drop of blood and once we’ve left, they’ll send their slaves in to loot and pillage, or still our very own slaves, or worse. When you rule alongside your husband some day, you’ll need to make these decisions yourself and see things for what they are.”

“The men in your court say that the wolves have probably already surrounded the city. They say that they’re just waiting for nightfall before they attack.”

“That could be true, and that is why I’ve ordered the walls manned!” my father roared, growing heated. “Another part of being king is knowing how to hedge one’s bets.”

“But father, it sounds as though we’ve no chance if they’ve really surrounded the city…”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” my father all but shrieked, slapping me hard across my face. His ring-encrusted hand hurt—it hurt bad, cutting into my flesh. Our city had grown rich playing Athens and Sparta and here were the consequences: we had our wealth, our jeweled rings, but also we were finally about to pay.

“You’ve never struck me before,” I hissed, holding my cheek, tears coming to my eyes.

“And maybe I should have been. Then you wouldn’t be so insolent!”

“You’re leading your people to death!” I screamed. “That’s not how you rule! That’s not how a leader leads!”

“Then you lead—you lead, you little harpy, if you think you know how to save this gods-be-damned city!”

“I will,” I said quietly. “I will. You just watch.”

With that, I stalked out of his chambers. I had a plan. It had been forming, slowly but surely, in the back of my mind ever since the wolves had first been mentioned. And now was the time to see if it would work.

~

I retreated to my own chambers, summoned my handmaidens. I ordered them to lay out my finest, most beautiful robes. They did so with pleasure: anything to take their minds off the coming battle.

I spent an hour going over the robes, admiring their softness, their silk, before choosing one: the skimpiest, the one that showed off my breasts and my legs. I was irresistible in it and I knew that my father hated when I wore it. Usually, I refrained from even considering it but now, I took special pleasure in picking it out and donning it.

I admired my body in a full-length mirror made from polished copper. Oh yes, I had a woman’s curves now. And the wolves would be hard pressed to resist them, assuming they were still men…

Now dressed, I ordered my handmaidens to accompany me to the battlements. All throughout the city, I saw preparations being made for the battle: old men, made chubby with luxury, attempting to squeeze into their breast plates, armor which had been made to fit them like a cast-bronze glove when they were still young. I saw young boys, hefting spears for the first time. I saw girls, holding their father’s swords for them while they sharpened them.

Like all the cities in Greece, we have no standing army. We generally do not conscript like the Persians do—sure, we force the slaves to stand in the front lines and absorb the brunt of the attack, but that is their lot and it is what the Spartans and Athenians do as well. Besides, any slave who performs especially admirably on the battlefield can win his freedom and become a citizen himself, earning the right to own armor and a spear himself. For that is how our armies are manned: every citizen spends his own money to defend his city, arming himself as he is able to, with a spear, a shield, a breast plate and helmet. A sword, too, if he is especially well off. A father will pass on his armor and weapons to his son once he is old enough, and if he is especially prosperous, he will outfit all his sons in new armor, with razor-sharp new weapons. Our warriors fight the fiercest when they are beside their brothers, after all, defending their homes.

And it was for them—for my people, the people I was born to serve and to protect, the people I was born to lead and rule, even if it was at my husband’s side—that I now prepared myself to both honor and disgrace, in equal measures.

At the top of the battlements, my father’s men eyed me but did not dare stop me. I stood above the gate of the city and took a deep breath. Dark forests surrounded our walls. Night was falling. Already, we could see glimmering fires on the farms outside the city. Were those landowners, raising armies to come to our defense, or were they wolves, laying waste to the surrounding countryside as they loped towards our gates?

“Hear me, you Spartan wolves, hiding like cowards in the forest—the forests of Baratheos, the forests which are my birthright! I am Princess Aphrodisia of Baratheos, eldest daughter of Thales the Younger. I am but a girl but look—do you see how I address you, without fear? You should be as brave.”