Page 19 of Axios
Dirt had turned to stone beneath our feet as we advanced into the busier section of the city. The council chamber of theGerousiawas to the right and was housed in a grand white fortress of marble.
Spartans lived simple lives concerning our housing. The majority of homes were made of sun dried mud bricks and red clay. Only the buildings of importance held any signs of elegance.
In theagora—the marketplace and spot of gathering—there were statues of various gods, such as Apollo, Artemis, and Leto. Although the military was the primary focus in Sparta, arts played a role as well. Dances were performed by girls in honor of Apollo, for he was not only the sun god but also the god of music and a prophetic deity. The Oracle in Delphi gave offerings to him for her visions.
Nikias led us up stone steps and down a narrow corridor into the building. Robust voices echoed from the dining chamber ahead, and the closer we approached, the more my stomach knotted.
I did not know why my nerves decided to awaken. The others were excited at the prospect of eating with the group of Spartiates, but for me it felt like another test. Yet another part of training that would challenge me in some way. Strip away another part of me and replace it with the soldier I was to become.
A hand brushed against mine in the gentlest of ways, pulling me from my musings. When I focused on Eryx, I was met with his encouraging smile, and the unease dissipated a little.
When we entered the room, I saw roughly fifteen men sitting at the long wooden table. Most of them I hadn’t seen before. Apart from Gaius, Felix, Nikias, and the other trainer Linus, I did not meet many other men.
The soldiers at the table were massive—bulging biceps and wide, thick chests. Some had long beards while others were freshly shaven. They ranged in age as well, from twenties and thirties to some that looked around fifty.
There were empty seats for us, and we walked that way.
Eryx sat down first and then touched my arm for me to sit beside him. I did.
“Welcome,” one of the older men greeted once we were all seated. A streak of gray went through his long, brown hair, and deep wrinkles lay beneath his dark eyes. However, apart from his older appearance, his body was still in mint physical condition. “You were invited here this night to experience whatsyssitiaare like. Your acceptance into one is more than just a group. These men—” he motioned to the ones around him—“they become your brothers. You eat with them, sleep by their sides, and you die with them if you must.”
Haden sat in the seat across from me, eagerly listening as the older man spoke. His light shade of brown hair curled a bit beside his ears, very telling that he needed another cut. The gray of his eyes reflected the candle light and appeared paler in comparison to his bronzed complexion.
In the two years since thediamastigosis, Haden had muscled up even more, just as we all had, but he was still the biggest of us. During training, he excelled in all drills and had even managed to knock Gaius to the dirt once, and it had taken all of my will power not to laugh at the occurrence. He no longer challenged Eryx’s leadership and we’d even become friends. All of us had—Theon and Quill included.
Tough conditions had brought us closer. We didn’t need a syssition to know where our loyalties already laid—with each other.
Platters of cheese and bread were on the table, but none of us touched a morsel until instructed we could. My stomach growled as I stared at one of the pieces closest to me, but the memory of a whip digging into my flesh stopped me from reaching and grabbing it.
Obedience. I laced my fingers together in my lap.
“You must be starved,” the same man spoke before waving a hand at the food. “Take one.”
He took his own piece, biting a huge chunk off the end and eyeing us all.
We did as he said, and I ate my bread slowly, wanting to savor it. The main meal was still being prepared, but I knew the portions would be small when it arrived. Adequate, but not plentiful. Over-indulgence led to sluggish behavior and a round form, which was greatly frowned upon in our society.
“Have we news of Antalcidas?” a younger of the men asked. His beard had not yet fully grown and was just a dusting across his jaw.
I’d heard the name before. Antalcidas was a soldier but also a diplomat of Sparta.
The older man—who I’d come to assume was more of a leader figure—answered him, “He was sent to speak with Tiribazus of Lydia to sue for peace.”
War with the Corinthians was still in effect. In the aftermath of the Peloponnesian War, a man called Timocrates was dispatched by Persia to bribe the Greek city states to oppose Sparta. Thebes was then prompted to rise up against us and had encouraged others to follow their lead.
“Who is Tiribazus?” Eryx asked.
I gaped at him, shocked that he’d spoken out of turn. It was not our place to join in the discussion of the Spartiates, but yet, he did so anyway.
The man eyed him with a cold stare. “I know your face. Golden hair and eyes the color of grassy fields… tell me, boy, what of your father?”
The unease I’d carried before arriving blossomed back into my belly. Eryx had told me of his father before. A coward.
“He was called Damos,” Eryx answered, returning the stare of the older man without an ounce of trepidation in his voice.
Younger men at the table didn’t react to the name, but the older men flashed burning stares at Eryx, acknowledgment ablaze in their eyes. I wondered if Damos had been close to any of them. Fought beside them and created bonds of friendship. If so, his betrayal would’ve cut that much deeper.
“Yes, I knew Damos,” the older male responded in a low tone, almost a growl. “I’m the one who gave him the sharpened blade that ended his pathetic existence as a man.”
