The Argive Ch. 096-100

And why did her heart start beating faster at the mere mention of his name?

"I thought you might say that," said Nikandros with a laugh. "Anyway, I'm hungry from all this time on the road. Have your people feed me at once."

Like the good lapdog, Xanthos took care of it. Astara was still watching food enter the hall for Nikandros when one of the servants found her.

"My queen, your mother requests your presence immediately," said the servant, keeping her head bowed. The servant said it just loud enough for Xanthos to hear, and he waved her off without so much as a glance in her direction.

"Is something wrong?" asked Astara. "She usually doesn't send for me like this unless something is happening."

"I don't know, my queen, but she looked distressed. Something is bothering her but what it is, I don't know."

Now Astara was truly troubled and she picked up her pace as she got closer to her personal quarters. What could possibly go wrong now? Hadn't her family suffered enough?

Once she entered the room, she found her mother pacing in circles. The older woman stopped once she heard Astara and turned to face her.

Astara had never seen that look on her mother's face before.

It was a look of total agony and despair.

*****

Later that evening, Xanthos was catching up on some items that had been neglected once he heard Nikandros was on his way to the city. Like a good puppet king, he'd sat with Nikandros while he ate, taking his fill from his ample supplies of food that was stored on the palace grounds. But when Nikandros turned in early because of his travels, Xanthos took the opportunity to revisit some items that needed his attention.

And that first item was a business meeting with his next father-in-law.

Barates was a man of many means, and his influence was keenly felt in the entire city. Xanthos' father, Damian, had always disliked Barates, thinking that he and his family were nothing more than cruel opportunists, only wealthy because they liked to take advantage of the misfortune of others.

That didn't bother Xanthos one bit. The only thing he valued was power, and in such a world, there were only the haves and the have-nots. Barates was clearly a have, and he was someone that would only strengthen his hold on Argos.

Barates also had a young daughter that had only recently turned eighteen. Berenike was a very attractive woman, and most importantly, her father didn't already have a marriage lined up for her.

That is, until she came to Xanthos' attention.

It only took twenty minutes for the two men to iron out the details, and now Berenike was his newest fiance. To make matters even better, she was hotter than his frigid wife, Astara, and her family was much more influential.

Xanthos considered that a true win-win acquisition and now he was going to do something for his future father-in-law to permanently cement him to his side.

Barates entered the room moments later, flanked by a tall man that was just walking a step behind. The tall man was terrifying to look at, and Xanthos suspected he was some kind of barbarian from the north. Perhaps he was a Thracian with that wild hair of his but there was no doubt that this man was Barates' personal bodyguard. That and the fact that the barbarian almost always had dried blood on his chiton, evidence of conflict resolution with Barates' past dealings.

"My king, Xanthos," said Barates, bowing his head slightly. "So great to see you this evening."

"Even better to see you," replied Xanthos. "How is your daughter?"

Barates grinned. "She is very eager to get married. She's very much looking forward to becoming your wife."

"As I am to have her," replied Xanthos. "It will be nice to have a second wife who knows how to treat her husband."

"I can assure you that my daughter will make you a very happy man."

"Indeed," said Xanthos. "You're probably wondering why I called you here so late tonight?"

"I am but I relished the chance to visit with my new son-in-law," said Barates, his tone dripping with embellishment.

"Not new yet," corrected Xanthos. "But I have a gift for you. A worthy gift for a man that is giving me his only daughter."

Now Barates was interested. He took a step closer and looked at Xanthos with appraising eyes.

"What kind of gift do you have for me?"

"Some newly-acquired farmland," answered Xanthos innocently. "Some of the best in the Argolis. Two plots to the north of the city and one giant swathe of land that hugs a good chunk of the eastern side of the Argolic Gulf. Nearly four hundred acres of prime land, and now it's yours."

"The eastern side of the Argolic Gulf?" repeated Barates as he started to tap his chin. "That can't be right. I know who owns the land on that side and if my memory serves, you're married to his daughter."

Xanthos grinned wickedly. "That's theformer owner. And don't worry, he won't be protesting you taking over that land."

"Why is that?"

"Because I just had him killed this afternoon."

Chapter 100: Rubicon

Astara couldn't stop sobbing.

