Master Apprentice Archive Homoioi - Going To War Quick search:

Archiving: M_A please also at www.angelfire.com/ma3/padders
Rating: (mild) NC-17
Category: AU, Romance, Drama/Action, Historical Fiction
Warning: Some characters die in battle. Historical inaccuracy.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns the TPM universe and it's characters, no infringement intended, no profit made, am poor.
Summary: Oblis, a prominent Athenian citizen, sneaks into Sparta with secret plans to sign a treaty with the infamous King Qycurgus.
Author's Note: Going To War covers the story of Oblis' meeting with Qycurgus, their budding relationship and the start of the Persian Wars. After The War covers the after-math of Thermopylae, Xanatos' whereabouts and Oblis' final decision regarding Qycurgus and their duties to the city-states.

I did a year or so of Spartan society and the Persian Wars in my final year at high school. Being a nerd I typed up heaps of notes. And those notes being the sole basis of my research for this fic, please send corrections to me *g*

This story was posted as a WIP to GoingGreek a while back, dedicated to the GoingGreek list-sibs and Sharon.

Feedback: This is the first time I've tried to write something very long and with a plot (which remains to be proven *g*) Your feedback is wanted desperately. obi_wan_kenobi69@hotmail.com

* * * Obligatory Historical Summary With Bias and Melodrama * * * In the years of 499-493 BC, Ionia, a colony of Greeks in the Asia Minor revolted against her despotic Persian rulers. Athens, having just deposed her own tyrant Hippias, and seeing herself as the champion of democracy and liberty sent twenty vessels across the Aegean to aid the Ionian fleet. The Ionian revolts were however abruptly crushed. And Persia bore a grudge against Athens. Although Sparta did not take part in the Ionian revolts, she was at war with Samos, a formal ally of Persia.

 In 491 BC, the Persians landed at Marathon but was defeated by the Athenians. A short respite came with the death of the Persian king Darius. But in ten years time, under a new king eager to avenge his father's failure in the Persian outposts against 'the Greeks beyond the sea' a new force threatened to trample over the city-states, lay their temples to waste, reinstall Hippas' tyranny over the Athenians and defeat the proud Spartans. Thus began, the Persian Wars.

 * * * * *

 CHAPTER ONE

 * * * Thirty Years Before Thermopylae * * *

 Qycurgus sat on the riverbank, clutching his dagger to his heart in a white knuckled grip. Feverishly, he searched the long line of returning veterans, noting with a sinking heart how small the numbers were and how slowly they came with their heavy burden of dead. It was shame enough that he had come to the border to wait for them, he would certainly embarrass Cleomenes if he _ran_ to meet them. But Qycurgus' heart was fluttering with foreboding and his body ached with longing for his lover. No one else was with him except an old and failing woman, here for a glimpse of her son's victorious return before sickness overwhelmed her. Moodily, he glared up through his thick fringe at the warriors passing him in gloomy silence, anxious that he could not see his lover's familiar dark scarlet robe anywhere in sight.

 "Mother!" Qycurgus looked up sharply when a young man ran up to them with open arms and a down-turned mouth.

 The woman's face lit up with love and adoration. Her wrinkled face cracking into a relieved smile. Her son was enfolded into her arms and he began to weep. Qycurgus snorted at the display of their soft-heartedness, the other soldiers shot disdainful glances at the pair.

 "Damias! My Son!" the old woman kissed her son's cheeks and rubbed her hands on his boyishly thin arms. "They say I dote on you too much and made you a coward, but look at you now! A full Homoioi and a killer of helots!"

 The boy squirmed at her praise and tried to look away from her eyes. She was so full of pride and love that she did not notice his shameful blush and enclosed him in another tight embrace. The boy gave a small whimper.

 No one else heard it except his mother and Qycurgus who was near them. The old woman's face fell into ashes of disbelief. She released her son and began to shake her head left and right, muttering a woman's saying of grief.

 "Turn around, Damias Aritagoras Histiaeus!" she said at last.

 Her voice, dead and flat, was more commanding than a king's.

 The son shook his head and pleaded with his eyes for her to keep quiet. But she spun him around and her hands moved to the back of his tunic.

 "Please Mother, if you love me," he was weeping openly now, everyone stared and one or two seasoned warriors, suspecting the cause of the tears, began coughing spit upon the youth.

 The mother trembled not with sorrow but anger as she pulled up his clothes and saw the wounds on his back. Her mouth set grimly into a mocking smile.

 "My son," she said smoothly. "I see how much you love me now, by bestowing disgrace on your Spartan blood with your cowardice. Turning your back on an enemy and fleeing? To helot bastards no less! Go on, walk away now. You're no son of mine."

 White with fear and some relief the young man turned his back on his mother and looked to go away in exile. Qycurgus shook his head to himself, such shamelessness, turning his back on Sparta a second time. Damias was being let off easy, cowardice during battle was punishable by death, the mother was soft hearted after all.

 With distaste, Qycurgus looked on as the man walked away. However, when he was about ten paces down the road, his mother bent her time wrecked frame and picked up a large rock from the ground. Flexing her powerful muscles, she hurled it at him. It hit the back of his head with a dull thud and he dropped dead instantly. Qycurgus and the veterans watched in solemn silence as she approached him crying, then kicked his body and spat on it. Her loud cursing resounded about the open borders, demanding from her dead son payment for the nine months he had stole a living from her proud Spartan womb.

 Qycurgus would have paid attention to the scene and set it down to memory for a mourning epithet had his mind and body not grown so cold at the sight of an upturned golden shield. Four noble Spartiates came at the very end of the returning soldiers and held up above their heads a scarlet bundle upon a well-worn war shield. Qycurgus' eyes blazed with pain when they came his way, his feet rooted to the spot as he held back his scream of anguish.

 They held the dead king like a precious sacrifice on a platter, as the body paraded before him, one of the nobles looked at Qycurgus with knowing sorrow in his eyes. Qycurgus ignored the sympathetic look, he had eyes only for his King and lover. That great bulk of a man was dead, that patient tutor. Qycurgus caught a flash of his face, blue lips and opened brown eyes. A painful breath swelled in his chest.

 "Where. . . where is he to go?" Qycurgus whispered, not expecting a response.

 Yet a kindly voice answered. "To his home, wife and sons, of course."

 "But I want to say goodbye," another quiet mumbling escaped his miserable lips.

