The two men were nude, stripped bare and dripping with sweat.

They reached and grabbed for one another, heads slamming together as hands slipped off shoulders and wrists.

Tripping legs failed to disrupt either man's balance and bear hugs offered neither man

an advantage in his attempt to score points by dumping the opponent to the ground.

Polly wrestling was the king of spoons as far as both the competitors and the crowd here at the Great Festival at the Taut Olympia, the Olympic Games were concerned.

Running was all well and good. Boxing and Pancration were tests of endurance and toughness, and the equestrian events drew

in the finest horse flesh from all over the Greek world, but Polly? It was the

sport of Hercules, the true measure of a man's strength.

There was a reason it was the first to be added to the Olympic Games that wasn't a race.

These two men were skilled and strong as they had to be in order to grace the competition here, but they were far

from the finest wrestlers at Olympia. Still, they had drawn a crowd. Hundreds of people gathered

around the square to watch them compete. That had a great deal more to do with

where they were from than their own individual qualities. Long-haired men wearing

red cloaks stood in a knot shouting out instructions and encouragement to

one wrestler, while a cluster of deeply tan wind-blown seafarers, smelling faintly of salt

sheared for his opposite number.

The two groups eyed each other with more than a little suspicion.

In other years, perhaps this bout wouldn't have received this much attention, but as things were

right now between Athens and Sparta with war threatening?

Any sort of clash between the two was bound to draw a crowd.

The Spartan wrestler, obvious from his long hair,

reached down and secured a hold behind his opponent's knees.

...