Page 106 of Axios
I grinned. “Well, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. To live in the sky and have such beauty around me. But only if you are there too.”
The distraction of his story and brief moment of lightheartedness was then broken, and the heartache of losing Agesipolis returned.
“Do you think he is amongst the stars now?” I whispered, peering at the sky through the archway.
“Yes,” he answered, resting his head on my shoulder. “And when the sun sets and the stars reappear each night, he will be with you once more.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Before we left Aphytis to return to Sparta, we received news concerning the army in Olynthus. They had laid siege just as Agesipolis had strategized, barricading the city behind its gates and cutting off supplies and aid from its allies.
It was only a matter of time before the suffering of the people became too great and the Olynthians surrendered.
And Agis will not see it.
It had been because of him that the maneuver had been successful thus far, and he had not lived long enough to see the fruits of that success. It was a glory that would be given to another—more than likely whoever replaced him as Sparta’s second king and took command of the siege.
Before we departed, Pyrrhus approached me.
“Do you wish for me to travel with you?” he asked, expressing great sympathy for my sorrow. Even though he showed hate for Spartans, he did not show that same dislike for me. “You may need my help.”
In Aphytis, he was treated as an equal amongst the people. In Sparta, he was a slave whose life held no value.
“No,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Stay here and live your life. You can be happy here.”
“I have never felt such happiness,” he admitted, briefly looking toward the ground before moving his gaze to rest on me. “If there is ever a time you return to Aphytis, find me. And if you never return, and this is the last time I shall see you, I wish you great fortune.”
I was pleased that he’d have a better life. His brother might’ve fallen at the hands of a Spartan, but I hoped my actions amended some of the wrong I’d done toward him.
And then I left.
Once we reached Sparta, there were no celebrations of our return. Only silence and respect for the man we carried with us, one who was laid to rest near the orchard he adored so much.
His final request before he had died was to rest beneath the shade of the trees in the sanctuary, so I insisted that he be buried in such a place as well. So that he may forever be amongst the beauty of the trees, and when they flourished each spring and summer, it would be as if he were alive again too.
The other king, Agesilaus, was greatly upset by Agesipolis’ death.
Agesilaus was a man in his upper fifties, but that did not make him any less of a force to be reckoned with. He had been such a close confidant to Agesipolis, and he mourned the younger king’s passing with such devastation that one might have believed he felt more than mere comradeship for him.
After Agesipolis was buried, I stood near his grave and stared at the mound of freshly dug earth.
“It pains me to see you this way,” Eryx said, standing at my side and placing his hand at the small of my back. The sun shone that day, bright and magnificent in the sky, and its warmth helped soothe the chill creeping up my spine. “Death is a thing we must become desensitized to. He will not be the last man you care for to die.”
“I know.”
We were at war, so of course what he said rang true. Men had already perished, and countless more would suffer the same fate before war ended. I’d had plenty of time to accept the king’s fate as it had taken a moon’s turn for us to journey home. Having him finally laid to rest brought the emotions back, however, as if it truly was farewell.
After looking at Agesipolis’ resting place one last time, I turned to Eryx. “Shall we leave for evening meal?”
I did not have much of an appetite, but I needed to distance myself from the sorrow the place conjured into being.
Eryx studied me in the way he always did when he knew I was inwardly struggling. “I have a better idea,” he said, taking my hand. “Follow me.”
I will follow you anywhere.
I nodded and we started walking. At first I believed he was taking me to our stream—the one place we journeyed to when we desired privacy or when we needed the escape, but he was leading me in the opposite direction.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked as he pulled me along with him, down the hill and into the valley. We jumped over a smaller stream and kept going. “Ery?”
