Page 13 of Eryx

“I suppose I’ll just have to keep reminding you until you believe it too.” I nodded toward the marsh. “Now, come. We must pluck more reeds.”

Axios groaned. “I cannot wait.”

I chuckled and walked with him as we continued gathering material for our beds. The conversation had helped ease his anger. He had returned to the Axios I knew.

***

The brutal days of our training had arrived. The bare minimum they provided us at meals did little to ease our rumbling bellies. They wanted us to steal. Even more, they wanted to catch us in the act.

Boys caught stealing had been whipped and some had been strung up by their wrists and mocked. The humiliation, the starvation, it had broken even the strongest of us. When some of the boys couldn’t steal from the kitchen, I’d seen them steal from boys in their own herd.

It soon turned into every boy for himself, apart from me and Axios. I was quick on my feet and knew how to move undetected. I’d stolen bread and cheese several times. In the beginning, Axios had shared the stolen food with me. I’d always made sure he had his half before I ate mine. However, something had changed in my companion. He’d grown irritable with me and had refused to eat the food I brought for us.

“Why won’t you take it?” I asked, offering him a sliver of dried meat.

“Because I cannot always rely on you, Ery,” he said, backing away. His eyes dropped to the meat but he made no move to accept the offering. “I can never prove myself if you do everything for me.”

“You’re hungry. Take it.”

“No. And I will not say it again.”

I had the urge to shove it down his throat and force-feed it to him, but I doubted he’d appreciate it very much. Though it was hard, I nodded and respected his wishes.

Our days were divided between training in the arena and reading and writing lessons. Athletics, knowledge of warfare, and survival drills strengthened our bodies, but mathematics, philosophy, and the arts—such as music and poetry—helped strengthen our minds. Axios and I spent every moment together. Motivating each other and giving the other strength to keep going. To keep fighting.

The training had become vicious, and a few of the weaker boys had been disposed of, whether due to starvation or severe beatings. Oftentimes both. We’d watched as a boy who was too weak to move had been bludgeoned in the chest and stomach until he coughed up blood, dying a slow and agonizing death in the dirt.

Axios remained composed when we were around the others, but late at night when I lay beside him in the barracks, he had allowed himself to cry on my shoulder.

The feel of his tears on my skin had hurt more than any beating.

One day, after we’d finished our scraps of food for evening meal, Axios stood and walked down the corridor. I followed. When I called after him, he kept walking, nearing the room where the older men were dining. Their laughs and grumbles echoed in the hall. He peered around the corner.

His intentions became clear; he intended to steal food.

“Wait.” I gripped his wrist.

“Let go, Ery.” Axios finally turned to me. “My father has been upheld as a hero, and I need to be worthy of carrying his name. Leontius. I need to prove myself.”

“Stealing bread will not make you a hero, Ax. You will be whipped if you’re caught.”

“I must at least try,” he snapped, before his expression softened. “I’m so hungry, Eryx. I can barely stand.”

“Then come with me,” I begged, still holding onto him. “We can journey to the woods and hunt.”

“The punishment for hunting without permission is far worse than a mere whipping,” Axios said.

“No one will catch me.”

“As I’ve told you, I must learn to fend for myself.”

Why, I wanted to ask him.Why must you fend for yourself when you have me?

Without another word, he crouched down and snuck forward.

Some of the men stood beside the table, their backs turned as they drank from their mugs and discussed the ongoing tensions with other cities. Many of them had fought in the last war between Sparta and Athens, and I heard one of them mention the successful campaign against the Athenian fleet at Aegospotami. Sharing war stories and triumphs.

A loaf of bread set on the edge of the table. Axios inched toward it, stopping every few steps when one of the men rumbled a laugh or when one bumped the table with their beefy legs. Right as he reached to grab it, one of the men turned.