 "Say it now, Qycurgus, like the rest of us."

 Qycurgus moved his lips, but no sound would come. He despaired. The shield and it's precious load was well out of sight by now, Qycurgus looked to his side and saw the Ephor Lectra standing beside him with a dark look in his eyes as if he was measuring the boy's response to the death of his lover. Qycurgus did not flinch under the penetrating study, he took up his dagger and walked in the opposite direction of his lover's house.

 The distance to his Syssitia Barracks flew past and did not register in his mind at all. Almost instantly, Qycurgus found himself back in his room, which he shared with ten men. One of whom used to be King Cleomenes. He settled himself on their shared bunk where they made love every night since Qycurgus was old enough to know his heart's desires. Openly, they were lovers, when the other men slept on, always discreetly when they were in company, they are not licentious or indecent. Nor did Cleomenes ever neglect his wife or his children. Love was love. Plain, honest and harmless.

 Until now, until Cleomenes was gone and Qycurgus was left alone in the absence of the man's warmth. Feeling jealousy for the first time in his life that Cleomenes' wife would sit vigil for the king and not him. When surely, Qycurgus had loved the man most of all. Qycurgus felt greed consume him as he rolled in his bed, still perfumed with his lover's scent, gasping with silent tears. He wanted the world to know how much of a blow the loss of the king meant to him, he wanted to die with Cleomenes. The idea seized him like a madness as he looked to the dagger still in his hands.

 And there was anger as well as anguish, he was old enough to have accompanied Cleomenes to battle, but the king had refused. It would have been honourable to die then, falling with his lover and master under helot axes, but now, it would be a betrayal to all the love the older man had bestowed on him. The soft kisses and grateful words the man laid at his feet when he was but a child waking into manhood, the passion bright eyes brown like old cider that drenched his soul's thirst. Qycurgus remembered his lover's stamina in bed and patience in the training grounds and he began to weep again. Kissing the blade of his dagger, kneeling in the empty room. He could not do it, he could not invite Cleomenes' scorn, even though he is dead, with a foolish act. When Ephor Lectra pushed opened the door, he saw Qycurgus kneeling before the small barrack's shrine, praying for Cleomenes' safe passage to the Warrior's Fields.

 "Great ones, turn him into a carrion bird that he may hunt in spirit as he did in life. And when Spring comes I'll go to Mt Taygetus and seek him there," the words were childish but full of love. "Set him free."

 Cleomenes was a wise man, Ephor Lectra decided, to nominate this one. Respectfully he entered the room and motioned for young Qycurgus to stand. Clasping his right hand with the boy's, he took out Cleomenes' war sword and gave it to him.

 "The Assembly will be held within the hour, Cleomenes left word that you are his nominee," Ephor Lectra said to the stunned boy. "You are contending for it against many worthy men, however, considering your famous performance as the Leader of Spartiate Youths in the last Revolt, the status of your noble clanship, the healthy stars we all saw at your birth, the fact that your brother is already dual King and your training and ties to Cleomenes, I suggest you ready yourself to take over his duties to Sparta."

 Qycurgus nodded gravely and took the sword, it was too long for his slight height, but he knew he would grow, perhaps even taller than Cleomenes. Qycurgus Leonidas Cleomenes washed his tear stained face at the basin and followed the Ephor out, soon to become King Qycurgus.

 * * * * *

 CHAPTER TWO

I'm sure I had loved someone, as a boy,
Looked upon some Spartan God amongst men.
Whose rough visage I aspired to,
And whose towering height I hoped to attain.

 When I fought and mocked other boys,
He looked on me with amusement and pride.
Gave his precious time and regard,
as a tutor, father and lover.

 Often visited my bunk or swept me away at night,
As impatient, passionate, indulgent,
As he was patient, wise, elated in the day.

 Whilst our arms intertwine,
He told me of war and recited names
Of the great ones he had slain.

 How I loved that body which would be mine,
That beard, those jaws, the glaring frightening eyes.
Which always commanded truth and obedience.

 Keeping me at bay, in the main course at the Syssitia
Then direct me to an intimate conversation and
All others envied me... ...

 He said he looked forward to the day
When I am tough and a Homoioi
When he came back on the golden shield of Victory
Holes in his chest, against honour,
He came to say goodbye:

 "Never did I love wife, land, State like you"
"Never did I love man" I answered "Like you, Master."

 * * * * *

 Hot tears splattered onto the clay tablet in his hand, young Themistocles Oblis Kenobius set it down on his desk and rubbed his stinging eyes.

 "What now, Pademe?" he sat back in his chair and covered his face with long fingers.

 "That is the sweetest poem in all of the Aegean!" Amidala exclaimed, sighing, moving forward to caress the indentations in the clay.

 "Don't touch!" Oblis swatted her hands away.

 Amorous poets in Athens had made much of those hands,

 "luminous white,
shell of Aphrodite,
soft like new cheese,
caress. . . caress me."

 And Oblis had much fun reciting them, imitating the spluttering, spittle-flying scenes these young men made in Athena Square. Don't be mistaken, Oblis was very fond of his sister. Amidala was almost well adjusted for the upbringing she had endured. Brought up as a vestal virgin, she had been deprived of all natural social interaction except those with immediate family.

 Yet each time she appeared in a parade to honour the gods, the fame of her growing beauty travelled. Then, in her thirteenth year an unprecedented oracle actually named her destiny as "one who will bring balance". Baffled but insistent, the temple sent her home insisting her fate was to be a free woman. However, her half of the Kenobius fortune, Oblis' position as Athen's second most powerful, _the_ most popular, politician and the fame of her beauty had made all that impossible.

 Only last month Senator Palpatine had made another proposal for her hand in betrothal, which of course was politely turned down. It might not have been politically shrewd to refuse the most powerful man in the city-state, if not all of Greece, but there was no way that slimy old bastard was getting his hands on Oblis' beloved sister. Although, beloved or not, she was ruining the calligraphy of Qycurgus with all that fawning.

 "It is the only proof that the Spartans can write, you know," Oblis grinned when Amidala withdrew her hand with a gasp.

 The Athenians looked down on their militaristic neighbours in Laconia, finding their secrecy, aloofness and mystique annoying to say the least. In fact, of late, there was decided tension in the senate to take the Spartans to war, as the land holding of the Spartans increased through their continual triumphs over other smaller city-states. Oblis was the loudest voice of reason in the maddening arguments. Unlike Senator Palpatine, Oblis saw that the greater threat, not only to Athens, but also to the whole of Greece, was the Persian advancement under the new vicious and ambitious emperor Sydous.

