In The Land Of The Amazons

"A man is not the sum of his parentage," Xanthippe said to the courtier. "He is a unique individual who must be judged according to his own merits." She turned to Lysippe. "Surely you understand this, my queen."

"I do understand. But I also understand that his forebears caused the deaths of many of our people."

"His forebears, not him! He is guiltless!"

Lysippe shook her head and looked doubtful.

"Lysippe, listen to me. Artemis also foretold that this man will sire many of our children. And you of all people know that our numbers are not what they once were. We are a dying race. The goddess is trying to tell us that there is still yet hope, and that hope rests with this man."

The queen pondered these last words carefully before speaking.

"I must decide what to do. But that decision must wait until I have sought guidance from the goddess." She looked at Chilon who was still holding Agamemnon's sword in his hand. "You will give the sword back to Xanthippe."

For a moment Chilon thought of making his escape through the dense crowd, hacking his way through the line of warriors if necessary, brandishing his grandfather's terrible weapon. But he knew it was folly. The Amazon archers would kill him before he could get out the door. He reluctantly put the sword in Xanthippe's hands.

"You will return with Xanthippe to her house," the queen said to him. "You are free to wander about the city; the right of hospitality demands it. But do not make any attempt to leave or I will have you hunted down and punished. And if by your actions you come to hurt any of my people, I will have you put to death. Do you understand?"

Chilon shook his head numbly. "You cannot keep me from my destiny."

"I am the ruler in this land, Greek, not you," she replied haughtily.

As Lysippe talked further with a demonstrating Xanthippe, some of the council members began arguing the issue of Chilon's fate. Vexed by their sudden and loud declarations, the queen ordered them to be silent.

"There will be no more discussion," she said sternly. "I will consult with the gods and the council and pronounce my judgment tomorrow at mid-day."

She gave Chilon one last forbidding look before walking toward the door, followed by a small contingent of armed warriors.

"You would do well to obey her, Spartan," Clymene said to Chilon. "I will not hesitate to put an arrow into your body if you should try to escape."

"Why did you speak up for me if you detest me so much?"

"I don't detest you. I think you are a brave man. It's just that I don't trust you."

"Even after I helped to save your life?"

"You are still a Greek."

"Of course he's a Greek!" Anaea exclaimed. "Many of us are part Greek. You included. Does that mean we are all untrustworthy?" She looked up at Chilon, adoringly, taking his hand in hers. "Don't listen to Clymene. She hates all men."

To his bemusement, Chilon found himself suddenly encircled by the majority of the women in the room, even those who had not spoken in his favor. They marveled at his beauty and graceful manner, and many found pleasure in simply gazing upon him. Clymene chastised a few of them for their apparent rudeness and walked out with a disgruntled look on her face, immune to the Spartan's physical charms and regarding with distaste those that did succumb to them.

"Clymene is a lover of women," Anaea said to Chilon. "Pay her no mind."

"I always pay heed to those who threaten my life, Anaea."

Chilon and Xanthippe left the building together and were once more surrounded by a multitude of people anxious to see and talk to him. Chilon accepted their encroachments with equanimity and allowed his body to be touched and even fondled by the curious admirers.

"You must forgive my people," Xanthippe told him as they approached her house. "They are quite enamored of you."

"It doesn't bother me. In fact, I like all this adulation. I have never experienced it before."

"Many of these women have never known a man, in the intimate way I mean."

"Is this true?" he asked, looking puzzled. "By the immortal gods I find that hard to believe. Your people are a most handsome race. Surely some of these women should have attracted a mate by this time in their lives."

"There are not many men whom we deem worthy to couple with."

"Not many men? There is certainly no dearth of men in the surrounding countryside. What about the...?"

"Mariandyni?" she asked in a scornful tone. "They are lower than the beasts. No Amazon woman would even think of sharing her bed with such vileness."

"But there must be others..."

"Amongst the Paphlagonians, yes. We have mated with them. But they have moved out of these lands. The Bithynians are an immigrant Thracian tribe, and although on friendly terms with them, we see them as little better than the Miriandyni . As for the Phrygians, we find their males too effeminate, and their nation is under the thumb of Persia, her master. The other tribes, the ones brave enough to do battle with us, do provide us with males, but they are an inferior breed—uncultured, uncouth, and unclean. I myself would never choose to have any physical contact with such men."

