Zelamir

Helot

The Adventures of Ayas the Slave-boy

Chapters 43-49

Chapter 43

A second later Ayas found himself standing beside Deipirus looking down through a crack in the heavy curtains into the courtyard at a chaotic scene. Torches flared, shadows danced wildly, slaves milled about and in the middle of this pandemonium was a group of horsemen torch light glinting on their helmets and body armour.

As they watched some order was imposed on the scene. Orders were shouted, men dismounted and threw the reigns of their horses to slaves and drew their swords. Otus and his mother appeared from the villa. They spoke to the men pointing up to the window where Deipirus and Ayas stood concealed, obviously directing them to their prey.

More orders were shouted. Four men with drawn swords ran up the steps to the main door to the villa followed more slowly by Otus and his mother. Two more remained in the yard staring up at the window.

Deipirus ran over to the couch and grabbed his sword from where it lay in its scabbard.

"The bastards," he stormed making for the door, "they've got us trapped. I'm going to get that little sod Otus anyway."

"The side door," Ayas shouted, "there's a back staircase to a side door to the yard. I used it this evening when I went down there before supper. I don't think they have put a guard on it."

He ran from the room and along the corridor away from the front of the house. He could hear behind him the clatter of footsteps as the Spartan soldiers ran up the marble staircase. After a moments hesitation Deipirus followed him.

There was a shout as the Spartan soldiers spotted them and then they were running down the side staircase. Ayas could hear Deipirus panting and stumbling behind him. He pushed open the door to the yard. Well off to the right were the two soldiers guarding the front of the house and beyond them he could see the archway leading to the open countryside. The great double gates stood open. They must have been opened to allow the cavalrymen in and in the excitement no one had thought to close them again. Opposite and quite close were the stables.

"Ayas," Deipirus was standing at the base of the staircase bent almost double supporting himself with one hand on the wall. "The wound in my side has opened. I can't go on. Here," he pulled the ring from his right index finger and held it out to the boy, "take that, show it when you reach the army, someone will know it. It's up to you now Ayas. I'll win you a little time."

Ayas heard the snick of Deipirus drawing his sword as he dashed across the yard to the stables.

'Why should I get involved,' he thought as he ran, 'it's not my war. Let the Thebans and the Spartans hack away at each other if they want. It's nothing to do with me. They're both as bad as each other so far as I am concerned.'

He heard behind him as he reached the stable door a shout, the clash of steel and a wild scream. The scream didn't sound to him like Deipirus.

Inside the stables a single lamp guttered fitfully. A horse whinnied softly and he saw Dapple alert, ears pricked standing in a stall just to one side of the door her bridle was hanging from a peg on the wall beside her.

"At least something has gone right tonight," Ayas said to himself, "Now then Dapple stand still like a good girl while I get this on you we're off again."

As he slipped the bridle over Dapple's head he could hear the struggle continuing outside.

"We shan't bother about a saddle this time Daps," he said vaulting onto the horse's back, "there's not enough time and anyway neither of us need one."

He turned the horse to face the door and drove his heels into her flanks. With Ayas bending low so his head was level with Dapple's they burst through the stable doors and out into the yard, He could see three bodies lying on the ground just by the door at which he had left Deipirus. Two men were running across the yard to cut him off from the open double gates and freedom.

"Come on Dapple it's a race and we're going to win it."

They flew across the yard. One of the soldiers made a grab for Dapple's reigns but missed his grasp and fell headlong under her galloping hooves. And then they were under the great archway and out in the open country side.

They hurtled in the darkness down the villa's drive towards the road. Ayas knew that one false step on Dapple's part and the horse would break a leg and he his neck.

"At least that would be quick," he told himself, "which is more than could be said if the Spartans caught me."

Behind him he could hear shouts and then the pound of horses hooves.

"They're after us Daps," he said, "but they won't get us. There's only one horse that could out run you and Vulcan's not here."

'We must be almost at the road now,' Ayas thought, 'then right to Thebes and kind old Attis and a nice comfortable life with a kind master and plenty to eat.'

'I don't feel guilty. I'm not guilty. I'm not letting Deipirus down. I don't owe him anything.'

They had reached the road.

"Oh shit," Ayas spoke aloud and swung Dapple to the left.

It was late evening. Dapple plodded wearily on. Ayas too was exhausted. Every now and again he would doze off and nearly tumble off the horse's back only saving himself at the last moment.

It had been a hard ride and a long one. In front of them lay the Theban army camp, tents set out in orderly rows, the commanders' banners fluttering in the breeze. Soldiers in the manner of their kind throughout the ages either marched purposively about or lounged in total idleness. Very few spared a glance for the travel stained boy on the tired horse.

Ayas knew he ought somehow to get to Epaminondas but he had no idea where the general was in the vast encampment he was now approaching. Nor had he any idea how he was to find him. He certainly did not want a repeat of what happened when he approached the outpost on the Southern border when he had finished up being flogged tied to a tripod of spears. He tried to concentrate but he was so tired that he found it difficult to focus his eyes let alone his mind.

A short stocky man wearing a metal cuirass and with a sword at his side stepped out from the side of the road and laid a hand on Dapple's bridle bringing her to a halt.

"This is Dapple old Peleus's horse and a very good one too," he said addressing Ayas, "I'd know her anywhere. Who you are young man I do not know but you certainly are not Peleus. You are young and I think, if all the dirt was scraped away, probably nice to look at. Peleus is certainly neither."

Ayas looked down into the man's face. It had seen some wear and tear over the years. The nose was slightly crooked and a long scar marked one cheek but it was not a cruel face nor was it bad tempered or stupid.

"Please Sir," he began and then paused to try marshal his thoughts but he was so exhausted that the words tumbled out in an almost incomprehensible jumble.

The man listened attentively for a time and then interrupted him.

"I just about grasp you have an important message for our General and that it is about the Spartan plan of attack but that's about it…"

Ayas tried again but somehow through tiredness and exhaustion the words would not form sentences or make sense. In desperation he pulled Deipirus's ring from his thumb, it was to big to fit securely on any of his fingers, and proffered it to the man.

He took it and looked at it closely turning it to the light so he could examine the engraving.

"Well, I can't say I recognize it but like that horse I'm certain it doesn't belong to you. So what do we have, a naked slave badly in need of a bath, riding a horse and carrying a ring that don't belong to him claiming he's got a message for the general."

Ayas tried to speak again but the man interrupted him.

"Safe your breath boy and keep tight hold of that," he continued placing the ring in the palm of Ayas' hand, "you'll need it to show Epaminondas."

Keeping a tight grip on Dapple's bridle the man set off leading the horse and the boy seated on her through the orderly lines of tents. He had decided that he knew enough to know that Epaminondas ought to hear Ayas' story for himself and that being so there was no point in trying to force the already exhausted boy to tell it again to himself.

In the very centre of the camp stood a large tent, two spearmen standing guard by its entrance. The soldiers seeing their approach snapped to attention.

"This is as far as we go," the man said as a groom stepped forward to take Dapple from him.

Holding up his hands he lifted the exhausted boy from the horse's back and began to guide him into the tent with a hand on his shoulder

"Dapple's got to be fed Sir," Ayas protested as soon as his feet touched the ground, "she's done a lot these last two days."

"She will be taken good care of," the man said pushing him along, "now come along this is your chance to deliver your message to Epaminondas."

"I think she's going lame on her left hind leg please try and look at that," Ayas called out over his shoulder to the groom as he was almost frogmarched forward.

The tent was a large one. To Ayas it seemed almost as large as Lord Xionedes' hall and that was the biggest room the boy had ever seen. In the gathering dusk it was lit by dozens of oil lamps. There were many people present, how many exactly was difficult to tell because some were standing back in the shadows. It was very quiet and attention was centred on six men sitting round a long table set in the centre of the tent. They were deep in discussion and seemed oblivious to what was going on about them. "Stay where you are now,"

The man, abandoning his grip of Ayas's shoulder approached the group seated round the table. Bending forward he began to talk earnestly to the man seated at its head. As they spoke the seated man glanced up across to where Ayas stood. He had just time to register piercing intelligent eyes, set in an aquiline face when there was an excited squeal and Ayas found so vigorously hugged that he was knocked off his feet. Landing hard on his bottom he found his arms full of excited wriggling young boy.

"It's Ayas. It's my hero Ayas. He saved my life you know. He's my hero… He's Ayas."

It was Perrin but a plumper happier Perrin than the frightened little boy who had served with him in Xionedes' stables. A Perrin whose oiled and scented body, tiny silken tunic designed to give teasing glimpses rather than obscure what lay behind it, golden bangles about his ankle, painted cheeks and eyes ringed with kohl declared him to be the pampered favourite of some rich master. Hugging Ayas tight he kissed him passionately first on his cheeks and then on his lips.

"Serapion," a deep voice demanded, "will you please get control of that boy of yours, we're trying to hold a serious discussion."

"I'm sorry Epaminondas… Come on Perrin leave that now… you've made more than enough noise."

A man loomed over them and grabbing Perrin by an ear prized him away from Ayas. As he scrambled to his feet Ayas heard Perrin's shrill young voice raised outside the tent still explaining to the world that he was his hero. He felt that everyone in the place was looking at him and laughing. His embarrassment was increased by the fact that despite his exhaustion the warmth of Perrin's embrace had given him an erection. Blushing deeply he tried to mask his stiff little prick with his hands.

"I am Epaminondas," the hawk faced man at the head of the table said looking directly at Ayas. "Come and sit here beside me."

Ayas shuffled forward shielding his crutch with both hands while the man sitting immediately to the right of Epaminondas silently surrendered his chair to him.

"Now," Epaminondas said speaking very quietly and gently, "tell me first what the message is that you are to give me."

Epaminondas listened carefully as Ayas told his story. Whenever the boy hesitated or lost his way a quiet simple question would lead him forward. The tent fell silent as Ayas spoke and the boy was only conscious of the tall gaunt man dressed in a shabby tunic¹ who sat beside him.

Eventually Ayas' tale was told and Epaminondas sat back in his chair.

"Well." he said addressing the other men seated round the table, "there you have it. This boy tells us he knows the Spartans are planning to capture Thebes by attacking over the mountains to the South while we are guarding the Northern route. That he knows this because he overheard his master discussing the matter with another Spartan lord. That they planned to kill him to keep him quiet but that he escaped them and after overcoming many difficulties and dangers reached us here."

"If he is telling the truth we should move South to defend Thebes but if he is not telling the truth and we do that we open the route to Thebes from the North."

There was a silence broken eventually by a man sitting towards the foot of the table.

"I think it's a Spartan trick," he said, "they have always attacked from the North on the past. We hold here the best defensive position to counter such an attack. To get us to abandon it will be equal to a battle won for them. The boy is a plant."

"Serapion," Epaminondas asked, "can you tell us anything about this boy. Your little favourite seemed to know him and I suppose we could ask him but it would take sometime to get any sense from that boy."