 Moreover, Oblis had gained word that Sydous' right hand Mauleer was gathering a formidable army on the Hellespont. What worried Oblis exceedingly was that a large number of stone craftsmen were conscripted, in order to overcome Greece's natural geographical defences. As his feelings of foreboding danger heightened, Oblis began to think of the Spartans, not as enemies but as allies. It was a bold plan and it depended very much on whether Oblis would hit it off with Qycurgus in the impending secret visit. He planned to infiltrate Sparta personally, plead his case with its people and honoured leaders, hence all this studying of the man's writing.

 "Is it really by Qycurgus?" Pademe began to blush. "I have heard much of him."

 "Certainly, Sister, wise as Lycurgus, the legendary lawgiver and founder of the Spartan civilization. To whom he is supposedly a descendent, hence his name. A warrior like the god of war himself, never defeated in battle," Oblis feigned wistfulness. "Naturally, that could also be attributed to Spartan short-sightedness. They prefer their kings to die in war, rather than live as better strategists wizened by defeat."

 "A Spartan dual-king is no more than a glorified general. One of them looks after domestic affairs, the other goes to war. They have no didactic powers, bound by a monthly oath to serve the citizen army of Spartiates. The Ephors, five representatives of the people elected in annual elections keep a check on them. And these voting assemblies are controlled by a Council of Elders," Oblis pointed at the diagram before him.

 "That is very different to the myths I have heard of them," Amidala read the information quickly, whilst standing behind her brother and massaging his strained shoulders. "They are not a dictatorship then? They had no tyrant like we had Hippias?"

 "Equality?" Amidala's eyes widened as she spoke. "Why, they are in Elysium, and we think them savages!"

 "Pad" Oblis shook his head regretfully. "What looks like good ideology is hardly ever practical. There are very few citizens with full voting rights in Sparta, never more than a thousand men, and it is this elite group that rules a third of Greece, Laconia, Messene, Thyreatis, Sciritis. . ."

 "But if the king is so powerless." Amidala frowned. "Why does all of Greece know the name Qycurgus?"

 "What have you heard, Pad?" Oblis reached for another scroll.

 "That he inspires men, that his army is ever victorious, he is by far the most popular man inside Sparta, his enemies run from his name. He is honourable, lives a sparse life, incorruptible and fearless," Amidala began to smile. "and the most handsome warrior in Greece."

 Oblis arched a meaningful eyebrow to his sister as a teasing smile came across his lips.

 "Of course, he could not compare to you," she winked back. "Wasn't it this Spring that the ambassadors from the north called you Young Apollo of the Democratic Steps?"

 In a comforting gesture Amidala wrapped her arms about her only relative in the world. She was reminded by this moment, how much responsibility Oblis bore for one so young. He never took advantage of the carefree lifestyle enjoyed by so many wealthy Athenian men his age. Their parents had died early, on the year of her oracle in fact. Amidala recall receiving news of her exclusion from the vestal sisters, and only minutes later a boy no more than a year older than herself came to collect her.

 They huddled together, little faces turned up into the sky and wailed for the fates taking away their parents with that demon-possessed chariot. Until finally Oblis wiped their faces, beamed courageously like a boy grown into a man and called her 'Sister'. Promising that they shall take care of each other and keep true their family legacy as preservers of democracy against tyrants like Hippias, whose exile to Persia their late father was instrumental in achieving.

 Oblis had kept his word, Amidala counted herself the most liberated young woman in Athens, she also had her own friends and a group of loyal, intelligent maids. She was educated by the best teachers and groomed for senators' debates and not their beds. In turn, she helped her brother prepare agendas for the forums, looked after all aspects of their family estate and searched desperately for someone to look after her brother for life. She would happily stay with him forever, but she could tell underneath the grand exterior that politics was a cold game and Oblis was very lonely. This Sparta mission and this man Qycurgus, however, excited Oblis greatly. Amidala could tell with her innate sensitivity that something good was going to happen at last. She thought of the joy love would bring to her brother's life and her eyes went dreamy and far away.

 "I promise," Oblis chuckled, misinterpreting the look. "I will bring Qycurgus into Athens to sign a peace treaty that will defend us against the Persians, then I will invite him home to dine with you."

 "Be careful Oblis, Brother Beloved," Pademe smiled secretively, blessing her brother on the forehead. "I hope this man lives up to our expectations, I do fear for you, but I will not keep you from a course of action that may save us from war."

Over the land bridge, crossing the Isthmus, climbing over the mountainous divides that had kept Greece a jigsaw of separated city-states, Oblis came upon Laconia - stretching and sprawling menacingly over an area far greater than Athens. Danger transmuting into youthful excitement, Oblis speared headlong in the general direction of the camp of Qycurgus.

For two days, Oblis rode through the suffering Helots. A people of Dorian serfs forced to live on the far outskirts of Attica, working the harsh arid lands there. They were unhappy and rebellious for the Spartans had invaded them centuries ago and cast them out of the fertile valleys in order to set up the Spartan capital. Yearly, the helots fed the very army that oppressed them and when bad harvests struck the helot children starved. Oblis had intended to enter the Spartan city laden with gifts and dressed in a self-important costume. Yet looking upon the restless helot youths on the verge of suicidal rioting and their frightened and desperate families, his heart wrung so heavy with sympathy he gave away the rich gifts intended for Qycurgus to the poorest of the peasants to trade for food.

Yet Oblis might have exhausted his immense Athenian estates and still have not appeased half of them for a single meal. Tempted time and again to turn his horse and flee home, Oblis nonetheless continued on his journey. Knowing also that once the Persians invade, as in all wars, it is always the innocent and weak that perish first. Still, his faith in Qycurgus was shaken, what kind of king was this that would watch his people suffer and still have himself worshipped as a god?

Advancing further, into the next rim of the arrow mark that graphically represented the set out of Spartan society on the maps, Oblis came to the middle ground of the Perioeci. This was the merchant class that was allowed to attach itself around the Spartan city to support its few material needs. Fine crafts people producing all of  Sparta's limited needs for art as well
as manufacturing their weaponry.

