Chapter 53: Chapter 53: On the Strength of Women

“I’m sorry, Praxis. I just don’t feel like talking much right now.”

It was an excuse that was becoming all too common. In the past two days since their talk about Lysandra’s family, she’d had her ups and down. Praxis imagined that after getting it all out, like they did in their talk, she might not be nearly as melancholy as she was when they first arrived in Arcadia but it was the opposite.

Lysandra seemed like she was pulling away from him. It happened yet again this morning when Praxis invited her into his bed after she fixed the dressing on his torso. It wasn’t for a sexual purpose either and yet Lysandra wasn’t interested, giving him the usual excuse and going to the other room.

It confused him to no end. As much as he tried, Lysandra kept waffling back and forth between morbidity and reluctant acceptance. It was the worst kind of pain to deal with—knowing that she was suffering but having no idea about how to help. How could he help someone who didn’t want it?

At least Praxis wasn’t the only one to notice.

“Lysandra doesn’t seem in the right headspace right now,” noted Demetrios as he brought in a foul concoction that he called medicine. Truthfully, Praxis would rather drink goat’s piss than that medicine one more time.

“Why is she still so upset?” continued the older man.

“Lysandra hasn’t had the easiest life,” replied Praxis. “She doesn’t have any family left in this world. Her parents and her brother are both dead. You can say the realization is taking a toll on her. She seems to have her good days and bad days.”

“But she has you,” pointed out Demetrios.

Praxis shrugged. “Some days, I guess that’s not enough.”

“I suppose not. Losing family is hard though. I’ve lost enough family and friends throughout the years to be somewhat hardened to it but that comes with age. Young people like yourself probably feel it especially more. The pain is more raw.”

“That’s not mentioning that her brother died violently,” added Praxis. “It certainly doesn’t help the situation.”

Demetrios looked at Praxis’ wound and raised an eyebrow. “If I had to guess, it was in the same fight you were in? Was he also part of the Argive army?”

Praxis nodded and said no more. Other than the fact that he was an Argive, he’d told Demetrios nothing further about his identity. He didn’t know if it would help or hurt to know his relationship to Damian but he was going to keep that information inside him until he deemed it worthy of escaping.

“I lost my brother to fighting at one point,” said Demetrios, handing Praxis the concoction. “Nasty business but every land has the need for warriors. He fought because he believed he needed to fight—a delusion that most young men suffer from. He had gumption inside of him, lots of it too. Myself on the other hand, I was never much of a fighter. I wanted to heal things, not kill them.”

“The world needs a lot more people like you in it,” noted Praxis. “Maybe less like me.”

“One way or another, the gods find a way to bring the world into balance,” said Demetrios. “I always saw my brother and I as that kind of balance so it never bothered me. Well, it never bothered me until the day he died.”

Demetrios took a deep breath before he continued. “At least for his sake, my daughter ended up with a good degree of his genes than my own.”

“You had a daughter?”

Demetrios grinned at him. “What? You think Rastus just sprung up from the ground or something?”

Praxis found himself laughing at that while the old man continued.

“No, my daughter was much like my brother. I recognized it from a young age. At first, I tried to squash it. Most of the other girls her age wanted to be just like their mothers, or perhaps their older sisters. They wanted to find nice men to marry and start a family. Not my girl though. She wanted to trample through the mud and throw clumps of earth at the boys. As soon as she was old enough, she wanted to learn how to wield a sword, and she was an expert with it by the time she was twelve.”

“Twelve, you said?” asked Praxis, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a young age to be waving a sword around let alone to be an expert.”

“Such is life in Arcadia,” replied Demetrios. “This is a hard country where only the strong survive. Children must learn to grow into adulthood quickly, while they still have the chance. My daughter was one that took that to heart but in her own way. Instead of asking for my permission to marry one of the local boys, she wanted to run away to join some foreign army.” Demetrios laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think she knew that Arcadia was an exception to the rule. In other lands, they don’t allow women to be warriors.”

“She must have been disappointed by that news.”

Demetrios blew air out of his mouth. “Heartbroken. You would think it was the end of the world. There were days when I thought she might still run away just to see if I could be proven wrong. Surprisingly, she didn’t try it. She was a smart girl and I think she knew that I had no reason to lie to her.”

“Not even to keep her safe?”

