The Argive Ch. 011-015

"You picked the wrong city to fuck around in today, foreigner!" snarled the man.

Out of nowhere, Praxis was once more placed on the defensive after the man charged at him. This man was obviously gifted by both Zeus and Ares for his size and fighting skill. The robbers turned out to be mere child's play, a warm-up for the warrior that now charged at him.

"I have no quarrel with you," said Praxis, dodging a blow. "Those men were robbing that merchant. His dead body is inside!"

"How do I know they aren't your men?" growled Agemon, lunging again. "There was never any trouble at that shop before you turned up!"

"I'm an honest man, and I'm not from here," said Praxis, using his sword to block another blow. "This is a misunderstanding!"

"Honest men don't associate with thieves!"

The man had Praxis stepping back, but it was the random shard of pottery on the street that caused Praxis to lose his balance, falling onto his back. Agemon's eyes shimmered, seeing the chance to make a killing strike.

Praxis closed his eyes, knowing the big man's strength would be able to overcome any block he made.

Death was certainly coming.

"Halt this madness! At once!"

The blow never came. Praxis waited until it was prudent to open his eyes, seeing a raging Agemon still hovering above him, his sword raised high.

A man in an expensive chiton had now pushed to the front of the crowd, followed by several bodyguards behind him. Judging by the look of him, he was someone important in Corinth, perhaps a local boss of the main ruler.

"There is no bloodshed allowed on the streets by order of King Cypselus," announced the man, gesturing for Agemon to put his sword away. "Both of you are in violation of the king's peace!"

"This man is a thief," bellowed Agemon. "And he's getting the fate of any thief right now!"

"Be that as it may, it's up to the king to decide both of your fates now," said the man before looking at Praxis. "Especially yours, if the charges of thievery are accurate. You may not have much longer to live if that's the case."

Praxis felt the situation spiraling out of control. On one hand, Agemon was still ready to launch his killing blow but on the other, now he faced some kind of trial for stopping a band of robbers.

How did trouble always seem to find him?

It seemed that fate had one more surprise for him.

"What is the meaning of this? Who gave the order to apprehend that man?"

The voice was feminine and familiar to Praxis. He was able to match it back to a person right away, almost not believing that she was really here.

The crowd parted way, only for Astara to work her way to the front. Her eyes were blazing with fury as she glared at the man that stopped the fight.

"I can vouch for that man," said Astara, pointing her finger at Praxis. "He is no thief. He's from Argos and he saved my life yesterday. My word should be good enough for that."

The man that had stopped the fight suddenly lost all of his courage. He even started to bow. "I'm quite sorry for the disturbance, Astara. I was just trying to keep the peace in the city when these two started fighting--"

"The fighting is over now," snapped Astara. "Let these men go, or will I need to tell my father about this? He has the ear of King Cypselus, and I have no doubt that the king would be willing to give his judgment in this case, prefect."

Praxis had never seen a man's confidence deflate as quickly as it did at that moment. The prefect hung his head and started to back away from the situation.

"No, that will be unnecessary," he said in a small voice. "Please continue on with your day." He then turned to look at the crowd. "All of you, continue on with your day!"

His words were enough to get most people moving again, even Agemon who seemed to realize that a favor had been done for him by Astara. Soon enough, it was only Praxis left with the beautiful woman, except her glare was now trained on him.

"I need to thank you," said Praxis, rising to his feet. "Without your intervention, that might have gone a completely different way."

Astara wasn't so easy to relent. "Why did you leave in the middle of the night? Without saying goodbye? What kind of man does that?"

Praxis reached around his neck to scratch at his scalp as he remembered her father's warning. "It's complicated," he said finally. "There are a lot of things that you might not understand."

Astara scoffed. "That much is certain. You say you are here on some mission for your father and here I find you about to be executed by one of Cypselus' prefects. I'm thinking that you're not entirely honest with me."

Praxis turned red at that statement, not knowing how to respond.

Astara crossed her arms in front of her near perfect bosom. "So if you ever want to see me again, you'll tell me the real reason you're in Corinth. I want the truth this time, Praxis. All of it."