The Perioeci also took in the so-called "bastard" class of fallen Spartiates. Now this was a group in Spartan society that Oblis had not known much about, intrigued, he made enquiries with the inn keeper.

"Are they bad men?" Oblis asked, savouring his last glass of wine before entering Spartan city where undiluted alcohol was forbidden except for religious or ceremonial occasions. "What were their crimes and where are they?"

"Not bad men," the old man answered. "Some of them are here with us, others...more important ones, are exiled to the land of the 'bastards'. They are not criminals, some are just too poor to own land and therefore had to deal in trade, which is forbidden to the Spartiates. Some are illegitimate children born to a Spartiate and a Helot or Perioeci mother. Others...are men who love men...and have thus failed to produce more soldiers for their state's war machine. These are the 'Inferiors'."

Xenophobic and homophobic, Oblis sighed as he stripped out of his clothing, this was definitely going to be an undercover mission.

The uniform of a Spartan youth was a thin knee length garment made of an itchy fabric. His was dirty and coloured like a dull eggshell hew, still it suited Oblis and made his flesh appear fresh like cream and his short cropped hair yellow as honeysuckle. Going through his riding sac, he retrieved his father's dagger and concealed it under his cloak, next to his inner thigh. It was to serve as proof of his identification once he meets Qycurgus.

Everything else was an unimportant burden, as the Spartans shunned material possession. However, when Oblis' hand brushed by Qycurgus' tablet he could not let it go. The thing was tiny anyway, three thin pieces of wood folded neatly upon each other with clay inserts and filled with Qycurgus' impassioned scrawl. With a flourish, Oblis tugged it into his sash. He entrusted the rest of his luggage along with his horse to the innkeeper and set off on foot. His chin held high, his blue eyes wide and alert; as he ducked behind a few bushes and crawled into the city of Sparta.

There were no city walls, though Oblis had expected them to be there. But that made sense, why should the Spartans, the most powerful military force in Greece need mud and mortar to protect themselves, when they had shields and spears? They could well slaughter and overwhelm any intruder, provided the intruder was a comparatively similar sized fellow city-state. A boundless Persian army was another matter. Oblis had heard from Senator Palpatine that the Spartans were talking about a wall across the Ismith to split Greece into two halves shared between Athens and Sparta. The idea revolted and frustrated Oblis, who believed this inevitable war would not be limited to land and its crude tactics.

Oblis dreamed sails and rows, small, agile ships, the fastest in the Mediterranean. Their white sails fully flagged, dashing between the cumbersome Persian battleships, decimating the monstrous sized enemy with sharp rams. A fleet built for peace that shall prevail in war. The thought brought a faint smile to the young man's lips, even as he huddled aching and freezing in a shrub. Ten paces away, a great campfire blazed, but its warmth was too far away for him to savour.

Several Spartiates surrounded the fire, their great bodies licked red and gold by the flames. The Spartans were famous for beauty and athleticism, no wonder since they abandoned the babies the Council of Elders decided was unfit to die of exposure. Oblis thought bitterly as he ran his hand over the flimsy yarn of his robe, his nipples sore and erect from the cold, that they also dressed their young men inadequately, starved them occasionally and drilled them ruthlessly. Often a boy near his entrance into citizen-hood was cast into the wild to survive on his own as a sort of ritual of passage. Oblis decided that would be his cover story should he be questioned.

The Spartiates were busy skinning wild hares and cooking them. Deftly, their lethal hands opened up the animals and took out the innards. Oblis observed with some revolution as bits of liver and kidney were diced up and thrown into a shimmering pot atop the fire. Still the scent of food made his mouth water and his head felt light. Oblis had neglected to bring anything to eat in all his haste. The men chatted about the day's hunting and in particular the success of their leader in obtaining game for the Syssitia table. Maddeningly, Oblis heard Qycurgus' name on their lips time and time again, but the king, it seemed, was late to return hunting foxes in near by woods.

Suddenly a sharp whistle shot through the darkness, shattering the peace of the domestic scene. The ground began to tremble with the gallop of army horses and the sounds of shouting men wafted from afar. The Spartiates turned their heads westwards and began to point and cheer. Soon, three mounted warriors appeared, Oblis saw the scarlet robes that flashed hot in the night and tensed. But something in front of the riders distracted him even more.

A tiny flash of a white blur dashed into the flames of the Spartan  camp. What animal was that? Oblis wondered, that was unafraid of fire, poor thing must be scorched black by now! But no, the white bolt snuck out of the jungle of Spartiate legs and headed straight in the direction of Oblis' hiding place. The central rider, also the tallest, drew a huge bow open and Oblis shuddered as arrows snapped and cracked, closer and closer to his hideout. _Shhoo, ssshhhhoooo_ Oblis willed the animal to run elsewhere. But it must have thought Oblis' hiding spot well chosen for it ran like mad and eventually dashed straight into his chest. Looking down at the white fur ball, Oblis was shocked by its winking black eyes and almost smiling mouth. The fox cub nudged him with its moist nose and barrowed deep into his arms.

The hunters advanced menacingly. With two sets of deadly arrows aimed incidentally at his head and crotch, Oblis trembled as the leader dismounted and drew out his sword. Oblis could not quite see his face in the dimness but his profile etched by the fire behind him was terrifying enough. The cub smelt the blood on the war sword and began to struggle franticly. Oblis tried to stay still, his heart pounding and biting his tongue not to cry out in pain as the animal scratched and bit him out of panic.

The fox had fascinated Qycurgus. It was certainly not large enough to eat, but upon seeing its beautiful and clever face as it tricked a wolf into a swamp, he felt a strange need to possess the animal. For his mischievous daughter, Bantia, he told himself. At first he tried to cast a net over it, lure it with cheese and milk, but it was far too smart for that and Qycurgus was not a man who liked to beat about bushes. Exasperated after chasing it for a good half-day, now that the sun was down and his men were waiting for him to start supper, he was ready to maim the animal.

Stepping closer to the thick olive bush, he gestured for his men to stand back. He hacked a route with his sword and sunk into the under grove. Closing his eyes and sensing with his great instinct for living things, Qycurgus moved slowly towards a part of the bush that trembled slightly out of tune with the movements of the wind. Strange, he felt pain and terror far more complex then the emotions of a fox. Almost laughing at himself, his thoughts wandered to the tales of metamorphoses. That on full-mooned nights, in magical groves, divine animals shifted shape into human forms most desired by their hunters to beguile them from their killing sports. Qycurgus mused over what his heart's desire would look like and could not come to see a clear image in his mind.