Demetrios chuckled. “I’d given up on that a long time ago. I just wanted her to be happy. She was always going to find the means to it on her own so I had no reason to delay her. It was never going to change her mind.”

“So what happened next?” asked Praxis. “Where is she now?”

A look of profound sadness appeared on the old man’s face.

“She’s not here anymore. Like I said before, Arcadia is a wild and dangerous land and my daughter was determined to fight. She finally found the fight she was looking for, alongside a man that she couldn’t look away from. For nearly two years, they tried to rid Arcadia of all the brigands that the land attracts but one day, she bit off more than she could chew. She failed to come home, leaving me stranded with a newborn Rastus. I was devastated, much like your friend is right now, but you can say that I was prepared for it.”

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“Prepared? Why is that?”

“It’s just the kind of life she was meant for,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “My daughter was never going to die old. I knew she was going to go out with a sword in her hand. That’s just how she was. I accepted it a long time ago, and I learned to view her skills as her greatest strength. She was one of the strongest women I know. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.”

Praxis found himself nodding. “Speaking of strong women, I knew one myself. One that also is no longer with us. My mother. Her name was Doris and she was amongst the best.”

Demetrios gave him an odd look. “I’ve heard that name before. Where have I heard it?”

Praxis didn’t answer the question for him, though he could easily. Thankfully, the old man didn’t dwell on it.

“It’s of no matter I suppose,” admitted Demetrios. “What made your mother so special besides the obvious familial connection?”

“She was everything to everyone,” replied Praxis. “She gave her heart and soul into everything. And everyone loved her. She might not have been a warrior but she fought her battles with her heart. That was always good enough for us.”

“Lysandra seems like a similar kind of woman,” noted Demetrios. “And it’s not hard to see that she cares for you greatly.”

Praxis smiled. “Argos has done a great job of raising strong women.”

“I haven’t been to Argos in nearly fifteen years,” admitted Demetrios. “Probably not since you were a very young boy. I wonder if the city has changed much in that time. Truthfully, I never had a high opinion of King Damian.”

Praxis scoffed. “You would be in good company then. He wasn’t what you would call an inspiring king.”

“No, that he wasn’t. Better no king than a mediocre one, I’d say. At least he married well. I remember his two wives but for the life of me, I can’t remember their names.”

Praxis swallowed hard, hoping that he wasn’t going to ask them. There would be no way that hearing his mother’s name wouldn’t allow him to connect the dots.

“Did you know the royal family there?” asked Demetrios.

“Barely,” lied Praxis. “And only by sight, not by name. They didn’t seem like the most friendly of groups. There appeared to be a lot of tension in that family.”

“Well, that’s what you get when your first wife hates your second one,” said Demetrios with a chuckle. “I’m sure it’s even worse for the children.”

“No doubt that you’re right about that,” added Praxis. If only he really knew . . .

“Either way, it doesn’t surprise me that the city fell to the Spartans,” continued Demetrios. “Such tension at the top of the leadership wasn’t bound to work out well. That kind of tension will only breed more of it. A city with disunited leadership is destined to fail.”

“Perhaps they just needed someone like your daughter or my mother to give them strength?” offered Praxis.

“Perhaps but we will never know,” said Demetrios. He was quiet for a moment before his body language started to change. His eyes became wide and then he started to stare at Praxis. Finally, Praxis could ignore it no longer.

“Demetrios? What’s the problem?”

The old man began to shake his finger. “I remember now. I’ve finally remembered.”

“Remembered what?”

“Where I heard that name before,” said the old man, grinning to himself at his cleverness. “Doris, wasn’t it? It’s not a common name but I did hear that Queen Doris of Argos just died recently. That’s the woman you’re talking about, isn’t it? That was your mother?”

Praxis thought about denying it but there was no use now. Demetrios had his number.

Praxis nodded his head slowly. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell you. Especially with what you admitted about the feelings in your village concerning the Spartans.”

Demetrios waved his hand. “Blessed Demeter, that doesn’t matter right now. This takes me back in my years, reminding me of my youth. Back to when my daughter was still little. When I used to travel to Argos frequently. This is a good thing for you, Praxis.”

“Why would that be?” he asked, finding himself thoroughly confused.

Demetrios smiled as he said the fateful words. “Because I know about your family. And I certainly knew your father.”

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