Page 21 of Axios

Through his surprise, Quill hurried to obey the command and slid off the seat. He speedily stood, but it was on wobbling legs.

Belos nodded to Nikias. “Show them what happens to men who drink to excess.”

Nikias stood and approached Quill. Pity was in his eyes and perhaps disappointment also. When he reached the youth, he grabbed him by the tunic and tossed him to the ground.

Quill tried to regain balance but was knocked down once more. His movements were clumsy no matter how hard he fought against them.

“When drink takes hold, it takes over your every action,” Nikias said before kicking Quill again. “Your body battles your mind. Men who inebriate themselves lose control, and it does not matter how skilled they are.”

Even though he was being hit and pushed to the floor again and again, Quill made no exclamations of pain. He growled and struggled to stand before eventually leaning over and emptying the contents of his stomach.

Nikias moved out of the way just in time. “Pathetic. Take your seat at the table.”

Still shaking from the force of his vomiting, Quill sat beside me and lowered his gaze to the bowl before him.

“Lesson learned,” Belos said, eyeing Quill before shifting his stare to the rest of us. “If you are to drink, do so in moderation. A clouded mind leads to death. Only fools drink themselves into a stupor. Are you fools?”

I shook my head just as the others did.

The helot I’d smiled at earlier re-entered the room to retrieve the empty bowls. When he took mine, I nodded to him, and he briefly met my eyes.

He was young, probably just a handful of years older than me, and the blue of his eyes shone through even in the faint light. Pale hair fell into his face—not white, but not golden either. Somewhere in between. The shade was unique, and I hadn’t seen anything quite like it before.

One of the other soldiers focused on me and then stood from the table, grabbing the helot by his nape.

“I believe another lesson is to be learned this night,” the man snarled as he tightened his hold on the slave. “You,” he said to me, “I noticed the way you looked at this creature. Do you think it equal to us?”

I gritted my teeth at him reducing the slave to anit.My insolent retort was on the tip of my tongue, but I caught Eryx’s worried stare from the corner of my eye and refrained from speaking such words.

Although it filled me with rage to do so, I answered, “No. Spartans are far superior to the helots.”

The slave looked upon me with fear in his eyes. The man holding him pushed his head forward and smashed it against the table, and the pale haired youth whimpered.

The Spartan lifted the helot’s head and held him in place, grinning at the blood that dripped down his face.

Images of me jumping up, freeing the slave, and banging the soldier’s head against the floor flooded my mind. If anyone deserved to be beaten, it was him. Eryx’s hand lay on my leg, and when I slightly moved to act on my thoughts, he increased the pressure of his hold as if to keep me sitting.

Belos stood and grabbed the vase of wine. “Unlike other Greeks, we do not water down our wine. That is why it’s so potent, and why the smaller boy became inebriated so quickly.”

Quill hunched over and stared down at his hands, and I knew it was from embarrassment rather than fear. He would probably not take another drink for as long as he lived.

With the jug in hand, the older man approached the helot. A cold smile marked his fairly weathered face as he looked at the younger soldier.

“Hold him, Paris,” he commanded before gripping the slave’s face with one hand and prying his mouth open.

The helot thrashed about and attempted to break free as the wine was forcefully poured down his throat. What didn’t make it into his mouth ran down his chin and onto his clothing, creating a wet spot on the floor beneath him. He gasped between pours, and when he tried to spit the drink out, Belos grabbed his jaw and tilted his face upward while Paris pinched his nose closed, cutting off his air supply unless he swallowed.

“Do not even think it,” Eryx said in a harsh whisper and grabbed my thigh, yanking me back onto the seat. “Accept them as being inferior to us. The sooner you realize that truth, the better.”

I looked into his green eyes, not recognizing him anymore. “This is barbaric, Ery. How can you be so calm? That boy did no wrong.”

“No, he did not. His treatment is your doing, my friend,” he responded, but unlike earlier when he’d worn a cold expression, he regarded me with compassion. “You must toss away any qualms about the slaves being equals and see them for what they are.”

A laugh from the younger soldier caught my attention, and I looked to see the helot boy barely standing.

Wine and drool sputtered from his parted lips and he rocked from side to side.

“See this pathetic waste of a life.” Paris pushed the boy and caused him to stumble forward and almost crash to the floor, but he caught his balance before he did.