Spartan Read Online Free Page A

fell between them, broken only by the bleating
of the flock in the pen nearby.
    Suddenly the old man stood up, straining his ears intently.
    ‘What is it?’ asked Talos.
    ‘Do you hear them? Wolves! They howled like this the night that you— were born. But it’s not the mating season yet. Isn’t that strange?’
    ‘Oh, let them howl and let’s go inside. It’s raining, and nearly dark.’
    ‘No. Did you know, Talos, that the gods sometimes send signs to men? It’s time you knew. Take my cloak and a torch and follow me.’
    They started off towards the forest that loomed at the edge of the clearing. The old man chose a tortuous path amidst the trees, followed by the mute, pensive boy. After nearly an hour of this
silent march, they reached the foot of a protruding cliff covered by a thick mantle of moss. At the base of the cliff was a pile of rocks which seemed to have tumbled down from the mountain.
    ‘Move those stones,’ ordered Kritolaos. ‘I don’t have the strength to do it myself.’
    Talos obeyed, curious and impatient to uncover the old man’s mystery. The rain had stopped and the wind had died down. The forest was immersed in silence. Talos worked energetically, but
his task was not easy. The rain-soaked stones, covered with greenish, slimy moss, slipped through his hands, but the boy continued resolutely. By the light of the torch that the old man held, Talos
caught sight of an opening underneath. He moved the last of the rocks away – they had been covering an underground passage! Peering into the darkness, the boy could make out irregular stairs
covered with grey mould.
    ‘Let’s go in,’ said Kritolaos, nodding towards the entrance of the tunnel. ‘Help me,’ he added, ‘I don’t want to break my leg.’
    Talos started down first and reached up to help the old man, who leaned on the boy so as not to lose his footing. The two of them continued down the rough steps carved in the rock, and came to
the opening of a small cave. The dripping ceiling was barely high enough for a man to stand up straight. The cave seemed empty at first, until Kritolaos, moving his torch, lit up one of the corners
and revealed a great wooden chest reinforced with bronze plates. The old man lifted the latch and chipped away at the pitch sealing the lid with the point of his knife.
    ‘Open it,’ he ordered Talos, who had been watching him astonished.
    ‘What’s in the chest?’ asked the boy. ‘Some kind of treasure you’ve kept hidden?’
    ‘No, Talos, there are no riches here. Some things are far more precious than gold and silver. Open it, you’ll see.’
    The old man handed him the knife. The chest’s lid was well sealed, but Talos succeeded in forcing it. He shot Kritolaos a questioning look. The old man nodded; Talos struggled to remove
the lid and leaned it back against the cavern wall. He shone the torch inside the chest.
    What Talos saw left him speechless: a splendid helmet of bronze crowned with wolf fangs set into the metal, a heavy bronze cuirass decorated with tin and silver, an amber-hilted sword enclosed
in its sheath, embossed thigh-guards and greaves, and a great shield with the head of a wolf, all looking as though they’d just been forged.
    ‘It’s incredible,’ gasped Talos, not yet daring to reach out and touch. ‘But this is impossible! This chest has been closed up for who knows how long, but look at this
armour: it’s perfect!’
    ‘Look closer, touch it,’ ordered the old man.
    The boy stretched out his hand to touch the resplendent weapons. ‘Grease!’ he murmured. ‘Covered with grease. Did you do it, grandfather?’
    ‘Yes, I, and others before me, for a very long while. That sack, too, was soaked in grease before being closed. Open it,’ Kritolaos said, pointing to a dark bundle that the boy,
blinded by the armour, had not noticed. Talos worked excitedly to open the rigid, wrinkled sack, and drew out a huge bow, completely covered with a layer of ram’s