"What kind of man would you choose?"

Xanthippe cast her eyes down at the ground and for the first time Chilon saw her blush. "One who has won my heart."

They walked together in silence after that, she with her face perpetually upturned toward the diminishing sun, stealing glances at him every so often, and he with his mind focused on the lovely creature keeping pace aside him, and how it was going to pain him to leave her.

************

After they had dined, Xanthippe played some songs for him on her lute, a gift she had been given by her Greek grandfather long ago. Chilon was astonished at her skill in playing the instrument, and in her beautiful singing voice. Afterwards they talked about the day's events and what fate might await him should Lysippe not decide in his favor.

"Lysippe is a reasonable woman," she said. "She obeys the gods. And as I am the one closest to the deity, she defers to me on almost every issue."

"But she didn't seem very persuaded by your arguments today. Although I greatly appreciated them."

"Well, if you don't provoke her into killing you, the worst that can happen is that you will remain here with us for the rest of your life."

Chilon frowned. "To father a nation of Amazons?"

"Do you find the thought of mating with so many of our handsome women disagreeable?"

"I find the thought of being kept here against my will disagreeable."

"The sins of your fathers have come back to haunt you, Chilon. When I learned that you were descended from the blood of Agamemnon, the Scythian in me felt revulsion toward you. But the Greek in me felt only..."

She paused, searching for the right words.

"Only what?" Chilon asked.

She seemed to struggle for a moment, and then her eyes suddenly lit up.

"Pride," she said finally. "Yes, pride I believe is the correct word. I suppose there was always some part of me that hated Paris for abducting your great uncle's wife and carrying her off, without her consent, to Troy. And when I saw the great Agamemnon's sword in your hand, it was like the voice of retribution speaking itself."

"Menelaus slew Paris for his crime against his family, and justly so. At any time Priam could have released Helen to her husband, but the Trojans prevaricated in order that they might accommodate the carnal appetites of the cowardly prince."

Xanthippe's face brightened.

"Yes! Yes!" she exclaimed. "That is what I too have always believed!"

Chilon smiled. "I am glad to see that the Greek in you is not completely dead."

"And neither is the Scythian."

For a moment Chilon was almost tempted to tell her of his plans to escape, hopeful of enlisting her aid. But her last statement reminded him that what deference she paid to her Greek blood was purely sentimental in nature. She was an Amazon, and she would never allow him to forget it.

After exchanging some further pleasantries, he bid her goodnight and retired to his room.

He tried to sleep but it was useless. His mind was too fertile with thoughts of escape. But even if he could make his way out of the city, where and in what direction would he fly? He was in hostile territory with no knowledge of the terrain. The sea route was impossible. And travel by land without a horse and weapons would be suicidal. Yet the Spartan in him would not allow him to entertain defeat.

After hours of deliberation, he formulated a plan of escape. He knew it was a moonless night and that the guards would not see him as long as he made no sound—and this caused him no real concern since all Spartan warriors were practiced in stealth. There were horses just outside the city gates, which were kept in a stall used by couriers. If he was very quiet and very careful, he might succeed in stealing a horse and make his way west toward the lands of the Bithyni.

The door to Xanthippe's bed chamber was closed. He put some food and a flask of water in a leather bag and, taking a large knife from her kitchen and some thin rope, he slowly and quietly opened the front door and walked out. The stall was less than fifty yards from his position and just beyond the south wall. He checked for guards and saw none except one lone watcher standing with her back against the western wall fighting to keep awake. He crept up upon her slowly, approaching her from behind. Before she had a chance to cry out, his fist landed a sharp blow to her chin, sending her reeling onto the parapet, unconscious. He took her bow and quiver and threw both over the wall. He then fastened one end of the rope to a large beam and cast the rope over the wall along with his other possessions. The rope burned his hands as he made his hasty descent, but he managed to reach the ground in safety.

