Chapter 47: Chapter 47: The Price of Submission

The next morning, Argos was a shell of its former self.

The rising of the sun found nearly a quarter of the city completely flattened, having been leveled by the flames that had broken out earlier in the night. To make matters even worse, a bulk of its citizenry had fled, streaming out of the gates ahead of the Spartans and making their way into the countryside, or to the other friendly Greek cities.

To put things into perspective, King Xanthos ruled over an empty and charred city.

But, he still ruled. The first day of his reign had been marred by complications but he was still the king, and now his throne was more secure than ever. He had the entire might of Sparta within the walls, guaranteeing that no Argive army would materialize to take back the city.

He also had streets full of blood. The Spartans had carried out a campaign of terror overnight, executing anyone left alive that had fought them earlier in the day. Such warriors like the members of the Elite, those that followed Praxis, were immediately beheaded if they were found in the city. Though Xanthos knew the bulk of them had escaped, he wanted no illusions of what would happen to them if they dared return to Argos.

The same went for his stepbrother. One of the first things that Xanthos did that morning was issue a proclamation that Praxis was exiled from Argos for all time, never to return to the city. It was met by a small crowd of disgruntled Argives, many of them still bewildered at how much had changed in the course of a day.

And now they found their best warrior exiled forever. Surely, Xanthos was presiding over the loss of hope.

Though his pronouncement assumed that Praxis was still alive, Xanthos didn’t know if he was. There were still many bodies that had yet to be identified, and his stepbrother was wounded grievously when he challenged Xanthos for the palace. There was a chance that Praxis was already dead, and that was certainly a satisfying notion if there ever was one.

For now though, Xanthos had to focus on consolidating his control. Teams of citizens were put together to put out the last vestiges of the blaze, as well as to clean up what had been destroyed. The remaining men of the Argive army were ordered to take an oath of loyalty to him alone, and any that didn’t were exiled from the city.

The last task that needed to be done was to set up the Spartan garrison. Xanthos allocated the grounds next to the Temple of Apollo, near the Aspida Hill, as the location of their permanent garrison. Xanthos found the location oddly satisfying, seeing as Praxis always claimed his family’s personal god was Apollo. Now their family god could watch over their hated enemies, which made Xanthos grin.

The garrison was to be made up of seventy-five Spartans, and already it was being formed before the army left for Corinth. In having that garrison, Xanthos was assured of their support against any challenges from within the city as long as he continued to support the Spartan cause (which of course he was always going to do anyway).

With most of those items underway, Xanthos wasn’t surprised to receive a visitor in the form of the Spartan king, Nikandros, that morning. There were few men in the world more imposing than Nikandros, with his broad shoulders, tall stature, and long beard. His most distinguished feature was his lifeless eyes. They held almost no warmth for anything or anyone.

He also had a penchant for getting right down to business. He stormed into the room like he owned the place.

“Xanthos of Argos, I’m here to discuss the terms of your entrance into the Peloponnesian League,” said Nikandros with a booming voice.

“King Nikandros,” replied Xanthos, bowing his head. “All the terms for the entry into the alliance have already been completed. At this very moment, your lieutenants are picking the seventy-five men that will make up the garrison of Argos. From what I can tell, we’re set on all requirements—”

“Not all requirements,” interrupted Nikandros. “I need something more. My men are hungry and they need to be fed.”

Xanthos looked confused. “Did you not bring provisions with you from Sparta?”

“We did,” said Nikandros as his lip curled into a sneer. “But only enough provisions to last us on a straight journey to Corinth and back. No one foresaw an interlude in Argos and as such, my men won’t have enough food to get home.”

“How can that be?” asked Xanthos. “Our plan was for you to stop here before you got to Corinth.”

“My plan was to have you take over the city so I didn’t have to send my warriors to do so,” countered Nikandros with a thundering tone. “Nearly a hundred Spartans are dead because you couldn’t take over Argos by yourself. And now, someone is going to have to pay that cost. I’m requiring from you enough food supplies to feed my three-thousand-men army for another two days.”

Xanthos’ jaw fell to the floor. “Two days? That’s a good portion of the food in the city! Not to mention, crop yields are down this summer. You’re asking a good portion of Argos to give up what little they have.”

“They should be thankful for what they have left,” growled Nikandros. “If not for you, I would have had to take the city completely, killing most of the people and taking all of their food. They should be thankful for such easy terms for joining the Peloponnesian League.”

Xanthos swallowed hard. “The people won’t see it that way. They’ll think the Spartans are stealing from them now that they’re on top.”