Teasing away strewn branches and thorny undergrowth, Qycurgus gasped as the perfection he could not dream up was revealed to him. A boy, with translucent skin and frightened smoky eyes looked up at him, his tantalizingly bare arms and legs wound about each other, utterly beguiling in their fairness and muscled proportions. Qycurgus was so shocked by this supernatural occurrence that he dropped the sword that had never left his hand in the most treacherous of battles. That was a mistake, for fast as lightening, the fox he had been pursuing issued from the boy's cloak, claws and teeth bared. It latched onto its hunter's shoulder and bit deep into his neck. The boy shook himself out of his frightened stupor and was instantaneously armed with a dagger. Reacting instinctively to Qycurgus' cries for help, Oblis fought to pry the fox off the Spartan.

The Spartiates were running into the groves by now, and saw Oblis threatening their leader with a dagger. They shouted in rage and came to Qycurgus' aid just in time to see Oblis' unskilfully handled dagger slip into Qycurgus' shoulder. Entranced by the blood he drew and shocked by Qycurgus' hungry gaze over him even as he was wounded,Oblis watch the blood gush onto the  king's scarlet robe as a guard delivered a devastating blow to the back of his head with a sword handle.

"What's he doing here?"

"Probably survival trials."

"How badly is he injured?"

"A big bruise from Hecataeus' blow" some snickering "And markings by the fox."

"Not nearly as bad as yours" other voices, full of concern.

"The fox is gone, Qycurgus..."

"That's all right. He looks starved. And cold. Take him to my tent."

Oblis opened his eyes and found himself lying on a hard straw bed made warm by a bearskin rug. A pair of huge, scarred and experienced hands was undressing him.

"Just lift your arms for me boy, so I can take this off," a soft and mellow voice.

Oblis obeyed, because he did not remember why he should not.

Ointment was applied to his wounds and eventually one hand came to cup the back of his head gently. Oblis felt the bruise there, throbbing in tune with his carer's quick and strong pulse. A bowl was raised to his lips. It was the black broth, a great delicacy to the Spartan people...to his people? The idea took root in his buzzing brain and Oblis drank the salty and rich liquid hungrily. Holding onto the hand that held the bowl and kissing it in thanks as he devoured the sustenance. Seeing the boy warmed and filled by the soup, Qycurgus wiped his mouth and asked a question.

"This poem, where did you come across it?" he held out to the youth the clay tablet he'd found.

But Oblis would not answer, he merely stared wide-eyed at Qycurgus and when finally speech emerged, he uttered only the word "Master?"

The boy breathed in deeply, Qycurgus watched in fascinated wonder as arousal coursed through the young body and emotion completed the enchanting effect. Surely these could not be tears in the boy's eyes, and how that pinkness flashed in his cheeks, lips and over his genitals. Watching the stranger's penis stir, stabbed excitement right into Qycurgus' abdomen as well.

"You're alive!" Oblis found himself sniffling, then croaking "I don't believe it."

As Qycurgus battered his eyes one last time, Oblis sat up, threw his arms around the man's neck and forced him onto the rug. Straddling Qycurgus' waist, Oblis kissed and shed his tears over the king's stunned face.

"Prove to me this is real, prove it Master!" Oblis realized he was almost screaming. "Now, oh Master, now..."

With his left hand, he brought Qycurgus' sword hand up to his mouth and sucked at his thumb almost choking trying to put all the fingers into his mouth. His right hand caressed the king's erection. Hurriedly lifting Qycurgus' robes, swaying and whimpering exasperatedly at the many layers of the hunter's costume, Oblis gave up and rocked his naked body along the
length of the fully clothed one. Qycurgus was breathing hard and groaning now, his free arm clutched the youth to him as if trying to crush more pleasure out of the young man writhing with abandon.

His master's leg felt so good, even beneath the layers of fabric. Oblis drove his penis into the muscled curves, sliding the throbbing organ slick with pre-cum up and down, biting the hand in his mouth as he felt orgasm hack into his brain like an axe. His cock weeping and plump, he pressed hard into the quivering body of his master, as if to be incorporated into it.

Qycurgus was coming as he watched the expression on Oblis' face change from rapture to pleasurable death. His mouth was wantonly open and his hips pushed into Qycurgus' side hard enough to bruise. Oblis screamed in the orgasm, it felt as if Qycurgus' great hands were squashing his scrotum and his penis had exploded open. All the blood surged into his head, swam around his concussion and knocked him out again.

Oblis opened his eyes slowly, his head hurt very badly as did his genitals, they were effectively burning. Languorously recollecting where he was and who he was, this time Oblis had no trouble remembering everything up till last night. Then his bed mate shifted in his sleep. With utter horror Oblis glanced from his morning erection to the bit of sodden black robes, up the
long long legs, the trim waist, peacefully undulating bosom and the smiling face of Qycurgus, now a very satisfied and bemused Spartan king.

"Oh Hellas...there goes Greece..." Oblis managed to curse.

For the first time in years, Qycurgus felt illness creeping upon him. His gut was in a riot, his eyes uncomprehending, his lungs hurt as he drew breath and his heart pounded heavy and slow as if it was overtaxed. And oh the agony when the lithe body withdrew from his side and cursed in its soft Athenian voice. Must be the shoulder wound, the warrior reasoned with himself, it must have unstitched and now helmets of blood must be pouring out to make his head feel so light. As for the tightness in his throat, his numbing nose and quivering lip muscles, it was all surely an awful case of winter-bug that the gods have sent for June and definitely *not* a love struck fool's smile.

"I...um..." Oblis stood an arm's length away demanding a chance for explanation.

Qycurgus rose on an elbow and absent mindedly played with the warm patch of the rug that was, regretfully, cooling.

"Hello Athenian," Qycurgus finally looked up and said. "I am Qycurgus Leonidas Cleomenes, dual king of Sparta, servant of the Spartiates."

Oblis straightened, standing in a regimental and sober style, he offered Qycurgus his arm.

"I am Themistocles Oblis Kenobius, servant of Athena and the state of Athens," their arms interlocked and Qycurgus fought the compulsion to initiate a tug of war that would end in...urm...a demonstration of Spartan athleticism.

But Oblis' face was impressively serious, although he was standing there completely naked.

