Birth of a Warrior (11 page)

The skin of the fish was turning brown and crispy over the fire.

‘This knife is my key to the Krypteia,' said Agesilaus.

Demaratos suddenly looked interested.

‘What do you mean?' he asked.

Agesilaus turned the fish to cook the other side.

‘I'm nearly old enough to join,' he said. ‘But first one has to pass a test.'

‘What test?' asked Demaratos.

Agesilaus grinned. ‘They make you carry out three assassinations. If you get caught, you have failed the test.'

Lysander was in no mood to hear about the Krypteia and moved to one of the rocks by the river.

‘Have you … have you killed anybody?' he heard Demaratos ask.

Agesilaus snorted. ‘Of course I have – with this very knife in fact.'

Lysander turned and saw Agesilaus holding the dagger in the sunlight. The blade was dull and worn, about the distance from Lysander's wrist to the tip of his finger. It was wide at the bottom, with edges curving to a sharp point. The handle was simple pale wood. Lysander looked back towards the river.

‘Who?' asked Demaratos.

Agesilaus made a show of hesitating. ‘I suppose you're old enough to know,' he eventually said, before continuing with his story. ‘They don't tell you the names. It's always a Helot. They point them out: a face in a crowd, or a house. It's up to the trainee to stalk his prey and do the deed in secret.'

He's pathetic
, thought Lysander.
He wants to boast, that's all
. But Lysander couldn't ignore the creeping feeling of tension that prickled his skin. Agesilaus had killed a Helot? Now he strained to hear more.

‘How many have you killed?' asked Demaratos, with awe in his voice.

‘Two, so far,' replied the older boy. ‘The first was a man from a settlement near the village of Sellasia. He was drunk when I followed him from a friend's house – you know the home-brewed wines these Helots like – but still he put up quite a fight. I only managed to cut his arm at first, and we ended up rolling on the floor. He was strong, but slow through the drink. He did manage to hit me on the head with a rock, but by
that stage he was bleeding badly from all the times I'd stuck him. I went home covered in blood – not my own, thank the Gods. Ah, the fish is ready!'

Lysander sat back down beside the two others, as Agesilaus divided the trout into three portions on a bed of fern leaves. Steam rose up from the fish's pink flesh. He gave himself the largest piece.

‘And the second victim?' asked Lysander, reaching out for his food.

Agesilaus swallowed a mouthful of fish and licked his fingers.

‘The second was very different,' he said. ‘It was after the night when we made the Helots pay for their insolence – just before we left for the hills, in fact. The night the streets ran red. It was after dawn, a difficult time to carry out a killing. With my mentor, Pylades, we waited for most of the Helots to head out to the fields, then entered the settlement secretly. Pylades pointed to a certain house, and told me to kill every male inside. I was happy – if I could kill two, my apprenticeship would be complete.'

‘Did you do it?' asked Demaratos. Lysander was finding it difficult to eat – he could barely stand to listen to Agesilaus' story, but at the same time he had to know.

‘There was only one,' said Agesilaus with a shrug. ‘Not what I was expecting at all. I crept through the front door, and found no one. The place was a stinking hovel – these Helots live no better than animals. But in
the back room there was a figure asleep on a bed. There was a bucket of water and a bloody cloth on the floor beside him; perhaps he was one of those flogged the night before. I drew closer and saw his sleeping face. Well, he was only a boy. Maybe your age or even younger.'

Lysander was watching Agesilaus as he spoke. Each word sent sparks through Lysander's brain. He thought about Timeon's body, growing cold in his mother's house.

‘I took out this knife,' continued Agesilaus, holding the blade up. The sunlight caught his fair hair, as he stared at the weapon. ‘I placed my hand over his mouth, and I jammed the blade between his ribs.' Lysander looked at the blade again – just long enough to penetrate the heart. His head spun as the words washed over him. ‘He struggled, but I twisted the blade and he went limp. He wouldn't have suffered long.'

‘You killed a boy?' said Demaratos with a frown. Lysander put down his fish.

Agesilaus leant back on his arms. ‘I did,' he said, resheathing the dagger. ‘They were my orders, and I wasn't going to let a worthless Helot stand in my way.'

