Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Exiled

It was still dark the next morning as Praxis said his goodbyes to his family and friends.

Saying goodbye to his mother was the hardest part, if only because she wouldn’t stop crying.

“It’s going to be all right, mother,” he said, consoling her. “It’s just two weeks. You’ll barely have time to miss me before I’ll be back again.”

“It’s two weeks outside our city,” she sobbed. “Where I won’t be able to keep an eye on you or keep you out of trouble.”

Praxis found himself smiling. “I’m a man now, mother. I can take care of myself.”

“Still, I’ve gotten used to making sure you stay on the right side of Damian,” she continued. “And it seems that I’ve been slacking in my duties as of late. When you come back, you’ll have to be better with him. You can’t provoke him like you’ve been doing.”

That was a hard promise to make, mostly because Praxis didn’t see the events that led to his exile as his fault, especially the fight with Xanthos. He didn’t want to make his mother more upset though, and that’s why his answer tasted awful coming out of his mouth.

“I’ll try harder to be a good son to him,” he said, hating the words. “As soon as I can come back.”

Doris nodded and handed him a small pouch. “Here, I have enough money in here for you to survive the two weeks without having to resort to anything seedy. Use it wisely, okay?”

“Anything seedy?” he questioned, a grin growing on his face. “I think you have the wrong man, mother. I would never do anything improper.”

She scolded him only briefly before the weight of the moment came back in full force. She hugged him as tightly as her arms would allow.

“Be safe out there, Praxis. And please try to stay out of trouble.”

“I will try. But you know that trouble usually finds me.”

She chuckled. “Don’t I know it!”

After saying goodbye to his mother and leaving the palace, Praxis made his way to the northern city gate, where the last of his friends would see him off. There he found Theron, Lysandra, and Lysander waiting for his arrival. Theron just happened to be the closest one to him.

“Safe journey, my friend,” said Theron, embracing him warmly. “I shall sacrifice to Hermes to ensure that you get to your destination without any harm. Any thoughts on where you’re going?”

“I thought I would head to Corinth,” replied Praxis. “It’s the next closest city, and I figured two weeks isn’t enough time for me to get in trouble there.”

Theron grinned. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Praxis found himself laughing. At least his mother would agree with that statement.

Praxis turned to face Lysander next, the young man looking surprisingly upset for how brief their friendship was.

“Is it all right if we continue our training together once you get back in the city?” asked Lysander.

“Of course,” replied Praxis. “These two weeks will be good for you. Train hard and be ready to show me what you’ve got when I get back.”

The young man grinned. “Think I can disarm you then? If I practice hard enough?”

Praxis caught Lysandra’s eye and they both shared a silent laugh. “I have no doubt about that.”

That seemed to placate him and Praxis turned lastly to Lysandra.

“I guess I won’t be getting a repeat for another two weeks,” said Lysandra, arching her eyebrow. “That thought upsets me. I was hoping for something much sooner.”

“Not unless you want to come with me to Corinth,” offered Praxis.

Lysandra put her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “I would but it is only the two of us left in this world. Our parents are already gone, and without me, who would look after my brother?”

Praxis smiled at Lysander. “With the way he fights, he can hold his own.”

The words made the young man’s chest fill with pride.

“And yet, he still needs reminding of his household chores,” said Lysandra, laughing. “If I left, I’d come back to find a house that was barely standing. No, I must stay here for the time being. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t see you when you return.”

They shared a brief moment together, punctuated by one kiss that was more hungry than tender. “Come back soon,” she whispered against his lips, her green eyes ablaze with passion.

With those final words, Praxis waved off his friends and left through the city gate, making his way north to the city of Corinth.

He chose Corinth as his destination for two reasons. The first was that it was the closest city to him, a city that he could get to in only a day if he hurried. The second reason was more practical. There was a merchant that lived in Corinth that sold excellent pieces of weaponry. He would often come to Argos in the spring and fall to pitch his wares, and Praxis had purchased from him before.

If he could come home with a few new toys, then perhaps the exile wouldn’t have been so bad after all.

The road north to Corinth was well-worn and windy, passing by flat farmland and lush meadows. This part of the country was flatter than most, with only the sight of the mountains in the distance. It’s what made this road one of the safest in Greece. Brigands typically holed up in the mountains, making other journeys more perilous.

At least this one should be relatively without incident.

About two hours into the journey, Praxis dug out some bread from his pack and ate it while continuing to walk. He wished he’d packed more water, finding that he went through his meager reserves rather quickly.

There wasn’t much traffic on the road today, mostly merchants on their way between both cities, with a small helping of traveling families sprinkled in. At one point, Praxis caught the attention of a lovely young woman traveling with her father on the road south to Argos. The look she gave him was one that her father definitely disapproved of, and his glare told Praxis that she wasn’t worth pursuing at that time.

By midday, he’d crossed a good portion of the distance. He’d fallen in behind a larger caravan that was moving north and taking up a good portion of the road, slowing his speed drastically. It was this particular caravan that he found to have a familiar face inside.

It was the sound of bickering that first drew his attention.

“Give it back, Nico!”

“Make me! I’m playing with it now!”

“By Hera, I swear I’m going to hit you!”

“Ow, you hit me!”

“I told you I was going to hit you!”

“Mother, she hit me!”

Praxis chuckled as he listened to the two youngsters argue back and forth before their mother came to settle the fight. The entire family seemed to be traveling in a small wagon, pulled by several mules. The two children were sitting just behind the mother, who was in control of the mules, while there was a canvas covering secluding the rest of the wagon.