"Ambassador," Qycurgus could not hide his crooked smile as he addressed Oblis. "What is the proof of your identity?"

"Wha? Oh, this!" without thought Oblis bent to pick up his dagger at the foot of their bed, presenting it to Qycurgus.

"I come in peace...." Oblis jumped with mortal embarrassment as the king he was about to negotiate peace with gave him a hearty swat across his buttocks.

"I can not initiate negotiations on the future of Greece in this manner!" Oblis shouted indignantly, but his voice was cracking into what sounded dangerously like giggles.

"Come fair Oblis, we can initiate just fine like this." Qycurgus said, and Oblis found it hard to decide whether the king was in jest, or worse, being serious.

The Spartan King was not being co-operative. In fact, Oblis was certain that Qycurgus had adopted as his sole agenda of these negotiations the need to humiliate and intimidate him. Qycurgus was glorious the moment Oblis laid eyes on him. And since the rather interesting morning, he had been all winks and smiles over communal breakfast. Now, he had insisted Oblis ride with him
on the same horse. Biting his lips, not wanting to enrage the burly hands lifting him into the saddle, Oblis suppressed his urge to point out that the Spartans of all people should have an extra horse. And the fact that apart from his political accomplishments, Oblis also enjoyed the reputation of a superior horse rider Athens.

His complaints were however overtaken by fierce embarrassment when Qycurgus mounted behind him, wrapping powerful thighs about his rigid back. Oblis' erection was instantaneous, like a foot soldier coming to attention under King Qycurgus' command. The leather saddle created satisfying friction as the king's horse galloped, throwing Oblis into Qycurgus' arms.

"Ambassador Oblis," Qycurgus shouted next to his ear. "How do you like Sparta so far?"

"So so," Oblis groaned. "I have not seen much of the Spartiate elites. But I have seen the Helots and the Perioeci, I am afraid your majesty that not all your people are happy."

"They are not my people," Qycurgus answered sternly. "The helots are slaves,  they cannot fight."

"I would beg to differ, what of that bloody internal wars 300 year ago?" Oblis challenged, and felt Qycurgus' thighs harden with  his displeasure, the helot riots was a dark blemish on Spartan history, so many had died and kept dying quelling or fuelling rebellions into the present.

"Is it to your purpose for you to anger me?" Qycurgus' hand gripped painfully on Oblis' left hip.

"Qycurgus," Oblis turned his head and looked into those seething blue eyes. "It is my honour to bring present and approaching dangers to your attention."

Their faces close, Oblis half shut his eyes as jolts of pleasure shot up his spine. Mortified, Oblis realized if Qycurgus kissed him now, he'd come all over the saddle. Qycurgus parted his mouth, Oblis' breath hitched in his throat at the sight of the sensual dark pink surface of the king's tongue, his own lips felt parched by the wind. Qycurgus watched stunned as the young man's soft tongue snaked out of the corner of his mouth and glided over Oblis' lips. He must do something to keep from devouring the ambassador's mouth in plain sight of all his men.

"Oblis, have I told you of that tablet?" Qycurgus muttered. "I guess you'd assume it was some wanton dawdling I had etched for one boy or another who caught my eye's favour."

"Yes," Oblis smiled. "But it was beautiful nonetheless."

Qycurgus laughed.

"True enough, it was given to a boy in my Syssitia. But it was meant to be a token of our love. Now imagine my great shock when I find it on a stranger hiding in the bushes near my camp, waving around a posed dagger in his other hand," Qycurgus sighed, not out of grief but at the smell of Oblis' hair, though he would rather Oblis thought it was the former.

"I brought it at great cost from a traveller, beyond that I do not know, this boy, where is he now? Perhaps he lost it?" Oblis suggested.

"Perhaps he betrayed my faith," Qycurgus' voice was harsh but his body looked weary and sad. "Because before that the tablet belonged to another couple. *I* was young once too, my young ambassador."

"You mean..." Oblis was reluctant to ask, as all of a sudden bile rose in his stomach with unease.

"My lover was killed in the helot riots," Qycurgus said.

"And no, he never did come back to say goodbye," Qycurgus said in a rather matter of fact tone as he halted the mare. "But he did send honourable words to his wife and children. I merely succeeded his throne by popular vote of the Spartiate army."

Oblis wanted to ask more, but the king looked away abruptly and leapt off the horse, leaving his back cold. Oblis eyed his surroundings distractedly, wondering why the king had confided in him. The rather humble village did not fit Oblis' preconceptions of what Sparta would look like. Why this was a hovel compared to Athens, yet there was a very definite order. Small houses of similar size and form lined the streets. Even the king's household was undistinguishable from the rest. In fact, Oblis noticed it was somewhat shabbier and smaller than its neighbours.

"I hardly come back here any more, I live with my Spartiates in the barracks most of the time. And there is no need for the Gerousia to allot me a large estate since I have no wife or sons," Qycurgus explained.

Oblis thought that was rather peculiar for a  Spartan monarch, a childless, wifeless man of Qycurgus' age would have drawn comment in Athens, and he'd hardly be regarded as a proper citizen. But before Oblis could make discrete inquiries, he saw Qycurgus' face darken as a raven-haired young man emerged from his house.

The youth's grinning greeting faded and turned into a questioning frown as he saw Oblis still astride on his master's horse.

"What are you doing here?" Qycurgus approached him.

"To meet you my master," Thanatos replied on a new smile, reaching out to take his master's cloak. "How was the hunting trip? I see you've caught something besides wild boars."

"Yes," Qycurgus looked into Thanatos' discerningly beautiful eyes. "We will talk later."

Oblis slid to the ground and went up to be introduced, as a diplomat he knew it was foolish to make an enemy so early in his negotiations, and this Thanatos had a sharp glint in his eyes that made Oblis wary.

"Greetings Qycurgus! Greetings Ambassador!" a call from across the narrow street interrupted Oblis' intention and Thanatos slipped away quietly.

A dark skinned, bald giant took three powerful strides to clasp both in his arms.

"King Croesus Marius Windulos," Qycurgus clapped his hands on his brother's back and introduced them with utter delight.

"Marius this is Themistocles Oblis Kenobius," Qycurgus grinned broadly at the two clasped hands. "Our self-made ambassador from Athens."

"Aah I have been expecting you," Marius nodded fervently.

"Oh, the messengers arrived already have they?" Qycurgus inquired.

