The Argive Ch. 011-015

Chapter 11: The Most Beautiful Women in Greece

There wasn't much sleeping to be had that night as Praxis rested next to the caravan. The stars were out with all their wonders but his head was far from clear unlike the sky above him. The easy thing to admit was that he was sleepless because he was on guard for more brigands but even he knew that was a lie.

The real reason he was losing sleep was because of the warning that Astara's father gave him right before bed.

"Stay away from my daughter, foreigner," said her father, glaring at him as his mouth moved. "By tomorrow morning, I want you away from my family. Do not make me ask you this twice."

For the first time in ages, Praxis was speechless. It was like her father could see right through to his soul, seeing his longing for Astara and knowing that it could never be.

Was he that transparent in his intentions?

Either way, Praxis didn't stick around to find out. Though he enjoyed the time spent with her, he wasn't about to put that warning to the test. Before morning's light, Praxis gathered his things and took one last look at the sleeping Astara.

She looked so beautiful from this angle. It was as if she was created to be Aphrodite's main discipline with her luscious and flowing dark hair and smooth features. There wasn't a more beautiful woman in all of Greece.

Which was why he had to put the distance between them when he could. A second longer, and Praxis doubted whether he would have been able to leave at all.

At least he was able to leave the caravan without much notice. Several of the men were still on guard after the events of the day before, and they waved him off as he made his way back to the main road to Corinth.

The last part of the journey took the shortest amount of time. It was only a two hour's walk before he came upon the city of Corinth, looking out on shimmering city as the morning sun illuminated everything.

Corinth was one of the largest cities in all of Greece. In Praxis' time, that meant nearly fourteen thousand people called the city home, a number that was almost always growing. It occupied one of the most strategic positions in all of Greece, overseeing the Isthmus of Corinth, the narrow strip of land that connected the Peloponnese with the rest of Greece.

As if its position couldn't be more dominant, there was one other landmark that stood out prominently from the city's skyline. That was the Acrocorinth, the ancient acropolis made entirely of rock that jutted out from the plain and made the city one incredible fortress.

The city was a defender's dream. Though others were tempted to see that as a blessing for the city, Praxis saw it to be more of a curse than anything else. Corinth relied on dominant position and her allies in terms of national defense, not her soldiers.

For that reason alone, Corinthian soldiers were amongst the worst in Greece. Ill-trained and undisciplined, they were best used when they were least needed.

Perhaps it was for the best that they were Spartan allies after all?

As Praxis entered the city, the sights and sounds of Corinth overwhelmed him. He could smell freshly-baked bread not far from the city's gate, letting the smell consume and put hunger in his stomach. He passed through the central market, hearing merchants from every corner of Greece pitch their wares.

"Athenian pottery for sale! Decorated with the likeness of the warrior goddess herself!"

"Come get your Thessalian horses! The best bred horses for the best bred men of Greece!"

"Only two copper coins can see this chiton belong to you! What about you, my good-looking friend? Care for a new chiton to replace your current one?"

Praxis declined the offer politely and continued moving, skirting around the market to the other side of the city. He made a mental note to avoid the place in the coming days, figuring it was likely that he might run into Astara's family near the market. For now though, he continued deeper into the city.

As it turned out, it wasn't too hard to find a place to stay. He found a small inn that was run by an ancient couple that Praxis highly suspected were around in the ages of heroes and demigods. They were extremely kind though and set him up with a small room that had a bed and wash basin and not much else.

For only two weeks, it would do. Especially seeing as he didn't have much in business to attend to in that time.

The first order of business was getting something to eat, which he did by going back to the city wall and getting some of that bread he smelled earlier. It was here that he had a chance encounter with a very entertaining pimp.

"You there, my friend," said the pimp, pointing directly at Praxis and grinning. "You just came from the road to Argos? You must be exhausted, my young friend. Why not take some of your coin and let one of my girls soothe your troubles away, eh?"

Praxis had to smile at the man's salesmanship but his mind was still full of Astara and he had no room for anything resembling whoring for the moment.

"Another time," said Praxis, continuing his walk.

