Note: In this story, some Greek words occur. For reference, ‘Pipí’ means ‘Wee-wee’ or ‘willy’, while ‘poútsi’ (plural, ‘poútses’) means ‘cock’, ‘dick’ or ‘prick’. The Greek word for ‘penis’ is ‘péos’, but it is more a biological than a sexual term. ‘Písinos’ means ‘arse’, and ‘Poústis’ is a gay man.

The name ‘Zeus’ for the King of the Gods, is pronounced ‘Zéfs’in modern Greek, and will be spelled like that throughout.

My name is Kleomédis and I’m a fighter. I’m the greatest fighter of Astypálea, which is my island, and I’m the greatest fighter of the other islands, Páros, Náxos, Kálymnos, Kós, even Ródos. Maybe I’m the greatest fighter of Kríti, for I have fought on Kríti, and I have won. Perhaps I’m the greatest fighter of the World. May Zéfs help me if I’m wrong, but yes, I think I’m the greatest fighter of the World. I think I’d better offer a sacrifice for saying that, but not now.

Now I’m in the school garden watching the young ones practise, practise to be fighters. It’s a kind of job for me, and I go every day to teach them about all sorts of fighting, boxing and wrestling, though mainly it’s dirty wrestling. I’m watching the littlest ones under their wooden shelter, though they don’t really interest me. Still, there’s my young nephew Áris, named from the god of war, and working hard to live up to his name. He has his opponent in a tight, upright grip so he can lift him and throw him down. Yes! He’s done it. His opponent is at his mercy. He’s put his foot squarely on the other boy’s guts and he’s pushing down with all his weight, which isn’t much since he can’t be more than eight. Still, his opponent - I don’t know his name - is squealing for mercy, though he doesn’t get any, and Áris’ little naked pipí is sticking out stiff and proud. He’s going to be a winner, that one, maybe even as good as me some day.

Next, there’s the middle group. They’re more interesting in some ways, most with a bit of fuzz at the top of their poútses which mostly aren’t pipís any longer, some with them out of proportion to the rest of their skinny bodies. It’s a pity none of them’s much good. They’re all too skinny, too soft. Even when they win, their poútses are all too soft. I don’t think I’ve seen any of them squirt, not this year. I don’t say anything to any of them. What would be the point? They’re all pretty useless. Maybe they’ll improve when they’ve grown up a bit. I praised young Aris and a couple of the others before I left the little ones, though. Soon, maybe, he’ll have fuzz at the top of his pipí and it’ll grow bigger, into a poútsi. I reckon he’ll have a long thin one, not like mine which is long and very thick.

And then there’s the biggest group. They’ve all got the fuzz, some even under their arms and on their chests and bellies, and they’re beginning to smell like men. On the whole, they’re pretty exciting to watch, and they listen to what I tell them. Not all of them, of course. One or two are too fat, a fair number are pretty skinny, some never listen, but there are quite a lot with real potential. They have fine bodies, well-proportioned, muscular, and, generally speaking, they have fascinating poútses. Still, my favourite, the one I reckon will make it, has quite a small one. Actually, I rather like that. When I strip off to join in, his little organ usually stands to attention and, after a bit of grappling, so does mine, though, as I said, mine is hardly small.

His name is Iráklis, and he’s wrestling with a fat kid I don’t know, though the fat kid isn’t doing too badly. I strip off my chiton and join in, grappling with them both, expecting the fat kid to give up and get out, to leave me with Iráklis, but he doesn’t. It’s Iráklis who retires, maybe because he’s been fighting too long today already, and I’m left with the fat kid. It’s surprising. He isn’t bad and, when he gets the opportunity, grabs me by the balls. I, of course, return the compliment, and his poútsi stands, and it isn’t small. I really want to play with it, toy with him and, even more surprising, he lets me. I’ve never touched him before, I suppose because I’m not overwhelmed by fat kids, but he’s all right, nice, in fact, and I arrange myself to sit on his face, not so as to smother him because, although he’s fat, he’s nowhere near my weight. And then I find he’s got my poútsi in his mouth and he’s sucking at it. Iráklis is not impressed, and joins in again.

He’s found his second wind, and, this time, it’s the fat kid who retires. Eventually, the others get fed up and go off to swim in the sea, which leaves just me and Iráklis, and we don’t go on much longer. I can tell when he wants to stop, because it’s either when his poútsi begins to flag, or the sun begins to set. Today, it’s the poútsi. I ask him who the fat kid is.

‘His name’s Adónis,’ he says. ‘He came from Kárpathos a couple of months ago. I think his father’s a fisherman. I think he’s a shit. He’s fat, and he always wants to fight with me. I could do with something better.’ He’s got hold of my poútsi, though his own little thing stays limp against his balls, and he smiles. ‘Like you.’

‘Not now,’ I say. ‘I’ve got things to do.’

‘What things?’ He sounds petulant.

I put on my chiton and say, ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ and I wander off, maybe in the direction of home, my mother’s house.

But I don’t go home. I go to the beach where the boys have been swimming. Of course, they’ve left by then. Still, there’s a solitary figure sitting on a rock at the far end, wrapped in a chiton. It’s unusual for me to make an approach - usually, they come to me! - but I wander gently along the beach, wondering. As I had suspected, it’s Adónis, and he isn’t wearing a chiton. He just has a towel, really no more than a bed-sheet, wrapped round him. I say, ‘Why haven’t you gone home?’

There are tears in his voice. ‘Home? Where’s home. I haven’t got a home. Well, not here. I wish I’d never come. It was my mother’s idea, for me to train as a fighter, so my father brought me here, to Astypália, because he’d heard about you.’

‘Where do you sleep?’ I was a bit incredulous.

‘My father arranged for me to stay with a friend of his, Érmis. I expect you know him.’

‘Érmis with one arm?’