"I saw him twice when I was with our diplomatic mission at Sparta. First at the races where he rode the winner a big black horse owned by Xionides to victory and then the next morning when I went to the stables to buy little Perrin and he was there and he had been soundly flogged his shoulders and rump were still bloody from the lash. So at least I can confirm he was owned by Xionides, he rode horses for him and he had no reason to love the Spartans."

"Maybe he doesn't love the Spartans. Maybe he hates them but they could still get him to do as they want. They have his mother or his father or his brother or his sister or his whole family and he knows if he doesn't do as he's told they'll be nailed up to die."

"The story he tells is incredible. Bites a man's balls off, riding the length of the Peloponnese on a great black horse, swam the Gulf of Corinth, finishes up in the slave market, runs away from his new master on a donkey, flogged for insolence when he reaches Theban territory, single handed kills three wolves…"

"Please Sir," Ayas interrupted the man's speech apologetically, "please it wasn't three wolves, just two. Dapple killed one. She kicked it really hard."

Ayas was a truthful boy, unless of course circumstances demanded otherwise, and he believed in giving credit where credit was due.

Epaminondas's lips twitched.

"Admetus," he said rising to his feet, "you brought the boy here so you can take charge of him. See he is fed and has somewhere to sleep."

"We march for Thebes at first light tomorrow."

"And Admetus," he said speaking over his shoulder as he was leaving the tent, "see the lad has a bath. He's filthy."

It was midday. The army had been on the march for seven hours. Ayas perched on the back of a horse behind Admetus was feeling that a soldier's life might suit him. He licked his lips at the memory of the previous night's meal, a stew of goat's meat and pulses, and when he had cleared his bowl it was filled again. It was a pity he had kept falling asleep over it. That was because he was so very tired. It had nothing to do he was sure with the red wine, after all that had been mixed with water. His tummy still felt full hours afterwards and the slight muzziness in the head that was there when he woke had gone.

Of the bath he only had hazy memories but they were strangely exciting and pleasant. Warm scented water, soft clean towels and two girls only a few years older than himself who giggled happily as they washed him. It really was a pity that he hadn't been able to keep awake.

His only regret though at the moment was that he didn't have a horse for himself, Dapple or even better Vulcan. Dapple was lame. It was nothing to worry about. Admetus had taken him to see her before they set out that morning and they had had a discussion with the groom that ended in all three of them agreeing it was nothing that a good rest would not put right.

Meanwhile it was pleasant enough to be sitting easily behind Admetus's broad back trotting along at the head of the column with only Epaminondas and his staff ahead of them.

The long column of men and horses moved steadily forward. Apart from the tramp of feet and the jangling of harness they marched in silence.

Thebes, with the citadel of Cadmea frowning down on the city, lay off on their left. Ahead of them stretched an open plain dotted with villages and beyond in the far distance loomed the hazy outlines of the Southern mountains.

Somewhere ahead of them Ayas thought must be the Spartan army. He scanned the far horizon anxiously searching for any sign of it. He was suddenly uneasily conscious that if the Spartans changed their plans he would be in very great trouble.

Then one of the man at the head of the column shouted.

"There General," he said pointing, "there beyond the village of Leuctra."

Following the man's pointing finger Ayas saw in the middle distance a cluster of houses and a small temple and beyond them a plume of dust rising from the plain from which every now and again a glint of metal showed.

Epaminondas raised his hand and the column of marching men halted. Orders were rapped out. Staff officers cantered down the column. One reigned in his horse beside Admetus and spoke to him briefly.

"This is as far as you come boy," Admetus said as the man cantered off. "Get down now and make your way to Thebes. If you wait you will be able to get a ride in one of the carts with the other camp followers."

"But…" Ayas began. Admetus twisted round grasped him under the arms and lifting him from the back of his horse deposited him firmly on the ground.

"Just do as your told," he said. "A battle field is no place for a boy. Don't worry you will be looked after."

He dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and trotted off.

Ayas stood at the side of the road tears of humiliation stinging his eyes. It was he thought so unfair. He had gone through so much, braved so many dangers, overcome so many difficulties and then just when things were beginning to go right and he felt he was accepted to be pushed to one side. And then for Admetus to tell him to wait for the "other camp followers." As if he was the same as soft little Perrin or those two girls who had bathed him last night and giggled while they were doing it. He supposed Admetus did think he was like them. He turned his back to the road so as to hide his tears.

The sound of marching men gave way to the rumble of cart wheels.

"Ayas, Ayas."

It was Perrin's voice.

Ayas turned to face the road. A cart was slowly trundling by. Perrin sat on its back between the two girls whom he remembered so clearly from the night before, all three dangling their bare legs in the air. The girls were still giggling.

"Come up here Ayas. Come with us," Perrin called out cheerfully, "we're going to Corinth where we'll be safe while they have their stupid battle. Come with us we'll have such fun together."

Footnote:

1. Epaminondas grew up in poverty and despite rising to pre-eminence in Thebes never used his position to enrich himself . An example that could be followed with advantage by many people prominent in public life today

"What's the matter Ayas?" Perrin called out. "Come on up here with us and stop crying… Do come on… It'll be too late soon…"

And then as Ayas still did not move.

"Oh I'll get down and see what the matter is…"

He made to jump off the cart but the two girls grabbed him.

"Stay with us Perrin."

"Don't waste your time with that cry baby."

"Stay with us and have fun…"

They collapsed on the floor of the cart a wriggling jumble of young naked bodies, Perrin struggling to break free, the two girls determined to keep him with them.

Ayas stood still as cart followed cart past him making their way to the comparative safety offered by the city walls of Thebes.

It was fine he thought of Perrin and the two girls to talk of having a good time while their owners fought. If Thebes lost they would be divided up among the victors as the spoils of war. If Thebes won they would retain their old masters. Win or loose they would still be slaves. But with him it was different. If the Spartans won they would hunt him down and if they caught him would kill him with every cruelty they could device and he knew that in that respect at least they were an imaginative and ingenious people.

There was he thought though this similarity, if the Thebans won it would make no difference to his position. They saw him as no different from Perrin and the rest. He remembered with bitter clarity Admetus telling him to go and join the other camp followers.

Well he wasn't going to. He had delivered his message to Epaminondas. He had discharged whatever obligation he owed to Deipirus and he still doubted if he had owed that youth anything at all. Now the time had come to look after himself.

If he could make it back to Corinth he would have a decent chance of hiding himself away in the household of the only man in all his adventures who had really shown him kindness The Spartans would have no reason to look for him there. Corinth lay to the South and between him and it now stood the Spartan army but today, when that army was busy fighting a major battle, was perhaps the best opportunity that would ever offer itself to slip round it undetected. Surely the Spartans would be too busy trying to kill Thebans to be bothered about an insignificant slave boy.

First though he would have to get forward. The two armies had disappeared below a fold in the ground. He would need to establish where exactly they were before setting off to get round them. Anyway he would quite like to see what a battle looked like. He set off in the footsteps of the Theban army.

He had walked sometime before breasting a rise in the road he found himself looking down from a low hill on the two armies drawn up ahead of him. The first thing that struck Ayas was that the Spartans greatly outnumbered the Thebans. The second thing was that while the Spartans were marshalled in straight lines in regular equal ranks the Thebans were drawn up in an oblique formation with their left flank advanced towards the enemy and their right held back. On the extreme left their line was many ranks deep while the rest of the line was no more than a thin screen of men.

Ayas wondered at this arrangement and then suddenly saw how clever Epaminondas had been. By adopting this arrangement he had with an overall inferiority in numbers created a local and possibly decisive superiority.¹

In a moment it was clear that the Spartans had also grasped the essence of Epaminondas's plan as they began hastily to peel troops off their left wing and to try to hurry them across to reinforce their threatened right. But this led to confusion and even as they did so the Theban left raised the paeon³ and charged home with devastating force. The Spartans resisted stubbornly. Even at the distance Ayas was from the battle he could hear the shouts of the men and the clash of iron. A cloud of dust began to form partly shrouding the mass of struggling men. Slowly, inexorably the weight of the massed lines of Thebans began to tell. The Spartan line wavered and began to move backwards.

It was time Ayas decided to move while the Spartan line held. If it broke soldiers would be scattered all over the plain.

He was standing directly behind the left wing of the Theban army. The quickest and shortest way to get round the two armies was therefore to head to the left and then South. He turned to do so and saw a mass of lightly armed troops sweeping down on him. The troops' leather harnesses and light round shields declared them to be Helot auxiliaries. The occasional glint of sunlight on metal cuirass and helmet declared the presence of Spartan officers urging them on.

Such troops as these could never successfully face the heavily armed infantry that formed the Theban battle line. They would create havoc if they were hurled against the rear of that line when it was already engaged to the front by the crack troops of the regular Spartan army.

They were coming on at the double. Ayas saw the danger. The feeling of burning resentment against Admetus in particular and the Thebans in general were banished from his mind. All he felt was a great rage that his own people should be the instruments of a Spartan victory. A victory for the very people who had oppressed and persecuted them for generation after generation, who had killed his father, driven his mother to kill herself, raped his sister. Anger burnt within him and drove out any other emotion, shouting and waving his arms he ran towards the advancing line screaming his defiance.⁴

The Helots already keyed up for battle suddenly faced by the apparition of a beautiful naked boy running towards them stopped amazed. He was yelling at them, telling them they were traitors to their own people, to turn back, to kill the Spartans. Things they half knew and wanted to do already for they served the Spartans from fear not affection. In front of them, beyond Ayas, they could see the Spartan and Theban battle lines locked in combat and it was all too clear that the Spartan line was crumbling.

A Spartan officer yelled at the Helots to move forward and drew his right arm back to hurl his javelin at Ayas. The Helot standing immediately to his right, a man named Gela, drove his sword into the officer's exposed side. There were a few seconds of bloody mayhem and every Spartan officer was slaughtered.

The Helots milled about in confusion.

Gela yelled at the top of his voice that for them it was now a case of kill or be killed and that they had no choice but to join the battle against the Spartans. Not all the Helots heard him but enough did to form a group around him staking up Ayas' cry of "death to the Spartans". The remaining Helots took up the chant and they all surged off to join the struggle.

Ayas who while this was all going on continued to run forward went with them.

Gela spotted him and grabbed him by the arm.

"This is no place for a boy," he shouted, "get out of here. Go back where you have come from."

Ayas tried to argue with him. He tried to tell him that they were both part of the same people, that the fight against the Spartans was as much his war as anyone else's, that he had already played a part in it and that it was only fair that he should be allowed to see the battle close to.

Gela would not listen. He swung him round, clouted him on the back of the head and as he staggered away with his ears ringing from the blow landed a solid kick up his bottom.

Ayas picked himself up and stood staring after the Helot troops.

'That's it,' he thought. 'That's the last time I try to help. It's Corinth and nice old Attis for me and the Helots and the Thebans can look after themselves. Ungrateful brutes – I don't care if the Spartans kill every last one of them.'

A modern boy in such circumstances would have relieved his feelings by kicking a stone. Ayas being bare footed was denied this solace. He picked up a pebble and threw it at a crow. He missed which put him in an even worse temper.