"No not the ones from you. But there have been some urgent messages from Ionia. The Persians are well and truly on their way!" Marius looked to Oblis and his tone became somewhat more relaxed. "But that is not how I heard of this young man."

"Oblis!" a soft, accented voice called from behind him and Marius winked, grinning with a face full of white teeth.

"Sister!" Oblis pivoted, picked up Amidala and they spun around.

"She seems far more resourceful than you Oblis," Marius commented.

"I wrote to my old Vestal sisters and they spoke to the temple in Sparta and here I am!" Amidala smiled her eyes into crescent-moons. "But I see you're equally successful in finding your Qycurgus."

To Oblis' amusement Amidala did not blush or grow shy at his companion's presence.

"Great Qycurgus," she said laughingly. "Your daughter has kept me company for the past few days. I thank you for your hospitality."

It was then that Oblis noticed through his great joy to see his sister that all that while Amidala was holding the hand of a young woman with huge misty grey eyes.

"Hi Oblis, I am Bantia" the young woman smiled. "And I think you need to sit down as Ami relay to you great news from Athens."

They entered Qycurgus' house and sat in the homely living room. Water was boiled for tea and everyone gathered around the dining table.

"Oblis, I came to ask your instruction regarding our estates," Amidala said, smiling broadly. "Because they have found the largest silver mine in Greece on our father's land!"

Oblis' eyes widened, the image of the starving helots flashed through his mind.

"That is wonderful, sister!" Oblis jumped up to hug her. "It will do Greece good!"

"Yes!" Amidala agreed breathless in the excited embrace.

Bantia smiled at her father, whispering proudly "The thought of a richer dowry never occurred to her."

Qycurgus grinned back "And Oblis has nothing on his mind but Greece."

Both let out a happy sigh and waited for the siblings to part, in order to embrace them.

"Fortunate this is," an old and scratchy voice said from the entrance to the living room.

"Master Yoda!" Mace introduced the oldest Gerousia Elder with surprise. "What are you doing here and not at the Council meeting?"

"Grave news I have. But improved by young Oblis it maybe hmmm? The Persians have invaded. A canal was dug through Mt Athos. Mauleer commands fleets from Egypt and will anchor in Greek harbours," punctuating each shocking revelation with a thump of his pear-wood walking stick, Yoda's voice was nonetheless warrior-like despite his old age and apparent frailty. "Young Oblis, what will you do with your new wealth?"

Qycurgus looked to Oblis, eyes shining as he hoped Oblis would offer to supplement the armoury and numbers of Greek soldiers. Oblis looked at Qycurgus' eager gaze, his ocean deep eyes sparkling as he thought critically for a moment.

"Master Yoda, I intend to buy a naval fleet," Oblis said calmly.

"What good will that do?" Marius questioned, deeply worried.

"Sparta has the finest army in Greece. Athens does not. We are a peaceful people," Oblis noticed his voice sounded piercingly superior.

And his heart sunk a little as Qycurgus' gaze, train on him, hardened, but he continued.

"We will not be as successful if we were to confront the large Persian forces on land in large scale battles. A navy will enable us to cut their supply lines. With an army so large, Mauleer can not expect to win without apt supplies."

"Look," dipping his finger into Qycurgus' cup of tea, Oblis began to sketch a map of Greece on the dining table. "The Persians will attempt to land along the east coast of Greece. Here, near Thermopylae."

Yoda climbed onto a chair and nodded at the drawing. Qycurgus pressed against Oblis' back to take a look. Upon seeing the picture he gripped Oblis' shoulder.

"That is a fine plan!" Qycurgus pointed excitedly. "Thermopylae has a narrow passage, where no more than 10 men can walk shoulder to shoulder at once. It is the shape of a wine-flask neck. Here, in the antechamber, we set our best troops. And push forward and retreat in this narrow passage, using it as a killing field. No matter how large the Persian force may be, without the
room to out-flank us or use their archers and cavalry we may hold them for a very long time!"

"Exactly," Oblis squeezed Qycurgus' hand in his own. "And the Persians are going for a land and sea alternation, expecting only land battles. If your Spartans can hold them at Thermopylae that will give us the time necessary to ready the Athenian fleet. Once we cut their supplies, the Persians will be defenceless."

"Thanatos," Qycurgus said. "You're a native of Thermopylae...do you think this plan apt?"

Thanatos looked from Qycurgus to Oblis for a small while then smiled begrudgingly. "Yes my master, most perfect."

"I have loved the sea ever since I was a boy," Oblis smiled, leaning into the doorframe of the guest bedroom.

"Really," Qycurgus didn't even look up from his task of making a bed for the ambassador.

"You know you're not what I expected for a Spartan King," Oblis walked nearer, forcing his breathing to sound calm and even and his tone casual. "You're rather laconic and you do house chores."

"Laconic?" Qycurgus quirked an eyebrow and threw an extra skin over the bed. "Chores?"

Oblis began to chuckle, because the expression on Qycurgus' face was anything but slow and quiet. Yes, Spartan men were renowned for their lack of words and excess of motion. Oblis found himself fascinated however, that this Qycurgus, once away from his hunting gear was gentle and charming.

"Well, this is the state of Laconia," Qycurgus grinned, his eyes glittering. "And I find doing laundry dignifying. How about you ambassador, are you a spoilt boy?"

"I am two decades old," Oblis pulled himself to his full height, which was still markedly below Qycurgus' shoulder. "And I have a man's name. Also, I am a scholar, a tactician, a naval general and your equal in matters of manhood, I was never spoilt and I am no longer a boy."

"Good," Qycurgus gave the bed one last stroke and turned to face Oblis. "I ask you then, man to man, that you join me in bed tonight."

Forcing himself to be still, he looked down serenely into Oblis' stormy eyes.

"I like the ocean too," Qycurgus leaned forward and whispered into Oblis' ear as he brushed by him to exit the room. "I would like to rock with you as the waves do on the white pebbled coasts."

Oblis found the Spartan military system extremely efficient. With the announcement of the Persian invasion, the ready camps of soldiers began to pack rations. However, only 300 Spartans will be sent to Thermopylae at first. Because the religious ceremony of the Black Moon meant one of the two kings and the rest of Sparta must remain till the eclipse passed. Oblis was
at first frustrated at the archaic tradition. But Qycurgus reminded him that as a people whose lot constantly relied on war the Spartans were naturally religious; and in reassurance of their plans, Qycurgus himself will be leading the 300 men to Thermopylae.