He barely knew where to begin.

Chapter 13: Secrets

"Okay, you really want the truth?" asked Praxis as he walked alongside Astara in the streets of Corinth.

Astara nodded, not saying a word until he started talking again.

"All right, fine," he replied. "The truth is that I'm not here because my stepfather wanted me here. Well, maybe that's not correct. He did want me out of Argos, not caring where I went."

Astara raised an eyebrow. "Why did he want you out of the city?"

"He... exiled me," said Praxis finally.

He turned to look at Astara, who was now giving him an astounded look.

"Let me explain. Do you remember the battle with the Cynurians a week ago?"

"Of course," she replied. "The one that we won, thanks to you?"

Praxis nodded. "My stepfather never wanted that battle to happen. He believed that the Cynurians should be allowed to do whatever they want, because they are a Spartan ally."

Astara turned to look at him. "And you? What do you believe?"

"I believe that foreign powers raiding our lands and killing off our people need to be handled with a firm hand," said Praxis. "Particularly one wielding a sword. My stepfather doesn't share my beliefs. He will do whatever he can to get us into that Spartan alliance, and his views are shared by my stepbrother, Xanthos."

Astara stiffened a little at the mention of Xanthos. "It doesn't sound like being in that alliance is the best thing for Argos."

Praxis smiled. "Those same words have been uttered by me to him several times. All the good that it does. In any event, Xanthos picked a fight with me the night of the battle, which Damian heard all about. Those two slights--fighting his favorite son and starting a risky battle against a protected opponent--made me not welcome in Argos. I'm exiled for a period of two weeks before I'm allowed to come back."

"Does anyone else know about this?" she asked. "Anyone besides your family?"

Praxis shook his head. "Not as far as I know. Just a couple friends of mine but that's it."

She let out a sigh of relief. "It's a good thing my father doesn't know then. I'm already going to catch a heap of trouble for seeing you here, and I don't need that on top of that."

"Did he forbid you from talking to me?" asked Praxis.

She narrowed her eyes. "How did you know?"

"He gave me the same warning last night," he admitted. "It's the reason I left early this morning before you awoke. I figured I didn't want to say an awkward goodbye so I just left."

Surprisingly, Astara started to smile. "That's the real reason you left? Not because you didn't like me?"

"Like you? By the gods, I..."

Praxis struggled with his words. How much did he really want to admit to Astara? She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Could he tell her how much he really liked her?

"I'm very fond of you already," he finished, giving her a rakish smile.

Astara started to laugh. "You beast, you had me going for a minute. You know, I should be more upset with you that you ditched me this morning but I'm glad I found you here. And I'm glad that I intervened when I did. I was in your debt after yesterday and I think that we're now even, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, I would say so," said Praxis with a chuckle.

"By the way, what were you looking for in that merchant's shop before all the trouble happened? Anything in particular?"

Praxis started to nod. "I was looking for a new cuirass to replace the one that I had. Unfortunately, those robbers killed the man, which sets me back quite a ways. He was a good man too. He didn't deserve that kind of fate."

Astara brought her finger to her lips and began to tap them. It was a common sign of thinking and yet, she made the move looking incredibly adorable.

"I got it," she said brightly. "I know a place not far from here. And you might just find a better quality cuirass than you might have gotten otherwise. Come with me."

As it turned out, Astara's merchant contact had exactly what he needed. Praxis found a piece that was effective but didn't cost an arm and a leg. The merchant even promised to have it fitted to his body, which was an added benefit. After taking some measurements of Praxis' chest, he vowed to have the piece of armor ready for him within two days, which was quicker than Praxis imagined.

"I have to hand it to you, I wasn't expecting much when you told me you knew someone else," admitted Praxis as they left the shop. "But that merchant was great. I think he had better wares than the original man."

Astara grinned at him. "You ought to give me more credit. Thanks to my father, I've been around merchants my whole life--all different kinds from Messenia to Macedon. I know most of the big names in the major cities, and if he didn't have what you needed, I knew of two more that could probably have gotten the job done too."

"You're full of surprises then," said Praxis, chuckling. "We won't have to worry about him telling on us to your father though, will you?"