No matter what she did, the tears just kept flowing. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes stung with the tears but it was only a fraction of the pain she was feeling at that moment.

The worst part was that she didn't know if it was over yet.

"Come on, Delia," she urged. "Pack quickly! We need to get out of the city!"

Her younger sister picked up the pace, gathering her clothing and other personal items for transport. Just outside their quarters, her father's wagon was being readied for departure.

The saddest part about it was that he would never see it again.

Astara felt more tears descend down her cheeks. Even just thinking about what happened threatened to send her over the edge, but she needed to keep her composure for now. There would be a time for mourning later.

Hopefully.

"Mother! We need to go!" she shouted to the grief-stricken matriarch of the family. She was still wearing the same bloodstained clothes from early, stained with the blood of her husband and her oldest son.

Both of them had been cut down by Xanthos' men because they wouldn't give up the farmland that had been in their family for several generations.

"Just go without me," said her mother absentmindedly, waving her hand. "I don't care whether I live or die at this point."

Astara wanted to shake her, even though she shared her sentiments. She put both hands on her mother's helpless shoulders. "We might be next if we don't move. Come on, I will help you to the wagon. Nico!" she called, getting the attention of her younger brother. "Are you ready to go?"

"All ready," said the young man, who had been forced to grow a decade in the course of a few hours. "Everything is packed."

"If the gods look out for us, we'll be able to get out of the city without Xanthos sending someone to kill us," muttered Astara. "Quickly, let's go!"

What was left of the family slipped out of the palace and made the way to their loaded wagon. It was a poor representation of what their family had become, as the wagon was full of the only possessions they had left in the world. Astara was the one to guide the mules, setting off a course down to the Aspida Hill and then out to the main gate.

The entire family held their breath as they approached the Spartan-guarded gate. Even Nico wrapped his hands around a small dagger, no doubt ready to protect them in case the worst happened.

Astara prayed that would never come to be. If the Spartans wanted it, they could easily see them turned back around to the palace.

But did Xanthos want it? Did he want to kill off the rest of them?

To her great relief, the Spartans allowed them to pass without so much as a cursory glance. Astara didn't draw a breath again until they were safely outside the city walls, in the darkness of the night.

The ironic thing was that they were probably safer out here in the dark than they were in Argos.

"Where are we going?" asked Delia finally, once the city disappeared into the distance. "We have no one and nowhere to go. What will become of us?"

Astara expected her mother to answer that question but she was just as surprised as the rest of them to find the older matriarch looking at her, expecting an answer. At that moment, Astara said the first destination that came to mind.

"We're going west," she announced to the family. "We're going to Messenia."

*****

"That stupid bitch is getting away!"

Xanthos hardly needed to ask just who Melitta was referring to when she stormed into his study that evening. It had been about an hour since his meeting with Barates, and he knew it wasn't going to take long for his second wife to find out about her precious father and brother.

"What is your point, Melitta?" asked Xanthos, not even looking up at her.

Melitta planted both hands on the table in front of him. "The guards at the west gate just sent word! That little bitch and what's left of her family just passed the gate. Do you want me to send word to go after them? We can still catch her!"

Xanthos scoffed. "Why catch her? Let her go."

"But she is your wife!" retorted Melitta. "She can't just leave!"

"And I just killed her father and her brother," snapped Xanthos, finally looking up at Melitta. "I can't say I blame her for leaving. Would you come back?"

Melitta stiffened momentarily, and he realized that she took that question quite literally.

"It's a figure of speech, Melitta," added Xanthos dryly. "Your family is fine."

The tension left her body but she wasn't without questions.

"You knew this would happen, didn't you? You knew she would run."

"I hoped she would," replied Xanthos. "It rids me of an embarrassment. I can't have a wife that doesn't act like one, and I can't exactly kill her. This was the next best course to get her out of the city. Tomorrow, the people will be told that her father and brother died defending their farm from bandits. They will accept that version of events because they have no other choice. Besides, bandit raids are becoming all the more common these days. My hands remain bloodless and my troubled second wife is now gone. What's even more, I can reallocate those farms to my new father-in-law. Isn't that quite the bountiful harvest?"