Looking towards the battle he saw the Spartans, far from killing the lot, were in increasingly deep trouble. Their line was beginning to crumble. Here and there isolated groups of men were fighting desperately against overwhelming odds. It would not be long before the line was completely broken and the plain covered by fugitives.

It was time he got moving. He set off at a loping run.

Ayas had not got very far on his way before the first fugitives began to appear. These were Spartan horsemen and seemed to be too keen on saving there own skins to bother about a slave boy. At first Ayas made some effort to keep out of their way ducking behind walls or cowering in a ditch when he heard the beat of approaching hooves. However after three or four horsemen had cantered past him without showing the slightest interest after he had failed to hear them coming he decided it was not worth wasting time trying to hide from them.

It was a decision he was to regret before too long.

He could hear the horse coming a long way off. The steady and regular thud of its hooves said it was a big horse and a fit one.

He turned to look and with a sinking feeling saw a big Spartan in full armour riding a big black horse bearing down on him fast.

A voice he had hoped never to hear again in his life roared out, "Ayas, you devil's whelp, at least I shall have the satisfaction of killing you."

With these words Xionides drove his spurs into Vulcan's flanks and drawing his sword rode hard at Ayas.

Hooves thundering Vulcan bore down on the boy. Ayas looked about desperately for something with which to defend himself. There was nothing – not even a stone to throw. He waited till Vulcan was almost on top of him before leaping to one side. Bent as low as he could in the saddle Xionedes slashed at him. He missed but he was so close that Ayas felt the wind from his sword against the back of his thighs.

Xionedes hauled hard on his reigns and turned Vulcan in a tight circle. Ayas could not but admire the control that he had established over a horse who whatever his many undoubted virtues had a mind and a will of his own.

"You escaped me once you little runt but I'll get you in the end…" Xionides promised as he set himself for a second attempt to ride Ayas down.

Ayas knew this was true. He could not hope to keep dodging the blows aimed at him. Vulcan was stronger and quicker than him. In the end he would tire and then Xionides would have him. And it would not be a quick death. Xionides had slashed at his legs. It was a blow intended to cripple not to kill. No doubt the aim was to sever his hamstrings or to crack his knees, crippling him, allowing Xionides to kill him at his leisure .

Xionides drove his heels once again into Vulcan's flanks. Bending low in the saddle he was bearing down upon Ayas for the second time.

Last time Ayas had avoided his sword cut by jumping backwards away from Xionides and Vulcan. This time he decided he would leave it till the last possible moment and try to dodge under the head of the charging horse. If it worked it would win him more time. If he misjudged it he would go down under Vulcan's hooves. But with a bit of luck that would kill him and that would be much preferable than being taken alive by Xionides and having to face a long and painful death at his hands.

Ayas knew Vulcan was only a horse although a very good one and it was wrong to expect too much of him but though it might be silly he did think that he could show just a little less enthusiasm for the task in hand. He was coming at him even faster this time than the last. He was galloping as hard if he was heading for the first bend at the races with a dozen other horses competing. He had never realised before how big and how black Vulcan was. He was almost on him now. Xionides was swinging the sword back for the cut. It was now or never.

Just as Ayas was on the point of launching himself forward under Vulcan's flying hooves the horse stopped dead. His head went down, his hind quarters went up, Xionides was shot from the saddle and sent in a neat arc over Vulcan's to land with a bone shuddering thump on his back. His sword flew from his hand.

Ayas darted forward and snatched up the sword. Turning he saw Xionides getting groggily to his feet. He smashed the hilt of the sword into Xionides face and the Spartan went down spitting blood and teeth. Two handed Ayas drove the point of the sword into the man's exposed neck. He saw Xionides eyes widen in surprise and then blood spurted from the open wound splashing the boy's bare arms and chest.

Ayas knelt over Xionides lifeless body his forehead resting on the sword's pommel breathing heavily. Eventually he felt something cold and wet touching him gently between his shoulder blades. It was Vulcan's nose. Jumping to his feet he threw his arms round the horse's neck, pressing his face into his black coat.

"Vulcan, Vulcan," he whispered, "we're not going to be parted ever again – not after that."

Then he began to think hard. He was pretty sure Attis would welcome him back but he was doubtful if he would be happy to take in Vulcan as well. A suburban household could pretty easily absorb an additional slave boy, a large black war horse was quite another matter.

Anyway he wasn't sure if he was now so keen on going to Corinth. He didn't know exactly how much Xionides armour and weapons and shield was worth but he knew enough to realise that they were of the highest quality and would fetch a great deal. Not perhaps a sum that a Spartan lord or a Theban aristocrat would think adequate but large enough to keep a boy and a horse for a few years and who knew what the future would bring. He rather fancied a soldier's life. He thought it would suite him. And anyway he rather wanted to show off his trophies in the Theban camp. That would show Admetus what sort of "camp follower", the mere memory of the words angered him, he was.

As Vulcan quietly cropped the grass Ayas set about stripping Xionides of his armour.

I would like to say that he found the work distasteful, that so highly attuned were his sensibilities that he felt guilt at the man's death and nausea at having to handle his dead carcass. I am sorry to say however that the young savage felt nothing of the sort. Xionides had been a cruel master and he was glad that he was dead and proud that he had done the job. His satisfaction was increased when he found concealed beneath his breast plate a purse stuffed with gold and silver coins.

Ayas loaded his spoils on Vulcan's back except for Xionides sword. Sheathed in its scabbard he slung this over his shoulder. It was even longer than Deipirus's sword. That had reached down to his knees and had caught him on the back of his shins when he tried to walk. The point of Xionides' sword, being that of a fully grown man and a large one at that, touched the ground and made walking difficult. However as Ayas did not intend to walk that was of little importance. He vaulted onto Vulcan's back and set off to find Admetus.

By now the plain was covered by fleeing Spartans. They flooded past him singly or in panic stricken groups with the Theban cavalry in close pursuit. Nobody bothered Ayas as he made his way slowly back to where the battle had first been joined. Perhaps this was because everybody, Theban and Spartan alike, were too engrossed in fleeing and dealing death to even notice him. Alternatively maybe the blood spattered boy riding the big black horse and carrying an outsize sword did not look the most inviting of targets.

He realised that finding Admetus might present a problem. It seemed to him however that Admetus, if not a member of Epaminondas's staff was closely associated with him and that if he found one the other one would not be far away. He was sure Epaminondas would have been at the centre of action when the battle was on and would now, when the battle was won, be holding back ready with what reserves he had to intervene if the Spartans rallied or mounted a counter attack.

As they drew nearer to where the two battle lines had stood and thrust and hacked at each other the bodies of the dead and wounded lay thick on the ground. Ayas who had stripped Xionides corpse without compunction was sickened by the mass carnage he now witnessed as Vulcan delicately picked his way over ground littered with dead and dieing. The groans and cries of the wounded filled the air. Ayas would have stopped to give aid to an injured man, even an injured Spartan, but he could not help hundreds of such. There were he saw people moving about among the fallen but they looked more like the human equivalent of the birds of prey that circled overhead than providers of assistance.

Then almost suddenly he was clear of this scene of carnage. The plain stretched ahead of him unencumbered with the human detritus of battle. He had passed the point where the two armies had engaged and the Thebans had begun to roll back the Spartan battle line.

Ahead of him on the top of a small knoll waved a single banner, smoke rose from a fire and he could see a group of men standing in front of a large tent looking out over the battle field. As he drew nearer he recognised among the men Epaminondas, Admetus and Gela, although at that stage he did not know his name simply recognizing him as the Helot soldier who had struck and kicked him.⁵ Behind them he could see a whole ox being slowly turned on a spit roasting over a pit of glowing charcoal..

Ayas did not feel nervous. He was too angry to do so.

'Good,' he thought, 'I'll show them.'

It is difficult to be inconspicuous in open country on a large black horse. Ayas made no attempt to be so. As he drew nearer to the group of men he knew all their eyes were focused on him.

Gela the Helot was the first to speak.

"It's the boy I told you about Sir," he said to Epaminondas, "the one who triggered the mutiny."

"I told you Ayas," Admetus burst out angrily, "to stay away from the battle field."

"I'm not a camp follower," Ayas stormed his voice shaking with indignation.

"He told me," he continued almost crying in anger, "I had to wait with the 'other camp followers'."

A strange expression flickered briefly across Epaminondas's face. Ayas noticed during his interviews with the great man that this happened fairly frequently. In later life when he had had an opportunity to think about things he was of the opinion that Epaminondas must have suffered from some sort of nervous tick probably caused by the mental strains of command. When it was pointed out to him that no other commentators referred to any such mannerism on Epaminondas's part he would ask what other possible explanation there could be.

Anyway nervous spasm or not Epaminondas quickly recovered himself.

"I fear my friends Admetus's words were peculiarly ill chosen," he said gravely, stepping forward and laying one hand on the side of Vulcan's gleaming black neck, "but they were spoken in the heat of the moment and a man can perhaps be allowed some latitude when he is about to go into battle. He of course regrets them now and wishes…"

"Of course I do," said Admetus speaking with equal gravity, "all I wanted to do was to ask Ayas to go to a place of safety because without armour or arms, a deficiency I see he has now made good by his own efforts, he could not have joined the battle line. Of course I regret my choice of words and ask him now to accept my apology."

Ayas now felt himself to be in a position of some embarrassment. It was impossible not to accept an apology so fulsomely phrased but stuck on a large black horse in the middle of a crowd of men he didn't know quite what to do next.

Epaminondas solved this difficulty for him.

"Of course Ayas accepts you apology Admetus and he will now join us in our victory feast," and reaching up he helped the boy to the ground.

"Those are," one of the men standing nearby remarked as Epaminondas lifted Ayas to the ground, "the Spartan Lord's Xionides arms. I recognize the blazon on the shield."

"Of course," said Epaminondas, "and this magnificent horse is no doubt Vulcan that Ayas told us all about when he first arrived among us."

"Now," he continued raising his voice, "the battle is won, the Spartans defeated, let us enjoy our feast."

"The grooms," he said placing a hand on Ayas's shoulder and guiding him firmly into the tent, "will look after Vulcan."

"Let me take your sword. You will not need it while you dine."

Taking it from Ayas he drew it from its scabbard.

"A good blade," he remarked handing it to a slave, "but a little too big for you as yet. We must try to find one better suited to your size."

Ayas found himself seated beside Epaminondas. Two young slave boys approached him dressed in the skimpiest of tunics, one carrying a silver bowl of steaming water the other a neatly folded white towel. While Ayas sponged the dried blood and dust from his arms and chest another boy, completely naked apart from a silver collar, around his slim neck knelt on the ground washing his feet. He was Ayas thought a couple of years younger than he was, a beautiful boy with soft generous lips and a round little bottom that seemed to positively invite attention.

Epaminondas followed his gaze and leaning across to him said, "the slut is yours if you want him but first have something to eat and drink."

