Page 98 of Eryx

Leanna laughed and came over to offer Haden a hand. He accepted it, and once he was on his feet, he tugged her against his chest and kissed her softly on the lips. An excited squeal drew his attention. Leonidas had seen his father and had forgotten about everything else as he hurried toward him, his tiny legs moving quickly through the grass.

“There’s my boy.” Haden picked up his son and blew on his belly. He then regarded me with a serious expression as Leonidas wiggled in his arms. “The men say envoys have come to Sparta. Have you heard news?”

“No. I’m certain we will hear something soon.”

The smile fell from Leanna’s lips as she glanced between the two of us. “Do you believe they intend to ask for aid?”

Unlike the women in Athens and other cities, women in Sparta often became involved in politics. I did not understand why the other cities excluded them. Then again, only Sparta had the finest, strongest, and most intellectual women the world had ever seen.

Haden looked to me for the answer. I nodded. His jaw tightened and his gaze fell to his son. He brushed the dark hair off the boy’s brow and said nothing further. But his expression said many things: he was determined to fight, yet he dreaded leaving his family.

When the three of us returned to the barracks, men stood outside conversing. Amongst them were Quill, Theon, and Melias.

Theon ran over to us.

“The army is being sent to Macedonia,” he said. “King Amyntas asked Olynthus to help against an invasion from Illyria earlier this year, but once the fighting came to a close, the Olynthians refused to leave and took the Macedonian capital for their own. The envoys bring word that Macedonia wishes for us to march on the capital.”

Axios was much too still at my side. Not even the pressing of my hand against his seemed to help. Haden’s hands balled into fists, and he looked as though he was about to leave the courtyard. Perhaps to visit his family again before we were ordered to leave.

“When do we leave?” I asked.

Nikias, who had come to stand beside us, shook his head. “Word has it that Phoebidas and his men will go.”

Sparta never sent all men on the same campaign. Some had to remain to keep order among the helots and to be available should another conflict arise. The Spartan commander called Phoebidas had an army of the most experienced Spartiates; men who had seen battle before.

“We will stay in Sparta?” Quill asked.

“Yes,” Nikias said. “For now.” He moved a hand to his leg. His shaking hand and the bead of sweat on his temple told me he was in pain. The injury had long since healed, yet it seemed to still give him trouble at times. “Excuse me.”

As he limped away, I couldn’t help but pity him. He would never be sent to fight for our home again. His injury had been given to him during the war with Corinth. A warrior’s mark. Yet many of the men he passed sneered and mocked him.

“The cripples will stay here with the boys while the real men leave to fight,” one of them said, followed by the others laughing.

Nikias halted in his step, his dark hair falling into his face as he looked at the stone beneath his feet. And then he lifted his head and held it high as he continued down the footway.

“Cripple or not, he is more of a man than you will ever be,” Axios said to them.

His behavior came as no surprise. Axios couldn’t help but defend his friends.

“You dare challenge me, boy?” the man growled before marching forward.

“Touch him and it will be the last thing you ever do,” I said, meeting the man’s gaze.

He must’ve seen something in my eyes that made him change his mind, for he stopped his advance mid-step. But he still had courage enough to say, “Insolent child.”

Mocking others was a sign of insecurity in one’s self. Only men who felt like they had something to prove behaved that way.

Haden slapped a beefy hand on my shoulder, smiling at the man who still glowered at me. “Meet us in the arena and we shall test your words. Unless you are too afraid you’ll be beaten by achild.”

“No fighting will occur this night,” I said, looking at Haden. “I have nothing to prove and nothing to gain by fighting him. Let us leave for evening meal.”

I turned from the older Spartan and began leaving the courtyard.

“Cripples andcowardswill stay in Sparta it seems,” the man said, chuckling.

I stopped walking.

Coward. The word hit me like a poisoned blade, an initial stab followed by the spreading of something vile. My life had been spent living with the shame of my father’s cowardice. And once men knew I was his son, they believed I would follow in his path. The dishonor hung over me like a dark cloud, present everywhere I went.