The Argive Ch. 016-020

"And let me guess," said Praxis, gesturing to himself and Agemon. "You want the two of us to make him disappear?"

Cypselus smiled. "That was what I was thinking. I would only pit the two of you against the Spartan commander. He's a formidable fighter, and I don't have many men that can stand toe-to-toe with a Spartan."

"But what would that buy you even if it succeeded?" asked Agemon. "So we take out the garrison commander? So what? The garrison is still here."

"The Spartans will recall the entire garrison if the garrison commander dies," replied Cypselus. "It's part of their custom--a weird one at that. Once the leader dies, they all carry his body back to Sparta. A new garrison will be formed under a new commander but it will give us a crucial window of time. Without the garrison in the city, I can freely withdraw from the alliance without worrying about my throat being slit that night."

"Forgive me, Cypselus, but I can't see the logic in that move," said Praxis. "Even without the garrison in the city, the Spartans are still going to be upset with you for withdrawing from the alliance. One way or another, an army will come to reinstate their former position."

"The thought had occurred to me," muttered Cypselus. "Which is why longer term solutions are needed. It would be greatly helpful to me if your stepfather would join my hand against the Spartans, but even if he doesn't, I'm in contact with the Messenians. Their leader, Nicomedes, is a strong king, and he would make a formidable ally."

"Everyone knows that the Messenians don't enter alliances," argued Praxis. "You'd be making an offer to someone who wouldn't listen to it. That's not how they are."

Cypselus gave Praxis a very human look at that moment. It was the look of a man without many options.

"I have to do something," he said a few moments later. "Or else they're going to plunge Corinth back into the dark ages that I've been trying to bring her out of now. If I don't move against the Spartans first, they'll move against me in enough time. And they will put Telestes back on the throne. I have to do something to stop them."

It seemed to Praxis that Cypselus was a man that was grasping at straws. He didn't have a firm power base here in the city, and that was why he was so vulnerable to counterattack by the Spartans. And yet, Praxis saw in his eyes a man that genuinely wanted to do good. There wasn't anyone in the city who had a bad word to say about him (save for the Spartans or the former allies of Telestes).

Cypselus was a good king with his back against the wall.

By putting things into perspective, it became easier to accept the request that was being made.

"You certainly need more friends, Cypselus of Corinth," said Praxis as a smile grew on his face. "But I'll be a friend to you, even though you asked your best man to try to kill me. Try being the key word, of course"

Cypselus actually started to laugh. "If you were who we thought you were, he was of no danger to you. And it's a good thing to have the friendship of a few good men. I desperately need them."

"So what will you have me do? Tail after this Spartan commander? See if we can goad him into a fight?"

Cypselus grinned. "It seems to be what you do best, is it not?"

Praxis found himself reluctantly nodding until he looked back at Cypselus. "What about payment? You don't expect me to do this for free, do you?"

"I had a feeling you'd ask that," said Cypselus as he reached behind him and pulled out a small bag from his waist. He tossed it at Praxis, and the bag landed in his hand with the clamor of metal.

"Should be enough of a payment to do what you need, right?"

Praxis looked inside the bag and his eyes went wide. Slowly, he started to smile. "Yes, this will do just nicely."

*****

"Father! I've returned!"

At the current moment, Damian was looking out on the city of Argos when he heard the familiar voice behind him. He turned, looking to find Xanthos closing the distance between them. It certainly looked like he'd been out in the fields for the last week. His face was red from the exposure to the sun, as were the areas of his shoulders not covered by his chiton.

Damian embraced him but even seeing his son wasn't enough to remove his sour mood.

"How are the farms?" he asked Xanthos. "Are you tired of working the plow yet?"

"I don't ever want to see a plow again," said Xanthos, grinning. They spent a few minutes chattering about life on the farms before Xanthos broached the most critical topic of the day.

"How are things in the city? Mother told me you saw a Spartan envoy while I was away. How was it? Are we in the alliance now?"

Damian closed his eyes momentarily. "It would seem that the price they asked for admission was too much for us to pay."