Astara waved her hand. "Let me deal with him. My father is certainly overprotective. I'm his eldest daughter, so I get it even worse than my younger sister, Delia. And I see no reason why I would need to avoid your company. I rather enjoy spending time with you, Praxis."

That last statement had come with a change in Astara's tone. Her voice lowered, becoming a fleshy whisper as she finished with his name. As he turned to look at her, he found that she was watching him with interested eyes.

"Is your father always like that when you're around other men?" asked Praxis. "Or does he just have it out for me in particular?"

"It's been most men in my life," said Astara with a sigh. "And lately, he's just been insufferable. Especially since I've been promised to... that man."

Praxis found it secretly pleasing that she was referring to Xanthos as that man. And yet, he still had no idea why that was the case.

"There's a story there somewhere," he said. "What has turned you so against Xanthos?"

Astara shook her head. "It's everything about him," she admitted. "He's cold and arrogant. He thinks he deserves the best of things just because he's the son of the king. And not to mention, I've seen him... strike my father before."

Praxis almost stopped in his tracks. "Horn of Hades, Xanthos actuallyhit him?"

Astara nodded. "My father did nothing about it. It was over something tiny and it was completely uncalled for. But my father sees me as a pawn to be used to enhance the prestige of the family. So he tolerated it, but ever since that day, I wanted nothing to do with Xanthos. Any man that would treat my own father in such a disrespectful way could never be the kind of loving partner that I desire."

"Have you thought about saying something to King Damian? He might not be much better than Xanthos but at least he still knows right from wrong."

Astara growled. "Damian was in the room when it happened. He let it happen and said nothing! No, the son is no different from the father in this case. Both of them see me as just some kind of prize to be won. A second wife for the future king and nothing more."

Astara turned her big, vulnerable eyes in his direction. "I want more than that for my life, Praxis. I want to feel a part of something greater than myself. I want to feel real love. I could never find it with that man."

"Thank you for sharing that with me," said Praxis quietly. "I know you didn't have to but I'm glad you did."

She gave him a toothy smile. "I rather enjoy talking with you. You have the rare ability to make me forget about the problems of my life."

"Is it because my problems are usually so much more drastic and serious?" he quipped.

Astara giggled. "Perhaps that's the case. But who really knows?"

"Well talk to me about one more thing," said Praxis. "What really happened outside the merchant's shop? How did you get that prefect to let me go so easily?"

"That was actually the simple part," she admitted. "My father knows all the prefects in the city. Several of them were carried over when Cypselus came to power a few months ago but there's a small minority of them that are new faces. In any event, all of them including Cypselus know my father and most do business with him. That gives us a pull that we wouldn't otherwise have. The easy part was just speaking out to stop him from punishing you."

"It still amazes me that you were able to make that happen," said Praxis. "Otherwise, fortune might not have been so kind to me."

"It's a good thing you have friends in high places then," she teased.

"A good thing indeed," he replied before realizing something else. "Wait a moment. You said that was the easy part about getting me released. What was the hard part?"

Astara gave him a coy look. "Honestly? It was deciding if I wanted to release you after you ditched me this morning. I thought for a brief moment that I ought to let you go through with your punishment."

She bumped into his body, letting him know that it was nothing more than a joke.

Praxis grinned. "Well then, remind me to never walk away from you without saying goodbye."

She matched his grin. "I'm glad to see you learned your lesson. I think you'll find that Corinth is a good city though, despite your experience today. Cypselus is a good king, much better than the old king, Telestes. And word has it that Cypselus is even trying to get rid of the Spartan garrison here in Corinth too. You might just have a friend here in Corinth if your goals are similar."

"That would be interesting," said Praxis. "But it would require my stepfather to have a spine first. Unfortunately, the gods didn't bless him with one so we have to make do without it."

"What a pity," she said with a growing smile. "At least the gods saw fit to give you a generous helping of a backbone. And I have to say, it's much appreciated in moments like these."

There it was again, the subtle flirting. It was unmistakable this time, and Praxis found himself somewhat excited about what the future might hold.