He approached the horses cautiously, fearful that any sudden motion that might cause them alarm. But there was one horse, a large white stallion that refused to suffer the Spartan's presence, who whinnied loudly at the unwelcome intrusion, causing the other horses to join him in frenzied chorus. Suddenly Chilon heard the voices of women coming from the wall above him, and then a hail of arrows whizzing past. He had no shield to protect him this time and was forced to hide behind the wall of horses, causing them further distress. He quickly realized that the guards were not trying to kill him. If they were, they would have also inadvertently killed some of their precious animals. They were simply trying to keep him at bay until they could send a detachment out to capture him.

If he had stayed where he was, he might have escaped, but instead he ran to seek cover in a dense tangle of trees, and an arrow pierced him in his upper thigh. He fell to his knees and tried to remove it but it was lodged too deeply in his flesh. Within moments he was captured and brought before Clymene, who stood waiting within the city walls surrounded by a dozen soldiers.

"You fool!" she said to him. "Do you think we are that stupid? I knew you would try to escape. The rules of hospitality mean nothing to men like you. I would have let my warriors kill you if it had not been for the queen's orders to keep you alive."

She looked at the shaft embedded in his leg.

"Have Xanthippe see to his wound," she said to one of the soldiers, "and then put him in one of the empty huts and confine him there."

Chilon knew it was pointless to protest, and the pain in his leg was becoming almost unbearable. He was led to Xanthippe's house, and when she was awaked and saw him with the arrow sticking out of his leg, she shook her head angrily and went about removing the wooden shaft with the skill of a practiced physician.

"Why did you do it?" she asked him. "Why did you disobey the queen's orders?"

"You know why," he replied, as she gently tugged on the shaft.

"She has it within her rights to have you severely punished, or even killed."

"Death is better than spending the rest of my life in these accursed lands."

She finally managed to extricate the arrow and, to her astonishment, Chilon made no outcry.

"Only a Spartan would think an honest response to pain a moral defect," she said to the soldiers.

Xanthippe threw the arrow aside, washed and then applied some soothing herbs to the wound and wrapped a bandage of cloth around it. Chilon lifted himself up, refusing her help, and sat down on a chair next to her.

"Get up," one of the soldiers said to him.

"Stay where you are," Xanthippe told Chilon.

"Clymene gave us orders to confine him, Xanthippe," the soldier insisted.

"I don't care what she told you. He isn't going anywhere with that leg. You may leave now."

"He could still pose a danger to you, priestess."

"The goddess will protect me. Now go."

Reluctantly, the soldiers left, taking the blood-stained arrow with them.

Chilon watched as Xanthippe poured some liquid into a cup and then stirred the mixture before offering it to him.

"Drink this. It will help alleviate the pain and relax you."

He took the cup and stared down into its dark, red contents.

"Is this more of the evil-tasting drink you forced down my throat during my illness?"

"No. It's just wine mixed with some valerian root. It's much more pleasant than the medicine and it will help you to sleep."

He put the cup to his lips and drank slowly.

"You're right," he said, nodding agreeably. "It is much better."

She stared at him as he drank, a faint smile upon her face.

"You look at me and say nothing," he finally said to her. "What is it?"

Xanthippe laughed. "You know, even for a man, what you did was utterly stupid."

"I had to try," he said, looking her in the eye.

"All you succeeded in doing was making things more difficult for me with the queen. I may be forced to plead for your life now. She could very well decide to kill you."

"Because I struck the guard."

"Yes. And you can't claim ignorance because you were warned."

Chilon looked down and said nothing.

"Was my company that offensive to you?" she asked.

"No," he replied softly, almost inaudibly.

"Or is it that you don't approve of my appearance? I know our clothes are not as seemly as those worn by Greek women. And we don't use colors to shadow our eyes or paint our lips. But we do take great pride in our long hair. It is one of the greatest assets an Amazon woman possesses. Or maybe you don't approve of that either."

Despite his pain, Chilon forced himself to smile.

"There is nothing about you that I could ever find offensive."

She searched his face, wanting, hoping for him to say more. But Chilon was growing weary after his aborted escapade, and the drink she had given him was starting to take effect; sleep was overtaking him.

"I will help you to bed," she said, taking his hand in hers.