The pimp wasn't exactly done yet. "I shall hope so, young Ares! Corinth is known as the city with the most beautiful women in all of Greece. You won't be disappointed when you step in my house, I can promise you that!

"I'll keep that in mind," said Praxis, pushing past and shaking his head lightly. The last thing he needed was another woman on the mind, even if she was a whore.

For some reason, he just couldn't shake the sight of Astara by the fire, the flame dancing in her eyes.

After putting some distance between himself and the pimp, Praxis decided now was the time to see if he could find the famous merchant that usually visited Argos. When he came to the city twice a year, the merchant almost always had good pieces at fair prices. Praxis had purchased his sword from him last year, and he was very pleased with how well it performed.

And now he could use another cuirass, and he hoped the merchant had just the one he was looking for.

Praxis found his shop with little trouble, being in a seedier part of the city that didn't attract the best clientele. The shop was unassuming from the outside but it was once he was inside that the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

Something wasn't right. Where were all the people?

The shop was deadly quiet, and Praxis had to fight the urge to unsheathe his sword.

"Hello?" he called. "Anyone here?"

To his surprise, a face popped up from behind the counter, but it wasn't the face of the merchant. Praxis suspected it was one of his helpers but the man had a foul look about him. Praxis kept his guard up.

"Ah, yes, a patron!" said the man, looking down at his feet and then back at Praxis. "What can I get you, fine sir?"

Something about his mannerisms seemed completely off. Praxis moved forward carefully.

"I'm looking for the merchant that runs this shop," said Praxis. "I need a new cuirass and I want to see what he has to offer."

The man behind the counter made a startled face. "A new cuirass? For yourself? But of course! We have all we need to help you! Oh, Thoas, will you come out here?"

Yet another man came out from the backroom, and this one looked just as odd-looking as the first. He was portlier than his colleague, but he had the same pair of untrustworthy eyes that put Praxis on edge.

"Oh, you called?" asked the one called Thoas as he eyed Praxis warily. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, our kindly patron here would like to look for a new cuirass. Would you be so kind as to show him what we have?"

"A cuirass?" asked Thoas before nodding his head slowly. "Oh yes, we have a ton of those. Simply follow me this way!"

Something still wasn't quite right, especially by the way the first man seemed to be guarding the front counter. Praxis didn't take his eye from him as he followed the other man around the shop, but it became quickly apparent that he didn't know where he could even find a cuirass in the entire shop.

Finally, Praxis had enough.

"Something isn't right here," said Praxis, approaching the counter. "Where is the merchant that runs this shop? I wish to speak with him right away."

The man behind the counter narrowed his eyes. "He's busy right now. Can't come to the desk if you know what I mean."

"Make him not busy then," challenged Praxis.

It was then that he heard the noise. It wasn't loud but it was muffled more than anything, the sound of someone who couldn't quite breathe.

And it had come from under the counter.

The man behind locked eyes with Praxis, silently daring him not to inspect it any further.

It was too bad for him that Praxis was already moving. Pushing up on the counter, he saw the thing behind it that the other man was trying so hard to conceal from him.

Or rather, the person behind it.

Praxis had found the merchant, and he was laying in a pool of his own blood.

That discovery illuminated everything that seemed off about the other two "helpers."

"Thieves," growled Praxis as he grabbed his sword. "You're robbing him!"

The two thieves moved quickly. The one called Thoas dashed at Praxis, producing a small knife and thrusting around like a man possessed. His movements were wild and jerky, and the limited space in the shop made dispatching him more difficult than it otherwise would be.

It was the man behind the counter that was the more accomplished fighter. He charged a Praxis, finding him flat-footed and unbalanced, and sent both men crashing onto the street, disturbing several Corinthians in the process.

Praxis had to give it to the thief. He was certainly wily enough to stay away from Praxis' sword. He also didn't seem to care whose way he got into in the process, knocking down a group of several women before he charged Praxis once more.

It was during the charge that Praxis saw his opening. He took a step back and lunged at the man, using his sword with utmost precision and snipping the line across the man's stomach.

All of his fight went out of him at that moment and he fell to the ground, never to rise again.

