Praxis could barely believe what he just heard.
The older man standing in front of him was none other than Telestes, the man in power who’d abused his office so much that Cypselus had to remove him.
Telestes was wearing a very clean, white chiton as well as footwear that was more expensive than what the common person could afford. He looked very much like the kind of elite that would rule an entire city, and his time out of power had done little to humble his ambitions.
And just what was he doing in the house of the Spartan commander, Dion?
“You have a lot of nerve being in Corinth,” said Agemon as he circled to the other side of Telestes, his sword still drawn. “You know that Cypselus banished you. You were never to come back to Corinth again.”
Telestes shrugged his shoulders. “I agreed to his terms only to save my life. Otherwise, he never would have permitted me to leave the city alive. But if you honestly think that I was just going to walk away and let that man steal my city, you have even less brains than I thought.”
“So what was your plan?” asked Praxis as he gestured to Dion, still breathing on the floor. “How did Dion factor into this?”
Telestes looked from Praxis to Agemon. “Who is this man? I don’t recognize him.”
“He is Praxis of Argos,” informed Agemon. “One of the greatest warriors in all of Greece!”
Telestes started to nod his head in acknowledgment. “I know that name. You’re one of Damian’s boys, aren’t you? Not his natural son but close enough. You’re quite the fighter, Praxis.”
Praxis scoffed. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“No, you’re right. I didn’t. And seeing as there’s no way to prevent either of you from taking me back to Cypselus right now, I suppose I can tell you my plan,” said Telestes as he picked a wooden chair off the floor (which had toppled in the fight) and sat down.
“You are completely right,” continued Telestes. “I did intend to retake my place here in Corinth. You see, I never liked Cypselus, even before he overthrew me. You knew he was one of my prefects when I was still king, didn’t you? In any event, Cypselus always acted like he was too good to do the dirty work that needed to be done. At least I see he’s gotten over that, or you two wouldn’t be here. And I planned to use my Spartan friend here to do my own dirty work.”
“Telestes,” warned Dion, pushing up on his elbows. “Remember our deal.”
“I remember it just fine,” quipped Telestes. “The jig is up. We’re both captured. The way I see it, we can either tell them what happened freely or Cypselus will find someone to torture it out of us. I didn’t come all this way in life just to end it by having my fingernails pulled out.”
Telestes then took a deep breath. “Right, where was I? Oh, yes. I planned to use the Spartans here to put a little unrest back into Corinth. When the people saw that Cypselus couldn’t protect the city, they would demand that I be restored to power. Once I was restored, the Spartans would know that they had a loyal ally for life. Everyone gets what they want.”
“Not quite everyone,” said Praxis. “What about the girl that he raped and killed? What about the other people that have had their lives interrupted by the Spartans? You would kill off your own people just to get back into power.”
Telestes shrugged. “Such is the nature of power, my young friend. Someday, you’ll understand that to wield power, you often have to do unsavory things to keep it.”
“Cypselus was right to overthrow you,” replied Praxis. “And Corinth will be a better place without you here. Especially now that your plot has been discovered.”
“Now the only question is what do we do with them?” asked Agemon as he walked forward, brandishing his sword at Telestes menacingly. “We can kill both of them right now and be done with this.”
Praxis quickly moved between Agemon and Telestes. “No, we can’t kill them. Remember the plan? Dion can’t be killed with a sword, or any violent way that might rile up the rest of the garrison. Besides, Cypselus wanted to question him.” Praxis then turned his attention to Telestes. “And I’m sure he wouldn’t mind questioning this one too.”
Telestes eyes gleamed with a dangerous look. “Cypselus certainly played his hand well with this operation, no? I don’t suppose there would be any money you two would take to let me go, would there?”
Praxis grabbed the piece of rope he kept wrapped around his belt. Yanking it free, he tossed it to Agemon. “Nothing you could offer me would set you free. Agemon, bind his hands. I’ll do the same with Dion.”
The two warriors worked quickly to bind up their respective catches before Agemon brought up a good point.
“What about him?” he asked, gesturing to the Spartan that was already dead. “Wouldn’t his death stir up an uproar as well? What do we do with his body?”
Praxis thought for a moment before moving to the door. He took a quick glance out into the night and found what he was looking for.
“I have an idea,” he announced.
*****
Merely twenty minutes later, all four of them were moving closer to the secret house of Cypselus. Praxis was leading the way, with Dion moving right next to him. Just behind them was a small cart that was being used to carry the dead Spartan’s body. Behind the cart was Agemon and Telestes taking up the rear.
Both Dion and Telestes had their faces covered as well as gags put into their mouths to stop them from yelling out into the night.
