by Michael Ford
A howl echoed through the hills. Wolves! Would they attack? A second howl sounded out and Lysander picked up a branch of wood that he could use as a makeshift club. If wild animals did lurk in the darkness, he would be ready for them. He set his back against the trunk and waited. He could hear Demaratos snoring softly, safe among the branches of his tree.
Lysander’s first night in the mountains was going to be a long one.
He hoped he’d survive to see the dawn.
CHAPTER 5
Lysander woke with a shiver. Would his nightmares ever stop? He had dreamt about his mother again last night and the pain in his heart only seemed to get worse each time her face returned in his sleep.
The stars had vanished, masked by grey clouds. The hills rose above him menacingly, shrouded in dark shadows. The bare olive trees looked like twisted skeletons. It was achingly cold. Peering through the darkness, he could make out Demaratos’s huddled form. He was shivering too. Agesilaus was still cradled in the branches of his tree and, from the tilt of his head, appeared fast asleep. Lysander rubbed his arms and legs, trying to encourage some warmth to flow through them. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine his thick cloak wrapped around him. It was no use. The cold had lodged in his bones.
He had to find some warmth soon. Despite the weariness in his limbs, Lysander stood up and circled his arms.
‘What are you doing?’ said Demaratos from where he was huddled.
‘Trying to get warm,’ said Lysander.
‘Well, do it somewhere else,’ said Demaratos. ‘I’m trying to sleep.’
Lysander made his way up the far edge of the hollow, where an ancient tree stump jutted out of the ground. The middle had rotted away, leaving a space just big enough to crouch inside. It was filled with damp leaves and what looked like the decomposed skeleton of a bird. But it was better than nothing and Lysander climbed inside. With his knees up against his chest, only his head and shoulders protruded from the top. It was uncomfortable and smelled fetid, but at least it would shelter most of his body from the wind. His hands and feet were tingling. Lysander rested his head against the bark and closed his eyes.
‘Get up, you two,’ shouted Agesilaus.
Lysander climbed stiffly from his shelter. Dawn light crept into the hollow between the hills, and a thin mist hung in the air. He stretched his arms above his head as Demaratos yawned and sat up. Agesilaus was thirty paces away by a clump of bushes.
‘You two are hopeless,’ he shouted. ‘The birds will have the best berries soon.’
Berries! Lysander ran over, his muscles screaming, to where Agesilaus was picking the fruit. Demaratos stumbled beside him.
‘Get out of my way!’ Demaratos snarled, tearing at the red fruit, and stuffing it into his mouth. Anger coursed through Lysander. He rushed at his enemy, and shoved him to the ground. Lysander reached past him, lunging at another clump of berries.
‘You monster!’ he shouted at Demaratos. Hunger had reduced Lysander to this – to squabbling in the dirt over berries.
Agesilaus came forward and aimed a fierce kick at Lysander’s shoulder, throwing him on top of Demaratos. The two of them sprawled in the dirt.
‘It’s time to go. Gather your things.’
Demaratos stood up, his fingers stained red.
‘Delicious,’ he said, wiping his mouth.
Lysander climbed to his feet. He’d have to be quicker if he was going to survive.
They gathered their sacks and hurried after Agesilaus, who was already picking his way up a small rock face.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Demaratos.
‘We have to get further south,’ said Agesilaus. ‘Deeper into mountain territory. There are more animals to hunt, and rivers too. That’s where the challenge really starts.’
Lysander had only just made it through the first night. Now he was being told things were going to get worse. Can I do this? he thought. What if he failed? He watched the two other boys as they heaved themselves up the rocks. He had no choice; he had to follow. He only hoped he’d survive.
The mist soon burned away and was replaced by bright sunlight. Agesilaus led the way across ridges and into shallow valleys, but the streambeds were all dry. Lysander fought the urge to quench his thirst from his precious supply of water. He saw Agesilaus picking the leaves off plants as they went and sucking them. Lysander did the same. Each droplet of dew on his parched tongue tasted divine. They gradually climbed higher.
As the sun reached its highest point in the sky, they skirted the edge of a small mound. Lysander was feeling light-headed and stumbled and fell.