All signs of excitement left Xanthos' face. "What do you mean? How could that be?"

Damian spent a few moments updating Xanthos on the requests made by the Spartan envoy, as well as how he had to turn the Spartan away, without sealing the alliance.

"Ultimately, it couldn't be done," said Damian, the disappointment on his face. "The people would never accept a garrison. They will think that we've surrendered our sovereignty to the Spartans."

Xanthos didn't seem so certain of that. "Maybe only temporarily, Father, but think of the alternative. Now we put ourselves on a list of cities that are liable to be attacked. Only by signing the alliance will we have any safety. And now we've sacrificed that."

"Don't you think I know that?" snapped Damian. "There is nothing else we can do. Putting a garrison in the city will see public opinion turn against us. They'll kick me out of Argos and you with me. We won't rule in the city again if we bring in the garrison."

"Father, who cares what the city thinks if we have the backing of the Spartans?" said Xanthos, bringing up another side to the issue. "Who cares about the people as long as we're in power? If they try to overthrow us, we can simply have the Spartans put us back in power. Do you see what I'm saying? The people aren't necessary."

Damian only shook his head. "You have much to learn about ruling, my son. You will need the support of the people in the long run. Without them, you will have nothing. We'd no sooner be reinstated only to find a mob chasing us out of the city again."

"Let them fire up their mobs," said a fiery Xanthos. "It will accomplish nothing."

"Patience, Xanthos," said Damian. "You still have much to learn. You need to accept the wisdom behind my words. In its current form, the Spartan offer is not acceptable. We'll just have to find another way into their alliance. Something that doesn't sacrifice our prestige in the city."

A cruel grin started to grow on Xanthos' face. "I think I know just how we might be able to do that," he whispered to himself.

Chapter 20: The Choice

"Doesn't this bastard ever need to take a break to piss? Horn of Hades, we've been waiting here for three hours now!"

Praxis could only chuckle as Agemon complained, but he was also forced to concede that his newly-acquired Corinthian friend was right. It had been a while now that they'd been perched outside the Spartan barracks, waiting for the garrison commander to appear.

"Remind me again what he looks like," asked Praxis as Agemon started to fan his face. "Most of these Spartan guys all look the same to me."

"And they will because their garrison duty requires them to keep their helmets and their scarlet capes on," answered Agemon. "But I'll know him when I see him. He carries his sword on the right hip instead of the left, which only the commanders will do in the Spartan army. He'll be the only one in here that does it, so it shouldn't be too hard to identify him."

"As long he eventually comes out to take a piss," joked Praxis. "For your sake, I hope he's not pissing inside the barracks."

"That would be just our luck," grumbled Agemon.

Even though the day was hot, Praxis found that he was enjoying the company of Agemon. The Corinthian warrior was easy to talk with, and even though they hadn't gotten off on the right foot, he was willing to look past their first meeting to see what needed to be done.

That didn't mean that Praxis thought Agemon wouldn't fight him again if Cypselus asked him, but that merely he might not do it with as much enthusiasm as he did on the day they met.

He was also, as Praxis found, deeply interested in something else beyond their Spartan prey.

"Pause for a second," said Agemon, tapping Praxis' shoulder while he was telling him about Argos. "I haven't seen her in three days and I'm not missing this opportunity."

As soon as he mentioned a woman, Praxis looked out on the crowd around the barracks, where a small market had developed off one of the busier streets. His eyes scanned the women, looking for those that might be the one but finding mostly older women.

"Which one are you looking at?" asked Praxis finally.

A dopey grin appeared on Agemon's face as he pointed his finger at one woman that had stopped near an olive merchant. "That one right there. That beautiful flower of a woman. Her name is Cora."

Praxis followed his finger until his eyes landed on the woman in question. Truthfully, calling her beautiful might have been a bit of a stretch. She was young, certainly on the cusp of womanhood but there weren't any features that stood out as being stunning, at least to his eyes. She had long, dark hair and a plain-looking face. She was of about average height and she seemed to move gracefully through the stalls. The crowd didn't part around her like it would for some great beauty, and she mostly seemed to escape notice from everyone except for Agemon.