Footnotes:

1. This was indeed the essence of Epaminondas strategy at Leuctra and it is a tribute to Ayas's natural intelligence that he, an untutored slave boy, was able to recognise it. He though could not be expected to appreciate Epaminondas full genius. For this was a completely original tactic and ensured that the battle of Leuctra was a truly decisive victory destroying Sparta as a major Greek power. This is because it was a convention of warfare right up to early modern times that the best troops fought on the right flank (vide Cominius's reference in Shakespeare's Corialanus to "those of us of the right file") so that Epaminondas by concentrating his forces on the left and what is more placing his crack troops there including the "sacred band"² not only won the battle but killed a great many of Sparta's best troops.
2. The sacred band – an elite group of 300 consisting of 150 pairs of lovers.
3. Paeon war chant rather like the Round Heads chanting psalms as they rode into battle in the English Civil wars.
4. There is disagreement among the historical sources as to what actualy happened at this point Thucydides asserts that Ayas addressed the Helot force and delivered a speech that he reports in detail to them which having surveyed the historical background to their situation then went onto examine their current grievances before showing in a masterly analyses of the current political situation in Greece that this was the most propitious moment to rise against the Spartans. It would have required about 45 minutes to deliver during which time the Helots would have had to stand still and listen quietly supposing they could hear what he was saying.
   Herodotus on the other hand, to my mind hardly more convincingly, says that Ayas was protected from the Spartan javelins by the Goddess Pallas Athena who had taken a fancy to the boy and the Helots seeing the grey eyed Goddess standing behind him covering him with her shield decided they had better change sides.
   In these circumstances I have preferred to follow Ayas's own account of the incident. When he told the story, which I am afraid he tended to do with increasing frequency as he grew older, he always said he could not remember exactly what happened or what he said but that he did remember running towards the Helots shouting and that it would have been on the general lines of "kill the Spartans" although it might have been somewhat more coarsely phrased.
5. The presence of Gella at Epaminondas's side after the battle suggests that there was some basis for the suspicion that there had been contacts between the Thebans and the Helots before the battle with a view to fomenting a mutiny among the latter.

Chapter 45

Fortunately he had while in Xionedes household had to attend his master at many banquets and he was an intelligent quick witted boy so had some idea of how people should behave at such events. But past experience was not always, he quickly realised, a safe guide, for it appeared Theban customs varied in certain ways from Spartan.

In Sparta guests were left to help themselves to wine and added water if they wished or, at more select parties, had it poured for them by slaves. However when Ayas moved to help himself Epaminondas moved quickly to take the wine cup and mixed the wine and water for him – considerably he noticed more water than wine. Ayas noticed too that Epaminondas did not extend this courtesy to all his guests, he could hardly do so as there were a considerable number of them, so he supposed he was specially honoured by this treatment, although he would have preferred rather more wine.

If Ayas was disappointed in the quantity of wine he was allowed he had no complaints about the food. A great bowl of steaming lentil soup was followed by generous slabs of meat carved from the ox being roasted on the open fire outside the tent. This was the first time in his life that Ayas had eaten beef. And the bread that accompanied these dishes was not the soggy barley bread with which he had in the past been obliged to fill his belly but fine crisp wheaten bread.

Ayas would have been happy to sit silent and to concentrate on eating but Epaminondas asked him lots of questions about himself and especially about his adventures earlier that day. Ayas in describing his fight with Xionedes and in explaining the vital role played by Vulcan became very animated and began to forget his shyness.

Then just as the noise in the tent was reaching a peak there was the sound of a lyre being plucked and everybody fell silent. An old bearded man dressed in a long white robe and carrying a lyre stood just inside the tent. He was blind and a small boy led him forward by the hand. Someone brought a stool and seating himself upon it he again plucked a string of his lyre.

"He's off," Ayas said glumly to himself.

He knew all too well how long once fairly started a bard like this could carry on. He had spent many tedious hours bored out of his mind crouched at Xionedes' feet while some old man like this one droned on about Agammenon and Achilles and the rest of them. At least on those occasions he could doze off and have a good chance of getting away with it. Now he had to keep awake. Sitting upright next to Epaminondas it would be noticed straight away if he fell asleep. Not only would that be bad manners but it would be the second time on the trot that he had fallen asleep during supper. People would laugh at him.

The bard began reciting his lines in a strange singsong chant accompanying himself on the lyre.

Aphrodite Daughter of Zeus replied: Hera most honoured
Of goddesses…

'There's no reason he should ever stop,' Ayas thought to himself.

He wondered what the blind man's boy felt, obliged night after night to listen to his master reciting unending lists of names and accounts of the obscure activities of the Gods and of long dead Greeks and Trojans. The boy stood just behind the bard's stool, apparently totally engrossed in the poet's performance. Ayas was sure that inwardly he was bored out of his mind and looking forward to when his master fell silent and he might have a fair chance of getting some scraps from the dinner.

And the boy who washed his feet, now relieved of his silver bowl and towel, kneeling on the ground at his side, waiting for him to require his services; no doubt hoping nervously that Ayas would not be too rough with him. Was he even listening to the apparently unending chant and if he was listening did he understand one word of it.

Ayas broke off a lump of crisp bread and wiped the fat and meat juices from his plate with it. Attracting the brat's attention by pinching his ear he popped the fragment of bread between the lad's lips as he turned to look up at him. The boy smiled his gratitude, chewed and swallowed.

Remembering services he had been required to perform in the past for Xionedes and his guests Ayas put his fingers to the boy's lips. The child sucked vigorously on them and brining his tongue into enthusiastic play licked them clean.

'If the boy sucks like that when it's my cock in his mouth I'm in for a good time,' Ayas thought.

Meanwhile the bard droned on

Here she fell in with Sleep, brother of Death
And warmly took his hand…

He stole a sideways glance at Epaminondas. He was leaning eagerly forward, a frown of concentration on his face, obviousley enthralled by the bard's performance.¹ There was clearly no chance of his brining the performance to an early close. It looked as though he was prepared to sit there while the bard worked his way through the Iliad from beginning to end. Ayas wondered hopelessly how long that would take, one week, two, three?

He noticed that a number of men near the entry to the tent had quietly slipped away. Positioned as he was seated right next to Epaminondas at the end of the tent furthest from the entrance that escape was barred to him.

He glanced across at Admetus. He was sitting slumped forward eyes glazed. It would not be long before he would be asleep.

Ayas himself felt very tired. He wished the bard would just shut up and go away. His mind began to wander back over the events of the day. He wondered where Vulcan was. He hoped he was being well looked after. He must get up early and check the horse was all right.

Then with a guilty start he remembered Damon; his special friend while he was working as a boy jockey, the boy who helped him escape from Xionedes even as the irons were being heated in order to torture him. Damon had told him before his flight from Sparta that he was to be Vulcan's groom during the war. Vulcan was with him so Damon had to be near. That was obvious and he should long ago have set about looking for Damon and making sure he was all right. That was what Damon would have done; indeed had done for him in the past. Immediately after killing Xionedes he should have done that instead of which he had allowed his own desire to score off Admetus to govern his actions.

He couldn't do anything at the moment to make up for his failure. He would achieve nothing wandering about the battle field in the dark. He realised too that his quest would be more likely to be successful if he could obtain the support of Epaminondas or, failing him, Admetus. A glance at both of them persuaded him that this was not the moment to approach them.

"I will get busy looking for Damon first thing in the morning," he told himself. "Well first thing after I have seen that Vulcan is all right."

How he wished the recitation would end. It seemed to be going on for ever and he was so tired. The lamp lit tent swam before his eyes. The bard's voice became a meaningless buzzing. His head fell forward.

Ayas woke to find himself lying on a heap of furs. The sun shining down on the roof of the tent filled it with subdued light.

His first feelings as he slowly emerged from the mists of sleep were of deep shame and disgust at his own weakness. For the second night running he had fallen asleep at the table and been carried to bed. He had disgraced himself. Epaminondas and Admetus and the rest of them would think he was no more than a child. And he had missed the chance of having the delectable little slut that had spent the previous evening crouched naked at his feet.

Then a feeling of the most exquisite excitement flooded his body and he became aware of a firm young body pressed close against his, of warm lips and a quick tongue teasing his nipple. The boy had not been sent away when he had fallen asleep but brought for him to enjoy when he woke.

For a moment Ayas lay still enjoying the attentions of the brat who after toying with his nipple began to work his way down his body caressing it with his lips. The boy lingered for a moment over his belly button exploring it with his tongue before continuing his downward journey. Ayas at last moved, raising his knees and slightly spreading his legs to give the child easier access to the most sensitive areas of his body. The little slut eagerly took advantage of the opportunities afforded him. Burying his face in Ayas's crutch his tongue teased and licked the area of skin that lay between his anus and the back of his balls sending waves of the most exquisite pleasure through his body.

Ayas arched his body groaning with excitement as the boy turned his attention to his balls, taking them into his mouth and sucking on them before running his tongue along the length of his stiff, quivering boy cock. He licked its swollen cap, collecting the pre-cum welling from urethra with the tip of his tongue.

Grabbing a handful of the boy's hair Ayas thrusting his hips upwards. The boys lips enveloped his cock. At the same time Ayas forced the boy's head down trying to force his penis as far down the lad's throat as it would go. He felt the boy's tongue working against his prick and his gullet struggling to accept it. Then the boy was swallowing and choking as Ayas came filling his throat with cum.

Ayas held the child's face firmly pressed into his crutch while he pumped himself dry. Only then did he relent and relax his hold sufficiently to allow the boy to lift his head and drag air into his lungs.

It was though the briefest of reprieves. Ayas yanked imperiously on the boy's hair pulling him up his body till his face was level with his own. He pulled the boy's head back and looked down into his face; saw his eyes wide with fear and cum dribbling from his mouth, smearing his lips and chin.

Ayas felt no pity for the fearful boy rather he felt a cruel joy. Not so long ago, he thought, I had to act his part, to suck cock, to spread my legs and lift my bottom and hope that I would not be hurt too much; now it's my turn to enjoy myself.²

He kissed the boy fiercely on the mouth, tasting his own cum on the lad's lips. Slipping his tongue between the child's parted lips he probed deep sensing the oddly metallic taste of his own seed in the boy's mouth. The child threw his arms around him hugging him close.

Ayas remembered the many times in the past he had lain like that, embracing whatever man who had chosen on that occasion to use his body for his brief pleasure, hoping for some sign of affection or commitment, always to be disappointed. He felt an amused contempt for the slut who thought he might somehow strike lucky and win the heart of someone he no doubt imagined was a young aristocrat for had not he, Ayas, dined the previous night at Epaminondas's table and sat next to the general. As if he, if he had been a young lord would have troubled himself about a mere slave boy or even remembered him except possibly in a vague sort of way as one of a myriad of such who had given him some passing pleasure.

He felt no pity for the boy. He was after all just a whore and should expect to be treated as such.

