Chapter 23: Chapter 22: Forgotten History

For the longest time, Praxis felt like chasing after her.

He thought about letting her cool down for a couple hours before arranging a secret meeting where they could talk with cooler heads. He told himself that Astara was still upset about the fight with her father as well as his admonition to stay away from Praxis forever.

But what he couldn’t tell himself was that she was done with him for good.

There was an instinctual feeling that Astara would need more than just a few hours to cool down, and it was why Praxis vowed to give her some space. Perhaps there was a chance she would come around before they left Corinth.

Or perhaps it wouldn’t happen until well after they were back in Argos.

Either way, he was going to leave the decision to her. She knew how he felt about her, and when she was ready to talk, he would be ready too.

For now, he had a job to do.

“Ares’ cock, these Spartans piss me off,” cursed Agemon as they watched the Spartan garrison from their hiding place that evening. It was several hours since they last met near the isthmus, and now that the day had cooled off, it was time to start their reconnaissance again.

“I mean would you look at that,” continued Agemon, gesturing to the Spartan soldier a short distance away. “He’s harassing that older woman! Where does he get off in treating her like that?”

Praxis was also watching the event unfold in front of them. The Spartan soldier, a member of the garrison under their commander, Dion, had been haggling with the old woman over some fruit displayed from her cart. When the haggling didn’t go the way the soldier wanted it to go, he simply stole what he wanted without so much as paying it.

“I wish I could tell you that was something that never happened before but we both know the Spartans have no respect for any other Greeks,” grumbled Praxis. “They think they’re better than us because they’re professional soldiers. And this kind of behavior is even more pronounced toward members of their own alliance.” Praxis turned to look at Agemon. “Do you see now why I’m so against getting involved with them?”

Agemon grunted. “If only Telestes had such foreknowledge, it would have saved all of us a bunch of trouble. I had no issues with any Spartans until they came to Corinth. They treat us like a subjugated people. Complete bastards, I tell you.”

“More than that,” added Praxis. “I’d like to see every one of them dead and burned.”

“Blessed Demeter! You have some fire in you! What did the Spartans do to you to earn such enmity? Did they burn down your house or something?”

Praxis took a deep breath. “Worse than that. They killed my brother.”

Agemon’s face turned serious as he looked over. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I don’t anymore. I haven’t had one for more than fifteen years,” replied Praxis quietly. “When I was younger, I had a brother. I was older than him by no more than a year. I barely remember him now but the Spartans killed him.”

“How?” asked Agemon. “Why?”

Praxis shook his head. “He was so young. Lampros had barely turned two before he got away from my mother during a Spartan visit to Argos. He ran out into a crowd of soldiers. Instead of stopping for the boy, which was the humane thing to do, the Spartans were trained to never let anyone stop their marching. They trampled over the boy despite my mother’s pleas for help. By the time the procession went by, he was already dead.”

Agemon put his hand on Praxis’ shoulder. “I grieve with you. What a horrible fate for one so young.”

Praxis swallowed the lump in his throat. “The Spartans maintained their innocence even after what happened. They argued the boy should never have ran into their way, that he got what he deserved. Their lack of humanity is what caused me to hate them, even from a young age. I think it had something to do too with my father leaving, although I don’t know for sure and my mother won’t tell me. I lost my younger brother and my father right at the same time. In that way, I can say I never really knew my father. He was gone before I was even aware of him. And to this day, my mother refuses to say my brother’s name. I think it’s easier for her to pretend he never existed.”

“It sounds like your mother is holding a lot of things from you,” noted Agemon. “Perhaps to protect you.”

Praxis shrugged. “I’m not a child anymore. I don’t need protecting.”

“To your mother, you will always be her child, no matter how old you get.”

Praxis let out a deep breath. “Even still. A man ought to know where he came from. That’s why the ‘foreigner’ name rankles me so much. I don’t know anything about my father and by the sounds of it, I never will.”

“Perhaps we will make him proud today?” said Agemon. “Perhaps by killing this Spartan we can begin to avenge your brother’s death?”

Praxis managed to smile. “That’s a good way to look at it.”

The two men went back to watching the garrison. Praxis felt somehow lighter after sharing the story with Agemon. It was one that few people knew back in Argos, and his sense of comradery with the Corinthian was deepening.

They continued to watch until night fell, at which point Agemon started to elbow him in the side.

“There he is,” hissed Agemon. “It’s Dion again.”

Sure enough, the Spartan commander once more emerged from the garrison. By this point in the evening, he was heading back to his house, a property that Praxis and Agemon had found the previous night when they watched his movements.

The house would be an ideal ground to take him hostage. The orders from Cypselus had been to bring him back alive to see him, where he intended to question the man about plans to move against Cypselus. Once they had all the information out of him, they would kill him using a rare and fast-acting poison that would make his death look quite natural.

It was imperative that they didn’t kill him outright, especially with a sword. If that happened, the Spartans would know he was removed via foul play, and they would have a reason to come down hard on the entire city.

“He’s moving quickly!” said Agemon, pushing to his feet. “Come on, let’s go!”