‘Yes. That’s him.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

He sniffles a bit. ‘The house stinks of fish. Our house on Kárpathos doesn’t stink of fish. My mother won’t have them indoors. My father has to keep his catch outside in a pool of seawater. I can’t stand the smell of fish so I’ve been sleeping out here. That’s why I’ve got this blanket.’

‘Blanket?’ I laugh. ‘Doesn’t look like much of a blanket to me.’

‘It’s all right. It isn’t cold.’

I don’t really think when I say, ‘You can come back to my house if you like.’

Now, my mother knows I’m not one for the girls. I tried to have sex with a woman once, but it just didn’t work. It was embarrassing. Luckily, it wasn’t here. It was when I was in Kríti. If it’d been here, I’d have a real problem, with all the ‘Black Grannies’ talking and probably laughing behind my back. Anyway, my mother knows I like men more than women, though I’ve never taken one home. Now I’m hoping he’ll say ‘No. Not tonight,’ and, Zéfs be thanked, he does.

It’s the next morning now, though only just daylight. I’m thinking I’ll go and find him on the beach, so I do, but he isn’t there. I suppose he must have found somewhere more comfortable to sleep. Funny, all of this. Why should I be so preoccupied with this fat kid? I don’t even know if he’ll play properly. Anyway, I’m going for a swim. Even though it’s not much after dawn, it’s pretty warm. Later, I go to the school, like I always do. When I get to the ‘big’ group, Adónis isn’t there, and neither’s Iráklis. Very interesting.

A couple of days later, I come home from training. I’ve been working on my own, lifting weights - I use stones in bags made of hempen sacking so I can be sure two bags are of equal weight - and running. Sometimes, I work on speed and flexibility, sometimes I shadow-box. The trouble is, apart from the kids, there really isn’t anyone to train with. There’s old Aristofánis, but he’s really past it. He was good fighter in his day, and he bears the marks to prove it. I, on the other hand, am hardly marked at all. That’s how good I am. They never get the chance to scar me, though I’ve given away a few scars in my time.

My mother comes to meet me, which is pretty unusual, and she’s really in a flap, so I ask her what’s the matter.

‘Mr Sokrátis has been. He wants to see you urgently.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. You’d better get over to his house straight away.’

‘Slowly, slowly,’ I say. ‘I’ve only just finished training. I need a drink and a wash before I do anything else.’

‘He said it was very important. I hope it doesn’t mean trouble.’

My mother has known ‘Mr’ Sokrátis all her life, and I don’t think I’ve heard her call him ‘Mr’ before. I suppose it’s because he’s become important. These days, he’s the ‘mayor’ of the whole island, not just the village. There are quite a few villages on the island and each has its own head-man, the ‘mayor’. A few months ago, all the mayors met together and decided to have one ‘big cheese’ for the whole island, and Sokrátis was chosen. So I suppose he’s important now.

I have my wash and drink some goat’s milk and plenty of water, and then I walk to his house, which is right in the middle of the village. Our house is on the edge. Sokrátis is sitting outside with a wine-jug and some cups, and he gets up to greet me. ‘Ah, Kleomédis, my boy,’ he says. ‘Sit down. Let me offer you some wine.’

‘No, thanks. I don’t drink wine. It slows you down.’

‘Good, good. You need to be quick. Water?’

‘Thanks.’

He goes inside for moment and a boy I don’t know comes with a jug and to fetch water from the well. He’s wearing a purply-coloured tunic. I suppose he’s about twelve, thirteen, maybe a bit older, and I wonder why he isn’t at the school. Perhaps he is. Perhaps he just doesn’t like fighting. There are some that don’t. He’s very pretty. Anyway, I ask Sokrátis why he wants to see me so urgently.

‘They’ve sent to me from Athína. There’s going to be a great games at Olímbia and they want all the islands to be represented one way or another.’

‘What’s that got to do with me?’ Of course, I know what’s coming next. I’m not stupid!

‘I should have thought that was obvious. Who better to represent us than you? Can you think of anyone else? I could do with sending someone else for the running. I know you can cope with the fighting, but even you can’t do everything. Do you know anyone?’

‘When’s all this happening? There are a few of the oldest kids in the school with promise, but they need training up.’

‘It’s not till next Spring. Plenty of time. So are you happy to be in charge of our ‘team’? It’ll be something of an honour, and there are plenty of prizes to be won.’

‘Really? What prizes?’

‘Money, mostly, not that there’s much to spend it on down here. You’ll have to use it to buy yourself things in Athína. So will you do it?’

‘Yes. All right.’ I want to sound reluctant, though I’m not really. Of course I’ll do it. I wouldn’t miss the chance to fight at Olímbia, or to go to Athína, for that matter.

‘Come and see me next week. Let me know if you’ve found any more athletes.’

I’m on a beach, not the one I usually use, just a rocky cove that isn’t far from Sokrátis’ house. It’s still hot and I’m hungry, but I feel the need for a little swim on my own. Sokrátis’ serving boy is there, though, swimming pretty far out, but I know it’s him because his tunic’s on a rock, and it’s a very distinctive colour. He’s a damn good swimmer. I wallow about for a while and then I see he’s coming back to the beach, to talk to me, I expect. As he wades from the water I can see that he’s probably older than I thought, because there’s a proper bush round his poútsi. He slips his tunic over his head so I can see the fuzz under his arms, and runs off straight away. He’s a pretty nippy runner as well as a good swimmer. He didn’t speak to me at all though, so I’m feeling a bit miffed. The feeling isn’t helped by my stomach rumbling. I shall trot off home to get something to eat.

On the way I meet Iráklis coming in the other direction, and he’s got Adónis with him. Of course, I stop to talk to them, ask them where they’ve been, not that it’s any of my business. Iráklis says, ‘At home. Having supper. Adónis has moved in with us. My mother doesn’t mind, and my father doesn’t get much say. You been busy?’

