Last of the Amazons by Steven Pressfield Page B

fore.
    â€œOur friend Philippus’ speech proves one thing: the older you get, the more spectacularly hung you used to be.” Damon bowed theatrically to his mate. “As to this Amazon romancing, however, I never saw such stuff. Perhaps, my friend, your celebrated endowment provided you entry to a steamier quarter of the camp.”
    The companies responded with much profane chaffing of their comrade Dew Lap.
    â€œMy experience was the opposite,” Uncle resumed when the levity had abated. “I never saw an Amazon mate in the open and I challenge any to declare he has. They build bridal bowers, most modest, of willow stalks plaited with limbs of white poplar. They select a grove in a high meadow or vale of the plain and fabricate a sort of arbor, waist-high and open at one end. Upon the floor they set hides of elk or ibex and hang that charm called a
cypridion,
the passion knot of Aphrodite, upon the lintel.
    â€œNor is such occasion the subject of jest or whimsy to them. Recall, friends, that for these maids the object of intercourse is not carnal rapture but produce of offspring. They wanted female issue, the taller and stronger the better. Nor have they come to this privilege absent adversity, but each must have woven three scalps of enemies into the mane of her pony simply to earn this right. To daunt the foreign suitor further, he must compete against beefhearts of the neighboring tribes, hairy as Hephaestus, many of whom have known these lasses since childhood, or got foals on them heretofore, or their fathers have. They become affianced just like we do, with costly gifts and dowries, and families share bonds over generations.
    â€œBut let me reverse, gentlemen, to matter more germane to our present predicament. Our commander, Prince Atticus, has requested that we veterans share our intelligence of the country into which this expedition now advances. He asks that we address business of which you youngsters stand as yet in ignorance. Why was the former expedition undertaken? What was our king Theseus’ object and how may we of this present party profit from our predecessors’ ordeals? Let me call my brother Elias forward, who not only served on that voyage but earned command by his initiative and valor.”
    He turned to Father, urging him to speak. Father resisted. The company however, led by Prince Atticus, pressed him earnestly. “You are friend and kinsman of Theseus, sir, and in those days as now much within his confidence. Who can enlighten us more ably than yourself?”
    Father rose and came forward. The companies had drawn up on the strand between two beached ships. Bonfires lit the interval, bound by the black hulls glistening with freshly applied pitch. The space, though great enough to contain above a hundred, yet felt sheltered and snug.
    Father thanked Atticus first and commended him for convening this assembly. “Atticus, I have had my eye on you since you were a sprout. I judged then that your nature incorporated those qualities which would render you one day preeminent among our race. This is why I accepted service beneath your command on this expedition and, as well and with pride, made compact with your family to betroth to you my daughter Europa. Nothing I have seen on this passage has countered that conviction. Forgive me if grief has estranged me from yourself and this company. And you, gentlemen, permit me to make up for my self-imposed sequestration. I shall obey our commander and, if you will heed me, offer such intelligence as experience may provide.”
    A bowl was redrawn; Father wet his throat and began. . . .

10
    THE BIRTH OF DEMOCRACY
    Father’s testimony:

    T he first Athenian voyage to the Amazon Sea, whose course we now retrace, embarked some twenty years prior to this date. Theseus was thirty or thereabout, I twenty-five, my brother Damon twenty. Philippus, what were you—nineteen? Other veterans among our current corps were surely