Sparta Read Online Free PDF

antisocial urges? Conrad wasn’t like that. Their family wasn’t like that. Their family was bookish and liberal, not martial and authoritarian.
    But Conrad shook his head. “Not really. It’s kind of a continuum. The classical writers love war, that’s their main subject. Being a soldier was the whole deal, the central experience. That’s what first got me interested. Sparta. The Peloponnesian War, the Iliad . Thucydides, Homer, Tacitus. I wanted to see what it was like.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “It seems like it’s the great thing. The great challenge.” He looked at them.
    Traitorously, Marshall nodded again. “I see.”
    â€œBut that was different,” said Lydia. “The Greeks were all at war with each other. We aren’t at war. Being a soldier isn’t central now.”
    â€œIt’s the idea,” Conrad said. “Being a soldier is elemental. It’s kind of primal. And I want to defend our country.”
    â€œDefend it from what?” Lydia asked. “This is 2001, not 1941. We have no enemies.”
    Conrad shook his head. “It’s the idea of it,” he said again. “I want to do something serious, something that will make a difference.”
    It all seemed adolescent to her, that absurd male sentimentality about violence. There were other ways to make a difference, why choose something so hostile, so alien?
    â€œAren’t there other things you can do?” she asked. “What about the Peace Corps?”
    â€œThe Peace Corps is lame,” Conrad said. “And ineffective.”
    â€œBut this is so violent,” Lydia said. “The millitary is a culture of violence. Every solution is violent.”
    â€œFirst of all, no it’s not,” Conrad said. “Second of all, the military is called in only when all other solutions have failed. When it’s necessary. Do you think nonviolent resistance would have worked against Hitler?”
    There was a pause.
    â€œWhat does Claire say about it?” Lydia asked. She was hoping for solidarity.
    Conrad swallowed. “She’s fine with it.” He nodded. This was not entirely true.
    Lydia nodded, watching him.
    â€œI mean, she was surprised,” Conrad admitted, “but she’s supportive.” Also not entirely true, but anyway they hadn’t broken up over it.
    Lydia said nothing.
    â€œI can see you’re horrified by this,” Conrad said.
    â€œNo, no.” Lydia shook her head. She was horrified.
    Conrad began to explain, stroking the cat. Electricity began to crackle in Murphy’s fur. Irritated, the cat jerked her head with each stroke, swishing her tail back and forth while Conrad told them about the Marines. The language he used reminded Lydia of ancient myths, Nordic sagas, King Arthur. Courage and loyalty, Conrad said. Commitment, a code of honor. All straight from the ancient world, from Sparta. Semper Fidelis.
    Lydia watched him as he talked, the early light flooding in from the window, across his face. He looked like both of them: he had Marshall’s wide jaw, his long, straight nose, his light coloring, pale hair, smooth, creamy skin. He had Lydia’s slanting eyes, though Conrad’s were blue. He was theirs, he was of them, he represented them. He was carrying them into the future. How could he be so wrong, so unlike them?
    His body had become solid. She saw that it was, really, now a man’s: the chest springing strongly outward, the arms muscled and firm. His face was lit from within by youth; his features were precise. The brave, mournful eyes, the smooth, powerful arms, the slanting cords in his neck: his beauty was borne in on her. He can’t be risked, Lydia thought.
    He talked earnestly, looking up at them, looking down at the cat.
    Someone had come to Williams and given a talk about the Marines. It was inspirational. A professor stood up and challenged the speaker, saying that the