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This dedicatory stele was erected by Sannion on behalf of Brontosproximo to commemorate his winning of the black and his ongoing devotion to Ares. 5 Maimakterion, 1st year of the 696th Olympiad. Diomedes the warrior came to Ares' temple and sacrificed the fatty joint of flesh, pouring out the sweet wine and praying in earnest entreaty before the mighty statue of the God: "O Father Enyalios, who rushes first into battle, what is it that you require of your children?" The statue uttered not a word, but instead lifted up it's gleaming spear, and Diomedes bowed his head, for he had gotten his oracle. This is the meaning of the oracle: To be a child of Ares, one must be ever-ready to lift the spear in defense of hearth, and kin, and the land of one's fathers. Always to rise to the occasion, and never shirk one's sacred duties. To fight for honour, and justice, and the principles of right. But there is a deeper level to the oracle - Ares does not just want his children to lift the spear - he wants them to become a spear. A spear is not something that simply comes into being, but is made over time, forged and carefully worked until it is transformed into a mighty weapon, as is a true child of Ares. The steel is tempered in the flame, tested, and all impurities are slowly purged from it, just as the warrior is made through the crucible of life. He does not bemoan his fate, or wail when adversity comes his way - he sees these as opportunities to prove himself, that his metal is pure. The shaft is hard and resiliant, steady in one's hand, solid. A good spear will not let you down in battle, suddenly breaking 'midst the press of bodies. And nor will the child of Ares. No matter how great the odds, nor how seemingly hopeless the situation, he will stand his ground, and face what comes with confidence and boldness. The blade of the spear is keen and sharp-edged, as the mind of a warrior must be. He must use all his wits to outhink his adversary, to plot a course that will lead him past sure destruction, to discern when is the time for fighting, and when another action will reap the better harvest. And a spear is a thing of beauty, finely wrought, shining, with an elegant curve of the blade. The child of Ares does not spurn beauty or refinement - but he is not addicted to unnecessary adornment. Instead, he makes his body a thing of beauty, builds up his muscles and agility, shines with healthiness and robustness of spirit. Such is my vow, O Lord Ares, make me, Brontosproximo, one
of your spears, to cast into battle as you see fit. May I
fly true, and strike my target with lethal force. Ie
Ares! |