Time too, he reminded himself, was passing and he many more important and pressing things to do than enjoying himself with a little slave boy however pretty; seeing for instance that Vulcan was being well looked after and trying to find Damon. But the boy really had the most tempting of bottoms. Ayas slid his hand down the boy's back until it rested on the curve of his rump, feeling the flesh smooth and cool and firm under his touch. It would be a pity to leave he thought before fully enjoying the boy

Ayas his lust rekindled by the naked boy's embraces felt his blood surge again. He pushed the boy away from him. Gripping him he felt the bones in his thin arm move as he urged him over onto his belly.

The boy understood what was required of him. He rolled onto his face, spreading his legs and lifting his bottom.

Ayas did not waste time. Kneeling between the brat's legs he levelled his swollen penis, already well lubricated by his victim's own saliva, at the slut's hole. He drove downwards and the boy grunted with pain.

'He's very tight,' was Ayas's first thought. Then, as he thrust down again, meeting further resistance and ringing another agonised whimper from his little victim , 'he surely can't be a virgin.'

Ayas hammered away at the slut's hole in a series of hard sharp downward thrusts as the child groaned and whimpered beneath him. Slowly the boy's sphincter gave way before his brutal assault and bit by bit he began to force his cock into him. Then the boy squealed shrilly. With three sharp thrusts Ayas sheathed his cock in the brat. He felt the slut's guts close about it, working on it, seeming to be trying to draw it deeper into himself.

'These Theban men don't know a good thing when they see it,' Ayas thought as he vigorously fucked the boy's bottom and the lad, his whimpers of pain somehow transformed into pants of lust, writhed and bucked under him.

Then Ayas tensed, rigid, only the muscles in his bottom working as he pumped his seed into the boy's guts.

After a moment of stillness Ayas rolled away and lay panting on his back. Virgin or not the boy had been well trained. In an instance he was kneeling between Ayas's legs. his head buried in his crutch. busy with his lips and tongue cleaning the filth from his penis and the surrounding areas. Ayas lay still listening to the boy's eager slurping as he licked up the mixture of semen and shit. Either, he reflected, the lad had a natural liking for his vocation or he had been well schooled.

It was not long before he felt himself harden again as his lust was reawakened by the slut's busy tongue.

Regretfully, for he was enjoying himself but there was work to do, Ayas sat up and clipped the boy hard across the ear knocking his head away from his crutch.

"Get out," he ordered.

As the boy scuttled from the tent he realised that these were the only two words that he had spoken to the brat during the whole time they were together and he did not even know his name. But what did that matter. The brat had served his purpose. Now he had the serious business of the day to get on with.

As he was leaving the tent he saw that he must have shared it with a free boy and what was more a free boy from, judging by his possessions, a rich family. He was not there at the moment but he had let some of his clothes behind. A fine linen tunic lay neatly folded on a stool together with a belt with an elaborate silver buckle and a sword in a leather scabbard. On the floor beside the stool lay a pair of boy's sandals. These must Ayas thought be the boy's spare clothes or else he had woken and gone outside without bothering to dress.

Ayas imagined what the boy was like; probably a spoilt arrogant aristocrat, walking about with his nose in the air and talking with an affected lisp. He was glad that he had gone off somewhere. If he'd been there he would have been throwing his weight around bossing him about and probably pretty quick with his fists and feet as well.

He must be Ayas thought looking at the tunic very much the same size as me. He wondered what it felt like wearing sandals. He had never in his life worn anything on his feet and thought it unlikely if he ever would.

He reached out his hand to the sword and hesitated. He glanced carefully around and satisfied there was no one about drew the blade from the scabbard. The boy must have been very much the same size as himself. The sword beautifully balanced felt just right in his hands not like the cumbersome weapon so heavy that he could hardly lift it that he had taken from Xionedes. He looked down at the sword's gleaming blade and then regretfully slid it back into the scabbard. Ayas didn't really care about the smart tunic or the belt with the silver buckle or the sandals. They would no doubt be nice to have and he thought he would look rather good in them but he knew such things were not for him. Neither was the sword really but it felt so good in his hand. It was as though it was made for him. He really envied the unseen free boy that sword.

Footnotes:

1. Epaminondas apart from being a notable warrior and general was also an intellectual. It was said he was as happy in the agora discussing philosophy as he was on the battle field directing the Theban army.
2. I fear Ayas does not seem in this respect at least to modern eyes very sympathetic. However in the ancient world and indeed considerably later slavery was a fact of life and was accepted as such. Aristotle in his Ethics said slavery was justified because it was natural and that it was natural was proved by the fact that it existed (I paraphrase and simplify his reasoning). Nowhere in the Bible is there a specific condemnation of slavery. Indeed St Paul admonishes slaves to obey their masters. The general attitude was I think that you didn't want to be a slave yourself but it was perfectly all right if someone else was.

Chapter 46

"Ah here you are young man," he said turning round to greet Ayas as he came out of the tent. "You enjoyed yourself with the little slut judging by the state of his bottom when he passed me just now."

"I hope I didn't hurt him too much Sir," Ayas said anxiously. He wasn't bothered about the boy but he didn't want to be responsible for permanently damaging Epaminondas's property.

"I doubt if you have lad. The brat should think himself lucky you're not a full grown man. Then he might have been torn. Anyway what does it matter – there are plenty more where that one came from."

"Well I knew you'd look nice under all that dirt when I first saw you but if I think you'd better put some clothes on now."

Ayas flushed red.

"I haven't got any Sir," he blurted out. It amazed him that Admetus did not know that. Perhaps he thought he was deliberately setting out to humiliate him, choosing this way to remind him that he was only a slave boy.

Admetus looked surprised.

"I was told they had been put ready on the stool by where you were sleeping."

Ayas's confusion increased.

"I… I didn't notice," he lied, "I'll go and look if they are there."

So they were his clothes all along. He certainly wasn't going to admit to imagining a free boy to explain their presence.

The clothes presented no problems. Whilst spending most of his life naked he had seen many people round him clothed and he knew how they were to be worn. He put them on one by one.

Under the clothes he found the purse he had taken from Xionedes's dead body still stuffed with gold coins. He hung this round his neck under his tunic.

The feel of the crisp linen against his bare flesh was a little strange but not unpleasant.

The sandals though were a different matter. He knew how they were meant to be worn of course but he just didn't see the purpose of them. He picked them up wondering at their weight and how people managed to walk, let alone run wearing such cumbersome things.

But he wasn't going to be beaten by a pair of sandals. If other people could wear them he could too. Grimly determined Ayas strapped them on his feet.

He took a few experimental steps. It was even worse than he had imagined. They felt like lumps of lead on his feet. It was almost as bad as having his ankles shackled. Still if he hated the sandals, the sword was quite another thing.

And I suppose, he thought as he slung the belt of the scabbard over his shoulder, the two rather go together. The sword and the sandals, if I am to wear the one I have to wear the other.

Taking comfort from that thought he walked out of the tent to rejoin Admetus.

"Well," Admetus said grinning up at him from his stool, "you do look smart."

He got up and walked slowly round Ayas checking his appearance and giving the hem of his tunic a sharp tweak to straighten it. Satisfied with his inspection of the boy he reached out and lifted the sword in its scabbard from his shoulder.

"You won't need to carry that in the camp today," he said. "The Spartans have been well beaten and it'll only get in your way."

Ayas face fell. He was stuck with wearing the sandals and deprived of the only reason, from his point of view, of doing so. He cheered up however when Admetus said they would go and see if Vulcan was being looked after properly.

They found Vulcan a man struggling to hold him by his bridle while a boy nervously tried to groom him. Ayas could tell at a glance that something had upset the horse. His ears were right back, his eyes rolled, he was throwing his head back while shifting uneasily from foot to foot.. Just as they arrived Vulcan lashed out with his rear hoof sending the pale of water that the boy was using flying, The lad jumped back out of harms way and despite being cursed and threatened by the groom showed no sign of trying to resume his work.

Ayas started forward and the boy cringed away from him in alarm expecting a kick or a blow. Instead Ayas took the body brush from the lad who it must be said did not appear to be at all reluctant to surrender it.

"Vulcan," he said quietly, "it's all right now just calm down there's no need to be nervous."

The big horse stilled his ears pricked up and he whinnied softly. Ayas stepped up close to him and set to work with the brush. After a time the boy, plucking up courage, moved cautiously forward to stand beside him.

"He's quiet with you Sir," the boy said.

Ayas almost dropped the brush in surprise at being called "Sir" but recovered himself.

"Vulcan is as good as gold," he said loyally as he continued brushing Vukcan;s already gleaming coat. "He's just very nervous. If you're nice and quiet with him he will be nice and quiet with you. Oh and don't stand just behind him to the left. He's got a blind spot there and he'll lash out."

"I could take over now Sir that you've got him quiet," the boy said a moment or two later reassured by Ayas's friendly manner and eager to ingratiate himself with the young lord who neither hit nor cursed him..

"No thanks," Ayas replied, "I like doing it and Vulcan enjoys it too. You know he's won nearly every race he's been entered for …" and he was going on to tell the boy what a wonderful horse Vulcan was and an account of all the races he had ridden him in when Admetus summoned him somewhat peremptorily.

"Ayas come here. Give the brush to the boy and let him get on with his work."

"Epaminondas wants you to meet your new tutor."

"Tutor!" Ayas exclaimed in horror. He had received no education at all up to then and saw no reason why he should waste his time on it now. "I don't need a tutor."

"Vulcan will need to be ridden." he continued seeing if reason would do any good. "He expects it. He will be disappointed."

"The boy will ride Vulcan after he's finished grooming him. That's what we keep the brat for. You Ayas have been made a ward of the City of Thebes and placed in the care of Epaminondas. You are to be a Greek gentleman which means you will have the education that goes with it."

"But I want to be a soldier and ride horses."

"You can do that after you have learnt to read and write and many other things too no doubt, philosophy, arithmetic and," Admetus added suddenly grinning, "to appreciate the glories of Homer's heroic works."

"You were falling asleep last night too Sir," Ayas riposted stung by the injustice of the implied criticism.

"I was my boy, I was," Admetus replied laughing aloud. "I would imagine most of the men there were as bored as we both were but we all have to pretend to enjoy it."

"And there's another thing you had better remember Ayas now you are one of us," Admetus continued suddenly serious again. "You need to keep your distance from the slaves. You were much too familiar with that brat."

Admetus nodded at the stable boy who had returned to his work.

"It's always a mistake," Admetus made no effort to lower his voice although the boy was well within earshot, "to be friendly with scum like that. All slaves are the same, treat them soft and they think it is a sign of weakness and try and take advantage."

"And it's a false kindness too. Spare him the strap now and you'll probably have to crucify the little bugger in the future."

"I'm sorry Sir…," Ayas began

He wanted to say that he was sorry he disagreed with Admetus. That not all slaves were the same, that some, perhaps most, would be grateful for kind treatment and would and would show that gratitude by serving their masters well. Anyway he was being unfair to the boy who was trying his best and was at that moment bent over the sun glistening on his slim naked body vigorously grooming Vulcan's powerful shoulder. He did not have a chance to say any of these things because Admetus interrupted him.