I’m wondering if I should tell them about The Games, but I say, ‘Training. Listen, there’s a boy. He seems to work for Sokrátis. Do you know him? I’ve never seen him at school. He’s got a strange, purply-coloured tunic.’

It’s Adónis who answers. ‘I know him,’ he says. ‘He doesn’t go to school because he can’t talk. His name’s Dimosthénis. He’s only little, but quite a tough cookie. I wouldn’t want to pick a fight with him.’

I’m thinking, ‘I would!’ but I say, ‘Why can’t he talk?’

‘I think it may be because he can’t hear.’ Iráklis is getting fidgetty. ‘We’ve got to go.’

‘Anywhere special?’

‘Swimming. We’re going swimming, aren’t we Adónis?’ and they trot off.

I’ve turned to watch them go, and I notice their hands are touching. So Irákis has got himself a chubby boyfriend!

They’re at school the next day, but they’re not fighting together. Iráklis is wrestling with a kid called Adámos who’s really quite good. Adónis has picked himself another fat kid whose name I can’t remember, and they’re boxing. The other kid isn’t doing too well, and you can see marks where Adónis has slapped his body. That kid can pack a punch! I’m really surprised at how good he is, so I step in to give him a bit of advice about putting your feet so you can’t lose your balance, well, not so easily. Then I join in with Iráklis and Adámos, but Adámos chickens out pretty soon, and I get to grips with Iráklis. It’s probably jealousy on my part, but I really want to hurt him.

I’ve got him in a fairly comfortable hold, well, comfortable for me if not for him, and I’m putting on the pressure. I haven’t noticed he’s still got a free arm, though, until he grabs my balls and squeezes hard. I’m furious. It hurts like hell. I lift him with all my strength, and throw him down on his face.

Oh, Zéfs! He’s not moving. I must have hurt him, really hurt him. He’s still breathing, but shallow breaths. Adónis has stopped boxing and come to see what the matter is. He doesn’t say much, and he goes to get some water. When he comes back, Iráklis is stirring. I think he just caught his head and knocked himself out for a minute. I’m kneeling beside him, and I’m saying, ‘Sorry about that, but when you squeezed my balls, it really hurt.’

He rolls over and sits up to sip some water. Then he smiles and says, ‘It was meant to. I was only taking your advice. You know, if you’re going to win, someone has to lose, so that someone is bound to get hurt.’

A couple of days later, Sokrátis calls for me again. He seems to have developed a habit of coming when he knows damn well I won’t be there. Well, I suppose he’s only done it twice, so far, but I bet he’ll do it again. This time, I take a bit more time to get to his house, and my mother doesn’t make such a fuss because, this time, she knows what it’s about. I expect everyone does, though I haven’t made a point of telling anyone, even Iráklis.

When I get there, Sokrátis isn’t outside, I suppose because it’s beginning to get dark. I don’t mind the dark, in fact I rather like it, specially when there’s a moon. I often run at night. It’s much cooler. Anyway, I scratch at the door and the boy Dimosthénis comes to let me in. No point in talking to him, now I know he can’t hear. Thinking about it, he can’t have heard me scratch at the door. I suppose Sokrátis much have told him to open it. Anyway, Sokrátis motions me to sit down. ‘Have you found any more athletes?’ he says.

‘I told you,’ I say. ‘There are some at the school worth training up.’

‘Then do it!’ I don’t much like his tone. ‘Who are they?’

‘There’s Iráklis and a new kid called Adónis. He’ll have to lose weight. There’s one I reckon as a runner and swimmer, but he isn’t at the school.’ I indicate Dimosthénis.

‘Him? He’s stupid.’ Sokrátis laughs rather nastily.

‘He may be stupid, but he can run like hell, and he’s a very good swimmer.’ I don’t want to admit that he’s probably better than me.

‘Please yourself. I don’t know how you’ll talk to him. D’you want him to go on staying here?’

‘I suppose he’ll have to. He works for you, doesn’t he?’

‘That doesn’t matter. He doesn’t do much.’

‘How does he come to be here? He’s not from Astypálea.’

Sokrátis grimaces. ‘My wife. He was on a ship and she thought they were treating him like shit, so she took pity and made him her house-boy. We don’t pay him anything. Just bed and food. I think he may be from Kríti. That’s where the ship came from.’

‘I don’t think my mother would mind if he came to stay with us. Then I can get him into training. I’ll have to show him what to do I suppose.’ The expressions ‘get him into training’ and ‘show him what to do’ can probably be interpreted in two different ways!

‘All right.’

‘I’ll have to check with my mother. If it’s all right with her, I’ll collect him in the morning.’

‘Fine. You can go now.’ I really don’t much like his tone.

Of course, I’m talking to Iráklis and Adónis. I’m telling them what the deal is. I decide that they should enter for the wrestling and I’ll do the boxing. Iráklis says he wouldn’t mind doing some running, and I don’t try to put him off, even though it’s Demosthénis I’d put my money on, though I don’t tell them that. I say I’ll see them every day at the school, and that they should wrestle together some of the time, but pick other opponents as well, preferably big, heavy ones. There are a few, though none of them’s much good. Still, they’ll provide some meat to chew on, and that’s one way you get experience.

But mostly I concentrate on Dimosthénis. I’m not quite sure which way round to tackle the problem, I mean, I really want to have sex with him, but I don’t know how he’ll react, and I really need him for ‘The Team’, so I don’t want to put him off. Our house has three rooms. One’s my mother’s, one’s mine, and the third is where we eat in the winter because it’s got a fireplace. The kitchen’s outside, of course. My mother says Dimosthénis can sleep in the winter room, but I say it’s all right if he beds in with me, and she doesn’t disagree. He’s looking apprehensive, even a bit frightened, and I take him by the hand and lead him into my room, though it’s still morning. I show him where he’s going to sleep, and I know he understands because he puts down his bundle, though he stands, maybe shivering a bit. I make movements like swimming, and he smiles and follows me out.

