Page 50 of Axios
King Agesipolis did not address the masses as we’d presumed. He walked past and headed for his dwelling without a glance our way.
I’d never seen him up close, always having observed him from a distance, but he was a handsome man of average build, neither tall nor short, and he looked strong. Dark hair curled to the middle of his ears, and a crease lay within it as if he’d worn a helmet and had just recently removed it.
“Perhaps he is weary from travel and will offer announcement at a later time,” I said, shrugging.
Eryx watched the king. “Or the elders accompanying him on the campaign instructed him to stay silent.”
During war, two of the elders traveled with the king to protect the interest of the state. With King Agesipolis being so young, I supposed the elders advised him on all matters, and since they were age sixty or older, they knew a great deal about the affairs of Sparta and possibly even used their age difference and experience as justification to silence him.
“He is like us,” Eryx spoke.
Not understanding his implication, I scrunched my face up. “How do you mean? Like us in what way?”
“I have heard talk that he prefers men,” he answered, meeting my stare with an arched brow. He enjoyed enlightening me and watching my face for signs of my reaction. “They say that while camped he has men join him in his tent, sometimes two at a time.”
I looked at the king’s retreating form, but he was much too far now to see clearly.
Amidst my thoughts, a man’s voice carried over the noise of the crowd.
“Greetings, citizens of Sparta,” he called, standing on a ledge that placed him above everyone and helped him to be seen. His gray hair and manner of dress identified him as one of the elders. “King Agesipolis and his men have returned, yes. The invasion of Argive territory was a success, and the war draws on. Yet, fortune is in our favor. The Persian general, Tiribazus, was restored in his position as satrap and the Persians are turning against the Athenians.”
Bellows of delight erupted amongst the people, and the elder waited until silence reigned again.
“Your other ruler, King Agesilaus, has traveled to Acarnania for they have sued for peace. Word has it negotiations are in place for an alliance with Sparta. That is all the news for now,” he said, adjusting his robes and peering upward. The sun was high in the sky and radiating such heat that every forehead was coated in sweat. “We carry the dead with us. The men who died gave their lives for our home, and for that, they should be celebrated for their sacrifice.”
He stepped off the ledge and left the plaza.
I was comforted at the announcement, but was soon consumed with shame at feeling such relief. It came from the reassurance that we would not be going off to war soon, and that was the thinking of a trembler.
I am no coward.
As we exited theagoraand headed toward our quarters, I remained quiet. Eryx casually walked by my side, stopping every so often to greet a passing man or a youth from his training group.
Physically, I was with him, but my mind was elsewhere.
What reaction would I have had if we’d been told to prepare for battle? What was it about war that truly worried me? I’d long since accepted my fate, and I feared neither pain nor slaughter.
Soldiers were up ahead and people gathered around them. As we neared, I saw the bodies upon the grass. There weren’t many—less than a dozen.
Spartans buried fallen soldiers on the battlefield from which they’d given their lives, but only if it was in territory where the bodies would be safe from desecration. Transporting the dead was difficult. Some bodies found their way back to the city, though, if there hadn’t been a proper burial place for them.
Eryx stopped, so I did the same.
He looked at the scene with a narrowed brow, and I could not read his emotion. Present was the coldness he carried around others, but there was something else beneath the stern set of his jaw and his overall passive expression that I couldn’t place.
An older woman with long, silver streaked brown hair fell to her knees beside one of the men. The dead soldier was youthful and looked no more than twenty years of age—handsome and taken just as his adult life had begun.
The woman took hold of his hand and held it in her grasp, her face emotionless.
A helot girl stood behind her, young and beautiful. She must have been a slave for the household for she was dressed better than most, but still distinguishable for what she was.
“May the gods smile down upon your son and welcome him into Elysium,” she said, looking on with a melancholy expression. “Such bad fortune.”
“No, you wretched girl.” The woman snapped her head around and glared at the helot before looking back at her son. She smiled and held his hand in her lap before brushing a strand of his black hair aside, gazing down upon his paled complexion. “By the heavens, it is such wonderful fortune. I gave him life so that someday he could die for Sparta. His death does not bring tears, but joy, for he has brought a great honor to our family.”
Eryx left my side and hastily walked away.
I caught up to him and touched his forearm, concerned. “Ery?”
