The Town Mouse and the Spartan House by Terry Deary Page B

save themselves?” I asked.
    â€œLife is nothing to a Spartan,” he said. “Spartan parents take a new-born baby to be examined by the oldest Spartans. If it looks fit and strong they say, ‘Let it live.’ If it looks sickly it is taken to the mountains and left to die.” He looked at me with pity. “I think a mouse like you would have been left to die.”
    â€œBut even weak people have their uses!” I argued.

    â€œWhat?” he jeered.
    â€œI helped my father with his medicines. I could be a doctor when I’m older. I could save lives.”

    Brasidas nodded. “There was once a Spartan boy who stole a fox cub. When the elders found him, they stood him in front of them. They asked him questions all morning. He said he knew nothing.”
    â€œBecause they’d punish him?”
    â€œIn Sparta, we don’t punish someone for stealing, we punish someone for getting caught. That is the only crime. Don’t get caught.”
    â€œWhat happened to the boy?”
    â€œAt the end of the morning, he fell over. He was dead.”

    â€œThey killed him?”
    â€œNo. He had hidden the fox cub under his tunic and he kept quiet … even though the fox was eating his guts. That is Spartan bravery.”
    â€œThat’s not bravery … it’s madness! And I don’t believe it’s true.” Brasidas looked at me. “What if it had been true? Could you have used your doctor skills to bring that boy back to life?”
    â€œNo … but…”
    â€œThen you’re worthless. You may as well have been left to die in the mountains.”

    He stood up and was about to leave when we heard shouts on deck.

    â€œGeneral Alcmaeon is sick … he is dying!”

Chapter Four
    Brasidas groaned. “Alcmaeon is our greatest general. We need him if we are going to defeat Athens.”
    â€œI thought you said a Spartan’s life is worthless?” I sniffed.
    He turned on me furiously with his stick and lashed at my arm. I’d been beaten so much recently, I was used to it and it hardly hurt. Maybe I was starting to become Spartan after all.
    â€œ Some lives are worthless. A helot like you is worthless!”
    â€œSo what will you do?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know – our doctors are on one of the other ships. If we wait for them, it may be too late. Alcmaeon would not want to die like this. He would want to die in battle.”
    â€œOr maybe he wouldn’t want to die at all!” I argued.
    Brasidas struck me again. I didn’t show the pain.

    â€œMaybe we should offer a sacrifice to the gods!” he called down the deck of the ship. “Kill the Athenian boy and scatter his blood on the water!”
    The soldiers looked towards me. A few began to nod.

    â€œWait!” I cried. “The gods are for Sparta. If they want Alcmaeon to die, they will let him die. If they want him to live, they will send him a doctor.”
    A tall soldier pulled a knife from his belt and waved it under my nose. “Then let’s pray to the gods for a doctor. If one doesn’t arrive, we’ll scatter your blood on the waters!”

    The others agreed with a shout. “You are right, Solon!”
    Suddenly, I had an idea. “I am a doctor!” I called out.
    They turned and looked at me. I pulled my father’s scroll from my belt. “My father was a doctor. He taught me to read his cures. He took me with him to visit the sick. I can cure my uncle Alcmaeon. That’s why the gods put me on this ship!”
    The soldiers looked uncertain. They muttered among themselves, then the tall one, Solon, said, “You are wise, young Darius.”

    â€œThank you,” I said, with a bow of my head.

    â€œWe will let you care for Alcmaeon. You will cure him.”
    â€œI’ll try,” I said brightly.
    â€œNo,” Solon said. “You will not try . You will succeed . If you cure