In the meanwhile, Oblis had arranged with a boat merchant named Wattolos of Scythia to buy a second-hand fleet. Scythia was a country near the Black Sea and ally to Athens. Their war boats were near new and had a special design. Each accommodated up to two hundred rowers, this ensured speed. But the boats themselves were much more compact than the cumbersome and outdated ones of Mauleer's Egyptian fleet. In particular, Oblis' fleet had flat bottoms that would enable them to manoeuvre in more shallow waters than the Persian ships.

Oblis fell into the bed Qycurgus had made expertly and could not find the peace of mind for a much-needed afternoon nap. In his mind, every image and every word was Qycurgus. Resting his head on his arm, he thought hard about the king. Qycurgus had a reputation for his power, wisdom and leadership. The hunter he had met was formidable, swift and passionate. As father of Bantia, however, he was lonely, lived sparsely and caring.

What would he be like as a lover? Oblis' cheeks burned as his body reacted to the thought immediately. Of course he'll be as sensual as Bacchus, as lustful as Zeus and as relentless as Ares. So why was Oblis here, alone in the guestroom, when his heart's desire was just over the wall? Oblis turned an even darker shade of crimson.

He was twenty and he had never lain with anyone. He had respected his sister's maids as her friends and found the idea of ravishing one's family servants abominable. At the more depraved functions he had to attend in Athens, such as a few dinner banquets held by Senator Palpatine, Oblis had never had the appetite to participate in the random orgies. Some of the
Senators had also expressed interest, offering their daughters or themselves. Yet Oblis did not believe in marriages or affairs of political convenience. So here he was, lying in Qycurgus' house, terrified of being found out as a virgin.

Well, not totally inexperienced actually. Oblis could not help but smile at the memory of his first night upon meeting Qycurgus. When he had thought himself some young lover of the king and had madly rubbed himself all over Qycurgus' legs. The memory made his erection painfully large. Gasping, Oblis touch his lips to his hand and closed his eyes, recalling the taste of Qycurgus' fingers in his mouth. He trailed his wet fingers over his feverish chest, running across his nipples, tickling his abdomen and then past the drawstrings of his sleeping pants to grasp the moist heat there...

"Qui-cur-gossss..." Oblis whimpered into his pillow, wrapping his hand around his penis, his eyes rolling into his head with pleasure.

He felt languid and sleepy, warm and erotic on the large bed, wrapped in Qycurgus' scent. Throwing his arms open, Oblis smiled into the ceiling and wantonly ran his hands up his inner thighs. The tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on imagining what Qycurgus would do to his body. Yes, Qy would like kissing the tip of his cock, so
Oblis moaned and rubbed his thumb over the weeping head. Pre-cum dripped down his phallus, glazing his scrotums with a golden shine. Distributing the pungent liquid over his penis, Oblis ran trembling fingers from the head to the base and then up again, arching into the motion.

"Do you like that Spartan?" he hissed to his imaginary lover, his other hand joining in the action to fumble with his ball sacs. "Oh yes, now suck me please..."

Oblis writhed as the grip on his cock tightened and his hand began to pump in earnest. His breathing was harsh and his head swarm with electric flashes of satisfaction. It felt as if his bed was a tiny vessel in a great ocean. And the centre of his body was a very important mast. He slammed his fist into the bed at how good it felt, dreaming of Qycurgus' touch and fast approaching orgasm and the inevitability of coming in his own hands.

The ambassador's moaning crept through the thin walls of the modestly built house and went straight to Qycurgus' cock. Quirking his head, he listened to the thrashing body in the next room. Without thinking, Qycurgus found his hand had sneaked to his waist and when he pulled up his tunic, there it was, the angriest erection he'd ever seen. Somewhat astounded but hardly
surprised by his own reaction, Qycurgus bit his lips and promised himself the Athenian's siren song was not going to win against his experience and self-control.

When he heard his own name slurringly played out by that cultured voice however, Qycurgus finally realized he had better fuck himself silly before he simply ran into Oblis' room and ravished the man. Foreplay was out of the question by this time, hastily grabbing his cock, which was red and sweating like an angry idol of Ares. Qycurgus squeezed his erection to the rhythm of
Oblis' yelping cries of ecstasy.

"Mmm!" Oblis kicked out his legs at the shudder of orgasm that raced up his spine. "Oooo please Qy, ooo that feels good, please, please... mm..mmmmm...."

Qycurgus drew ragged breaths and pushed his pelvis hard into his bed.

"Hhurrr, hhhurrrrr!" Oblis hyperventilated. "Stop, ss..top...I can't, I can't....Oooh Qy I'm coming...I think...Ooooooo!!"

Qycurgus screamed silently the the sound of a death rattle came from Oblis as he came. Qycurgus too convulsed violently as orgasm seared through him also. But when he looked down, to his utter horror his cock was as hard and vilely full as ever. Frantically, Qycurgus set aside all dignity and virtually bashed at it with his powerful hands, but no, it was . . . stuck like that! Qycurgus kept trying for another minute or so, but to no avail. The room next door was now dead quiet, so Qycurgus prayed that Oblis was spent and asleep. Crawling out of bed and finding it extremely painful to walk in his state, Qycurgus stumbled into Oblis' room.

Oblis felt as if he were looking down at the ordinary world from the top of mount Olympus. The hard mattress underneath felt as soft as clouds and he was as light as air. He felt so good that when Qycurgus hobbled into his room, he could do nothing but grin stupidly at the Spartan. Slowly, his eyes were drawn to one particular part of the king and even in his hazy state the sight took his breath away.

Qycurgus had a hurt look on his face, grimacing at the beautiful youth, he felt somewhat embarrassed by his desperation, but by the looks of it, it was either release or death. Bowing and gasping apologies, he ran up to the bed and pressed his lips hungrily to the pools of ejaculate on Oblis' stomach. As soon as the fresh smell of the semen entered his nostrils, and the tingling texture of milky sea foam touched his tongue, Qycurgus' own explosion occurred, shooting an incredible amount of semen all over Oblis' heaving torso.

Qycurgus shut his eyes with relief, his knees gave out and he slumped with a sigh over Oblis' stomach. Qycurgus wished he would never have to re-open his eyes, that he could fly in this shuddering climax forever and never have to confront Oblis' reaction to his deed.

Part 2