‘On your feet!’ shouted Agesilaus. Lysander climbed dizzily to his knees. He felt weak through lack of food. Agesilaus walked past him, up the hill. Demaratos followed him, pausing only to spit into the dirt by Lysander’s grazed hands. A movement behind a shrub further down the slope caught Lysander’s eye. Still in a crouch, he crept over. There, beside the bush, he could see the white of a rabbit’s tail.
Up ahead, Demaratos skidded on some loose rocks that clattered down the hill. The rabbit darted away, then paused when it was only twenty paces from Lysander, lifting its nose to sniff the air.
Lysander reached slowly for his sling. The thought of the grilled flesh flooded his mouth with saliva.
‘You’ll never hit it with that,’ came a voice. Lysander looked over his shoulder; Demaratos had made his way back to join him. Lysander could hear the desperation in the other boy’s voice and he could see how closely Demaratos was watching the rabbit. He needs food as much as I do, Lysander reminded himself.
With the sling in one hand, and keeping his eyes on the rabbit, Lysander felt blindly on the ground for a stone. After some scrabbling he found one that fitted perfectly between his index finger and thumb. The rabbit hadn’t moved. Lysander crept forward, holding both ends of the leather strap in one hand so it dangled in a loop. He balanced the stone carefully in the centre of the loop, and began to swing the strap around, quickly so that the stone didn’t fall out. Still the rabbit did not flee. It was too busy nibbling grass.
Lysander stood up slowly. He felt the light breeze in his face: he was downwind. As long as the rabbit didn’t turn in his direction, he’d be fine. He remembered all the time in the fields when he and Timeon used to aim at crows. He swung the strap faster and faster, lifting it steadily above his head. Then he released.
As the stone struck the rabbit, it took an awkward jump, then fell to the ground, legs twitching.
‘Yes!’ shouted Lysander jubilantly. There was a scramble of feet, and Lysander turned to see Agesilaus striding towards him.
‘I didn’t say you could stop!’ he shouted.
‘We’ve got a rabbit!’ said Demaratos. We? Lysander thought. But he was too hungry to protest. He ran forward to claim his prize.
Blood oozed from behind the wild animal’s ear. A direct hit. Now he would skin it, gut it and place the carcass over a fire. Soon he would be tearing tender meat off the bones.
Agesilaus shoved him out of the way and peered at the body.
‘You can’t eat that,’ he said with contempt.
‘Why not?’ asked Lysander.
‘It’s riddled with disease,’ said Agesilaus. He leant down and picked up the rabbit by the scruff of its neck, then held it in front of Lysander’s face. Sure enough, the rabbit’s eyes were milky and infected, and there were ticks nestled in the matted fur. Agesilaus threw the body at Lysander’s feet and stalked off.
‘Enough time-wasting,’ he said. ‘Let’s go!’
‘You can’t do anything right,’ said Demaratos. ‘We’d all be dead if we’d eaten that.’ He strode after Agesilaus.
Lysander gazed down at the rabbit, feeling hungrier than ever.
‘My stomach feels bad,’ said Demaratos. They were moving out of a small copse of pine trees, on to a slope of rocky ground covered in low bushes and shrubs.
‘It’s probably all the berries you ate,’ said Lysander. ‘They weren
’t ripe.’
‘How would you know?’ said Demaratos, shooting him a look of hatred.
‘They should fall off the plant easily,’ said Lysander. ‘You tore into them.’
‘We can shelter over there,’ said Agesilaus, pointing across to a dip in the mountainside. ‘It’ll be safe from predators.’
Lysander could see the spot he meant. A huge cliff rose from the ground forming an overhang above a small flat clearing. They were separated from it by a treacherous-looking slope of loose gravel.
‘If we get there,’ said Agesilaus, ‘it will be safe to light a fire. Otherwise, we’ll have to push on.’
That decided it for Lysander. He didn’t think he could take another night in the cold.
‘Lysander goes first,’ said Agesilaus. ‘He can test how loose the gravel is underfoot.’
‘He won’t dare,’ said Demaratos.
Lysander pushed past the two of them. I’ll show them I’m not a coward, he thought.
