Legacy of Blood Read Free Page B

sudden hush descended.
    Idas stood at the door of the hall, his gaze darting from face to face as he stood before the gathered soldiers. Lysander couldn’t help but notice that one of his Helot’s knees was quivering.
    â€˜I … I …’
    â€˜Come on, boy,’ said Phalerius. ‘It’ll be night by the time you get your words out.’
    Lysander saw a flash of contempt pass over his servant’s face.
What’s he playing at?
Lysander thought. These men would flog him to death him in an instant.
    â€˜He’s my servant,’ Lysander called, scrambling to his feet. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
    He marched Idas to the door, beyond the gaze of the Spartan soldiers.
    â€˜I was told to come and find you.’
    â€˜What is it?’ asked Lysander, shaking Idas by the arm.
    â€˜A messenger from the mistress Kassandra’s villa. You are wanted there straight away.’
    â€˜Does she know that I’m here?’ said Lysander, feeling a flash of annoyance.
    â€˜No, sir,’ said Idas. ‘Her messenger came to the barracks to find you. He said it was urgent.’
    â€˜Very well. Now go back to the barracks, before the soldiers in there decide to have sport with you.’
    Lysander watched Idas leave, then went back into the dining hall, where Demaratos was leaning back, some sort of brown sauce dripping down his chin.
    â€˜I’ve been called away,’ he said, loudly enough that Peleus could hear.
    â€˜Where are you going?’ demanded the Spartan.
    â€˜To my cousin’s villa,’ he said. ‘If I may be excused.’
    Peleus stood up and spoke quietly. ‘May you be excused?’ He looked up and down the rows, then pointed to Lysander. ‘We invite you to our barracks, you accept our hospitality, then you ask to leave.’ His voice had risen to a roar. ‘Have we offended you, Spartan?’
    Demaratos’s face was white.
    â€˜No, of course not,’ said Lysander. ‘My cousin … she said it was urgent.’
    The table was silent, and Peleus glowered at Lysander, then drew a knife from his belt. Lysander swallowed.
    Peleus’ mouth broke into a smile, and with the knife he carved a leg off the goat carcass that lay on a platter in front of him. He threw it to Lysander.
    â€˜At least enjoy some of the food.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ said Lysander, catching it clumsily. He turned and left to the howls of laughter from behind.
    Lysander set off in a jog back towards the village, limping from a wound to the back of his leg. He had been with Kassandra only the day before. Was something wrong?
    He retraced his path as far as the turning to Amikles. The temporary stalls that normally lined the road were all vacant, and he passed a few more Helots, mostly scavenging for food among the ruins of yesterday’s feasting – fighting for scraps with the dogs that roamed the streets.
    Lysander saw a Helot coming towards him with a large water jug. He was moving quickly, Lysander thought, as though the jug weighed almost nothing.
    Wait a moment – he recognised that face. Wasn’t it the same slave he’d seen earlier, watching him with Demaratos? Perhaps it was just a coincidence. As they drew level, the Helot tripped, and the jug smashed on the ground. Lysander bent down to help.
    â€˜Are you hurt?’
    A curved blade, single-edged, was pressed into Lysander’s tunic under his ribs. Another hand gripped the back of his neck.
    â€˜One move and I’ll spill your guts over the road. Understand?’

Chapter 2
    â€˜I understand.’
    â€˜Good, answered like a true Helot. Now we’re going to take the alley you see on your left. Go.’
    Together, they made their way off the main track and into a shady side street. Lysander’s mind was reeling. This was no ordinary Helot. The hand that gripped him was strong and assured.
    Lysander felt a blow to the back of his calf and fell