Rage coursed through Lysander as he got to his feet. Agesilaus looked up at him.

‘What? Have I offended your Helot blood?'

‘You murderer,' Lysander muttered. He threw himself at Agesilaus, knocking him backwards, and pummelling him with his fists.

‘Get off me!' shouted the older boy.

Agesilaus tried to defend himself as Lysander rained down blows. He could feel the older boy's sharp cheekbones under his knuckles and noticed that the skin of Agesilaus' face had split open. But this wasn't enough to stop him. ‘I'll kill you!' he shouted over and over. Then he felt Demaratos dragging him away.

‘What's got into you?' said Demaratos. ‘You're behaving like an animal!'

Lysander spat in Agesilaus' direction, fury still throbbing through his body. ‘He's the animal!'

Agesilaus grabbed his knife, his skin flushed with anger.

‘I'll gut you like a fish, Helot.'

‘No!' said Demaratos.

Lysander felt his companion's grip loosen and pulled himself free. He aimed a kick at the embers of the fire, scattering ash and burning embers towards Agesilaus. The Spartan stumbled backwards with a cry and Lysander charged at him. The knife flew from his hand as Agesilaus crashed to the ground. Lysander leapt at him and grabbed the older boy's throat.

‘You murdered my friend!' he spat, smashing Agesilaus' head on to the ground. ‘By the Gods, I'll kill you.'

Agesilaus' hands were clawing at Lysander. He squeezed harder still, and Agesilaus' eyes began to bulge. Demaratos was behind him, trying to pull him off, but Lysander refused to let go. He was going to throttle the life out of Timeon's killer. Agesilaus' face turned from red to purple and his hands fell by his side. Spittle caught at the corners of his mouth, as he tried to draw a breath. A moment of clarity entered Lysander's mind:
Carry on like this and he'll die. Do you want a second death on your conscience?
Lysander started to loosen his grip. But Agesilaus' fainting fit had been a ruse. He lunged to grab his knife and swung the blade at Lysander, who just had time to rear away. The knife grazed his neck, and clattered to the ground. Agesilaus was taken over by a coughing fit, the breath returning to his lungs. He writhed in the dirt, too weak to stand.

Demaratos limped forwards and crouched beside him. Agesilaus looked pathetic as he knelt in the dirt, gasping for air, his chest heaving. Lysander climbed to his feet. The fight was over.

‘Are you all right?' asked Demaratos. Agesilaus roughly pushed him away, too proud to accept sympathy. He stood slowly and turned, rubbing his throat with one hand. He retrieved his knife and brandished it towards Lysander. His face was still red and his eyes bloodshot.

‘You tried to kill me,' he said.

Now the older boy was tossing his dagger from hand to hand.

‘Feel free to return the favour,' Lysander said. The older boy looked surprised and he missed catching the knife. It fell to the ground. Agesilaus swooped down and retrieved it for a second time. Lysander saw his grip tighten on the hilt. So this was it.

‘Wait! What's that?' said Demaratos. He was pointing behind Lysander. In the distance, several columns of grey smoke curled into the air. ‘Forest fire!'

‘Quick, we have to go and see,' said Agesilaus. He stuffed the dagger back into his belt, shooting a warning glance in Lysander's direction. Then he set off towards the bridge. Demaratos kicked over the remaining embers of their fire, and followed. Agesilaus turned back from the bridge to look at Lysander.

‘This isn't over, Lysander – you'll pay for what you did. Maybe not today, but soon. You had better sleep with one eye open from now on.'

Lysander could see the smoke billowing over the horizon. His thighs burned as he climbed the steep cliff. He had already overtaken the other two. If there was a forest fire, the sooner they took the news back to Sparta the better. The crops might still be saved if people could be organised in time. He clambered up the slope on the far side of the river, feeling for handholds and hauling his body from rock to rock.

But as they came closer, his instincts told him this was no forest fire. The smoke was separated into columns, as though there were lots of small fires.

Finally he reached the top of the mountain, where the wind whipped around him. The view was astonishing. The hill fell away in a series of rocky ridges to the plain below. Lysander could see the river Eurotas like a silver snake as it meandered through the wide valley, all the way to the expanse of water beyond. The smoke rose from behind a low headland near the sea.