At that moment, his demeanor completely changed. He rested his head on his hand and continued to maintain his grin. "What I wouldn't give to call a woman like that my own."

Praxis couldn't help but smile. "I take it this isn't the first time you've longed after her, is it?"

The Corinthian shook his head. "For several weeks now. Months maybe. She's a perfect creature but I doubt she even knows that I exist."

"So go down there and introduce yourself," said Praxis simply. "No reason to watch from the shadows when you can talk in her presence."

Agemon reacted like he just told him to walk on water. "Blessed Demeter, I wouldn't even know how to talk to a woman like that. I wouldn't even know what to say."

"You'd typically start with your name," teased Praxis. "And maybe ask for hers next."

Agemon blinked at him. "But I already know her name. How could I not?"

"I know that but she doesn't need to know that. She might think it... odd if you did. Best to assume you don't know."

Agemon put his face in his hands. "See, this is my problem. I'd be terrified of saying the wrong thing. What if I stumble on my words and she laughs at me? Then my chance would be ruined forever."

Praxis couldn't help but chuckle. Agemon was probably the most feared warrior in Corinth, and there weren't many in the city that didn't know his name. And yet, here he was petrified by a young woman that he'd never met.

There was certainly a degree of irony in that.

All too soon though, Cora began to move away from their position, disappearing into the next street. Agemon let out a loud exhale.

"Maybe next time," he muttered in a tone that let Praxis know that even this fabled next time probably wouldn't change anything.

Praxis consoled him by patting his shoulder. "Maybe next time," he echoed.

Agemon looked at him. "Do you have a woman to call your own? Was it difficult to land her?"

Praxis allowed his mind to drift to thoughts of Astara before he nodded. "I do... somewhat. It's a little complicated though."

"Just like the situation with me and Cora?"

Praxis bit his tongue. "Kind of like that, yes."

"Women are a mystery to us."

"You're right about that, Agemon. You couldn't be more right."

They continued to talk about the nature of women for the next ten minutes until their quarry finally appeared. The Spartan commander would have been hard to identify if not for the sword on his right hip, making him an easy target. The two men emerged from their hiding place and followed him throughout the city as the daylight started to fade. They finally tracked him down to a small home near the main marketplace where he was staying.

"Well, now we know where he lives," said Agemon after he disappeared inside and didn't come out.

"All the better for us to set up an ambush," agreed Praxis. "He traveled through some quiet streets and it's even better that he travels alone. It shouldn't be too hard to dispose of him. That should be the easy part though. I hope that Cypselus knows what he's getting himself into by going down this path."

"We can hope," said Agemon. "Let's watch his routine tomorrow as well and if he repeats the same movements, we know we can move in. For now though, I'd say we can break for the night." Agemon then gave him a funny look. "You feel like getting something to drink? I need something to make me forget about this heat."

Praxis thought about it for a moment before he started to shake his head. "Perhaps tomorrow night? Do you remember that woman I was telling you about earlier? She'll most likely be waiting for me when I get back."

Agemon started to grin. "Don't let me stop you then. Have a good time with your complicated woman."

"While I still can, while I still can," joked Praxis as the two men separated.

It didn't take very long for him to get back to the place he was staying. As soon as he entered the door, his intuition was correct.

Astara was already naked and waiting for him on his bed, a blanket draped haphazardly around her body, exposing much of her inviting flesh.

"You're late," she teased, giving him a mocking pout. "I almost got started without you."

He pulled the blanket back slightly to see that Astara was gently pinching her nipple, making it stiff to the touch.

She gave him a coy smile. "I much prefer when you do this to me though. My fingers just aren't the same."

"I think I can help you with that."

"Mmm, would you be a dear? I promise to find a way to reward you for doing so."

