Page 18 of Axios
“You’re mistaken, Ery,” I denied, even though I knew he was right. “Here, let me prove it.”
Then, I took off running.
His feet slid on the dirt and scattered pebbles as he started as well. His laugh reached my ears.
“Cheater!”
“What’s the matter?” I called over my shoulder. “Too slow?”
A group of women watched as I shot by them, and one of them shook her head and went back inside the small house. The younger one waved before looking back at the clothes she was washing. By her way of dress, I identified her as a helot. She was still young and hadn’t yet experienced the harshness that most slaves grew accustomed to.
I was sure that in time, the smile she wore would fade.
Unlike with other Greeks, Spartan women had no obligations to do domestic work, so they had slaves do it for them, if they could afford them. The slaves did the majority of the labor, including making and washing clothing. Spartan women were equal to the men in Sparta because they gave birth to real men. Instead of soft bodies, theirs had muscle as well, and they were required to train and become strong.
Grass swayed in the fields and a nearby cluster of trees provided shade for hotter days. To the right was the same tree Eryx and I’d climb on occasion, and the one we’d sit in as he told his stories. Our entire world lay within the city of Laconia. The arena where I’d first seen him, the barracks where we’d first spoken, and our haven by the stream where we’d once talked for so long our voices broke.
The path curved ahead before going down a hill into the valley. Just as I reached it, Eryx passed me. However, he remained just a foot in front of me instead of moving as fast as he was capable.
“Perhaps you would be faster if you weren’t gawking at the women, my friend,” he said with an amused tone. His golden hair fell into his face as he quickly looked behind at me.
Little did he know that he was the only one I cared to gawk at. He was too beautiful for the harsh life we were forced to live. I told Eryx everything without a moment’s hesitation, but I kept those thoughts to myself. Part of me feared that the depth of my feelings for him wouldn’t be returned.
Another part knew that nothing could come of it even if they were.
I said nothing to his insinuation and continued my pursuit after him. My eyes focused on the muscles flexing in his back as he ran. His strength could be seen with each movement of his torso and every step he progressed. Smooth, sun kissed skin glistened as the efforts of our race caused him to sweat a bit, but he did not slow.
He soon broke away from the trail and headed into the knee-high grass. Eryx wasn’t one to follow a path for long, instead preferring to make his own.
And I followed him, as I knew I always would.
When he reached the barrier of trees, I was right on his heels. Sharp rocks cut into my feet, but I no longer felt the severity of the sting, having been barefoot for many years and toughened the soles.
He grinned and picked up pace, leaving me a short distance behind him. Of course he’d been going easy on me. I wasn’t the fastest runner and I shouldn’t have been able to keep up with him as much as I had.
The chase was the best part for me anyway, rather than the victory.
“I told you I’d win,” he said once we found the hidden path through the undergrowth and stopped at the stream.
He wasn’t nearly as out of breath as me and sounded as if he’d only completed a light jog instead of the long run through the outskirts of the city and into the wilderness beyond.
“Only because I allowed it,” I wheezed, resting my hands on my hips.
The arch of his brow told me he didn’t believe me, but he smiled and let the matter drop.
***
We were permitted to wear clothing to the syssition, and the feel of the cloth hugging my skin was strange as I hadn’t experienced it in a while. The material hung loosely on my body, but Eryx filled out his tunic nicely. I’d become so accustomed to seeing him naked that the sight of him in clothes was almost a shame.
His perfectly shaped body should be praised, not hidden. However, not even the cloth could hide his sharp contours of muscle.
Nikias, one of the younger trainers, led us to the dining hall. He was in his nineteenth year and hadn’t officially become a soldier yet, but he was assisting in our teaching as was customary.
Once completing theagoge, young men would help the youths develop as warriors before they joined a mess and entered the military. The only exception to the rule was during times of war when all available men were needed. Spartans were constantly at war in one form or another, whether it be with the other inhabitants of Laconia or with other Greek states, but unless there was a shortage of warriors, a man did not go into battle until age twenty.
“I suggest you all be on your best behavior this night,” Nikias instructed as we trailed behind him. “The men will not hesitate to knock you back into your place shall you forget it.”
His raven black hair was not more than an inch in length since he hadn’t earned the honor of growing it longer yet. With his high cheek bones, piercing sky blue eyes, and full bottom lip, he possessed all the traits to be beautiful and have songs written about such beauty, but the jagged scar curving down his face gave him a more rugged appearance. His time in theagogehad been harsh for him to already carry such a mark.