It was as Praxis was sheathing his sword that he found about thirty Corinthians watching him with emotions that ranged from amusement (for a small minority) to anger (for most of them).

So much for making a quiet entry into the city.

It was as he turned to look at the shop that he heard a challenge that he couldn't walk away from.

*****

Agemon of Corinth was not having a good day.

It all started this morning, when he found his woman in the arms of another man. She never expected his visit but he never expected to have been consorting with a whore. With a quick swish of his blade, he rid the world of her lover and cast her out forever, but it left a stinging wound in his chest that wouldn't be easy to fix.

The affair was one thing but another more grievous offense was the breaking of his most trusted spear during training that morning. The shaft had cracked almost completely into two pieces, rendering it useless, and making it necessary to acquire a replacement.

It was a terrible way to start the day for Corinth's best warrior, but his foul mood was made no better by the street fight he'd just witnessed in front of his merchant's shop. Two men went at each other like beasts but by the looks of both of them, neither were from Corinth.

And this foolishness on the part of these foreigners was just the cherry on top of an already poor day for Agemon.

Unsheathing his sword, Agemon bellowed at the surviving foreigner. "You picked the wrong city to fuck around in today, foreigner!"

Chapter 12: The Spartan Envoy

Back in Argos, King Damian was pacing around his study.

Today was finally the day. All his months of preparation had finally brought the Spartans to Argos to negotiate the terms of a new alliance. More specifically, it was about Argos joining the existing alliance between Sparta, Corinth, and Achaea, the so-called Peloponnesian League.

It was a day that could have been easily delayed or derailed, especially after the events of last week's skirmish with the Cynurians--a lesser Spartan ally. No thanks to his stepson for almost putting them in the cauldron, Damian went into today with high hopes but also a degree of anxiety.

He knew the Spartans typically made heavy demands for entry into their alliance, but Damian was willing to capitulate on most requests short of outright subjugation to reach an accommodation.

Otherwise, he would have an angry and very capable neighbor in the form of the Spartans, as well as be surrounded by newly-hostile states such as Corinth or Achaea.

No, joining the Spartan alliance would be a good thing for Argos. He just had to find common ground and make it so.

The Spartan envoy arrived shortly after midday. He dressed very simply for his task, sporting no outer trappings of the importance of his mission. In fact, he was dressed in a very simple military chiton, which was only adorned with a cape stemming from the back. His hair was long but kept very well, but his eyes were cold and dark, almost as if they'd only recently seen some horrors.

And as Damian soon saw, his tone of voice seemed to completely match his eyes.

"Damian of Argos," called out the envoy. "My name is Dorrusas of Sparta. I've been sent to meet with you on behalf of my king, Nikandros."

"May Zeus honor his name," said Damian, nodding his head. "How is King Nikandros? Is he well?"

"He's greatly perplexed," said Dorrusas suddenly, narrowing his eyes at Damian. "He wants to know why you're engaging in conflict with a Spartan ally."

"You're talking about the Cynurians, of course," said Damian diplomatically, trying to get his feet about him.

Dorrusas sneered. "Have there been any other Spartan allies you've been quarreling with?"

Damian already didn't like the man but this alliance was necessary. He proceeded without addressing the slight.

"The battle was the result of a misunderstanding by several Argives that has since been dealt with," replied Damian. "I see no future conflict with the Cynurians in my lifetime."

"I should hope not, or there won't be much time left in your lifetime," quipped Dorrusas.

Again, Damian let the slight pass.

"I had hoped that we'd be able to talk of more pleasant matters," said Damian, changing the subject. "More specifically about the terms of this new alliance, this Peloponnesian League that I keep hearing about."

"It's the most formidable alliance in all of Greece," replied Dorrusas. "Made better with the addition of the Corinthians and the Achaeans. Our hope is to keep expanding the alliance until we've united the entire Peloponnese."

"And an attractive proposition that it is," added Damian. "I'd like to know the cost of entry for Argos to be considered a full member of the alliance."

The cruel smile that appeared on Dorrusas' lips bothered Damian.