"No permanent harm done lad," he said heartily, "I'll just give the brat a good thrashing. That'll knock any nonsense out of him and stop the rot before it even begins."

The boy, hearing this, whimpered quietly but had the sense to keep on working.

"Now cut along and see Epaminondas. He'll be at his tent. You can't miss it. It's right in the centre of the camp. The big tent with the pennons outside and the military guards."

"Don't hang around. You do not want to start off by keeping your new tutor waiting."

"But Sir…"

"Don't worry Ayas, he's quite a pretty little slut. I'll enjoy flogging him. It will be a case of duty and pleasure going together."

"Come here you. Get away from that horse. I don't want it frightened by your screams."

The boy began to move reluctantly forward. He seemed to have difficulty in walking and Ayas could see his cheeks were already wet with tears.

Ayas hesitated and then turned on his heels and walked off. There was nothing he could do and anyway he told himself it was no great deal – just a slave boy being beaten.

Behind him he could hear the unmistakable sounds of a boy under correction, the crack of leather against bare flesh mingling with shrill howls of pain and frantic pleas for mercy.

Ayas walked along deep in thought. As a slave he had longed for freedom and envied those free boys he saw, proud confident privileged creatures, with plenty to eat and clothes to wear and plenty of time to play and enjoy themselves. Now though when apparently he had the opportunity to experience it he was not so sure a free boy's life was all that wonderful. Not if it meant not being able to be with Vulcan and having to spend his time with a tutor learning to read and write and other useless things and not being able to talk with other boys without getting them into trouble. He looked forward moodily into a future of lessons and loneliness and uncomfortable clothes and sandals that hurt your feet.

He glanced around. He was now walking between rows of tents. There was nobody about and he was out of sight of Admetus. It occurred to him that he could at least do something about the sandals. He stopped bent over and pulled them off. He would have to put them on again before he met anyone but there was no reason why he should wear the horrible things when there was nobody about to see him. He walked on carrying his sandals, hating them and once more sunk in gloomy thought.

Ayas was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not notice Perrin until the other boy was almost on him. He suddenly appeared from a side aisle of tents stumbling blindly along, crying loudly. Catching sight of Ayas at the last moment he started back cowering away from him.

"Whatever is the matter Perrin?" Ayas demanded.

"Oh it's you Ayas… I didn't recognize you in those clothes…"

"You better be careful Ayas," he continued his concern for his friend making him momentarily forget his own problems. "You'll be in awful trouble if you get caught wearing them. You'd better take them off and carry them like you're carrying those sandals."

"Don't bother about that now Perrin," Ayas said impatiently, the thought of trying to explain what had happened and making an already upset Perrin understand it properly was just too daunting to contemplate. "I can take care of myself. What has happened that has upset you so much?"

Perrin's own miseries forgotten for the moment in his concern for his friend returned with redoubled force and he began to cry loudly once again.

"Serapion is dying," Perrin eventually managed to blurt out between sobs.

And having started, the damn as it were having been broken seemed unable to stop.

"My Master," he wailed. "The kindest Master a boy has ever had. He was wounded in the battle and they carried him back to the tent and he's dying… I know he is. A spear thrust in his belly and they always die from that…"

"I loved him Ayas… I did and now he's dying…"

Ayas felt sorry for Perrin but he thought he was rather overdoing the drama. He remembered seeing him just before the Battle of Leuctra perched on the back of a cart, crammed between two naked young girls. shouting at him to come and join them so they could all have a good time while their masters were fighting and in an attempt to bring the boy back to earth mentioned it.

It was a mistake.

"It wasn't the same thing at all," Perrin protested indignantly. "They were just girls… They don't count… It was just a bit of fun…"

And he began to howl with renewed vigour.

Ayas realised this was a situation where words and reason would do no good at all. He reached out and hugged Perrin to him. He looked down at the top of the boy's dark hair nestling against his chest.

After a time Perrin's sobbing faded away and he stood back, knuckling his eyes and sniffing loudly.

"And Serapion's sent me to ask the General to visit him – and it's all right for him saying 'tell the General I want to see him'. I'm just a slave boy. Maybe they won't let me see him or maybe they'll beat me or rape me or something. But I got to try Ayas. I can't let him down after he's been so good to me."

"If the General is Epaminondas," Ayas said reassuringly, "I'm going to him now and I'm sure he'll see me. You come along with me Perrin and you'll see him all right and I'm sure no one will beat you or anything."

Perrin was not convinced that Ayas could fulfil this promise but there was nothing else on offer so he fell into step beside him. Ayas himself was feeling far from confident. Epaminondas might be waiting for him but he had to get to him. He had seen enough in the short time he had been in the Theban camp to know that the General was a very important man and moved about surrounded by a large number of followers one of whose main tasks would be to stop him being bothered unnecessarily and he was enough of a realist to know that in the eyes of such people there was nothing more unnecessary and bothersome than a young boy.

And then there was Perrin. Ayas was very fond of him and would do his best to help him but naked with his face stained by tears he didn't look very impressive. His presence certainly wouldn't help Ayas get past the General's guards and staff. Ayas knew Epaminondas was expecting and seemed to want to see him. Perrin on the other hand would be a surprise and not necessarily a welcome one.

On top of that once he had managed to see Epaminondas there was Damos. He had not managed to do anything to help his old friend and goodness knows what source of mess he would have got himself into by now after the defeat of the Spartans. He needed to get Epaminondas to help him with that.

All this at a time when Epaminondas no doubt wanted to talk to him about his tutor and being educated as a Greek Gentleman and learning to read and write and to like Homer and all sorts of other boring and unimportant things.

All things considered Ayas thought his coming interview with Epaminondas would not be without its difficulties. He let none of this show however but strode forward with apparent total confidence with Perrin once again quietly sobbing at his side.

His courage was tested further by the sight of the general's tent looming ahead of them. Its size, set alone in the middle of a broad meadow, was frightening enough. The pennons fluttering in the stiff breeze on the poles outside it and the constantly changing crowd of richly dressed soldiers milling about at its entrance made it all the more imposing.

Ayas stopped.

"Do take that tunic off," Perrin pleaded nervously. "You'll never get away with pretending you're a free boy and wearing it will only make things worse for us."

"Look let's forget about the whole thing," he continued in desperation as before his horrified eyes Ayas, far from stripping off and reverting to the proper condition of a slave boy, slipped on his sandals. "I'm sure someone else will tell the general my master is wounded. It's not worth it. Aren't you frightened?"

"Of course I'm not," lied Ayas for he was very frightened indeed and found it difficult to stop his voice rising to a nervous squeak.

He grabbed Perrin by the hand and dragging the smaller boy along behind him strode manfully forwards.

He kept his eyes on the two guards in full uniform at the entrance to the tent. They stood at ease on either side of it the butts of their spears resting on the ground the shafts inclined forwards so they crossed and barred the way. Anyone approaching the tent was approached by an officer who either turned them away or waived them forward. In the latter case the guards would snap to attention, the inclined spears would be brought upright, unblocking the way.

They got closer and closer. The officer had clearly seen them approaching but he gave no sign. The guards stood apparently immovable their crossed blocking the entrance. A few more paces and they would be right up to them. Ayas felt panic rising inside him. Screwing his courage to its peak he forced himself to keep steadily walking forward. There was nothing else he could do.

Chapter 47

Epaminondas glanced up from the table at which he was seated. Saw Ayas and smiled and then spotting Perrin's naked form cringing behind him, grinned.

"We put you to bed with one boy and you appear in the morning with another. I know a warrior's appetites are strong and must be satisfied but moderation in all things Ayas as I am sure your tutor will tell you," he said.

"It wasn't like that Sir," Ayas assured him hurriedly his face glowing red in embarrassment. "I only just met Perrin on the way here Sir and he had been sent to you with a message by his master so I brought him along with me."

"I just had the one boy last night and thank you very much for him and I hope I didn't hurt him too bad Sir," he added hurriedly.

"Don't worry," Epaminondas said waiving his hand to indicate the total triviality of the well being of a mere slave boy in the general scheme of things, "the markets will be flooded with such livestock. War always brings a glut of slaves."

"But what," he said looking directly at Perrin, "is the message your master sent you to give me."

Perrin overawed by his surroundings could only stutter a reply. Ayas seeing his difficulty came to his rescue.

"Sir he told me he has been sent by his Master, Serapion who has been wounded and is dying to ask you to visit him."

"I don't see why the stupid boy couldn't tell me that himself," Epaminondas rather unfairly grumbled. "Of course I will visit Serapion. You can come with me. It is on the way to your tutor's and we can go on to him from there."

Searapion was lying on a couch. His breath was coming in short rasping gasps and the tumbled sheets were stained with blood. Perrin who had hung back on the way to his tent now slipped past Epaminondas and Ayas, and kneeling beside his master took his hand in both of his and kissed it.

"Master," he said, "the General is here."

Searapion stirred and spoke.

"You're a good boy," he said his voice a rasping whisper.

Painfully he heaved himself up onto one elbow and fixed his gaze on Epaminondas.

"Thank you for coming. I know there must be much for you to do," he seemed to be speaking from a long way off.

"Not so much that I cannot come to an old friend when he called for me," Epaminondas replied gently. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"It's this little slut that worries me," Serapion replied. "Everything else is looked after. There is land and money enough for my mother, my wife and my child but they will not care for the slut. Why should they? He means nothing to them. They'd sell him soon as I'm dead. He's a pretty little thing and should fetch a good price but I don't like to think of him forced to work as a whore in some cheap boy's brothel."

Serapion paused and catching sight of Ayas set off on a fresh tack.

"Who's that with you," he demanded suddenly.

"Ayas."

"Ayas, my slut's hero… What's he doing here."

"He has been made a ward of the Theban state and placed in my care. I was taking him to meet his tutor when I received the message that you wanted to see me."

"That would work for Ayas. He is a tough little thing. It wouldn't work for Perrin. He's too soft. He wouldn't last a day as a free boy… I know… Ayas will need a slave boy to serve him now he is free. He can have Perrin when I die and you are witness to my bequest."

At these words Perrin buried his face in the blood soaked sheets and began to sob loudly.

"Let him stay with me to the end though," Serapion said gently stroking Perrin's head, "It won't be long now and it is a comfort to have him with me."

It was late afternoon before Ayas was released by his tutor. Clutching his wax tablet and stylus in one hand and his sandals in the other he made his way as quickly as he could towards the horse lines. He was tired and his head ached. He had been forced to waste more than enough time on this reading and writing nonsense, which he was quite sure he would never master, now he could get back to the really important things like horses and riding.

Anyway who needed reading and writing? What use were they to him? He thought he had done very well without them so why he should bother about them now. But there were more lessons tomorrow and the next day and no doubt the day after that and the day after that. He looked forward glumly to an infinity of lessons and boredom.