I’m breaking into a run and he’s with me. I’m sure he can easily overtake me, but he doesn’t, I suppose because he doesn’t know where he’s going! As it happens, neither do I. I don’t want to go the beach where everyone goes, and I don’t want to go to the cove near the village. We’re running along a goat-track though I don’t really know where it goes. The island has a narrow bit in the middle where you can see the sea on both sides, and we’re going there. The track does go down to a cove, though it’s rocky and there isn’t really a beach. Still, that’s where we go to swim, and we swim for quite a while until I get fed up and come out to sit on the rocks where we’ve left our clothes and just watch him. He’s like a dolphin, even leaping out of the water. Eventually, he comes to join me, and we sit together just looking at the sea. He brings his face close to mine and breathes gently into my face. His breath is very sweet, or maybe I just want it to be. Anyway, I can feel my poútsi getting hard. I think maybe he wants to touch it, but he doesn’t.

We’re home now and it’s almost sunset. My mother has made some food, and we’ve sat outside to eat it. We haven’t been talking at all. What would be the point? Demosthénis can’t hear us. My mother is clearing the things away, it’s almost dark, and she says she’s going to bed. Dimosthénis is looking into her face as she speaks. I think he may have understood her because he’s standing beside me now, touching my head. He’s taking my hand which seems to mean he wants to go to bed, too. Maybe he’s just tired, though maybe not.

My blanket is already spread out on the straw pallet on the floor. I like to sleep on top of it when it’s warm, though I wrap myself in it in the winter. Dimothénis’ blanket is the outside of his bundle and he spreads it out before he takes his purple tunic off to lie down. I pull my chiton over my head, and, almost before I’ve had time to settle myself, he seems to be asleep. I close my eyes, but I can’t get him out of my head. Seems to be asleep. A little later, he rolls towards me and his body is almost touching mine. I can’t resist feeling his poútsi and it’s stirring in my hand. He’s opening his eyes and looking into my face. I can see in the moonlight from the open window. It isn’t my imagination. His breath really does smell sweet. He’s smiling and kissing me.

So we’re going to Athína for The Games at Olímbia, me, Adónis my boyfriend, Dimosthénis the deaf kid, and Kleomédis. My name’s Iráklis, and I’m an athlete. I’m going to wrestle at The Games, and maybe run in some races. Adónis and Dimosthénis are athletes too. Adónis is a wrestler, and Dimosthénis is a runner. Kleomédis? He’s supposed to be our leader and trainer. Well, I suppose he is. He’s a fighter. He doesn’t care how he fights, though it’s usually dirty. He’s been trying to get up my písinos since I was a kid. He doesn’t bother now because he’s got Dimosthénis. He can’t hear and he can’t talk, so I suppose it doesn’t matter to him what Kleomédis does. Anyway, he’s a pretty smart runner. Kleomédis might go into the wrestling, though it’s the boxing he’s best at. He can knock shit out of anyone.

I’ve never been off the island before. All the others have. Adónis came from Kárpathos not so long ago, and no-one knows where Dimosthénis came from. Kleomédis has been all over the place, always fighting, fighting, fighting. He’s drawn a lot of blood, I can tell you. They say they chucked him out of Kríti because he almost killed someone, though I haven’t heard he actually did kill anyone. Still, none of us has ever been to Athína, not even Kleomédis.

Of course, I’ve often been out in boats. If you live on an island that relies on fish to fill the bellies of its citizens, you have to go out in boats. Not that I like it much. When the sea’s a bit choppy, the fish in my own belly is inclined to want to go back into the sea, if you see what I mean. This journey isn’t going to be nice for me. I can tell that when I look at the water outside the harbour. It’s rough, decidedly rough, and we put into another island, I think it’s Kálymnos. Kleomédis doesn’t want to go ashore. Maybe he nearly killed someone there, too.

The journey seems to me to take a lifetime. The rough sea doesn’t bother Adónis, and he wants to get into me even though all the men are around, but I can’t take it, I really can’t. Eventually, we put into a big harbour while it’s still dark, and it’s ‘everybody out’, though it isn’t Athína. One of the sailors tells us it’s Évvia, a big island near The City, and we have to run across to where we can get a little boat to cross over. It isn’t very far, he says, and you can see The City beyond. Still, it’s another boat, and I don’t enjoy the trip again. Then there’s another run, but I don’t mind that because I’ve got my ‘land-legs’ properly, and there she is. Athína, The City.

The City has a rather strange attitude to visitors, like, they’re not allowed in. However, Kleomédis has a letter with him which he says is from the man who contacted Sokrátis in the first place. The gatekeeper eyes it a bit suspiciously, and then sends for someone else, possibly because he can’t read. I can read. That’s what I was sent to the school to learn, not fighting. That came later. I don’t know if any of others can.

The gatekeeper and his assistants - I think they’re soldiers - bow to the man who comes to the gate and seems to be quite important. He reads the letter to himself. I don’t know what it says because I haven’t read it. I didn’t even know Kleomédis had got it. It must have said the right things, though, because he tells the gatekeeper to let us in, and in we go.

I’m a bit disappointed. The temples are all shining and beautiful, but the houses where most people seem to live are cramped and pretty poor. There are several market places, but Kleomédis leads us past them until he stops to ask a stallholder for some directions. He must be able to read. That surprises me. He leads us on till we come to a house. It isn’t small because it has two storeys, so it seems a bit less poor than some of the others. There’s an old woman sitting outside, though she gets up when Kleomédis approaches her and shows her the letter. She looks at it and says, ‘Ah! You’re the boys from Astypálea. I’ve been expecting you. Come in.’ I’m even more surprised to meet a woman who can read.

