A writing exercise

There are many interesting writing exercises. Here's one:

Describe a character purely by describing a room they've been in. How much information about the person can you transmit?

Gosh, and to think I knew him before he was famous

In huge news, my agent-sibling Patrick Lee has appeared on the New York Times bestseller list in position #29 with his debut thriller The Breach. He'll be going up from there. Promise.

Purely to point out my prescience, I'll mention I wrote the following about Patrick in October last year, before The Breach was even released:
Patrick Lee. You're going to be reading The Breach. It's scary how good it is. Patrick and I talked a little about his next story. He's such a quiet, unassuming guy, but he comes up with plots I couldn't have thought of in a million years. The moment I heard it I was fascinated. You will be too.
Yay for Patrick!

The Twa Corbies

Now for something completely different. It's all about me, or rather, my surname.

Corby means raven in mediaeval Scottish and English dialects. Ravens are scavengers (yep, that sounds about right). In fact there is a mediaeval poem/song called The Twa Corbies. There are lots of versions; here's one in modern English:

As I was walking all alone,
I heard two corbies make a moan,
The one unto the other said,
Where shall we go this day to dine?

Behind that old earthen dyke,
I see there lies a new-slain knight,
And none do know that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

His hound is to the hunting gone,
His hawk to fetch the wild fowl home,
His lady's taken another mate,
So we can eat our dinner sweet.

You'll sit upon his neck bones,
While I pluck out his eyes of blue,
With his locks of golden hair,
We'll patch our nest when it grows bare.

Many a one for him is grieving,
But none shall know where he is gone,
Over his bones when they are bare,
The wind will blow forever more.

Which proves we Corbies have had a morbid interest in dead bodies for centuries.

Gorgo, Queen of Sparta

Gorgo was the daughter of one Spartan King, wife to another, and mother to a third. But what she was really famous for was her deep wisdom, which she used to advise the kings of Sparta, beginning at the tender age of 8.

Her father was King Cleomenes. Cleomenes was once visited by a dodgy foreigner called Aristagoras, who proposed Sparta join in a very dubious project. After Cleomenes refused, this is what happened:
Aristagoras followed Cleomenes with an olive branch in his hand, like a suppliant, and besought Cleomenes to listen and send away his only child, Gorgo, a little girl of 8 or 9, who happened to be standing by her father's side. Cleomenes told Aristogoras to say what he wished and not to mind the child.

Aristagoras began with an offer of 10 talents, to be paid to Cleomenes if he consented. Cleomenes shook his head, and Aristagoras gradually increased his offer. When he went as high as 50 talents, the little girl exclaimed, "Father, you had better go away, or the stranger will corrupt you." Cleomenes appreciated his daughter's warning.
The proposal the 8 year old Gorgo had just advised her father against was a Spartan invasion of Persia. High politics indeed, and Gorgo was listening in, and learning, from a very young age.

There seems to be a tradition by the way of Spartan Kings playing with their kids while conducting affairs of state. For remorseless killers they were pretty good family men.

Gorgo was the only child of Cleomenes. Because of this, when he died (in very odd circumstances, but I'll leave that for another post), Gorgo was in the extremely unusual position of being the female heir to a Spartan throne. She inherited because she was already married, to a chap called Leonidas. Leonidas became King.

Yes, that Leonidas, the one who would later lead the 300 at Thermopylae. Leonidas was in fact Gorgo's father's half-brother, making this obviously a dynastic marriage, yet by all accounts it was also a very happy one. Gorgo became a one-woman brains trust backing the Spartan leadership, and Leonidas became the second king in a row to take her advice.

There was living in Susa at the time Xerxes decided to attack Greece, an exiled Spartan called Demaratus. Demaratus wanted to send a warning to the Spartans, but knew any message sent by him would be read (no doubt by the Eyes and Ears of the King). So Demaratus scraped all the wax off a wax tablet (which is what people back then used to send letters) and scratched his warning into the backing board of the tablet. Then he reapplied the wax and sent an apparently blank tablet to Sparta.