Lysander had never seen the Great Sea before. It took his breath away. The water shone as blue as the sky, fringed with flashes of gold in the afternoon sun. But that wasn't all. Riding the waves were warships, perhaps a hundred, painted red and black. The ones furthest from shore had their square white sails unfurled. The smoke was coming from the shoreline. Lysander heard Agesilaus and Demaratos scramble up behind him.

‘That's no forest fire,' said Agesilaus. ‘The smoke is above the harbour villages – they've been set ablaze!'

‘What? Who do those ships belong to?' asked Demaratos, breathing heavily.

‘Persian triremes!' said Agesilaus. ‘Dozens of them!' For the first time ever, he sounded impressed.

Lysander watched in silence as the ships, with their prows and two layers of oars looming out of the water, headed for the shore. The sound of the drums from the ships – meant to keep the rowers in time – boomed up the valley.

As he watched, Lysander made out pinpricks of fire over the decks of one of the leading Persian vessels.

‘Archers!' said Agesilaus. Lysander's heart thumped in his chest as the flaming arrows sailed through the air, before descending to the shore out of sight. He felt completely powerless.

‘No …' he mumbled beneath his breath. He could imagine the flames springing up through the
town. Thank the Gods he couldn't hear the people's screams.

Suddenly, further inland, a lone rider burst from the trees by the river, galloping north towards Sparta, his red cloak billowing on the wind. Two more riders appeared in pursuit, one carrying a short spear, the other with a bow slung over his shoulder. Lysander could tell from their colourful, baggy clothes and dark skins that they weren't Greeks.

‘He must be a messenger,' said Demaratos. ‘He's gone to warn the Spartans about the attack.'

The Persians were closing on the solitary Spartan rider, and when they were ten lengths behind, the spearman released his weapon. Lysander could just see it bury itself in the top of the horse's leg. The animal crumpled to the ground, sending the rider headlong on to the path. The man quickly regained his feet and drew his sword, but the Persians were now out of range. The other rider slowly unslung his bow and pulled an arrow from his quiver. The archer casually strung the arrow, drew the string, and released. It was strange watching the fight from so high above. No sound reached Lysander's ears. The Spartan soldier fell backwards, with the arrow through his head. He twitched on the ground.

‘Cowards,' said Demaratos.

‘We have to get back to Sparta,' said Lysander. ‘Without the messenger, the city won't know of the danger.'

Agesilaus stood in his way. ‘We can't go back yet,' he
said. ‘You haven't finished your task.'

Lysander looked at Agesilaus in astonishment, then pointed towards the sea.

‘Can't you see what's happening? War is on the threshold of our city, and you talk of tasks? The first boats will be on the beaches, unloading soldiers. They'll kill innocent people: Helots and free-dwellers alike. We must go back now!'

Agesilaus drew himself up.

‘You'll do as I say!' he shouted. ‘You must complete the Ordeal. A bird and a beast!'

‘This is ridiculous,' said Lysander. ‘You'd have us stand by while Sparta is attacked?'

A fleeting look of uncertainty passed over Agesilaus' face, and for a moment Lysander thought he'd got through to him. But Agesilaus suddenly charged forward, tripping him to the floor. He knelt on Lysander's chest and put the dagger to his throat. Lysander hardly dared to swallow with the blade pressed so tightly to his skin.

‘Do you really think Sparta needs a Helot half-breed like you fighting her cause? What could you do to prevent a war? The army will deal with those Persians like they were swatting flies.'

‘Stop!' said Demaratos, and Lysander saw his hand on Agesilaus' shoulder. ‘If you hurt him, you'll have to kill me too.' Agesilaus turned and looked towards Demaratos. ‘You won't look very good leaving the mountains on your own, will you?'

Lysander wondered for a moment whether Agesilaus might simply kill them both on the spot, but he climbed off Lysander's chest.

‘Sparta will be fine,' he said more calmly. ‘There are maybe three thousand men in that attack – our army is thirty thousand strong and better trained. We'll finish the Ordeal and head back tomorrow.'

‘But what about the people on the shoreline?' said Lysander.

Agesilaus grinned, and sheathed his dagger.

‘They're only free-dwellers and Helots. Let them die.'