‘My name’s Merópi,’ she says. ‘I’m from Kós. I went to Astypálea for a year or two when I was a girl. That’s how I know Sokrátis. We were kids together. My father took me. Didn’t like it much. Not very green. Kos is very green. Then he brought me to Athína, and I’ve been here ever since. That was years ago. You can have the room upstairs. I’m afraid there is only one, but it’s big. Have a drink and then I’ll show you.’ She pours us some water which we all drink pretty quickly and says, ‘You’d better come upstairs before it gets dark.’

Mrs Merópi takes us back outside to the side of the house where the stone stairs are and we climb up to a landing with a doorway beyond which is a big room. It’s a very big room since it occupies the whole area of the house. I know there’s more than one room downstairs because I could see a doorway. She says, ‘I’ve put fresh straw down. I hope you’ll be comfortable. Good night.’ And she goes back down the stairs.

&#Adónis and I spread out our blankets close to each other and Iráklis unrolls his a little way away. Dimosthénis hesitates and then arranges his mid-way between us and Iráklis. By then it’s almost totally black. I don’t think the moon is completely dark, but close on. Anyway, within minutes, you can’t really see anything, and we’re trying to sleep. I can’t, and I reach to touch Adónis. My poútsi is up a bit, and my hand moves across his body. I’m not really surprised to find another body beyond, and then another hard poútsi. Soon, we’re a tangled mass of bodies, but I suppose we must all be pretty tired, because, before I know it, I, at least, am asleep.

It’s daylight, and we’re still a mass of tangled bodies. Mrs Merópi is standing in the doorway. ‘There’s fruit, bread and milk downstairs when you’re ready. You’d better get some practice in today, because tomorrow, they’re coming to take you to Olímbia.’

I know I’m deaf and dumb, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I can read and write. I learned in Smírni, where I was born. I loved Smírni when I was little. My mother was kind to me, though I don’t think my father cared. He treated me like a freak. When I was about eight, I suppose, he sold me to a Persian to do what he liked with, which he did. Still, it left me with a liking for a big, hard poútsi up my písinos. A couple of years later, he grew tired of me, and sold me on to a ship’s captain.

He was a good man, and he didn’t mess about with me, though most of the other sailors did, thank Zéfs. A lot later, when my pipí had become a poútsi, we came ashore at Astypálea during a storm, and Andrómahi, Sokrátis’ wife, saw me, felt sorry for me, and took me in. So here I am. Kleomédis brought me, he said because I can run and swim well, which I can, but mostly, I think, because, although I’m quite old and I’d certainly have a man’s voice if I could talk, with my tunic on, I don’t look it. I’m small, you see, but not in the poútsi department! Anyway, Kleomédis doesn’t care if the písinos he’s into is eight or eighteen, though not much older!

Oh, and about that purple tunic. The Persian my father sold me to gave it to me. He didn’t give me much else, apart from the frequent feel of his poútsi, but he did give me that, probably because the clothes my father sold me in were pretty scruffy. He said it was dyed with something only the Finíki know about. They’re strange people who live around Smírni. They get about a lot in ships, but they tend to keep themselves to themselves. I think the ship’s captain was one, though he didn’t wear a purple tunic. I think his clothes were all made of leather. I know he always wore a strange thing round his groin so you couldn’t see what his poútsi was like. Pity, really.

Mrs Merópi has come to get us up and has found us in a naked tangle, though she doesn’t seem at all put out. We put on our tunics anyway and go downstairs where there’s fruit and bread and milk. I’m pretty hungry, so I eat well. You do after a night with Kleomédis, Iráklis and Adónis! Anyway, the rest of the day we spend training. We all run together to begin with, but then I go on running while the others get into fighting, wrestling at first, but then a bit of boxing. Kleomédis goes easy with Adónis, I suppose because he doesn’t want to damage him, but then Mrs Merópi comes out and talks to him. He nods his head, she goes away, Iráklis and Adónis go back to wrestling, and Kleomédis begins to do press-ups and sit-ups. Not much later, Mrs Merópi comes back with a big man, even bigger than Kleomédis, and they box. This time, Kleomédis doesn’t go at all easy and, after not very long, the man waves his hands to say he’s had enough, and leaves.

I’m still running. I can keep going all day if I have to. Well, really, I enjoy it. Of course I do. The others are doing fitness exercises and don’t take any notice of Mrs M. when she comes out to stand by my track and watch me. As I get close to where she’s standing, she signals me to stop. She touches my face and speaks so I can read her lips. I’m actually pretty good at that, and it’s very easy with her because she speaks so clearly. She asks me how long I’ve been on Astypálea, and I pull a face and shrug my shoulders. ‘A year?’ she says, and I nod my head. ‘Do you like it there?’ Another shrug. ‘How old are you?’ Again, all I can do is shrug, because I really don’t know. If I try to work it out, I suppose I’m about 16 or 17. She’s looking at my poútsi. ‘You’re a big boy, anyway! Who do you stay with? Sokrátis?’ I shake my head and her eyes widen. ‘Not Kleomédis?’ I nod again. ‘Oh, dear. I suppose he messes about with you. I know he’s a poústis. Do you mind that?’ I smile and shake my head vigorously. ‘Oh, well, that’s all right then. I’ll let you get on.’ She walks back to the house and it occurs to me that my father might have known I was going to be a poústis when he sold me to the Persian.

It’s only just daylight when the man who got us into Athína comes to send us on our way to Olímbia. There’s a boy with him who’s going to be our guide. He’s not as old as any of us, still a kid in fact, but he’s pretty nippy on his feet, so off we trot at a smart pace. I’ve lost quite a bit of fat since I’ve been training with Kleomédis and the others, and I’ve certainly hardened up, not that I was ever soft. When I first went to Astypálea, I hated it, but, what with training for The Games and getting a good place to bed down and all, I suppose I quite like it now.

