Infinite Sacrifice (13 page)

I tell Ophira all about the night
as she’s weaving in the bright light of the morning sun. She says,
“Maybe I should head down to Nereus’s farm and see what he has
there for me!”

I grin. “It just might be worth
your while.”

“When are you going to see him
again?”

“As soon as I possibly
can.”

Laughter rings again through our
empty house.

Over the next three weeks, I meet
Demetrius every night. His last night, I fight back useless tears
since I know he’s leaving and I will never see him again. Spartans
are never supposed to have such silly attachments
anyway.

Lying next to me under the thick,
woolen blanket under cool, fall stars, he reaches out to pluck one
of the last hardy wildflowers left in the fading field. “These
wildflowers are so beautiful and appear so fragile, but see how
well they survive the frosts and keep coming up with the sunshine.”
He tucks it into my hair with a steady, warm hand.

I brush a weak tear away quickly as
he pulls his coarse tunic over his head before turns back to
me.

In his most cheerful voice, he
tries, “Look on the bright side—if you aren’t with child, you’ll
get to hand-pick another fine helot.”

I hit his arm, angry he would joke
about such things.

He stands up and brushes himself
off. “It was the happiest three weeks I’ve ever had.” He kisses my
forehead. “Either I’ll die happy or I’ll come back to claim
you.”

He removes the worn dog-skin hat
and crowns my head with it, then, with a sad smile and glistening
eyes, he turns and walks out of my life.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Three weeks later, I’m getting
sick, ecstatic I’m going to have a child. The sadness of Theodon
and Demetrius disappears to be replaced by new hopeful thoughts.
Theodon comes back at this time and gives a weak, “Congratulations”
when Ophira tells him of my news. It’s great to have him back, but
he’s different—unhappy and distant. Before he leaves, he tells us
he won’t be coming back for months, since it’s a dangerous time to
travel with krypteia coming. Ophira hugs him, and he leaves on his
horse.

Two weeks later, Nereus is banging
on our door. We run out to see Arcen, bloodied and bruised in the
back of Nereus’s cart.

Nereus steps off the cart and wipes
his brow. “That old friend of mine in agoge brought him to me. Said
he found him by the road like this and thought we should take care
of him before the agoge boys got to him.” Nereus gives me a serious
look. “For him to lose like this is a disgrace punishable by death
or exile.”

“Please thank your friend for
me.”

Ophira and I carry him in while
Nereus ties up the horse. Ophira gathers everything we’ll need to
try to fix him and lays him down on his old mattress. He’s gotten
so much taller since the last time we’d seen him, but his growth
has stretched his already frail flesh thinner. We do what we can
and go to bed. It takes two days before he can speak to
us.

As we’re feeding him chicken broth,
he tells us what happened. “I was sent out for krypteia with
nothing but my cloak. I had to steal everything I needed or find it
in the wilderness. I was alone, with no one else to help
me.”

I turn my eyes away as he breaks
down in sniveling tears.

Ophira hands him a piece of cloth
to wipe his nose, and he continues, “I couldn’t come back until I
killed a helot. I knew I had to prove myself, knew I could finally
make them respect me. That’s when I saw him—this big, strong helot
walking down the road alone at night. I grabbed a stick, snuck up,
and clubbed him on the back of the head. He fell, and I hurried to
strangle him before others could come to help him. As I was choking
him, I saw it was Theodon.”

Ophira’s hands fly to her mouth and
stomach.

A wave of fear sweeps through me,
and I grab by his scrawny shoulders. “What did you do, Arcen! Tell
me what you did!”

He winces in pain and cries out,
“Of course I stopped! But he went mad, started punching and hitting
me like I’d known it was him! I didn’t even get a chance to explain
to him!”

Ophira starts crying as I put my
hands to my head. “Was he hurt?” I ask.

“Oh, you would care about him
first! I’m your son, but whom are you concerned with? The helot
boy!”

Ophira flees the room as I stand
above him and say in a low tone, “You’re lucky you’re so badly
damaged, son, because if you were not, I would beat you until you
realized how disrespectful you are.”

I walk out, and neither of us
checks on him the rest of the day.

Nereus returns a week later at
night and says he has to sneak Arcen back into Laconia as agoge
reassembles. I go in to fetch Arcen, who still lies in his
bed.

“I’m not going back,” he says, arms
crossed.

I expect this. “You’re going
back.”

“I can’t go back. You don’t even
know the hell I’ve been through since you sent me away. They starve
you. Freeze you. Beat you and have all the other boys beat you! I’m
not like them. I’m not good at this!”

I grab his cloak and whip it at
him. “Arcen, you’re a Spartan. There is no choice for a Spartan!
You can’t learn a trade or be a philosopher. It is not allowed in
Sparta. There is nothing else!” I stand right in front of him.
“Stand up, go back, and finish agoge. Once you get into the army,
it’ll be much easier. They’re hard on you to make you stronger.
You’re almost through. You must finish!”

He grasps his cloak and bunches it
up in idle hands. “If I go back without killing a helot, they will
not pass me.”

“Nonsense. Go back, tell them you
fought, and you don’t know if the slave was killed since two helots
came to his defense and took him away.”

A smile breaks across his face like
it just might work. I feel so disgusted he’s mine.

“Now come. Nereus will take you
back under the cover of darkness, and please, whatever you do, stay
away from Theodon! Don’t fight anyone! Focus on feeding
yourself.”

I stick a whole loaf of bread under
his arm. I kiss him, and he’s gone.

Chapter 8

It’s months before we hear from
anyone again. Nereus stops by one evening and with a big smile.
“You will be happy to know Arcen graduated agoge today.”