Melitta looked so shocked by that statement that she sat down. Her mouth fell open as she stared at him.

"Why are you so surprised?" he asked. "It was your idea to get rid of the bitch."

"I just didn't think you'd go to this length to do it," she whispered. "I thought I was the cruel one here."

Xanthos gave her a knowing look. "Perhaps you'd do well to remember my parents."

"I suppose you're right. I won't underestimate you again, Xanthos."

He gave her a wry grin. "I would hope not, Melitta."

*****

The sun was just starting to go down when Praxis made his way outside the city gate of Messenia. Traffic through the gate was already starting to slow down, with fewer people leaving the city at this time of night. It made it easy for Praxis to wait for the king, but it also gave him too much time to think.

Of course, his mind had been stewing ever since finding out Nicomedes wanted to talk to him that evening. What was more, he wanted to do it outside the city, which had Praxis utterly clueless about the reason. What did Nicomedes want to show him?

And at the end of the night, would his suspicions be confirmed? Was Nicomedes who he thought he was?

Praxis was pulled back to reality when he saw the king exit out the gate. Nicomedes quickly nodded in his direction.

"Right on time like usual," said the king with a grin.

"And most curious about what we're doing," said Praxis. "Especially at this time of night."

"That was necessary," replied Nicomedes. "I didn't want any prying eyes around. Come on, follow me this way. What I want to show you is no more than a mile down the road."

"A mile?" asked Praxis. "What is this thing?"

Nicomedes shook his head. "You have to see it. Come with me."

The king set a brisk pace as they pushed down the western road, moving past the city and winding through small farms that dotted each side for miles out. The pace that Nicomedes set meant there wasn't much in the way of talking as they traveled, which was about as frustrating for Praxis as it could get.

He wanted to know more. He wanted answers.

It didn't take them long before reaching their destination. Which, by all appearances, was just another empty field.

"What is this, Nicomedes?" asked Praxis. "There's nothing here."

"No, no, there isn't," he replied. "Not anymore at least. There used to be an old farmhouse on this property long ago but it burned down about ten years ago and I never thought to have it rebuilt. You see, this property used to belong to my family. If you look closely, you can still see where the house was once situated."

Nicomedes gestured to a part of the field that wasn't as overgrown as the others. It was here that Praxis could see more debris than anywhere else--evidence of burnt timbers and stonework that had once dotted the structure.

"I still remember the day of the fire," said Nicomedes. "No one had been living here for quite sometime, which was a blessing in itself. I don't know how the fire started but by the time I got here, the house was gone. There were so many memories tied to this house. I know my father was born here, as was I. It's an important landmark to my bloodline."

"Does Phaedra know about it?" asked Praxis.

Nicomedes nodded. "She does, although I think she's too young to appreciate it. It's not until you get older that you want to ask those vital questions--those that concern your ancestry. The same questions that you have already asked me."

Praxis gave the king a knowing look, but Nicomedes was already moving on. Praxis followed him to the other side of the ruined house. This side contained a few olive trees and a small "yard" for the house, but there was also something foreign as well. Nicomedes stopped in front of a large stone, which was carved with numerous names in a list that started from the top.

"These are the names of my ancestors," replied Nicomedes. "This is as close to a family crypt as I'm ever going to get. My parents and my grandparents are on this rock. One of the last things they did was write my name on here as well."

Praxis studied the rock for several moments, looking through the names but as he reached the bottom, he realized he still hadn't seen Nicomedes' name.

However, there was one name he did see. And it made his heart beat faster.

"You've been asking me about the event that happened in my life, the one that I regard as too shameful to mention," whispered Nicomedes. "It's something that I've thought about everyday for eighteen years now. My act of great cowardice. At one point in my life, I left my family. I left my wife and my young son, abandoning them to fate. I'm saddened to say that I never looked back after I was gone."

At that point, Nicomedes turned to face Praxis. There were tears in his eyes.

He wasn't the only one having a hard time with words. There was a lump in Praxis' throat the size of an apple.

"You're him, aren't you?" asked Praxis, pointing to the last name written on the stone. "Your name was Evander at one point?"

Nicomedes looked up at the sky for a moment before settling his gaze on him. "That's right, Praxis. I was born as Evander. And that makes you my son."