The tutor lived in a modest villa on the outskirts of Thebes so Ayas had some distance to walk before he reached the army's encampment. His way lay along a narrow lane, deserted at this time of day, bounded on either side by dry stones walls. Usually a lively inquisitive boy he was so sunk in gloom that he took no notice of his surroundings, just trudging along, head bowed. oblivious to everything but his own misery.

The first he knew about the youth lurking behind one of the walls was when he was grabbed from behind with an arm around his neck. His tablet, stylus and sandals went flying. He could tell the his attacker was much bigger and stronger than he was. The grip on his throat tightened and his head began to swim. He drove his elbow backwards into his assailant's stomach. There was an agonized grunt and the grip on his throat slackened. He managed to get his chin down and sank his teeth in the youth's forearm.

"You bastard. I'll kill you for that," a familiar voice said.

"Damos don't you know me?" cried Ayas.

"Ayas what do you mean dressing up like a free boy?" Damos demanded indignantly.

"And what do you mean hiding behind walls and jumping out at people and trying to strangle them?"

"I thought you might have some money with that tunic and stuff and I've been on the run ever since the battle. I thought no point in just swapping a Spartan master for a Theban one so I took off. If I could get some money I could get to the coast and then something'll turn up."

"Like what?" asked Ayas who had a strong practical streak.

"Maybe training horses. Old Horsey, the Trainer you remember him, he'd come in with me and we'd make it work if we could get a couple of half decent horses but we'd want real money for that."

"Well," Ayas said pulling the purse he had taken off Xionedes out from under his tunic, "I've got some money you can have if you want."

Squatting on the ground he tipped the contents of the purse out onto the dust. Damos squatting down beside him stared open mouthed at the pile of gold and silver coins.

"Where did you get those from," he gasped after a moments stunned silence.

"I took them off Xionedes after I killed him," Ayas replied matter of factly.

"So that bastard's dead," Damos said his satisfaction obvious in his voice.

"But I can't take it off you. If you were just a free boy like I thought you were when I first saw you I would kill you if I had to get it. But you're Ayas. my friend. I can't take your money."

"I don't see why not," Ayas replied hotly. "I wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't for you. I'd have been tortured to death by Xionedes if you hadn't freed me. Take the stuff. I won't starve. I'm a free citizen of Thebes and under the protection of their general."

"Half of it would do. It'd get me to the coast and a passage back to Sparta and still leave enough over to buy a horse or two. There'll be plenty of horses as well as slaves coming onto the market now. There always are after a big battle and the prices will be low."

"With Xionedes dead we'll probably have the pick of his stables," Damos continued with increasing enthusiasm. "If we could get hold of Vulcan we'd be really onto a winner."

"Well you can't. He's with me and he's staying with me and anyway you wouldn't be able to stay on him - not when he's really going."

"All right," Damos replied pacifically, "Vulcan and you could come in with us and we'd all make our fortune… but I suppose you don't want to. You're too well fixed here now."

"Yes," Ayas said a little doubtfully. "I suppose I have been very lucky."

His eyes strayed to his sandals and stylus and tablet lying scattered in the dust. Looking at those hateful objects he wondered if he had really been that lucky. For a moment he imagined himself back at the races, Vulcan straining his neck and fidgeting under him, eager for the start; then the roar of the crowd and the thunder of hooves as they and a dozen or more other horses with their boy jockeys hurtled down the track together before swinging, a jostling mass of boys and horses, round the first pila. His life then had been hard and dangerous but it was exciting and he wasn't troubled with sandals and Homer and a tutor with a big beard and a stale smell who when he wasn't going on about the alphabet was wittering on about virtue and the ideal.

His old life looked to him at that moment very attractive but to return to it would mean abandoning Perrin and he couldn't do that. The boy no doubt would be sold and pretty as he was there was little doubt in Ayas's mind as to his ultimate fate forced to ply for trade in some boys' brothel servicing half a dozen or more different men a night until he was killed by disease or a drunken client.

Furthermore Ayas was enough of a realist to know he only had a limited future as a jockey. He was getting bigger. However good a rider he was and however good the horse – and even Vulcan couldn't go on for ever – there would come a time when he be just too big to hope to compete successfully. And then what would he do? Ayas had seen even in his short life a fair number of that perennial species 'the racing man', clad in shabby clothes that had once been flash if not smart, exuding an air of false good fellowship, trying to scrape some sort of living from manipulating the odds and doing slightly shady deals that have always been an unlovely part of the racing world. He certainly didn't want to be part of that world.

"Well it's up to you," Damos said, "but if you change your mind the offer is there."

"You sure," he said a few moments later, his hand hesitating over one of the two the piles of coins glittering in the dust, "it's all right my taking these?"

"Of course it is," Ayas said. "You saved my life."

Still Damos hesitated.

"Yes," he said and paused.

Ayas thought that his friend normally brimming with self confidence was unusually hesitant.

"Yes," Damos said again and then continued speaking in a rush, "I think you ought to know that was Mus more than me. He worked it all out."

"Mus," Ayas exclaimed surprised, "he can hardly speak and you never got on with him. You told me he was bad luck."

"He can make himself understood if he wants to and I was wrong about him. He had it all worked out all, I had to do was to set the fire and get Vulcan to the top of the cellar steps ready for when he got you out."

"It doesn't make any difference anyway ," Ayas said after a moments reflection. "If it hadn't been for your help I wouldn't be here now. Of course you can have half the money. You can take the lot if you want."

"Thank you. Like I said, I just thought you ought to know. Mus will be in the partnership with us. He will provide the brains."

"It's nice to think," Damos as wrapped his share of the coins in a piece of rag, "that the money comes from that bastard Xionedes."

"Even nicer," he continued jumping to his feet and grinning, "to know that he is dead."

He set off down the track towards Thebes leaving Ayas to recover his sandals, tablet and stylus from where they lay in the dust.

At least Ayas told himself as he made his way to the horse lines he need no longer worry about Damos. However his satisfaction at that thought was very much diminished when, arriving at the lines, he caught sight of the stable lad with whom he had chatted that morning. He was limping badly and had a black eye, his lip was split and his shoulders and the back of his thighs below the hem of his brief tunic were ribbed with livid bruises. It was obvious that Admetus had given the boy a sharp reminder of the humility and respect required of a slave. It was clear from the boy's extreme nervousness and the way he avoided Ayas' eyes that that lesson had been well learnt. The boy as he stood in front of Ayas's was clearly terrified, he was shaking with fear and could hardly manage to speak. However he was willing enough and ran off to fetch Vulcan.

Ayas was so upset by the sight of the boy's injuries and his obvious terror that for the first five minutes or so of his ride he could think of little else. Once he and Vulcan were clear of the camp the big horse needed no urging to break into a canter and then into a full gallop. Then with the wind in his hair and the thunder of hooves in his ears he forgot everything except for the joy of movement and the excitement of speed.

After his ride he watered and groomed Vulcan himself the boy hovering uneasily in the background. Then, rather reluctantly, he collected his stylus and tablet, picked up his sandals and set off for his tent.

His heart rose as he saw Perrin squatting on the ground at its entrance. The boy didn't seem to hear him approach and only looked up when Ayas spoke to him. His eyes were red with weeping and his cheeks damp from tears.

"Perrin, whatever is the matter?" Ayas asked although he had a good idea of what was wrong.

"He's dead, my old master Serapion has died and they told me to come here," and bowing his head he began to sob quietly.

Ayas was slightly irritated by the other boy's obvious distress. Some slight show of grieve would have been understandable but there was no need for him to over do it, especially as Serapion's death meant that Perrin passed into his ownership. It seemed to Ayas at least that, that was something for Perrin to celebrate rather than cry about,. That Perrin did not recognise this piqued him a little.

He reached out and drew the sobbing boy to him. He hugged Perrin's slim naked body to his. Sliding one hand down his back till it cupped and squeezed his firm little bottom. He held the boy tight and then slipping his free hand under his chin, tipped his head back. He looked down into the boy's face for a brief moment. Tears glistening in his eyes. His cheeks were wet with crying. Ayas thought the boy's distress gave him an added beauty. He bent his head and kissed Perrin hard on his quivering lips. Perrin tensed momentarily then his lips parted and Ayas shot his tongue between them and into the boy's mouth.

For a moment their tongues jostled each other and explored each others mouths. Then Ayas broke the embrace. He held Perrin, looking down into his face, with a hand on each shoulder

"You must forget Serapion," he said smiling gently. "You are my boy now and you must only think about serving and pleasing me."

"I'll try Ayas… I'll try…" Perrin whispered still fighting back his tears.

"You can start now," Ayas said with a soft laugh.

He turned Perrin so that he was facing the entrance to the tent and urged him forward with an open handed slap on his rump.

Perrin, giving his bottom a provocative little wriggle, preceded his new master into the tent.

The boy's coupled on the couch, a jumble of naked limbs, their bare flesh slicked with sweat glistening in the dim light filtering through the roof and walls of the tent. Ayas with all the energy and vigour of youth found release from the pent up frustrations of the day in the younger boy's body. The incomprehensible mystery of the alphabet, the tedious and pointless lectures on philosophy, forgotten in a frenzy of lust. Perrin reacted enthusiastically, his sorrow at the death of Serapion forgotten, as he strove to bring his new master to ever higher peaks of sexual ecstasy.

Sated at last Ayas rolled away from Perrin, their damp bodies parting with an audible plop. He lay on his back panting while Perrin wriggled down between his legs and tried to revive his passion with his tongue and lips.

"No," Ayas said pushing the boy's head away from his crutch, "that's enough now. I can't manage any more. Go and get some water and we can wash ourselves down."

Perrin gave a small disappointed murmur, he was sure he could have brought Ayas to a crisis one more time if he had just been given a few more seconds, but he obeyed. Sliding from the couch he made his way out of the tent feeling the warm cum dribbling from his hole down the inside of his legs, and set off with a bucket to the well.

Ayas after a moments further rest heaved himself to his feet and in his turn made his way out of the tent. He stood enjoying the feel of the cool evening air against his bare skin.

Admetus strolled up grinning knowingly. In his right hand he carried a slim cane or perhaps more accurately riding crop, three foot long, a stiff rod encased in plated leather with a stout tightly knotted leather thong at its tip to give it added bight. Ayas eyed it with trepidation. His stomach turned as he imagined once again being made to offer his bare bottom to its cruel kiss, the hiss of the descending rod, the explosion of pain as it slashed down across his taught flesh. Then the comforting thought came to him that he was a free boy now, perhaps not exempt from the cane but safe at least from the most extreme punishment.

"Well young man been enjoying your new boy?"

Ayas flushed hotly but Admetus continued regardless of his obvious embarrassement.

"He's a pretty little whore and so I told Epaminondas when he said you were to have him but I think it might have been better to have sold him and bought a fresh brat. There's bound to be a good lot of high quality stock coming on the market now and you'd find it easier breaking in a new boy than dealing with one who knew you as a slave."

"I'm sure Perrin will behave very well," Ayas protested hotly.

"That's all very well but remember what I told you before. It's not as if you are from an old family. You have to make your own position in society. You cannot allow familiarity from your inferiors. You must ensure you are respected and feared. You cannot afford to be popular."

