Page 29 of Axios
The older boy grinned, clearly enjoying the interest. “It is said he consulted the Oracle at Delphi before departing to meet the Persian army. She gave him a prophecy. A warning of events to come.” He stopped and met our eager stares. “Sparta would be conquered and demolished… unless one of her kings sacrificed himself to save her.”
Every man and woman knew of the battle at Thermopylae in one form or another. The men who died there were used as examples of how a Spartan should be—courageous even when outnumbered and facing certain demise. To stand their ground and refuse to surrender.
However, Nikias had left something out.
“There were not just Spartans who fought bravely and perished,” I spoke, remembering another piece of the tale. “Three-hundred Spartans, yes, but Thebans and Thespians fought as well. After Ephialtes betrayed the Greeks, King Leonidas held a council meeting and dismissed the army. He gave them a choice: to flee or fight. Many retreated, but some stayed behind as not to let the Spartans die alone. They should be honored as well.”
When I realized that everyone was staring at me, I looked down and felt embarrassed for speaking out of turn.
“You are correct,” Nikias said. I met his eyes and was relieved when I saw him smiling. “Every man who stayed behind knew death was inescapable, but they did so anyway. Why do you believe that is?”
“The Oracle’s warning,” Theon answered before tossing a stick into the fire, causing the flames to grow brighter for a moment before simmering back down. “King Leonidas knew a king must sacrifice his own life to save Sparta.”
“True,” the older boy agreed. “The prophecy explains the king’s actions, but what of the others? Why did they stay?”
“It is Spartan law,” Haden responded without hesitation. “A Spartan does not run from battle like a mutt with its tail between its legs. He stands and faces death with a sword in hand.”
“They stood together and fought as one.” Nikias nodded. “Then, the Persians surrounded the army and rained down their arrows until every one of them was dead.” His expression was more solemn than before, lacking the previous enthusiasm. “You wonder why I told you this story. Let me explain.”
He stood and studied us, moving his stare slowly across each of our faces.
“One day, you all will leave boyhood behind and grow into men,” he continued. “You have experienced what it means to be a Spartan—enduring pain and starvation, learning obedience and group solidarity. But sacrificing yourself for your home is something you also may face, and that is something that cannot be taught but must be instilled into each of you. Sparta is strong because of those who have died protecting it. For those who put home above self. We are at war, and some of you will be of age soon to fight. When that day comes, you must find your courage and give your life if necessary.”
Eryx pressed his hand to mine. We’d had a similar discussion before, and I suspected that was where his mind was at, as was mine.
“A true warrior fights for what’s in his heart,” he’d once told me as his fingers had trailed along my jaw. “You may not see it now, but when the time comes for us to go to battle, you will be brave for your heart is bigger than any I know.”
As I watched the flames dance in the pit, I replayed his words over and over in my head.
Could I give my life for Sparta?
I wished I could say yes without hesitation, but there was no definite answer. When the time came, I hoped I’d be the man I was born to become.
Shifting my focus from the fire and to Eryx, I watched him, storing every detail about him into memory. It was something I did when I needed to be anchored back to the earth. When questions plagued my mind, he had a way of pulling me from the shadows and helping me see clearly.
I might not have known if I’d die for Sparta, but I knew for certain I’d lay down my life for his.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eight
390 BC
With the passing of two more years, I was far from the boy I used to be. Changed. Not only a physical change—which was remarkable in itself—but a spiritual one. My principles had altered as the training pushed me harder than ever before.
Gaius took every opportunity to humiliate us and issue the worst of torments. Floggings had turned to being beaten with blunt objects, and once, we were each burned with metal from the forge and left with the scar as a reminder. I could not find it within myself to hate him. He’d made me stronger. My body had strengthened in ways I’d never thought possible.
Pain was no longer endured, for I hardly felt it.
When my back was lashed, I didn’t flinch and barely registered the sting as the leather tore into my skin. When I was burned, the only discomfort was the smell of singed flesh.
For two summers, they’d tried to break me, but I would not be broken.
However, I still held onto pieces of the boy I once was—fragments that had loosened over time but still clung to my insides. Cruelty to helots still sickened me, but instead of saddening me like it once had, it now fueled my anger.
During drills, I’d become a great fighter because I thought of all the youths who’d tortured, maimed, and killed the slaves for no other reason than sport, and I punished them.
Eryx knew I wasn’t quite how Sparta wished me to be, but he saw my growth and was proud. My skills were not as excellent as his—nor would they ever be—but they’d greatly improved.
