Read Online Spartan by Valerio Massimo Manfredi - Free Book Online Page B

knocking him senseless. Talos immediately returned to his guard, gripping his staff in both hands.
    An astonished silence fell among the group. The boy they called Brithos, their leader apparently, turned livid with anger. ‘That’s enough!’ he shouted. ‘Duels are for
warriors. Let us squash this miserable louse and get out of here. I’m tired of these games.’
    They rushed upon Talos as a group, veering to avoid the staff that he wielded in the air with deadly precision. Two of the Spartans fell, struck directly on their sternums, twisting in pain and
vomiting. The others were upon him, wildly clubbing him with the shafts of their javelins. Talos struggled furiously, howling like a wild beast, trying in vain to break free as his adversaries
rained down kicks and punches onto his stomach and back. They nailed his shoulders to the ground, and one of the boys drove his knee into Talos’ chest.
    ‘Move over!’ commanded Brithos. The other boys scrambled aside, panting heavily. Brithos raised his javelin to deliver the mortal blow. Talos, shaken by tremors, stared up at him,
his swollen eyes full of tears. Brithos faltered, and in that moment Antinea, who had been paralysed with terror, threw herself with a cry onto Talos’ body, covering it with her own. Brithos,
furious in his rage, stood a moment as if transfixed. He stared stupidly at the girl’s back, which was shaking with sobs. Slowly, the youth lowered the javelin.
    ‘Pick up those idiots,’ he said to the other boys, pointing to his two battered companions still on the ground, ‘and let’s get out of here.’
    The boys reached their horses and took off towards Sparta. Brithos was thinking of that gaze that had caused him to falter. These eyes . . . he’d seen them before, staring at him, but he
didn’t remember where, or when. He remembered, without knowing why.
    *
    It seemed to Talos that he was waking from a deep sleep. Sluggish limbs were racked with piercing cramps. A sweet, warm touch, the throbbing body of Antinea, awakened life in
his shivering skin. Slowly, his swollen eyes opened. He saw the girl’s face soiled with his own blood, lined with tears, as Antinea caressed him, quietly sobbing. Her small rough hands moved
through his matted hair.
    ‘Talos, you’re alive,’ she managed to say, as if she couldn’t believe her own words.
    ‘Looks like it,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘But I don’t know for how much longer. They massacred me, those bastards.’
    Antinea ran to the stream, and soaked a corner of her chiton in the cool water. She crouched next to Talos and wiped his disfigured face, his tumid mouth and eyes.
    ‘Can you stand up,’ she begged, ‘or should I call my father?’
    ‘No, don’t,’ he answered. ‘I’m all bruised, but I think I’m still in one piece. Help me, that’s good. Hand me my staff.’
    The girl gave him the staff and Talos used it to brace himself. His left arm around Antinea’s shoulders, he lifted himself to his feet, painfully stretching his limbs. They started out
slowly, stopping often to rest, and reached Pelias’ farm when the sun was still high. Alerted by the barking of his dog, Antinea’s father stepped out into the courtyard. Shaken by the
scene before his eyes, he ran towards them.
    ‘In the name of the gods, what has happened?’ cried the old man. ‘What have they done to you?’
    ‘Father, help me, quickly,’ gasped the girl, weeping. ‘Talos defended me from some Spartan boys. It’s a miracle he’s alive.’
    They laid him out on a bed, covering him with a woollen blanket. The violent fever brought on by the ferocious beating racked his trembling body with convulsions.
    ‘Please,’ he begged in a feeble voice, ‘don’t let my family know about this. It would kill them.’
    ‘Stay calm, my boy,’ Pelias reassured him. ‘I’ll send word that you’ll be staying with us for a few days to help me prepare the feast and gather the hay. As soon as
you’re