Spartan Planet - A. Bertram Chandler [22]
"The ordinary hoplites," said Brasidus with some pride, "those belonging to the subject city-states, are armed only with swords and spears."
"They didn't have wristwatches in ancient Sparta," Grimes pointed out.
"Oh, be practical, John. He could hardly wear an hourglass or a sundial on his arm, could he?"
"It's . . . phony," grumbled Grimes.
"It should be as phony as all hell, but it's not," Margaret Lazenby told him. "I wish I'd known just how things are here, though. I'd have soaked up Hellenic history before we came here . . . What are those animals, Brasidus? They look almost like a sort of hairless wolf."
"They are the scavengers. They keep the streets of the city clean. There is a larger variety, wild, out on the hills and plains. They are the wolves."
"But that one, there. Look! It's Siamese twins. It seems to be in pain. Why doesn't somebody do something about it?"
"But why? It's only budding. Don't you reproduce like us—or like we used to, before Lacedaemon invented the birth machine?" He paused. "But I suppose you have birth machines, too."
"We do," said Grimes—and Margaret Lazenby reddened. It was obviously a private joke of some kind.
"The glory that was Greece, the grandeur that was Rome," murmured the Arcadian after a long pause. "But this isn't—forgive me, Brasidus—quite as glorious as it should be. There's a certain . . . untidiness in your streets. And this absence of women seems . . . odd. As I recall it, the average Greek housewife was nothing much to write home about, but the hetaerae must have been ornamental."
"Did they have hetaerae in Sparta?" asked Grimes. "I thought that it was only in Athens."
We do have hetaerae in Sparta, Brasidus thought but did not say, recalling what he had seen and heard in the crèche. Sally (another queer name!) had admitted to being one. But what were hetaerae, anyhow?
"They had women," said Margaret Lazenby. "And some of them must have been reasonably good-looking, even by our standards. But Sparta was more under masculine domination than the other Greek states."
"Is that the palace ahead, Brasidus?" asked Grimes.
"It is, sir."
"Then be careful, Peggy. Watch your step—and your tongue."
"Aye, aye, Cap'n."
"And I suppose that you, Brasidus, will report everything that you've heard to Captain Diomedes?"
"Of course, sir."
"And so he should," Margaret Lazenby said. "When it gets around, these pseudo-Spartans might realize all that they are missing."
"And is the fact that they're missing it grounds for commiseration or congratulation?" asked Grimes quietly.
"Shut up!" snapped his officer mutinously.
Chapter 11
IT WAS NOT the first time that Brasidus had been inside the palace, but, as always, he was awed (although he tried not to show it in front of the foreigners) by the long, colonnaded, high-ceilinged halls, each with its groups of heroic statuary, each with its vivid murals depicting scenes of warfare and the chase. He marched along beside his charges (who, he was pleased to note, had fallen into step), taking pride in the rhythmic, martial clank of the files of hoplites on either side of them, the heralds, long, brazen trumpets already upraised, ahead of them. Past the ranks of Royal Guards—stiff and immobile at attention, tiers of bright-headed spears in rigid alignment—they progressed. He realized, with disapproval, that John Grimes and Margaret Lazenby were talking in low voices.
"More anachronisms for you, Peggy. Those guards. Spears in hand—and projectile pistols at the belt . . ."
"And look at those murals, John. Pig-sticking—those animals aren't unlike boars—on motorcycles. But these people do have good painters and sculptors."
"I prefer my statues a little less aggressively masculine. In fact, I prefer them nonmasculine."
"You would. I