Ophira lets out a little scream,
hugs me, and I sicken at the thought I should be so relieved my son
didn’t run back home.

Nereus continues, “They wasted no
time in sending them out as reinforcements to Leander’s
army.”

Thinking of Leander seeing Arcen in
action makes me wring my hands. Regardless, we had a celebratory
feast that night with wine, listened to Nereus’s stories, and
enjoyed every word and peal of laughter. I start in labor on a
summer day. I ask Ophira to help me outside and up to the cliff
since I had my heart set on the baby being born up there among
Demetrius’s wildflowers. This time we don’t worry if we shall call
anyone because Leander is away and this baby won’t be examined
since it’s a mothax. I labor more quickly this time, and when it’s
time to push, I look out over the cliffs and hope this baby will be
blessed. Ophira holds her up for me to see; she’s thick and strong.
She has a full head of strawberry-blonde hair, pomegranate-red
lips, and a peculiar mark above her right knee, but it only endears
her to me more. I name her Kali and having her to take care of
fills our days. She makes every day wonderful. She walks early and
is running before her birthday comes around again. Theodon comes a
few times to see her and is slow in giving her attention at first,
but soon realizes she’s irresistible. Theodon visits one day,
especially to spend time with her, and is here when we see a few
carts and horses coming up our road.

I scream inside.

Leander, dressed in full armor, is
on his way back. Legs hang off the back of his cart. I rush down
the hill to them so fast it’s hard to stop. There is Arcen, lying
upon his embossed shield, dead. I start crying; Ophira catches up
and holds me.

Leander gets off and nods to me.
“Don’t waste your tears. He died a coward.”

With that, he rolls Arcen over to
show five broken arrows in his back.

He was shot while running
away.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

This is great shame to a family.
Leander and I will be disgraced and Kali might not even be able to
marry now. There’s nothing so vile as a coward in Sparta; a leper’s
more welcome at a ceremony. To be the mother of a coward is like
death. Ophira pulls me up the hill and I can see Leander up ahead
hesitating at Theodon.

He shouts down to me, grabbing
Theodon’s thick shoulder. “You see this! This is what a real son
looks like! This is something a man like me should have! I would’ve
been better off breeding with this helot!” He points despairingly
toward Ophira.

I can’t take it
anymore and burst out, “No need for that! Theodon
is
yours! He’s both of
ours! He was born Arcen’s twin! He came from my womb! I nursed him
for a year!”

Leander looks shocked at first and
then amused. “Is this true, Ophira, or is she losing her
mind?”

Ophira lets go of me in anger,
turns to me, and says, “Of course she’s losing her mind. What else
will jealousy and a cowardly dead son do?”

I look at Theodon, who seems so
utterly confused. Ophira goes up to him and whispers something in
his ear, rubs his shoulder, and takes him to his horse. I can’t
believe Ophira took this from me. Leander walks up to Kali, who is
tottering around sweetly, mindless of what’s occurring in front of
her.

He shouts, “And once this mothax
turns ten, we’re sending her away!”

His angry voice now scares her, and
she comes running to me. I hold her tight as I cry in her hair and
watch Arcen’s dead body lie still.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Other than commands and nods,
Ophira and I stop talking. Though she still works for me, it’s
amazing how little we have to communicate. I understand why she had
to deny my confession for both our sakes, but we still cannot
repair the disconnect I caused. I find out through Nereus that
Theodon has finally joined the Citizens’ Army. Nereus says he’s
already winning great acclaim and respect. All Ophira and I have is
Kali, and we enjoy her separately. She’s torn between us, but it
becomes normal for her. Leander leaves for war again as soon as
Arcen is buried: not in a hero’s grave, but a regular civilian’s
grave, given his cowardice.

A few months later, Nereus is found
dead in his sleep by one of his household helots. We place him in
his boat and send him adrift with his sails flying—to finally float
indefinitely. I keep the knife he gave me on me daily, still
wrapped in my sandal straps in memory of him. His household is
passed down to me, his only surviving relative. I now am in charge
of three households, an almost unheard of feat.

We watch Kali grow, and her looks
start to change. Her nose becomes slightly eagle-shaped, and her
lips lose their deep color. Her hair is wispy, and her shape is
long and lanky. I’d hoped her beauty would attract a man who would
overlook her mixed breeding, but now I see her fading. Every week,
I get in my cart and force Kali to come with me to the oracle of
Helen where we pray for Helen to bestow her beauty on her. Each
time, we make our way to the temple on the mountaintop, past the
statues lining the steep path, and climb the stairs to the columned
circle. The air is hard to breathe so high up; I nearly faint when
I bow before the oracle. I hold Kali’s hand as we recite our
prayer, and when she drinks from the temple spring, I notice Ophira
has given Kali her powerful medallion to wear. We do this for a
year, and sure enough, she blossoms once again. Her muscle tone
builds up to give her curves where there were none; her hair turns
a bright strawberry-blonde, flowing thickly over her shoulders, and
her eyes flash unusual amber.

She’s not allowed to go to the
festivals, being a mothax, but every time I go into the city, I
bring her with me to be seen. I see how all of the men and women
notice her. I watch from the house as Ophira teaches her to dance
in the fields below. Kali’s almost as graceful as she is; they look
like two sirens flittering between the bushes and trees. I worry
every day that passes is one day closer to her being sent away. I
pray to Hades to take Leander's life. I think if he never comes
back, no one will know she is still with me. Leander survives, to
my regret. He comes home again up the dirt road on his warhorse. He
aged, though, much older than my forty-five years. War took a toll
on him, and he’s walking stiffer and slower for it.