Page 7 of Eryx
The youths stirred and broke off into groups, veering toward the stream to wash off the dirt and grime of training. Their scattered conversations mingled together.
I stepped toward Axios, unsure what I intended to say but unable to fight the urge to speak with him. Before I reached him, his face crumpled and he ran out of the arena.
***
At evening meal, I searched for Axios. He wasn’t among the youths at the table. We were given very little food, only enough to ensure we didn’t starve to death but not enough to satisfy our aching bellies. None of us could afford to miss a meal because of it.
Where is he?
“I will never forget this day,” a boy across from me said. “Darius’ head was cracked open like a melon.”
“Did you see how Axios hit him?” another asked. “I never expected such brutality from the likes of him. I always thought him weak.”
“He was never weak,” I found myself saying. Their gazes flashed to mine. I scarcely understood why I was defending Axios. I had never even spoken a word to him. “He did what he had to do. Let it be a lesson to the rest of you.”
I rose to my feet and left. In the narrow corridor outside the dining area, I heard the bolstering voices of the older men coming from another room. They spoke of women they’d bedded and men they’d killed. Mugs slammed on tables, followed by orders for more drink.
A female helot rushed past me carrying a pitcher.
I hid in the shadows and poked my head around the corner. There were twelve men total sitting around the large rectangle table. Only a small amount of food surrounded them. Not even the older men overindulged in their eating. It was the Spartan way. On the battlefield, a man survived off small rations and could go days without eating. It was important to train our stomachs from a young age.
The helot girl filled the men’s mugs before swiftly leaving the room. I trailed behind her, my steps quiet and sure. She led me into a kitchen where a pot hung over an open fire. A man salted meat from the rabbits caught earlier and a woman stirred the contents of the clay pot. I eyed the bread on the table. It wasn’t a whole loaf, only a large piece that had been cut from the rest and left.
They never saw me. I sprung forward, snatched the bread from the table, and concealed myself back in the corridor. Axios had missed evening meal, and I knew he’d be famished. Bread wouldn’t do much to curb his hunger, but it was better than nothing.
Again, I asked myself why I cared.
Father once told me not to lose focus. To live, breathe, and die for Sparta. I had kept to myself over the years, growing close to no one. Yet, I felt a kindred connection to the boy with the black hair and gentle nature.
Once in the barracks, I discovered many of the boys in our herd had returned and slept on their mats. Some tossed and turned, while others made not a sound. I focused on one lump in particular. After grabbing my mat, I made my way over to him, careful not to step on anyone’s hands or feet.
Axios lay with his eyes closed. He wasn’t sleeping, though. Worry lines wrinkled his brow, and his chin trembled. He stirred once I placed my mat beside him.
And then our eyes met. Shock crossed his face. I was momentarily struck silent as I stared into his honey eyes.
“I know today was not easy,” I whispered, leaning forward. Our faces were mere inches apart. “You had no other alternative. It was either you or him.”
“I didn’t know it would be like that. Death.” His eyes watered.
“Death,” Father said. “I still hear the screams of my brothers as they were slain. Still see their faces. And the blood… so much blood, Eryx. I never knew a body could hold so much of it.”
Now, I knew what he meant by those words. Yet, I had not been the one to take a life. Axios had. I wondered what it must’ve felt like. Given the shadows in his eyes, I suspected it wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
“You were not at evening meal.” I smiled and brought forth the piece of bread from my cloak, placing it in his hand.
His eyes shifted from the bread and back to my face.
“You need to eat and rebuild your strength,” I whispered at his confusion.
He sat up and examined the bread in his hand. I wondered what he was thinking, for his brow was furrowed. Did he not trust me? Did he believe malicious intent lay beneath my actions? He surprised me by splitting the bread in two and handing me half.
“We shall share it,” he said, offering me a smile.
Always surprising me, he was. I accepted the bread, not sure why my heart fluttered wildly. I watched Axios eat his piece, forgetting I had some to eat as well. He savored the bread in a way that had my curiosity piquing.
Such a small thing, sharing bread, though it felt much greater.
“Thank you,” Axios said, moving his gaze back to me. “I shall not forget this kindness.”