The Spartans were totally confused when a blank tablet arrived from Persia, sent by a man they'd exiled. No one had any idea what it meant, until they took it to Queen Gorgo, who by this time had a thorough reputation for being the smartest person in Sparta.

Gorgo looked at it, deduced there was a message beneath the wax, and had it scraped off, and thus the Greeks had warning of the coming war and time to mobilise. The Spartans sent word to Athens, where Themistocles had spent the last 10 years preparing for this moment, and his plan went into action. (It's certain that Themistocles and Gorgo met and spoke after the war, and that must have been one fascinating conversation.)

Gorgo knew perfectly well, when Leonidas led the mission to Thermopylae, that her husband wouldn't be coming back. She famously asked him what she should do, and he replied, "Marry well and bear children, and live a good life."

It's not known if she followed the advice, but she'd already borne Leonidas a son, Pleistarchus, who assumed the kingship when he came of age. With Leonidas and Gorgo for parents it must have been a tough act to follow, but he did a reasonable job.

Gorgo totally bought into the Spartan ethic. She was once asked by an (obviously frustrated) woman from Attica why the Spartan women were the only ones who could rule men. Gorgo replied, "Because we are the only ones who give birth to real men."

Gorgo is one of the very few women mentioned by name in the Greek histories, and one of even fewer to have had direct influence in politics. The only woman to compare with her in the Classical age is Aspasia, who followed in the next generation.

The Eyes and Ears of the King

In these days when the US Intelligence services are receiving more scrutiny than they probably enjoy, I thought it might be interesting to look at how such things were handled in the Persian Empire.

The Persians had an intelligence service called The Eyes And Ears Of The King, which is a far more interesting and poetic name than the bland monikers you get these days. It sounds like some romantic, made-up thing, but I promise the Eyes and Ears of the King was a for-real organization, and not one you would want to mess with.

The Persian social structure was very hierarchical. At the top was the Great King. Directly below him were the Satraps, chosen almost always from Persian nobility. Each Satrap ruled a Satrapy, being a province, of which there were many. Each Satrap in turn had many officers in his province.

Everyone lived within the social heirarchy, obeying the next guy up the line, except for the Eyes and Ears. If you were a member of this elite organization, then your job was to keep an eye on how the Empire was ticking over, and report directly to the Great King, bypassing the entire system. Most important of all, the local Satrap had no power over you.

You kept an eye on how the local Satrap managed the army and put down rebellions.

You watched how tribute was collected from client states to make sure it all made its way to the King's coffers. (Satraps who enriched themselves were liable to rebel.)

If the taxation didn't add up, you investigated to find out who was diddling the accounts.

If a Satrap broke the law, you reported it to the Great King.

Any evil-doing going unchecked, you investigated, then let the Great King know.

The Eyes and Ears of the King was, in essence, the Persian FBI.

Xenophon tells us that in an emergency, an Eyes and Ears man had the power to command an army to move against a Satrap. I.e. to directly exercise the power of the Great King if he deemed it necessary for the safety of the state.

The Eyes and Ears were probably recruited from the most competent of the minor nobility, and surely were selected for their utmost loyalty. There are plenty of instances of Satraps moving against their King, but not a single record of an Eyes and Ears man turning rotten. To which it must be added, not a great deal was written about them in any case; they probably preferred to stay out of view.

I don't know of any Eyes and Ears man having an unfortunate accident while in a Satrapy, though you'd have to guess a lot of Satraps would have been quite happy to see the local agent drop dead. It's a fair bet that if it happened, the Great King would have an army on that Satrap's doorstep quick smart.

The Persians also used spies outside their empire. Herodotus says Darius sent a Phoenician spy ship to scout Greece before he invaded. On the ship were 15 Persian men of distinction. Some of those will have been young but highly competent military officers from noble families - their equivalent of today's special forces - and probably some of them were Eyes and Ears men, whose job was to notice things.