Lysander stepped on to the gravel, his hand balancing him against the slope. His foot slid, sending a shower of flint below. His heart jumped into his throat as he watched the pebbles bounce and hurtle out of sight. He forced himself to take another step. More gravel skittered down the sheer slope, disappearing over the cliff edge to hurtle through empty air. Lysander couldn’t be sure that the next step wouldn’t send him sliding to his death. Sweat sprang out on his brow and he had to concentrate hard not to give in to the panic that he could feel pushing from the back of his mind. He willed himself to take one step and then another until slowly, slowly hope began to replace fear. He’d made it! Lysander let out a whoop of exultation as he arrived on solid ground at the other side.
‘I did it!’ he shouted back to the others.
Now it was Demaratos’s turn. Lysander could see he looked pale and how the other boy’s hands trembled as he put them out to steady himself. He came sideways like a crab, facing the slope so that he could hold on with both hands in case he slipped. Once both his feet were on the solid ground, he turned to Lysander. He passed a hand over his face to mask the tic that had started up in one of his eyes.
‘You took ages,’ he sneered. ‘I don’t know why you made a fuss.’ Lysander didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He simply allowed his gaze to rest on the tic in Demaratos’s eye. The other boy turned away, cursing quietly under his breath.
Agesilaus ran across, each foot sending flint cascading below. His bravery and skill were extraordinary and Lysander felt shame flush his face. The older boy made it look so easy.
‘You two collect firewood,’ said Agesilaus, ‘and I’ll gather stones for a hearth.’ He wasn’t even out of breath.
But Demaratos had fallen to his knees and was holding his belly.
‘I don’t think I can help,’ he moaned. ‘My stomach keeps cramping up.’ He lifted his tunic, and Lysander could see that the skin across his midriff was bloated and tight as a drum. A sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead.
‘You fool,’ said Agesilaus. ‘How could you eat unripe fruit? Are you such a victim of hunger?’
Demaratos groaned again. ‘You have to help me.’
Lysander spotted a distant copse of pine trees. Perhaps peppermint would be growing there? It’d help to calm Demaratos’s stomach. He climbed to his feet and set off down the hillside.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Agesilaus.
‘I’m going to find something to help him,’ he said to Agesilaus. ‘If we’re going to survive up here, we all need to be healthy.’
Lysander moved swiftly down the slope. Looking back towards the plains, he could pick out three of the five villages of Sparta, loosely linked by tracks that extended into the surrounding fields. The acropolis, the low hill that housed the Temple of the Goddess Athena and the Council House, stood at the centre.
Lysander soon reached the copse of pine trees. He could smell mint and found a few plants sprouting at the base of the trees. He set about gathering the bright green leaves. He was soon out of breath – the mountain air was thin – and he paused to sit among the pine cones.
A harsh cry overhead made him look up. Circling high above the treetops was an eagle. Lysander could pick out the fanned feathers on its wing tips as it soared majestically on the currents of air. Looking for prey, Lysander thought. This made him remember Kassandra’s gift – the meat in his sack.
Lysander took out the pouch. He untied the length of twine, and pulled out a crispy strip of dried pork. He lifted the precious meat to his lips and he could feel his mouth fill with saliva.
A twig snapped behind him.
Lysander was pushed to the ground. Someone gripped his arm and twisted it up behind his back. Another hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head backwards. Pain seared through his shoulders as his wrists were pushed higher.
‘I thought you’d been gone too long,’ hissed Agesilaus in his ear. ‘Did you get lost?’
‘Let go of me,’ said Lysander and tried to squirm away, but the older boy’s grip was firm. He pushed Lysander to the ground. With his free hand he grabbed the pouch containing the meat. Sprigs of peppermint were ground into the dirt by Lysander’s face. Agesilaus let go of Lysander to open the pouch. He peered inside it and a look of fury flashed through his eyes. Then he smiled.
‘It looks as though you’ve been keeping a little secret, doesn’t it? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’
‘That’s my food,’ said Lysander.
‘You’re wrong – it’s our food,’ said Agesilaus. ‘I spotted it when Diokles asked me to check your sack.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Diokles?’ said Lysander.
‘If I hadn’t kept quiet,’ said Agesilaus, ‘we’d have nothing at all. You’re forgetting the Spartan way – cheating is fine, as long as you don’t get caught.’
