Which reminded him.
The Founder had left only one set of keys for the SEAL. Blade had recently learned from an acquaintance in the Free State of California that machines existed capable of duplicating any key ever made. He wanted to have spares of the transport’s set produced at the first opportunity.
Captain Chiton made for a huge door at the top of the steps. He returned the salute of a guard, which consisted of pressing his clenched right fist to his left breast. “Are both kings in attendance?”
“Yes, Captain,” the guard replied.
“Good.” Chiton said, and paused while the trooper rapped loudly three times.
Blade heard a faint, click. The door swung slower inward, pulled from within.
Chiton motioned for them to proceed and entered the Royal Palace.
Inadvertently tensing, Blade stayed on the officer’s heels. The three soldiers who had opened the door stood at attention as the party passed.
Ahead was a great hall, all polished and grand just like the exterior, with Spartans lining both walls.
“These men are part of the Three Hundred,” Captain Chiton mentioned proudly.
“The Three Hundred?” Blade repeated.
“The three hundred best soldiers are selected to serve as bodyguards to the kings. To be picked for the Three Hundred is a special honor. Any Spartan warrior would give his right arm to be chosen.”
“Are you part of the Three Hundred?”
“Not yet. All candidates must be at least thirty years old. I still have six months before I’m eligible, but I have every hope of being nominated when the time comes.”
“Wait a minute,” Blade said, doing a few mental calculations. “How many men are there in the Spartan army counting the Three Hundred?”
“Approximately five hundred and fifty. There are also fifty police.”
“Which means there can only be about three hundred women and children in Sparta,” Blade said.
“Yes. You’re remarkably well informed about our population.”
“How can this be? The ratio of males and females is all wrong;”
“True, and through no fault of ours. I’ll be honest with you. There has been a chronic shortage of women for many years. No one knows why, but most of the female babies die. So do a lot of the males, but not quite as many. The doctors speculate there might be some form of contamination in the area, either radiation or a chemical toxin. They can’t isolate the source, however.”
“What about the Helots?”
“What about them?”
“Are they also afflicted?”
“Yes, but not to the same degree.”
“Then I’d guess Spartan men must take a fair number of Helot women as wives.”
“You’d guess wrong,” Captain Chilon responded, his voice lowering slightly, almost sadly.
“Why?”
“Because it’s against the law for a Spartan to marry a Helot. Even for a Spartan to show interest in a Helot is to flirt with banishment or worse.”
“The law makes no sense,” Blade stated.
“It did years ago when the Helots were always making trouble. And too, the Lawgivers wanted to keep the Spartan bloodline pure.”
“How do the Spartan men feel about the situation?”
“What we feel is unimportant. Our duty is to serve our kings and safeguard our city-state. This we will do no matter what the cost.”
Blade fell silent, contemplating this new revelation. Now he understood the game Chilon and Erica Johnson played, and realized the consequences should he reveal the officer’s secret. Another thought occurred to him, the real reason Rick Grennell had been in the same area as Erica, carrying a rifle no less. What would happen if Grennell told Chiton’s superiors?
They had advanced for over 40 yards along the corridor, passing many doors en route. Directly in front of them loomed another enormous door, only this one hung open. Beyond was an incredibly immense chamber packed with Spartans, both men and women, as well as a few children and Helots. A dozen soldiers were posted just outside, all at attention.
“This is the audience chamber,” Captain Chilon disclosed.
One of the soldiers stepped forward, blocking their path, and saluted.
“Halt, please, Captain Chilon.”
The officer saluted. “Captain Tyrtaios. Is there a problem?”
“You have strangers with you.”
“Yes.”
“They’re armed. You know the law as well as I do. Armed outsiders may not be admitted to the audience chamber under any circumstances whatsoever.”
“I take full responsibility for them,” Chilon stated.
Captain Tyrtaios pursed his lips and studied the Warriors. “This is most irregular. I trust you have an excellent reason?”
“Of course.”
“Then they will be permitted to enter, but six of my men will accompany you.”
“Take, whatever steps you deem necessary.”
Tyrtaios moved aside and pointed at six of his detail. As Chilon started forward again, Tyrtaios leaned closer and whispered, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“So do I.”
Blade scanned the chamber. A red carpet covered the floor except at the far end. There, on the east side, on a spacious dais, were a pair of matching gilded thrones on which sat men wearing full red robes and golden crowns. Behind the thrones, in a line from north to south, were ten more soldiers. Unlike the Spartans. Blade had encountered so far, these ten carried bows, powerful longbows, and on their backs perched quivers containing red shafts.
Captain Chilon walked toward the dais, his shoulders squared, his horsehair crest swaying.
Every man, woman, and child stopped whatever they were doing to stare at the newcomers.
The two men on the thrones reacted differently. On the left sat a blond man who sported a full beard and bushy brows. He regarded the party intently, yet calmly. Not so the other king. An exceptionally lean man with black hair down to his shoulders and dark eyes, he leaped to his feet and jabbed his right hand at them.
“Chilon, what’s the meaning of this? You dare bring armed outsiders into the audience chamber?”
The officer saluted and halted a few yards from the base of the dais.
“King Agesilaus, I beg your indulgence. These men are here on a peace mission. Please hear them out.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? I won’t tolerate a threat to my royal person.” Agesilaus shifted and glanced at the ten archers. “Kill them!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
For a moment Blade expected to have to fight for his life. He saw three of the Spartan archers step forward, notching arrows to their bows, and he draped his hands on the hilts of his Bowies.
“Wait!” thundered the other king, Dercyllidas, who stood and gestured to the archers. “I say we should listen to the strangers. Captain Chilon wouldn’t have brought them before us without due cause.”
King Agesilaus cast a hostile gaze on his fellow monarch. “And I want them slain immediately.”
The blond king stepped to the edge of the dais and studied the three Warriors for a bit, then faced Agesilaus. “As a favor to me, agree to let them speak.”
“And what will I get in return?”
“I’ll owe you a favor, and you know I always make good on my debts.”
“True,” King Agesilaus said, the corners of his thin lips curling upward.
“May I claim this favor at any time?”
“Of course.”
“No matter what it might be?”
“If it’s within my power to accomplish it, then I’ll do it.”
“Fine. You may question the strangers,” Agesilaus stated, and gave a contemptuous wave of his hand as he sat down.
The blond king placed his hands on his hips and regarded the giant critically. “Who are you and where are you from?”
“My name is Blade. I’m here as an official representative of the Freedom Federation. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”