Nikandros took a step closer, invading Xanthos’ personal space. “I don’t give two figs what your people think. You’re their king. You explain it to them. All I care about is that my men get the rations they need, especially for this sojourn into your city that should have never happened. Now I need you to start working on getting that food.”

“It’s just that finding that amount of food will be hard in such short notice,” said Xanthos nervously. “It will take some time. I fear we might delay you in getting to Corinth.”

“Then to make it easier on you, I’ll take half now and half on the way back to Sparta,” replied Nikandros, like it was the most obvious solution. “Either way, I will get my food.”

Xanthos didn’t want to ask it but he had to know for sure. “And if we still need more time than that?”

Nikandros actually smiled which had the effect of making his cold eyes look more terrifying. “It’s best that you do what I’m asking in the time frame that I’m giving you. The people of Argos have already undergone leadership change once. Let’s not make them do it again so soon.”

And there it was. For Xanthos, it was a stunning admission that he ruled Argos only because the Spartans allowed him to. As soon as the Spartans withdrew their support, he would lose his throne.

At that moment, it became more important than ever to stay in their good graces. Even if it meant Argos would starve.

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“I will have the food that you need precisely when you need it,” said Xanthos, his voice low and weak.

Nikandros scoffed. “I know you will, Xanthos. I never expect anything less than perfection. And in return, your city will benefit with the Spartan partnership but only if you’re a loyal ally. Understand?”

So it was either the whip or the spear. Xanthos now perfectly understood his place in the world.

“I understand, King Nikandros. I will do all that you require.”

*****

The morning after the Spartan takeover found Astara nauseous and full of anxiety.

Last night had been largely restless. From everywhere in the palace, she could hear the screams of the city as homes burned down around them and as women were raped by the Spartan soldiers. It was a screaming that didn’t die down until the early morning, and Astara’s eyes had deep bags under them from the lack of sleep and the constant worrying.

She was worried about so many things. Her family for one, especially considering they were alive now only because of her good behavior. She didn’t put it past Xanthos to dispose of them, especially if she did something to upset him.

After all, any man who would kill his father willingly wouldn’t hesitate when it came to anyone else. Xanthos was the most dangerous man in the city, and she had to keep him happy.

It was an awful thought, especially when all she wanted to do was run away. Astara had brief daydreams of action, where she would spirit her family away in the middle of the night, far away from Xanthos and his reach. Perhaps they would go to Corinth and perhaps they would go to Athens. Either way, she would be out from under his thumb and they would be safe.

Alas, she knew that wasn’t possible. The Spartans were guarding every entrance into the city and they would never permit her to pass, especially when they already knew who she was.

Even despite knowing she was Xanthos’ wife, it didn’t stop them from making their comments.

“What I wouldn’t give to take that cunny home with me,” said one particular Spartan guard to another, as Astara was walking by. She turned to stare at him, not knowing if he meant to say that within earshot but it was then that she learned that they didn’t care that she heard them.

“I bet she fucks really good,” replied the other Spartan, who had no qualms about looking over her body brazenly. “Pity she’s attached to the Argive king.”

“You think he might loan her to us for the evening?” quipped the first Spartan. “After all, it’s because of us that he has his throne?”

Astara didn’t stay long enough to hear their answer. She took off quickly for her personal quarters, leaving the Spartans to babble and laugh behind her. After that happened, she was reluctant to leave her room. Not when even her status couldn’t protect her.

And if she couldn’t protect herself, how could she protect her family?

“Astara?”

Astara nearly jumped at the sudden noise. She turned around to see her brother, Nico, at her door. Ever since her marriage to Xanthos, her family had been moved into an adjacent building right next to the palace, which meant they could stop in to see her at any time without too much trouble.

“Nico, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

The boy said nothing. Instead of offering some kind of retort or sassy remark, he moved into Astara’s room and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Finally, he leaned against his sister.

“Nico, what’s wrong?” whispered Astara. “Did something happen?”

“A lot of things happened yesterday,” whispered Nico. “I’m scared, Astara. Scared for what this means.”

Astara wrapped her arm around her little brother. “If it helps you, I’m scared too. I don’t know what to think or feel or what to do. I don’t know much of anything anymore. Except that I feel trapped here.”

Nico looked at her. “We can’t leave the city? Go somewhere else?”

Astara only shook her head. “Thought of that already. Tried it. Xanthos said no. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Nico nodded his head. He was more perceptive than he looked, and he knew what kind of man Xanthos was.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” whispered Nico. “But I wish you were still seeing Praxis. He would know what to do.”

The lump in Astara’s throat grew greater. “I wish for that too, Nico.”

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