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Praxis looked at the mother, who could only roll her eyes in amusement at the bickering of her children. She attempted to discipline them, only to have the boy roll out of the wagon unexpectedly.

“Nico, come back here!”

The young boy, no more than six or seven in age, ran away from the wagon as fast as his legs could carry him.

He wasn’t quite fast enough for Praxis, who intervened and grabbed the boy, bringing him back to his mother.

“I’m guessing this one belongs to you?” he asked the mother, holding the young Nico by the shoulders.

“Thank you for that,” she answered, giving a scalding look to her young son. “Nico, what have I told you about running off when we’re with the caravan? You could get trampled so easily!”

“Sorry, mother,” said Nico, climbing back in the wagon and sitting next to his sister. It looked like the last place in the world he wanted to be. In the process, he disturbed another person in the wagon as well, this one with feet just hanging out from the canvas.

“You look very familiar to me,” said the mother as she caught Praxis’ attention. “Where are you from and where are you going?”

“I’m planning to go to Corinth but I call Argos my home,” he answered. “My name is Praxis.”

She gave him a knowing look. “I know you. Your mother is Doris, isn’t it? You’re King Damian’s boy?”

“He’s my stepfather,” corrected Praxis. The last thing he wanted people to think was that he was the king’s natural son, just like Xanthos.

“Right, right,” she said, nodding. “You look like you’re thirsty. Could you use a drink?”

“Was it that easy to tell?” he asked, wiping his brow of sweat. “I didn’t pack nearly enough water for the journey.”

She smiled at him. “Come have a drink.” She then turned to address the person under the canvas. “Oh, Astara? Will you get him something to drink?”

It was a name that Praxis recognized immediately. He wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed when the person under the canvas emerged right in front of him.

It was her. The gorgeous brunette that he’d seen with Theron two days ago. The same one that he’d vowed to make his wife one day.

It was also the one that his stepbrother, Xanthos, had his eye on as well.

And here she was right in front of him.

The best thing about the entire interaction was that she seemed to know who he was.

“I know you,” she said, her eyes studying his face. “You’re the one they call foreigner. You’re Praxis, aren’t you?”

Praxis felt his chest swell with pride. “That’s me, all right. And I know of you as well. I’ve heard your name before. Astara.”

Praxis thought he was playing it cool in front of the brunette beauty but it was the next statement out of her brother that truly caught him off guard.

“Uh oh, it looks like we have another suitor for Astara,” said Nico, elbowing his older sister in the side.

“Nico, behave yourself!” said their mother, looking equal parts embarrassed and amused. She turned to look at Praxis. “I’m sorry about that, Praxis. As you can probably tell already, my youngest son doesn’t have much of a filter.”

Praxis was too busy turning red to offer much of a response. He was at least pleased to see that Astara seemed to be similarly affected.

Her mother came to the rescue again. “Praxis, would you like to travel with us for the day? We’ll be stopping soon for the evening and bound to arrive at Corinth tomorrow morning. Ordinarily, we might push on to arrive after dark but there are tales of brigands coming into this area and we’d like to play it safe.”

“I’d be very grateful to join your party,” replied Praxis as his eyes soon turned to Astara. “And keep you safe from any brigands, of course.”

“That would be lovely,” replied their mother. “My husband and my eldest son should be with us soon. They were delayed in leaving Argos but we have safety in numbers as long as we stick with this caravan.”

“Come on, foreigner,” urged Nico, waving his hand. “Come into our wagon!”

That was how Praxis found himself sitting next to Astara. He almost had to pinch himself at being this close to her. He knew many women that looked beautiful from far away, but their beauty paled upon closer inspection.

Astara was the exact opposite. At this close distance, it was only revealed just how flawless she actually was.

“Are you going back to your homeland?”

The question caught him off guard, and Praxis took a moment to formulate a response.

“I’m sorry?”

Astara gave him a small smile. “Everyone calls you foreigner. Are you going to Corinth because that’s where you’re really from?”

“Oh, no,” said Praxis, shaking his head. “The situation is a little more complicated than that. The truth is . . .”

He caught himself before blurting out the fact that he’d been exiled. Not knowing whether he wanted that to be public knowledge, he pulled back and made something up on the fly.

“The truth is that my stepfather asked me to attend to some business for the family in Corinth,” he lied. “King Damian has several contacts and I have some messages for them. Can’t say what it is, of course, but only that I’m the message-bearer.”

Astara smiled as the entire caravan entered a heavily-wooded area that lined both sides of the road. “That sounds awfully exciting. Much more interesting than what we’re doing. My father knows most of the merchants in Corinth and he’s going there to renew some of his business deals. But I find your task much more exciting. Is there anything that you’re doing that’s . . . dangerous?”

“Dangerous like how?”

Astara shrugged, causing her perfect dark-brown locks to dance. “I don’t know. Something that’s out of the ordinary? Something that pertains to war or something like that?”

Deciding he didn’t want to go too far into this lie, he played dumb. “Not sure. They are sealed messages and I don’t know the contents.”

That didn’t seem to bother Astara. Once the jar was opened, she had many questions about his life.

Praxis never got the chance to answer most of them though. An ear-piercing scream erupted from near the front of the caravan, getting everyone’s attention. Turning toward the front, Praxis could see armed men emerging from the forest and surrounding the tiny caravan.

One older woman’s scream illuminated exactly what was happening.

“Danger, danger! We’re being attacked by brigands!”

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