"I rather enjoy these moments with you too," he said, causing Astara to beam with a smile.

As fate would have it, the two walked through a portion of the city that Praxis crossed earlier, when he'd encountered the pushy pimp. The pimp was still out in the streets, and he took one look at Praxis and grinned.

"What did I tell you, my young friend?" he said with a grin. "Doesn't Corinth have the most beautiful women in the world? I see you've found yourself a good one!"

Praxis just didn't have the heart to correct him.

Astara gave him a confused look as they kept walking. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing at all. Truly nothing," he said, chuckling to himself.

Chapter 14: Commitment

Two days had passed since Damian's initial, unsatisfactory meeting with the Spartan envoy of King Nikandros, Dorrusas. They had been two days filled with much soul searching, wondering if he could sacrifice the sovereignty of Argos to be included in this dominant Spartan alliance.

And it was a question without a happy answer.

Damian just couldn't do it. Despite the accusations of his stepson, he wasn't so cavalier when it came to Argos' future as well as her cherished independence. He knew the people of the city would riot over the stationing of a Spartan garrison there, not to mention the payment of a yearly tribute.

Even so, Dorrusas had made it known that those two were pivotal to any agreement. Damian suspected he could get the tribute passed without too much heartache but the garrison was completely off the table.

He would simply have to negotiate a way around it.

That was the first thing on his mind that morning as the Spartan envoy once more arrived at his study. Dorrusas looked no less arrogant or smug, and his time in Argos had been punctuated with a thinly-disguised disgust for anything that wasn't Spartan.

Whoever decided to make that man an envoy clearly didn't care too much about the opinions of their respective allies.

"Great King Damian," said Dorrusas, giving a mocking bow as he arrived in the study. "I come now to resume our talks about Argos entering the Spartan-led Peloponnesian league. Have you given any more thought to the terms of our alliance?"

Damian started to nod. "I've given it much thought. And as much as I'd like to enter your alliance, there is one item that I find distasteful. In fact, my city would find it distasteful as well. I'm talking of the Spartan garrison to be housed here in Argos and paid for from my treasury."

Dorrusas already managed to look annoyed. "My suggestion then is that you find a way to overcome your distaste in an effort to look after your collective security. Before it's too late."

"Surely there must be another way we can come to terms," suggested Damian. "We have many things that we can offer Sparta that could compensate for the lack of a garrison. The fields of Argolis are bountiful with the harvest. A favorable trade agreement to Sparta could see your city overflowing with fresh produce and grains. I'd even be open to increasing the yearly tribute if it would mean not stationing the garrison. There are other things I'd be willing to consider as well such as a temple to Heracles to honor your kings--"

"None of your suggestions are worth taking seriously," interrupted Dorrusas. "It's the garrison or nothing at all. My king was quite specific about that requirement and it's my job to enforce it. If you cannot provide for a Spartan garrison, then these talks are at an end."

"I plead with you," said Damian. "I'd be willing to discuss this personally with King Nikandros himself--that's how important I view the notion of Argos entering your alliance. But what you're asking me to do strikes at the nature of my power in the city. You would gain only a temporary ally before the city revolted if I did as you suggested."

Dorrusas shrugged. "Sparta does not need King Damian as the ruler of Argos. Sparta only needs a loyal ally who understands the costs of collective security. And if the city rebels? Big deal. The entire alliance will restore order. I think you should think long and hard about the nature of the issue in front of you. Are you willing to jeopardize your entire rule to turn us down?"

Damian swallowed heavily. "I'd do anything else to enter the alliance. I just can't do that in good faith."

Dorrusas sneered at him. "So be it. I will report this discussion back to King Nikandros and Argos will not be entering the Peloponnesian League. You had your chance and you blew it, King Damian. I hope the next king of Argos will be more prudent with the lives of his people."

With those final words, Dorrusas turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving Damian anxious and afraid. The only thing worse than not knowing where he stood with the Spartans was being on their bad side, and now he was frightened that they would have a reason to invade the Argolis. He knew his army couldn't stand up to them in an even fight, and that was before the armies of Corinth and Achaea got involved as members of the alliance.