However, Telestes kept spitting his out and trying to reason with Praxis.
“You know I have a house in Megara,” said Telestes, causing Praxis to sigh. “It could be your house if you wished it. I have enough money stored elsewhere that I can easily start over again.”
“If that’s the case, then why did you come back to Corinth?” asked Praxis. “Why not start over again in Athens or Thebes?”
“You know the pull that one’s own homeland has on your soul,” said Telestes. “It would be the same as someone telling you to never go back to Argos. You wouldn’t be able to resist. Why would you? It’s your home. Corinth is the same for me. It is my home. I had to come back.”
“You could have ten houses in Megara and ten houses in Athens,” said Praxis, shaking his head. “Either way, you’ll get nothing from me. You can’t bribe me.”
“What about women?” asked Telestes, causing Praxis to look at him. “How about any woman you want? I have three of them living with me, young and supple. You might even want to see my niece. She’s barely a woman if that’s the kind of thing you like.”
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“I don’t,” said Praxis laconically. “Like I said already, you have nothing to offer me. Now you’ll either put that gag back in or we’ll see how easy it is to talk to Cypselus when you’re missing your tongue.”
Telestes’ eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t!”
“Try me,” said Praxis, giving him a glare. “The gag. Now!”
Telestes put it back in his mouth reluctantly but then he spit it back out again. “I have to piss first. Will you free my hands so that I can piss before we start moving?”
“You don’t need your hands to piss,” said Praxis, shaking his head.
“But I’ll get urine all over my chiton!”
“Not my problem. Make do with what you have.”
Telestes let out a whimper as he moved to a corner of the street. It was still quiet out, with barely anyone out at this time of night. As Telestes stopped to finally go, Praxis gestured to Agemon to watch him just in case.
“Uh, I think you two ought to see this,” said Telestes as he stood in the corner pissing.
“Hurry up, damnit!” growled Agemon. “No one wants to see your cock!”
“No, it’s not that,” said Telestes. “Quick, come here!”
Agemon ended up walking directly into a trap. As he got closer, Telestes had somehow managed to free his hands. In the blink of an eye, he placed both his fists together and swing it upward directly into the jaw of Agemon, taking him by surprise. The big Corinthian fell to his knees, never seeing the blow coming.
In the interim, Telestes spun around, producing a knife in his free hand.
“Horn of Hades, where did you get that knife?” growled Praxis as he unsheathed his sword.
“I picked it up while we were having our chat just now,” said Telestes, waving it about. “You really ought to tell Agemon to do a better job binding hands. It only took me a few minutes to work my wrists out of it and here I am.”
“It won’t be for long,” said Praxis, advancing on the older man.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” warned Telestes.
At the next moment, the older man moved with a speed uncommon for his age. He leapt across the side of the cart, using his arms to carry momentum to his legs and landing a kick directly against Praxis’ chest.
The blow threw him off balance temporarily but it wasn’t enough to end the fight. And yet, it was as Praxis resumed his stance that Telestes did the most cunning thing yet.
He took his knife and tossed it behind Praxis.
It sailed through the air, landing in the open (but still tied) hands of Dion right behind Praxis.
Dion took a moment to grip the knife but managed to turn the blade so that it was facing upward.
And then he slammed it into his chest repeatedly.
“Hera’s fiery ass!” swore Praxis as he watched the Spartan attempt to kill himself. “Agemon, a little help here!”
Praxis rushed over to Dion as the Spartan fell to his knees, and he managed to wrangle the knife from his hands but the damage was already done. Dion was fading quickly, not long for this world.
As if things couldn’t get worse, Agemon was nowhere in sight. Neither for that matter was Telestes. It was only Praxis and the dying Spartan, who was now coughing up blood.
“How quickly the tables have turned,” scoffed Dion as he clutched his chest. “Now all of Sparta will know that Corinth is her enemy. War will be coming. Spartan arms will triumph as they always do.”
Dion offered a salute at that moment, extending his arm to the sky. It was the last thing he did. As his own blood oozed from the wound, the Spartan commander let out one last breath before passing over to the underworld.
“Great, just great,” grunted Praxis, looking at his body. “His death now royally fucks things up.”
Praxis grabbed the man’s body and placed it on the cart before he could be seen by anyone. In doing so, he covered him with the blanket that held the body of the other dead Spartan.
From a short distance away, he heard the sounds of footsteps. Suddenly Agemon appeared and he was completely out of breath.
“Telestes ran for it,” said Agemon, stopping to take several breaths. “I couldn’t catch him. He’s still running on the road to Megara.”
Praxis could barely contain his rage. “Horn of Hades!” he swore, slamming his fist down on the cart.
How did this mission go so wrong?