The old warrior examined their bulky handiwork, shook his head, and undid it all. He retied the bandages, discarding most of the tattered cloth, muttering that Sparta was doomed if we were its hope for the future.
If I couldn’t thank Castor and Polydeuces for their care any other way, at least I could stand up to Glaucus in their defense. “Don’t say that!” I exclaimed, my face hot. “They did a good job, better than you’re doing now.”
Glaucus sat back on his haunches. “Loyalty, princess? That’s commendable, but they should earn your praise.”
“They’re going to be heroes, not healers,” I snapped. “So what if they can’t tie a bandage? They’re going to be the pride of Sparta someday—you just wait!—and when that day comes, the only reason anyone will ever remember your name is because you were their teacher!”
“Not all of us care if our names are remembered, in life or after death,” Glaucus replied, his face stony.
“Better men than I have become food for battlefield crows defending your father’s lands. They could have broken away from the Spartan army and rushed into single combat against the enemy, all for their own glory. Instead, they died fighting in the ranks, for the good of all instead of the glory of one. They lost their chance to be remembered, but they won wars. Those are my heroes, princess.”
“Then I don’t want my brothers to be your kind of heroes,” I said. “Sheep go where they’re led. Are they your heroes too?”
I must have looked ridiculous, a small, filthy, scratched, and bleeding child facing up to a seasoned warrior who could have snapped my spine like a dry reed. For a time the two of us sat glaring at one another while Castor and Polydeuces looked on, too nervous to make a sound. Even if my belligerence cost me all future lessons from Glaucus, I wasn’t going to back down. He had no right to belittle my brothers. I remembered the second lesson he’d taught me: Pick your battles.
Then Glaucus broke the silence with a roar of laughter. “Sheep again!” he crowed. “You drag them into your arguments time after time, yet I’ll wager that you’ve never been closer to them than the meat on your table or the wool on your spindle. You have no idea what they’re really like. You’ve just heard other palace folk say that sheep are stupid, spiritless beasts, so you echo their ignorance. If you’d been raised like me, on an upland farm, you’d soon learn the truth. Sheep don’t always go where they’re led, not half so easily as palace folk do, anyway.”
He slapped his knees and stood up. “You’re a blunt girl, but praise Athena, you’re not stupid. You’re just young. You’ll learn. The gods know, I’m old and I’m still learning. I only pray they’ll let me live to teach you the difference between sheep and heroes, blind obedience and discipline.”
“What?” I’d expected to be sent away for being so outspoken. I glanced at my brothers. They’d been with Glaucus for years and knew him better than I did. Was he truly willing to keep teaching me, or was it an ugly joke, punishment for my audacity? I hoped they’d give some sign to let me know whether it was safe to take him at his word.
They were smiling. They looked proud of me.
I looked back at Glaucus. “You—you’ll still teach me?”
“That will depend on if you’ll learn.” He cast a casual glance back toward where the royal palace of Sparta stood high on its fortified hill. “It also seems that right now it’s going to depend on luck. While you and I have been bickering, your father’s sentries have been watching, wondering why I’ve stopped instructing the princes just to waste so much time and attention on this grubby little creature.” He nodded at me. “I helped train those men, and unless I did a rotten job, they’ll follow their suspicions down here to find out what’s going on.”
“I—I think I see two of them now,” Castor said, shading his eyes with one hand. “You’re right, Glaucus, they’re coming this way. Helen, you can’t go back to the palace; they’re on the only path. They’ll recognize you and tell Father, and that’ll be the end of your training.”
“You should be happy, then,” I said. “You didn’t want me to train with you.”
“That was because I didn’t think you were serious about it,” Castor replied. “But after hearing what you said, seeing you keep trying to use that spear, not giving up, well…”
Polydeuces stooped to murmur in my ear. “What he’s trying to say is, anyone who’d stand up to Glaucus like you did deserves a chance. You stood up for us, little sister; the least we can do is stand up for you.”
I climbed to my feet with a hand up from both my brothers. I don’t think that I ever loved them so much as I did then. My foot throbbed, but Glaucus had done a good job of binding it up. It could bear my weight, which was a good thing because I was about to ask it to bear more than that. I dug my feet—both hurt and whole—into the dirt and took off at a run. Pain shot through my body with every other step, and I heard the shouts of Father’s sentries on my trail, ordering me to stop, but I ran on.
4
CLYTEMNESTRA’S SECRET