Iráklis and I have a lot of sex. He’s a real poústis, but I must say, I’m not too keen on having his poútsi up me. Still, I don’t mind the other stuff, and I do enjoy sticking mine into him. I’ve often thought I’d like to do it to a girl, though, but the girls in Astypálea are a bit untouchable. There was one at home on Kárpathos who let me mess around with her, so I do know what it’s about, but she wouldn’t let me stick my poútsi up her. Maybe there’ll be some at Olímbia. I know there are some who let you do it for money, so I’d better win a prize!

We’re there. It isn’t very far, and the sun is only just fully up when we arrive. The boy takes us to see the stadium. It’s pretty impressive, looking down on the arena from the top of the terraces, but we don’t stay long. The boy is leading us away, maybe ten minutes trot, to some houses built in a circle near a stream. I suppose you’d call it a river. I don’t know. There aren’t any rivers in Astypálea, or Kárpathos, for that matter. They aren’t really houses so much as huts made of wood, not very substantial, and windowless. He stops at one, and tells us that’s where we’re going to sleep during The Games.

We go into the hut to dump our stuff before we get some training in. Although it’s still early, Iráklis is feeling randy, and he strips off his tunic. His poútsi is hard already and he wants to stick it up me. It’s a bit longer than mine when it’s up, but it’s quite thin. I suppose I’d better let him or he’ll be ratty all day, so we get down to it, even though the others are watching. It isn’t long before I feel him squirt inside me, and I’m ready to think, well, that’s it, but it isn’t. I can feel my own cream beginning to come, so I tell him, and I get my poútsi into him just in time. Must be the air in Olímbia! That never happened before.

There’s a bit of training ground near the houses, but the main area is by the stadium, and that’s where we go. Kleomédis wants to see what the opposition is like. I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry, because The Games don’t begin for another four days, but we go anyway. There are men and boys everywhere and Kleomédis and Iráklis are drooling! I wasn’t sure about Dimosthénis, but I am now. Even before he’s stripped off his tunic, I can see his poútsi is up and hard, and it isn’t small. Kleomédis has a big one, but I reckon Dimosthénis’ is even bigger. It’s funny, because the rest of him’s so little. Maybe that’s why it looks so big. My body’s big and chunky, so my poútsi doesn’t seem so big in comparison. Still, I’m glad it’s Iraklis’ long thin one I have to cope with. When we have sex all together, I never let anyone else get into me. It’s all hands and mouths. Still, we’re not supposed to be thinking about sex. We’re supposed to be training, and I want to train because I want to win so I can afford to try it with a girl.

Dimosthénis doesn’t seem to mind who sees him naked with his poútsi up, and he’s jogging on the spot, maybe looking for someone to race. Or perhaps not, because he’s set off at a steady pace out of the flat training field and into the woods behind, not at all in the direction of the ‘village’. Kleomédis has stripped off, too, and he’s doing flexibility exercises, though he’s making sure as many people as possible can see his poútsi. It isn’t hard, but it’s still pretty impressive. Why am I being so occupied with other men’s equipment? I’m suppose to be more interested in girls.

Anyway, Iráklis has come behind me and pulled me down. We’re wrestling hard, but not too seriously, and a little crowd has gathered to watch. I’ve freed myself and I jump up to stand and face him like us wrestlers do in the starting position. I can see that Kleomédis is shadow-boxing quite near, and he’s got his own group of admirers. I think someone has offered to spar with him, but I can’t be sure because Iráklis has lunged at me and spun me round. I’ve got underneath him and lifted him, and I can feel his poútsi is up. The temptation to grab him by it and squeeze till he cries mercy is great, but I don’t. Error! Before I know it, he’s got hold of mine, and our little crowd is egging him on. Eventually, I get away from him, go back on him, and get him down. I can feel his heart going nineteen to the dozen, so I breathe, ‘Let’s rest.’ We do, and the audience disperses.

Well, all except for one man. He’s quite old, and his chiton is edged with gold, so he must be important. He asks us where we come from, and Iráklis tells him. He asks us if we know Mr Sokrátis, and introduces himself as the President of the Games. ‘Which of you is Kleomédis?’ he says.

This time, I chirp up. ‘Neither of us. He’s over there, boxing.’ His current sparring partner has retired.

‘I didn’t think it would be either of you. I need to talk to him.’ Mr President - he didn’t say his name - leaves us and goes over to where Kleomédis is about to polish off another would-be opponent, and we get back to training. And then Dimosthénis arrives. He’s collected a whole troop of kids. They’re following him like ants that have suddenly found out that the one at the front knows where the honey is! I don’t know if he really wants them hanging on though there’s not much point in shouting at him. Anyway, he’s still keeping the same even pace, so maybe he doesn’t mind.

It isn’t until that evening that Kleomédis tells us what Mr President had to say. We’ve collected bread, cheese and fruit on our way back to the ‘village’, and we’ve gone for a splash around in the river with quite a lot of other hopefuls. It’s really odd. There’s no salt in the water. You can drink it. I’m not used to swimming in drinking-water. The fish are funny, too, slim and shiny, not a bit like the fish we live on out of the sea around Astypálea or Kárpathos. Then it’s dusk, and we’re sitting outside our hut eating when Kleomédis tells us what’s happening. Dimosthénis is looking hard at his face, and it occurs to me that he might be able to understand what’s being said from the shapes mouths make. He’s explaining that we can’t compete against each other until there’s no-one else left, and that there’s a small prize for the winners in the first round, another in the second, and so on till the final. The winner of that gets a big prize. Iráklis and I are to be in the light-weight section of the wrestling, though he’s in the heavy-weight section of the boxing. Dimosthénis can run in any race he likes, since there’s only one of him.

