The Town Mouse and the Spartan House by Terry Deary

Chapter One
    The arrival of the Spartans meant we lived in fear, waiting for them to attack. We could smell the smoke as they burned the farms outside the city walls.

    The city was crowded with peasants, who had fled from the fields. The temples were filled with the homeless.

    My mother stayed inside.
    If she walked down the street, people spat at her.
    â€œI come from Sparta,” she explained. “I married your father when we were at peace. Now my country is at war with Athens, the people of the city hate me.”

    We thought there was nothing worse than the savage Spartans. Then the second curse arrived. The plague…
    My father was a doctor and he told me how sickness was spreading through the crowded temples.
    â€œThe victims say their heads ache and their eyes go sore,” he explained. “They spit blood and vomit. Their bodies are burning and covered in sores. The wretches cannot sleep. In a week they are dead.

    â€œI try to help, but I have no medicines for this . All I can do is try to keep the sick away from the ones who are well.”
    The plague spread from the temples and on through the city. Screaming victims threw themselves down wells to try to cool their fevered bodies.

    No one wanted to nurse the sick, and they died in the streets. The bodies were piled high and left to rot. People stole wood, and lit fires to burn their loved ones.

    â€œThis is hell,” my father said and rubbed his aching head. His eyes grew sore and his body grew fever-hot. He died within a week.
    Everyone in Athens had lost a loved one and the streets were filled with weeping. Now we joined them. I cried for my father and I cried for myself. I waited for the plague to take me next. We paid some slaves to take his body to the plague pit.

    And then my mother fell ill. Her face glowed with sweat and her fine, dark hair hung tangled and matted on her pillow. Her voice was thin and breathless. “Darius,” she said. “Leave the city ... save yourself.”

    â€œWhere shall I go?” I cried. “The Spartans will capture me!”
    â€œYou are a Spartan,” she whispered. “My brother is a general with the Spartan army. Find him. Find your uncle Alcmaeon.”
    â€œBut the Spartans are the cruellest people on Earth!”
    â€œBetter a live Spartan than a dead Athenian,” she told me.
    The next day, she died. Our oldest servant, Syme, told me not to cry. “Your mother has joined the gods in the fields of Elysium,” he said.

    â€œShe’s dead!” I sobbed.
    â€œNo, she is asleep,” he said softly. “When she wakes she will be on the islands of the blessed. Everyone is happy there. She will meet your father again and they will live in peace for ever more.”

    â€œAnd me?” I asked.
    â€œIf you live a good life, then one day you will join them there.” He smiled. “But for now you must save yourself. Be brave. Remember, your mother’s wish was for you to join your Spartan family.”
    â€œAnd you?”
    â€œI’ll take my chance in Athens,” Syme shrugged. “I am old. The gods will take me if they want, or spare me. I will see your mother has a good funeral. But you must go. And soon.”
    I didn’t wait to be told twice.
    I made my plans to run away.

Chapter Two
    I wrapped some beans and bacon in a cloth. Food was hard to come by in Athens. Beans and bacon were the best we could do. I looked around the house for something to take with me. Something to remind me of my mother and father. I chose an opal ring that had been my mother’s favourite, and a small scroll of my father’s, which contained some of his cures for sickness. I tucked it into my belt. I packed a few clothes and left the house by the first light of morning.

    The guards at the walls were leaning wearily on their spears.

    â€œWill you let me out?” I asked.
    â€œThe Spartans will get you,” one with a sour face