That offer sealed the deal. In a matter of moments, Praxis had discarded his chiton and slipped into bed, making good on Astara's offer. They took their time with each other, exploring each other's bodies in a slow and tender way, the way experienced lovers did. Even though it was late in the evening, long after the time Astara would usually go back to her family, she seemed not to hurry in order to truly enjoy the night.

"I wish I could stay the night," she said, long after their orgasms were over. Her soft, blue eyes found his and her hand caressed his chest hair. "I don't want to leave."

"You have to though," he said, hating the words even before they came out. "You know the consequences if you don't."

She turned away from him, no doubt disliking the answer as much as he did. "Just hold me for a little while longer."

Even though night had long since fallen, he didn't want to relax his grip on her. This last week with Astara had been something that he'd never expected, even when he vowed to Theron that he would marry her one day. Back then, she'd just been little more than a pretty face and an idea.

Now she was real. They had a connection that was tied together by emotional and physical bonds. Despite the precarious nature of their relationship, a future together looked like it could be entirely possible.

At least it did. That was until Praxis was stirred awake by shouting at the door to his room.

He'd fallen asleep in the interim, as had Astara, and the sudden yells startled both of them as they awoke suddenly, only to find that it wasn't just anyone standing at their door.

Astara's father was there and he looked completely enraged. Just behind him was Nico, the boy looking equal parts afraid and embarrassed. At that moment, Praxis could have figured out exactly what happened.

Somehow, Nico had let out their secret.

"What in the name of Hades are you doing with my daughter?" he roared, stomping his way over to the bed.

Astara screamed at the sudden disturbance, only to try to stop her father from rushing to the bed.

"Father, no!"

At that moment, her father grabbed Praxis by the arms and tossed him to the floor, where he tried to kick him next.

"How dare you break my command not to see her?" he roared, kicking Praxis in the ribs. "Don't you know who you are messing with?"

He pummeled Praxis in the ribs one more time, only for Astara to scream again.

"Please stop it now, Father! You're hurting him!" she yelled, tears coming down her eyes.

Her temporary distraction allowed Praxis to get to his feet. But if he thought that gaining some footing might stop her father from charging him, he was quickly mistaken.

All he could see was red in her father's eyes. He quickly tried to punch him, his knuckles barely grazing Praxis' face as he dodged it.

"I will not let you ruin my family!" yelled her father as he punched again. "She has a future with Xanthos! And you are not going to change that!"

His next swing managed to catch Praxis right on the jaw, sending pain shooting up to the rest of his head.

"Father, no! Stop hitting him!"

At this point, Astara was now rushing to try to get between them, but her father was able to toss her away easily, as if she was nothing more than a child, before charging at Praxis again.

Up until now, Praxis hadn't dared to strike back, not wanting to hurt the man. Though he knew that he could take down Astara's father, he didn't want to inflame the situation by doing so.

The only problem with this was that her father's rage wasn't slackening. He kept trying to strike Praxis, occasionally hitting him when he couldn't duck fast enough.

Finally, it got to the point where Praxis was getting angered at the repeated attempts, and seeing no other way to make him stop, he pulled back his fist and popped her father right on the nose.

Blood erupted from his face, gushing down over his lips and chin as he moved away. Praxis now felt that the sudden impulse to strike was a grave mistake as Astara stopped screaming to attend to her injured father.

Judging by the amount of blood, Praxis had definitely broken it.

Strangely enough, her father seemed to calm down once he'd been hit. He grabbed part of his chiton and used it to stem the flow, all the while glaring at Praxis.

"You and my daughter will never see each other again," he raged. "If I ever see you sniffing around her again, I will tell your stepfather and stepbrother, and you will be exiled for good. That's right, foreigner, I've made a few inquiries of my own. I know why you're in Corinth. And I won't hesitate to tell them what's happened tonight. If you ever want to step foot in Argos again, you will never contact her again."

With those final words, he grabbed Astara by the arm, yanking her from the room. She wouldn't even look at him as she left, only attending to her father's bloody nose.

At that moment, he felt a profound sense of helplessness. Just as he knew it would, their situation had blown up right in front of them, and now he would have to make a choice.

It was either Astara... or Argos.