So I can run in any race I like. That run up into the woods was interesting. I only went to relieve myself in private! I dug a hole in the soft earth so I could cover up the evidence, collected plenty of leaves, and squatted over the hole. I had to strain a bit. I must eat more fruit! Then I saw that I was being watched. There were a couple boys, only kids, and they came right up close to me. It was a bit unnerving, but I couldn’t tell them to go away, so I got a handful of leaves and wiped myself before I scooped the earth back into the hole, and ran off, back towards the training-ground. They followed, and, by the time I got there, there must have been a dozen of them. Very odd.

I’ve just won my first race. It was only short, so it was very easy. A man has given me a little silver box with a coin inside. I suppose it’ll come in handy. The next race isn’t till the following day, so I’m trotting back to the ‘village’. I just happen to look round, and I see that my ‘entourage’ are still with me. I wish I could work out what it is they want. The others aren’t there when I get to the hut, so I go inside to put my silver box away and strip off my purple tunic before I go for a dip in the river. The kids are there already, but they’re not swimming, just waiting, I presume, for me. They don’t follow me into the water either. They just watch. Maybe it’s supposed to be threatening. Maybe some opponent along the line has heard about me and has paid them to get me unnerved. No chance!

The others have come back, and they’ve all won their contests, in fact Kleomédis has already polished off four opponents, and it looks as if the boxing will all be over tomorrow. There are a lot more wrestlers, of course, so Iráklis and Adónis will have to wrestle for a few days more. I don’t know how long it’ll be before I’m in some kind of final. Anyway, thank Zéfs, those kids seem to have disappeared.

That night, Kleomédis seems to be moody and, when we have sex, he’s a bit rough with me, in fact it’s more like wrestling than love-making and my písinos is pretty sore by the time he’s finished with me. I hope it doesn’t effect my performance in the next race. I shall be pretty angry if I lose because of Kleomédis’ sex urge. I notice the others aren’t doing anything. Maybe they’ve got more sense.

I’ve won my next race, and now it’s the big one the day after tomorrow. This time, I got a bigger silver box and more coins. The boxing’s going to finish today, and I’m watching. The others can’t because there are still wrestling bouts. They’ve done all right up to now, so I hope they win through. They’ve both got silver boxes and so has Kleomédis. Mind you, he’s still in a foul mood. I don’t know what’s the matter with him. He’s just flattened his first opponent, but the next eone is enormous. I don’t reckon he’ll be so easy.

Kleomédis is sizing him up and the referee has given the signal. Kleomédis is laying into his opponent, but the man isn’t budging. He’s just taking everything. I reckon he’s waiting till Kleomédis tires himself out, and then he’ll bash him good and proper. Kleomédis doesn’t seem to be tired, though, but he’s certainly getting very angry. Very, very angry. Oh, Zéfs! He’s kneed the big fellow in the groin and he’s slapping away at his face. He’s done it again, and the man is down, but that hasn’t stopped Kleomédis. He’s grinding at the man’s guts with his foot, and now he’s jumping on him. The man is totally unconscious. There’s blood coming from his mouth and his písinos. Oh, Zéfs! I think he’s dead.

There’s uproar. People are everywhere, running about, on to the arena, some even running away. I can’t even see Kleomédis, there are so many people. I can see that they’re shouting but, of course, I can’t hear them. The crowd is parting to allow a troop of men on to the arena. They’re all big men, probably soldiers. Yes. Now I can see Kleomédis. The men are surrounding him, and some of them are pointing spears. They’re bundling him away.

One of those kids has come to me and is touching my face. I’m trying to push him away, but he won’t go. He’s touching his ear and his lips and shaking his head. Now I understand. Those kids are all like me. They can’t hear either.

Iráklis and I have had another really good day, though only one of us can be the champion. In two more days, we shall meet in the final. We’ve come back to the ‘village’, tired but, obviously, happy. I wouldn’t put money on who’s going to win. We know each other so well, and we both know, well, you win some, you lose some. Dimosthénis is sitting outside the hut, leaning against the wall. He looks very glum, but I can’t ask him what the matter is. Maybe it’s the circle of kids surrounding the wooden building.

He’s stood up and put his face close to Iráklis’ and he’s mouthing words. I ask, ‘What’s he saying?’

‘Something about Kleomédis. I don’t like it.’ Iráklis is running off, shouting over his shoulder. ‘I’ve got to find out what’s happened.’

He’s back pretty quickly and he looks terrified. ‘Well?’ I say.

‘Not well. Not well at all. They say Kleomédis killed someone, his last opponent. They’ve chucked him out. They’ve marched him away to put him on a boat and send him home.’

‘What do we do?’

‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

Dimosthénis is up again and he’s mouthing words. He’s pointing to himself and then to the ground. That’s pretty clear. He’s staying to win his championship, whatever. ‘What d’you think?’ I say.

Iráklis shrugs his shoulders. ‘All right. I suppose so. At least our champion will be one of us.’

All three of us are pretty lack-lustre, though Dimosthénis goes on with his training and the kids run with him, one in particular by his side. We don’t train. What would be the point? We might as well toss a coin, especially as we now have quite a lot. I’d been intending to spend some of mine on a woman-whore, and there plenty about, but I don’t have the heart. I don’t know what Dimosthénis intended to do with his. Incidentally, he did win, and it was a lot more money. I wanted Iráklis to beat me, and he did. So we went back to Mrs Merópi’s very subdued, and Dimosthénis’ boy came with us. She greeted us looking sad because, although I don’t know how, she knew exactly what had happened.

That night, we had mutual sex, more for comfort than anything, though the boy stayed out of it, and I let Dimosthénis as well as Iráklis into my písinos. It would have seemed churlish not to. As I said, he has a big poútsi, and it hurt, but I took it. He seemed to be in me for ages, and I suppose I might used to it. Still, it was nice to be in him afterwards. He’s so little, but he knows how to make it feel good, though I didn’t squirt too quickly.