He could barely keep his eyes open as she led him into the bedroom. She managed to remove his tunic, leaving only his undergarments on, and then pulled the blankets over his body. He fell asleep almost instantly. She remained with him until his breathing became regular and deep. And when she was certain that he was beyond awareness, she bent her head down toward his serene and handsome face and kissed him gently upon the lips, uttering an apology that she was only obeying the will of the queen, and then quietly, but with a heart conflicted and heavy, left the room.

************

The drink that Xantippe had given Chilon was indeed an analgesic, but it was also a sedative, its sleep-inducing properties composed of a highly potent distillation of the poppy seed plant. When Clymene and the soldiers came to claim him the following morning he was still heavily under the influence of the drug, and they had to put him on a litter to carry him to the temple. Clymene had Chilon's hands bound behind his back with strong leather straps in case he revived before they reached their destination. Xanthippe followed the procession wearing her priestly robes, her shawl draped over her head, occasionally peering past the crowd of curious onlookers toward the steps of the temple where a multitude of white-robed, young maidens stood waiting to catch a glimpse of the semi-conscious Spartan god.

By the time the procession reached the top of the temple stairs, Lysippe and the council of elders were already seated, surrounded by armed Amazons and dozens of courtiers, all of them regarding the approaching warriors and their captive with the utmost interest. The litter, with Chilon still laying upon it, was carefully lowered to the floor in front of her, and the queen prevailed upon the priestess to revive him. This Xanthippe did by giving him smelling salts followed by a draught of bitter wine.

When Chilon's eyes opened and he discovered where he was, he rolled over onto one side and groaned loudly.

"What have you done to me, sorceress?" he cried, looking up pitifully at Xanthippe.

"She has obeyed her queen," Lysippe answered. "Which is what you should have done."

"You are not my queen!" he said angrily, trying to rise to his feet.

Xanthippe made an attempt to help him but he pushed her away.

"I'm sorry, Chilon," the priestess said. "But it is better this way."
"Better for you, yes!" he exclaimed, as he fought to get his balance. "But not for me!"

"Sit down, Greek!" Lysippe ordered, pointing to the lone chair in the middle of the room.

Seeing that he was reluctant to do so, the queen ordered two of her soldiers to force him into the chair. He tried to fight them off, but his mind and body, still reeling with the aftereffects of the sleeping potion, would not respond to his will. The women pushed him down onto the chair and held his torso upright, keeping his head from dropping down onto his chest.

Xanthippe, in accordance with her priestly duties, gave obeisance to Artemis and then the queen, and recited a short prayer to commence the proceedings. Once she had finished, Lysippe stood up and approached Chilon so that she was standing over him looking down into his face.

"Kill me, if that's what you intend to do," he said to her. "Because if you do not, I will keep trying to escape."

His words came slowly, with great effort.

Lysippe shook her head and laughed. "No, Chilon. I have much a much better use for that magnificent body of yours. Did you happen to notice all those fair, young maidens out on the temple steps and lining the streets? They are all waiting patiently for you."

"Then they wait in vain."

"I think not. You see, it would be pointless to kill you. Though when I was told of your idiotic attempt to leave the city last night, I had seriously considered it. But the truth is, it would do nothing except to prove what everyone already knows: Spartans are contemptuous of death. Not much glory to be found in the ignominious slaughter of such a brave and handsome man. However, Xanthippe has convinced me that such a warrior as you would make a fine sire for a new breed of Amazon."

"Do you really believe that one man can satisfy the lusts of so many?"

"Artemis herself has sanctioned the idea, and I am obliged to comply."

He cast his eyes upon the towering marble statue of the hunter goddess. She was clothed in flowing white robes and held a drawn bow in her hands, her stern countenance bathed in the sunlight from a small window above her head. At her feet were spread many soft cushions and pillows, around which were strewn bouquets of flowers.

"You can remind the goddess," Chilon replied sardonically, "that the Spartans are the descendants of Hercules, son of Zeus, and we are obliged to comply with his will."

"He dares to profane this temple by uttering the name of that accursed Greek!" Alcinoe cried. "He who killed our queen Hippolyta to obtain her girdle! I tell you Lysippe that no good will come of this!"