"The cost of entry is quite high," said Dorrusas with a shrug. "But I think it will be in Argos' best interest. After all, who knows what kind of threats that can arise these days. Half the time, those threats arise from... simple misunderstandings."

The man was toying with him, and that irritated Damian to no end. His words were a veiled threat, a promise that those states that didn't join the alliance willingly would find themselves subjugated by force otherwise.

In this case, Damian wouldn't subject Argos to that kind of hostile treatment if unnecessary. It was prudent to join the alliance willingly.

"Let's talk about requirements," said Damian. "What would good King Nikandros need to see Argive ascension to the Peloponnesian League?"

"A host of items, unfortunately," replied Dorrusas as he began to rattle off a rehearsed speech. "The first item that I need is a public statement in deference to King Nikandros, proclaiming him as the greatest king on the Peloponnese and professing your loyalty to the alliance. This will announce to the people of Argos that you are now within his protection moving forward."

"The second item we'll need is tribute. The cost of running a war is only going up, and we'll need a significant contribution from Argos to maintain the military expense of the alliance."

"How much tribute do you suggest?" asked Damian warily.

Dorrusas gave a helpless shrug. "King Nikandros will do it for no more than a thousand gold pieces a year."

Damian nearly lost his standing. "I'm certain I didn't hear you correctly. You said a thousand gold pieces?"

That cruel smile appeared again. "That is correct. Any less, and I'm afraid that Sparta may not be able to defend you properly should any more misunderstandings arise."

That was quite a bit more than Damian wanted to spend. He knew there would be a tribute but a thousand pieces of gold?

That was practically robbery!

Unfortunately, Dorrusas would not budge on the amount, even after several minutes of negotiating.

"The amount is what it is, King Damian," said an annoyed Dorrusas. "If you want in our alliance, you will procure the amount necessary for the cost of your defense."

It was a battle that Damian wasn't going to win right now so he decided to keep moving forward to hear the rest of the demands for entry.

"Very well, tell me what other conditions would be needed for this alliance?" asked an exhausted Damian.

"Just one more," said Dorrusas, his lip curling up into a sneer. "After the payment of the tribute, Argos will house a Spartan garrison, paid for from your treasury, as a necessary deterrent to any hostile action."

That was even worse than the tribute.

"A garrison?" said Damian, raising his voice. "For what reason? Sparta isn't at war!"

"And with our policies, it will stay that way," challenged Dorrusas. "King Nikandros is very explicit about his orders regarding his allies. The world is a very unfriendly place, King Damian. Threats arise from every direction. A Spartan garrison is a prerequisite to any alliance."

"My people will never accept it," replied Damian. "They will think that we've given up our sovereignty to the Spartans. They will think we're an occupied power."

"The little people think all kinds of things, most of it completely inconsequential. It doesn't matter what they think as long as they are safe. Wouldn't you agree?"

Damian couldn't agree to that. Of all the provisions for joining the alliance, that was the hardest to accept. He felt that Sparta was dictating with a hand around his throat, telling him to either be subjugated to their rule or find themselves as a future enemy.

Surely there had to be another way.

"King Damian, I can see that my conditions have put us in an impasse," said Dorrusas, bowing his head. "You don't need to give me your answer today. Why don't you discuss it with your people? Discuss it with your family. I think you'll find that being within the alliance is better off than being outside of it."

Dorrusas turned to leave but Damian wasn't done with him yet. He called out to the Spartan before he could leave.

"And what if my answer doesn't change? What if I won't bend on the garrison or the tribute?"

Dorrusas turned and sneered at him. "Then I think you'll find your future very uncertain. Very uncertain indeed."

With that last warning, the Spartan envoy disappeared, leaving Damian in quite the predicament.

How was he going to get around this?

*****

Praxis' head was still spinning.

One moment, he'd been looking for a new cuirass from a merchant in Corinth. In the next, he was battling the two robbers that had killed the merchant and was looking to make off with his money. In the process, the fighting had spilled onto the street, causing a great mass of Corinthians to stop what they were doing to watch the developing scene.

The worst came after the second man was dead. Praxis was wiping his blade on the dead man's chiton when one of the largest men he'd ever seen stepped forward and unsheathed his sword.