So, the next morning, the three of us and Dimosthénis’ boy set out for Évvia to find a boat back to our island, wondering how things might have changed since we left, whether Kleomédis would be supervising the young fighters, whether Mr Sokrátis and the others would congratulate us. The sea was smoother than it had been when we came, so at least Iráklis was more comfortable most of the way..

I had wondered if we might get home before Kleomédis, but our journey was very slow and we had to stop at several islands, sometimes to change to another boat. The direct route we had taken from Astypália coming didn’t seem to exist the other way. Still, the broken journey suited me. The less time I’m on the sea, the better!

There weren’t many boats in the harbour when we eventually got home, which is unusual. I say ‘home’, and it certainly is home to me, though I don’t know if the others will stay. Now he’s got money, Adónis might well go back to Kárpathos or even to Ródos or Kríti. I really don’t know about Dimosthénis. The kid he’s picked up is deaf, too. Of course, Dimosthénis has quite a bit of money. His prize was a lot bigger than mine. Maybe he’ll build himself a house on Astypálea. I’ve asked him - I’ve got to be pretty good at the lip-reading business, what with him and the kid to contend with - but he simply shook his head and said he hadn’t made up his mind.

The harbour-front is empty. There’s no-one there to help with our boat, and we’re having to jump out and help to tie it up. I can’t understand where everyone is. I suppose Adónis and I will go back to my mother’s house, at least for a while. I don’t know about the others. Dimosthénis is beckoning us to follow him, and he’s leading up to Sokrátis’ house.

Mr Sokrátis is sitting outside as we approach, and he’s got up to come and meet us. ‘It must have been terrible,’ he says. ‘Are you all right? Were you there? At the boxing?’

I’m shaking my head. ‘Dimosthénis and his friend were. We didn’t find out till later. Is Kleomédis here?’

‘Yes, but I don’t know exactly where. He’s not at his mother’s. I think he may have gone right into the middle, where no-one lives. I’ll tell you one thing, though. I saw him when he got here. They sent soldiers with him. They just chucked him out of the boat and sailed on, and I could see why. He’s mad. He’s gone completely mad. No-one here could get near him.’

Adónis says, ‘Is that why there was no-one at the harbour when we arrived?’

Sokrátis says, ‘Probably. Afraid he might come back.’ Dimosthénis is looking into his face, mouthing words. ‘Yes. I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to go to Kleomédis’ mother’s house. You can stay here if you like, you and your . . . ‘friend.’’ He’s turning to us and saying, ‘My wife would never forgive me if I didn’t offer. She’s got a soft spot for Dimosthénis, and his . . . ‘friend’ won’t take up much room.’

Then I ask him, ‘How did you know his name’s Dimosthénis?’

‘The sailors on the boat he was working on told my wife. What’s his ‘friend’ called?’

I say, ‘I don’t know,’ and I turn to Dimosthénis and mouth, ‘What’s you boy called? What’s his name?’ I think he’s mouthing back, ‘Pérsefs’ or something like it, and I tell Sokrátis.

The next morning, Adónis and I go down to the school to watch the boys wrestling. There aren’t too many of them, and they’re all together, big ones and little ones, under the wooden shelter. We watch for a bit, until I see that one of the little ones is looking scared. Suddenly, there’s a great commotion, roaring, shouting, swearing, we look round and pull Pésefs and Adónis out of the way, because it’s Kleomédis, and he’s mad. Whichever meaning you put on the word, he’s mad, though he isn’t aiming at us. It’s the kids he’s after and he’s bashing down the wooden shelter so some of them are trapped. He’s caught two that tried to get away, and he’s crushing them, simply crushing them. He’s jumping and stamping on some others. Some little ones are running, screaming, from the main school, and he’s attacking them, whirling and flailing. Now he’s picked up a huge boulder and he’s bashing away it the wall of the school. It’s made of mud-brick, and it’s starting to collapse. There must still be some kids in there, but he doesn’t seem to care, and he doesn’t stop until the building has collapsed completely. Now he’s stopped and he’s looking at us. He’s still holding the boulder, and, frankly, I’m so scared, I’ve wet myself, but he’s thrown the boulder down, spat at us, and run off.

Of course, we’re trying to get kids out of the mess, and one or two still seem to be alive. Not many, though. I suppose we shall spend the rest of our lives wishing we’d tried somehow to stop him. Although, I reckon, if we had, there probably wouldn’t have been any ‘rest of our lives’ to wish in. Anyway, no-one has ever seen Kleomédis again, well, not on Astypálea. His mother went away, I don’t know where, and maybe he’s with her. A story’s grown up that he’s still on the island, and mothers are inclined to use him as a ‘bogey-man’ to naughty children. We helped to rebuild the school, and now we help the kids with athletics. Kids like to rough-and-tumble wrestle, but we don’t encourage them. Adónis and I still live at my parents’ house, though my father’s hardly ever there. Dimosthénis has built a house for himself and Pérsefs and, I suppose, life goes on. Adónis says he thinks about Kárpathos sometimes, and maybe we’ll go there. We’ll see.

Goodbye!

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Further notes. It seems likely that Kleomédis was a real person. It’s certainly documented that a man from Astypálea was disqualified from the Olympic Games around 400 B.C. because he killed an opponent, and the local legend has it that he came home, knocked down the school, and killed all the children. I haven’t taken Kleomédis’ crime quite that far! All the other characters in the story are purely fictional. I hope you weren’t too confused.

Astypálea is the most remote of the Dodecanese Islands on the straight-ish line betweek Kós and Santorini. It’s still pretty hard to get at, though ‘shuttle’ flights from Athens go there via Náxos, and there are quite a few ferries, mostly via Kálymnos. Anyone wanting to know more will find it on Google or is welcome to email me - huw1940@yahoo.co.uk - and I’ll post on a brochure.