They followed behind him at a short distance, careful to keep their prey from finding out he was being hunted. The Spartan commander moved quickly, his scarlet cape flowing behind him. He didn’t stop until reaching the same house as yesterday, and he threw open the door, stepped inside, and then slammed it shut.

Praxis and Agemon hid within sight of the door. It was time to put their plan into action.

“Take a lap around the house and tell me if you hear anything inside, especially talking,” said Praxis. “It’s better off if he’s alone in the house.”

“Got it, wait here for me.”

Agemon took the better part of five minutes to do the reconnaissance before he returned.

“Quiet as a mouse in there. Sounds like he’s alone.”

Praxis nodded. “Good. Let’s make this quick then. Remember, we need to take him alive.”

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They waited until all traffic on the street had passed before making their move. Praxis took the left side of the door while Agemon took the second. They both unsheathed their swords and prepared to rush in.

“Nice and easy,” said Praxis quietly. “Go now.”

Agemon used his shoulder against the door, pushing it open and slipping inside with Praxis hot on his heels.

Praxis expected to find the Spartan commander in some stage of disrobe or getting ready for bed but what he did not expect was to find the man right in front of them, seemingly waiting for their arrival.

What was even worse was that he was still fully armed, with his shield and sword at the ready.

“So my entertainment has finally arrived,” said Dion, the commander, as his lip curled into a sneer. “That’s a good thing, I was getting bored!”

Agemon stepped to his right while Praxis took the left side.

“What are you talking about?” growled Agemon.

“I knew I was being followed yesterday,” replied Dion before gesturing to Agemon. “You have the stalking skill of a wild boar. I’ve never seen another man whose feet made so much noise just by walking.”

“And yet you still let us ambush you here,” said Praxis. “Bad move on your part.”

“Or was it?” asked Dion before letting out a low whistle.

All of a sudden, another fully-armed Spartan warrior appeared from the other room. He moved quickly to stand in front of Agemon, brandishing his sword.

“Two Spartans against two Corinthians,” scoffed Dion. “Not great odds for either of you. It seems like you two don’t have long to live in this world.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Praxis as he launched his attack.

Dion was ready for him, immediately brandishing his shield upward to block the thrust. Next to them, Agemon and the other Spartan were already locked in deadly combat, and the Spartan seemed to be getting the better of him.

“You thought you could attack a Spartan commander in his own house?” growled Dion as he parried another thrust. “You have some balls on you, boy.”

“Did it take a pair of balls to rape that girl like you did?” countered Praxis.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” scoffed Dion. “Who are you to her? Her brother? Cousin?”

“I’m vengeance,” growled Praxis.

His next two moves forced Dion to step backward against a table near the door. Dion grabbed the edge of the table with his sword hand and tipped it on its side, tossing it in Praxis’ direction.

The weight of the table nearly brought him to his knees.

“Some vengeance you are,” sneered Dion. “Now you’re getting beat by a kitchen table! And you thought you could come here and take on me?”

At that moment, Agemon nearly crashed into Praxis, driven back by the second Spartan. The two men knew they were on the verge of losing the fight if nothing else changed.

Praxis quickly looked around the room for something little to grab, and he had an idea.

He waited until Agemon was once again engaged with the second Spartan before grabbing a small cup from the floor. He then launched it at the second Spartan’s face.

The Spartan cried out as the pottery smashed against his cheek. It was enough of a distraction that it allowed Agemon the chance to bypass the man’s shield, thrusting home right into the Spartan’s belly.

That was the last thing Praxis saw as his jaw exploded with pain in the next moment. As he struggled to get his wits about him, he saw that Dion had made good the second of distraction, striking at him with his shield.

“You’d do well to pay attention to me, boy!” roared Dion.

Praxis barely managed to roll before Dion’s sword penetrated the space he’d just been in. His strategy though was to roll away from Agemon, setting up the final move.

It worked perfectly. Dion followed Praxis into the corner, raising his sword for one last blow.

It never came. Agemon had managed to pull his sword from the now-dead Spartan and, using his shield, he crashed against the back of Dion.

At that moment, Dion fell forward, directly into Praxis’ shield.

With a thrust of his arm, Praxis brought the weight of his upper body into the shield, dropping Dion to the floor, completely dazed.

In the process, Praxis kicked the sword away before gripping the shield and tossing it across the room. As the last straw, he leveled his sword against Dion’s throat.

“I think it’s you that needs to pay attention to me,” growled Praxis as Dion’s eyes centered on him.

“Well done, well done,” came a voice from the other side of the room.

Both Praxis and Agemon turned to look, finding an older man emerging from the shadows. He was wearing a hood around his head, but he lowered it once he was close enough.

“I haven’t seen two warriors work together like that in quite some time,” continued the older man until he looked at Agemon. “And I see you’ve become even more formidable in the last year, Agemon.”

Praxis nudged the big Corinthian. “Who is that?” he asked.

“Telestes,” grunted Agemon. “The man who ruled Corinth before Cypselus.”

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