Page 16 of Eryx
Huddled on the ground with his arms covering his head, the slave cried out as the boys kicked him.
Axios stepped toward them.
“Axios. Stop.” I grabbed his arm and held him back.
“This is barbaric,” he said through clenched teeth as he turned to me.
“And what do you intend to do?” I stepped closer and searched his face. “Go and save the helot? Dishonor your brothers by taking the side of a slave? It matters not if you believe it to be wrong. It is the way of our people and you must accept it.”
His gentle heart had no place in Sparta. Even if I found comfort in it. Axios’ sensitive nature had kept me from becoming like the youths on the path ahead of us. His kindness had touched me. But it was not the Spartan way.
One day he’d learn his place.
With watering eyes, Axios shifted his attention to the helot and whispered, “He will die.”
“Yes. He will.” Touching his jaw, I turned his face back to mine. “But you will not.”
I’d do everything in my power to keep it that way.
“Not this day,” he said, gently brushing my hand away. He continued walking. “But perhaps soon.”
Quietly, I walked beside him. The dirt was warmed from the day in the sun and felt nice beneath my bare feet. The tall grass swayed in the nearby field as it caught the breeze. The same breeze caught the olive trees in the valley, causing the leaves to dance in shades of green and silver. His words played through my mind. It took me a moment to process their meaning.
“You are speaking of thediamastigosis,” I spoke, keeping pace beside him on the path. Was that where his mind had been all day in the quiet moments when I caught him staring off at nothing?
“Yes,” Axios answered, though he didn’t sound pleased by it.
Thediamastigosiswas a contest of endurance. The annual ritual was designed to test our bravery, stealth, and pain resistance. Taking place at the altar of Artemis Orthia, boys were flogged and beaten as a blood sacrifice to the goddess. Over the years, it had become a sport for entertainment too. Younger boys attempted to steal cheese off the altar, while older youths cracked them with whips.
Bloody. Brutal. Painful. It was the ultimate honor to partake in. We were old enough now to participate. I couldn’t wait.
Where I displayed eagerness, my companion showed disdain for the contest.
“You are afraid?” I asked.
The thought hadn’t occurred to me until now. There was so much I still found perplexing about Axios. He was a dreamer with a tender heart. He wept for slaves and spoke of impossibilities.
“What if we’d been born Corinthians?” Axios asked me one day as we sat by the stream after another grueling day of training.
“I’d have no choice but to climb Mount Taygetus and jump off.”
“Ery,” he said with a laugh. “Be serious.”
How could I be serious when he spoke of such preposterous things? Sparta was in my blood. It was the life force flowing through my veins. I never wanted to consider another life.
“Maybe I would have become a merchant instead of a warrior,” he said, tucking his arms under his head as he stared at the sky. “I’ve often fantasized about life at sea.”
“So you’d toss aside the honorable life of a warrior to become a merchant and sell fancy trinkets?” I asked, unable to contain the laugh that rumbled through me.
Axios grew solemn. “You’re right. It’s silly.”
My laugh died in the air.
“Forgive me for laughing.” I lightly touched his jaw before withdrawing my hand. “If it’s of importance to you, it’s not silly.”
He peered at me. “You’re forgiven.”
“You truly wish to be a merchant?”