Agesilaus picked up the handful of peppermint leaves that lay strewn across the ground.
‘Open your mouth,’ he said. He grabbed Lysander’s arm and twisted, kicking him hard in the kidney. ‘Do as I tell you, half-breed!’ Lysander struggled to breathe as the pain brought tears to his eyes. His arm was close to breaking. He opened his mouth in a cry of pain. Agesilaus stuffed the ruined peppermint leaves between Lysander’s lips. ‘Now, chew!’
Lysander’s humiliation made him hate Agesilaus with a new passion. He forced himself to chew, grit and dirt grinding against his teeth. I hate you! Lysander silently swore at Agesilaus. The older boy watched to make sure that Lysander swallowed. Then with a nod of satisfaction, Agesilaus picked up the pouch of meat and tied it to his belt.
‘I’m in charge of rations from now on,’ said the bully. ‘And don’t you forget it.’
‘Demaratos needed those leaves,’ said Lysander. ‘Why would you do that?’
Agesilaus laughed. ‘Why not?’ he smirked. ‘I’m not here to look after you. My job is to make life hard for you two up here. If I walk back alone from the hills, the Elders will simply say you weren’t strong enough. I’ve seen it happen before. For now, you’ll have to collect those leaves again.’
‘But there aren’t any more,’ Lysander protested, standing up.
‘Down there.’ Agesilaus gave Lysander a shove and pointed to a ledge of rock that extended out from a headland about a hundred paces away. Lysander could see the green plants growing in the shelter of the cliff face.
‘But how will I get down there?’ asked Lysander.
Agesilaus laughed. ‘Carefully! Now, hand over your sandals.’
‘What?’ said Lysander.
‘You heard, slave,’ said Agesilaus. ‘They’re a decent pair, and if you fall, I’ll wear them myself – a memento of the great mothax, Lysander.’
‘You’re mad,’ said Lysander. ‘Those rocks are sharp as knives. I won’t do it.’
Agesilaus’ smile disappeared. ‘If you don’t, I’ll throw you off myself. So, choose. A few scratches to your feet? Or your brains all over the rocks, picked at by crows.’
Ag
esilaus wasn’t joking. Lysander bent down to unstrap his sandals, as Agesilaus watched closely. I can do this, he told himself. Agesilaus snatched the sandals from him.
‘You can have them back at camp,’ he said, walking back up the slope. ‘If we see you again.’
Lysander approached the edge of the cliff. There was no obvious path down – the mountainside was almost vertical. The earth was broken and dusty, and a few sharp fragments of flint jutted from the hillside. Hundreds of feet below was a pine forest. Lysander felt dizzy just looking down there. He hated the idea of risking his life for Demaratos – a boy who had always treated him badly. But he couldn’t forget Kassandra’s words: He’s better than you think. Plus, Lysander knew there was a part of him that didn’t want to accept defeat. He wanted to show his compatriots that he could be brave – braver than either of them.
Lysander crouched low to the ground and turned, so that his back was facing the drop. Gripping a tree root, he lowered his right leg over the edge. His foot found a crevice. One step at a time, he told himself. One step at a time. Lysander lowered his other foot, taking most of his weight on his arms. Again, he managed to find a toehold. A shard of shingle sliced the tender flesh of his instep, and Lysander drew a sharp breath through his teeth. He could feel the air sting where the skin had been torn. But he had to go on. He lowered his feet further, and found a narrow ledge to balance on. Next he looked for a handhold. Leaning back to inspect the cliff face, his weight shifted. He realised his mistake immediately. There was a sound of sliding earth, and a sensation of weightlessness shot through him.
‘No!’ he cried out into the empty air. But it was too late.
Lysander was falling.
CHAPTER 6
Lysander slid down the rock face. His limbs scraped against the slope and the side of his face smashed into the hard-packed earth. Then his foot jarred on something, and his body jerked to one side. A blow crashed into his ribs, knocking the wind out of his lungs and rattling his teeth. A cry of pain escaped Lysander, but somehow he managed to find a handhold, grabbing hold of a slither of rock. He gasped for air while his legs dangled uselessly. Looking up, Lysander realised he had fallen about twenty feet.