Birth of a Warrior Read Free

cheeks. How had it come to this? Half a year before they were boys working in the fields, looking after each other. Now his best friend was being terrorised and there was nothing Lysander could do.
    The man beside Timeon thrust an open-handed blow into his midriff and Timeon doubled over, steadying himself with his hands on the wooden bar, and choking for breath. Two of the Krypteia bound his hands to the post.
    â€˜Prepare the others!’ shouted Diokles. As the order was passed down the streets, Lysander saw men being tied to doorposts or lintels. The Spartans standing over Hector pulled him by his arms, his thin knees dragging in the dirt. Timeon’s uncle was lashed to the rim of an upright barrel. The soldiers were readying canes and whips. Revenge was being taken at last. This was payback for the rebellion of two months before. The truth hit Lysander like one of Zeus’s thunderbolts: this was all his doing. He had been the one who persuaded the Helots to go back to their homes that night. He had told them they would not be harmed.
No, wait
, hethought,
my grandfather guaranteed their safety as well. He wouldn’t let this happen.
    â€˜You have to stop this,’ he said to Diokles. ‘Sarpedon promised the Helots that there would be no retribution for their uprising.’
    â€˜The old Ephor said what he needed to so that his throat would not be cut,’ shot back Diokles. The tutor took a polished horn from his belt, and brought it to his lips. He looked at Lysander. ‘Helots don’t dictate the rules to Spartans. We command them, and now it’s time to show them that we are still their masters.’ He blew a signal. A Spartan brought his rod down across Hector’s back. He wailed as he fell to his knees. Another crack sounded further down the street. Moans of pain and cries of anguish swelled to fill the night air. Lysander didn’t need to see each blow to realise what was happening. The whole settlement was being punished.
    One of the Krypteia held out a whip to Lysander.
    â€˜Take it!’ ordered Diokles.
    Lysander looked at the instrument of punishment.
    Timeon was shivering with fear now, his eyes shifting from Diokles to Lysander. Diokles snatched the whip and thrust it into Lysander’s hand.
    The tightly-bound leather weighed heavy in his hand. Lysander knew all too well the damage it could do. He was no stranger to the bite of a whip against his own back. There were knots tied along the length of the leather, designed to tear open skin.
    â€˜He’s my friend. I can’t do it.’
    Diokles seized the back of Lysander’s neck and pushed his face towards the water trough. He spat into the water beside Lysander.
    â€˜Your friend? He’s a Helot. You’re a Spartan. He’s not your friend. He’s your property.’ Timeon’s face was reflected in the still water. ‘I knew you were trouble from the start. Let’s see what your precious pendant can do for you now, shall we?’
    Lysander was trapped. For a moment his eyes caught Timeon’s glance in the trough water. What could he do?
    Timeon gazed at Lysander. Then he gave a small nod.
    He’s giving me permission
, thought Lysander. It felt as though his heart would break. He couldn’t believe that his friend had to go through this humiliation in order to save Lysander. Anger surged through him and he threw down the whip at Diokles’ feet.
    â€˜I won’t do it!’ he shouted. ‘Punish me, instead.’
    The tutor’s eye widened, but then he grinned. He stooped and picked up the whip. He nodded in the direction of the huts, where Lysander could still hear the regular crack of whips and the groans of pain. Diokles’ eye narrowed to a slit.
    â€˜That won’t end until you do your duty as a Spartan.’
    His duty. So this was it.
    â€˜Whip Timeon and it will stop,’ said Diokles in his ear.
    So I can end this
, thought