“I don’t get it,” Constantinou said. “What’s so funny?”
“You mean you really don’t know?” Pappas asked. “I can’t believe no one told you. How are you going to succeed in Spárti if you don’t know anything about the locals and their customs? They should have told you this for your personal safety before they shipped you here.”
“Told me what?” he demanded.
Pappas tried not to smile, milking this for all it was worth. “Back in ancient times, Spartan men were required to get married at the age of twenty. This was after living with nothing but boys and the older men who mentored them for thirteen lonely years. The boys spent their days wrestling and training and bathing until they knew one another’s bodies like their own. In fact, they knew one another so well that the only people they were truly comfortable with were the other men in their squad. If you get what I’m saying.”
Constantinou nodded. “What does that have to do with my hair?”
“Relax. I’m getting to that.”
Manos clenched his tongue between his teeth, trying to keep from laughing.
“Spartans were never into fancy ceremonies, so their weddings consisted of a man choosing his wife and abducting her, sometimes quite violently. Now, don’t get me wrong. This wasn’t rape. This was just the way it was done in their culture. Spartans were bred to be aggressive, and that trait revealed itself on the battlefield and in the bedroom.”
Constantinou shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure where this story was going.
“After the wife was abducted, it was time for their wedding night. The man would drag his bride into a private section of the barracks, where he would take out his knife. Then, in a ritual that some locals still perform today, the man would shave her head like he was shearing a sheep. I mean, he’d get right down to her skin and just carve away until she was completely bald.”
“He cut off all her hair? What for?”
“Be patient,” Pappas ordered. “You’ll find out shortly.”
Manos kept fighting his laughter. He had heard this story, which was completely true, several times before. But there was something about the way that Pappas told it that kept it funny—especially when his audience was a wide-eyed rookie who wasn’t familiar with the Spartans.
“Anyway, here was the problem. Spartan men lived with nothing but males for the majority of their lives. They were told to love one another and protect one another because someday on the battlefield they would have to count on one another. Unfortunately, that ideology was so deeply embedded into their brains that they weren’t able to get physically aroused unless the person they were screwing actually looked like a man. Hence, the shaving of the wife’s head.”
“Are you serious?” Constantinou asked.
“Completely serious. When we get back to town, look it up if you don’t believe me.”
Manos nodded in agreement. “He’s serious. These guys are scary.”
“But it didn’t end there,” Pappas assured the rookie. “For the Spartans, the goal of sex wasn’t enjoyment; it was procreation. That meant no foreplay or romance of any kind. Late at night, a Spartan male would wait until all the other men were sleeping—because he didn’t want to disturb their rest—and sneak out of his barracks. His wife, realizing that her husband had little time to get aroused before he had to return, made sure her head was shaven at all times. In addition, to help set the mood she slept in men’s clothes, which we like to call Spartan lingerie. The combination of the darkness, the shaved head, and the men’s clothing made her husband feel like he was back with the boys, cuddling for warmth along the Eurotas River.”
“That’s disgusting,” Constantinou complained. “Why would you tell me that?”
Pappas glanced at him in the mirror. “How old are you, Thomas?”
“I’m twenty-two. Why?”
Manos shook his head with concern. “You’re twenty-two and you have a shaved head. Where we’re going, that’s a mighty attractive combination.”
Pappas nodded in agreement. “Like I said, make sure you stay close to us in the village. Otherwise, you might get dragged into the woods for your honeymoon.”
The first village they visited had no name. That was uncommon in Greece, where most people took pride in their community and bragged about it every chance they got. But these villagers were different. Like their Spartan ancestors, who refused to mint coins because it would only encourage interaction with outsiders, the citizens of this town wanted to be left alone.