"Perrin calls me his hero now – you've heard him." Ayas was beginning to grow restive under this lecture.

"Feeling respect is not enough in your particular circumstances. He must show it too and there I can see problems. Serapion frankly spoilt the boy and allowed him to become much too familiar. It didn't matter in Serapion's case – an aristocrat of an old family – people thought it amusing. With you though it would be fatal."

"Perrin must be taught and taught quickly that behaviour that Serapion tolerated is no longer allowed and I have brought this cane along to help you in that. I prefer the cane to the whip for discipline a valuable high quality boy like Perrin. Used judiciously it will I think make a quick but lasting impression without risking crippling or permanently disfiguring him."

"I'm sure I won't need to use it on Perrin," Ayas said uneasily eyeing the cane uneasily.

He must he told himself get Perrin alone somewhere as quickly as possible and warn him of this development. A few 'masters' and a certain amount of kneeling and bowing on the boy's part would surely be enough to satisfy Admetus.

"That maybe so but if the boy does cause problems and he does not respond satisfactorily to the cane and Epimaninodos agrees with me – he should be sold and a fresh brat from the slave markets bought in his place. Don't worry you will find breaking a boy quite as exciting as breaking a colt and indeed much the same principles apply."

At this moment Perrin appeared at the end of the line of tents slopping water from two leather buckets as they banged against his bare thighs. Stooping under his load he approached them and without looking up, unceremoniously dumped the buckets on the ground.

"There you are Ayas," he panted, "I got the water like you said now I bet I can get you to go at least twice more. Serapion often managed four times and you're much younger than he was."

At this point Admetus, who had been struck dumb by the boy's apparent impudence, recovering from his surprise sent Perrin sprawling in the dust with a savage punch on the side of his head.

"Insolent little brute," he raved red faced towering over the boy as he cowered naked at his feet, "I'll teach you respect for your betters. I'll flay the skin from that pretty little bottom of yours."

"Well," he said grimly, "it's lucky I brought the cane along I'll be using it sooner than I expected."

Footnote:

1. I have no idea of the ceremonial drill followed by the ancient Greeks. This is merely the way I feel they should have behaved in such circumstances. I would say though, that the phalanx, the massed ranks of heavy infantry which was their main battle formation. must have required a formidable degree of training and discipline to maintain.

He could not allow this to happen. He loved Perrin. He was his boy and what was more his slave. He had a duty to protect him – and to correct him to if he needed correction – but that was his duty and no one else's.

It was not going to be easy. He had been reared as a slave. He had been schooled almost from birth in the servile qualities of obedience and humility. Now he told himself he had to challenge to his face the authority of one of the privileged of his world. A man with a natural right to exact obedience and respect and who was used to enforcing those rights with brutal effectiveness.

He had felt less frightened when he had battled with the waves in the Gulf of Corinth, or faced the wolves in the darkness of the forest than he did at that moment when he decided he had to face down Admetus.

He took a deep breath and squared his chin. He seemed to have difficulty in breathing but nevertheless he found his voice.

"Sir, the boy's my property and you're not to touch him."

Admetus turned and stared at him open mouthed. For a moment he looked as though he had been bitten by a sheep, then as he looked down into the pale determined face of the boy. Surprise was replaced by anger and then an expression of grim amusement.

"Very well young man, he said quietly, "it will be your opportunity to show me that you are capable of keeping the brat in order. Fail it and we will have to sell the boy, he's a pretty little thing and will have the brothel owners bidding against each other. Then we can buy you a slut that hasn't been spoilt by an over-indulgent master. So if you want to keep him and save him from a future as a whore you had better dismiss any idea of letting him off lightly."

Ayas swallowed. This was not what he had in mind when he had taken his stand. But needs must and he felt in a confused sort of way that it was surely better that Perrin, if he was to be beaten at all, was beaten by someone who loved him rather than by a man who cared nothing for him and who would positively enjoy doing so.

He glanced across to where Perrin still huddled on the ground at Admetus's feet one hand holding the side of his head where the man had struck him. He accepted he was going to have to beat Perrin but the practical arrangements were quite another thing.

Fortunately Admetus saw his difficulty. Bending down he buried his hand in Perrin's hair and dragged the boy across to the sturdy stool set just outside the entrance to the tent. Ayas caught a glimpse of the boy's pale frightened face as he was forced down over the stool. It looked as though he was on the verge of tears.

"Come over here and show me how well you can handle this," Admetus ordered holding out the cane.

Ayas looked across to where Perrin lay stretched out across the stool. He could see the boy was trembling and his face, looking back at him over a bare shoulder, was pale and drawn with fear.

It seemed a long way across to the stool. Ayas stood wordlessly staring down at the slim naked body of his beloved ignoring the cane proffered by Admetus. He shivered. The evening air against his bare body seemed to have suddenly become unusually chill. His throat was tight with excitement and he seemed hardly able to breath. Perrin whimpered with fear. Deep dimples appeared on either side of his round little bottom as its muscles tensed in anticipation of the cane's sharp caress.

Ayas longed to take the boy in his arms, to caress him, to kiss his trembling lips and to assure him there was nothing to fear and no one was going to hurt him. But he knew he must not do that. If he was to keep the boy, to save him from a short and brutal life as fresh meat in a boys' brothel, he would have to inflict on the child present and extreme pain. He hoped Perrin would understand this. He wanted to send a signal to Perrin to tell him that although he was going to hurt him and hurt him badly, he loved him and that was the reason why he was doing it.

He bent forward and kissed the boy on the small of the back just above the point where the swell of his rump began. He sensed the faintly musty sweet smell of the boy's flesh and tasted salt on his lips.

Perrin arched his back moaning softly.

Ayas straightened and turning to Admetus, held his hand out for the cane.

"Lets see how you can handle that," Admetus said grimly surrendering the cane to him and then adding helpfully the advice given to every novice in this situation, to aim his blow six inches or so beyond the actual target and to give it plenty of follow through.

Ayas hefted the cane in his hand, feeling its weight. Its tip quivered slightly and was still. It had a stiff firm action. Ayas could imagine it curling round to bite deeply into the boy's taughtly stretched flesh.

He felt sick but at the same time strangely excited. It was almost as though the cane had a will of its own eager to strike, to rip and to tear. He looked down at the trembling boy stretched out naked, face down over the stool. He thought he had never seen Perrin looking more attractive or more vulnerable. Perhaps, it occurred to him, his very vulnerability increased his attractiveness. Certainly the boy's upraised rump seemed to invite the rod. It was as if the two were made for each other. (1) He noticed Admetus staring at his crutch, his lips curling in amusement and realised that he had an erection.

Perhaps it was not going to be as difficult as he originally thought to give Perrin a sufficiently severe thrashing to satisfy Admetus.

He very gently laid the cane across Perrin's firm little bottom deliberately measuring his distance. The boy shuddered at the touch of the rod and whimpered softly.

He raised his right arm over his head and then brought the cane down with all his strength and weight behind the blow. The rich sibilant hiss of the descending cane was followed by a sharp crack as wood bit into boy's flesh. Perrin's heels and head jerked convulsively upwards. There was a moment of intense silence and then Perrin screamed shrilly.

"Don't hurry it. Give the brat time to feel every cut," Admetus commanded.

Ayas watched as the white line that the cane had etched across the golden brown skin of the wildly sobbing boy's bottom darkened and filled with blood.

He waited until Perrin was still again apart from the shuddering sobs that wracked his slim body. Then he struck again. This time Perrin was screaming even before the cane bit into his tender flesh. The boy's howl was choked off short as the burning pain once more emptied his lungs of air. In his agony he rolled off the stool onto the ground. Loosing control of his bladder he lay there moaning in a widening pool of steaming piss.

Admetus stepped forward and kicked the boy hard in his side.

"Get back up on the stool you filthy little dog turd," he rasped.

Perrin struggled to his knees.

"Master please Master no more please…," he begged.

Ayas looked down into the boy's tear stained face smeared with snot and saliva. He felt his heart would burst. A deep overwhelming affection for the boy was mixed with a fierce pride. At that moment he loved Perrin but he felt no pity for his suffering. After all he, Ayas was the Master. It was right and proper that the boy should be taught to fear and respect him.

Grimly he tapped the seat of the stool with the cane.

"Back," he ordered his voice cold and remorseless. "Get back up at once."

In his opinion Perrin's lesson was not yet over and anyway he was enjoying giving it to the child.

Admetus smiled. He told himself that the boy had the right stuff in him after all.

Perrin dragged himself reluctantly back up onto the stool and lay there whimpering quietly. Ayas bent forward to examine more closely his handiwork, running the tip of his finger along one of the livid welts that the cane had raised across the sweet curve of Perrin's smooth flesh. He saw how the knotted lash at the tip of the cane had curved round the boy's rump to nip him painfully and raise blood blisters on his flanks.

Then straightening he raised the cane and once more brought it slashing down across the screaming child's quivering bottom. Ayas lost himself in a red haze of excitement as he cut down again and again and the helpless boy howled and writhed as the cane raked his naked bottom..

Then suddenly Admetus was behind him holding his right hand.

"That's enough boy," the man said his satisfaction clear in the tone of his voice. "He'll remember this lesson for a very long time."

Sanity returned. Ayas looked down appalled at Perrin stretched out sobbing over the stool beads of blood welling from the weals that striped his rump and the backs of his thighs.

How could he have treated a boy he cared so much about so cruelly? Would Perrin ever forgive him?

Perrin rolled sideways from the stool and crouched huddled on the ground.

"I'm sorry Perrin…I'm so sorry," Ayas said bending forward to help the boy to his feet.

Perrin clung to the older boy. Ayas could feel his cheek wet with tears pressed against his chest. Slipping a hand under Perrin's chin he tipped the boy's head back. Perrin looked up into his face, his eyes glittering with tears. Then suddenly his arms were wrapped tight round Ayas's neck and his lips pressed hard against his mouth. Ayas slipped his tongue past the boy's parted lips into his mouth. For a moment the two boys clung together feasting on each others' lips, their tongues teasing each other. Then Perrin broke the embrace. Slowly he worked his way down Ayas's body using his tongue and lips to caress and tease. Then he was on his knees and Ayas felt his soft damp limps lips warm about his cock sending the most excruciating waves of the keenest pleasure coursing through his young body. Putting his hands on the back of the kneeling boy's head Ayas vigorously pumped his mouth driving the full length of his swollen prick as deep as he could into Perrin's throat. Multiple orgasms wracked Ayas's body as he pumped his seed deep into Perrin's gullet. Perrin swallowed desperately and then hunkered back on his knees smiling up through cum smeared lips at the older boy.

That night Perin slept at the foot of Ayas;s couch face down on the floor of the tent. Ayas woke in the small hours of the morning, For sometime he lay in the dark listening to the other boy whimpering in his sleep.

Next morning Perrin's bottom and the backs of his thighs were striped with angry welts. Thin seams of dried blood marked where the cane had split his skin while the surrounding flesh was blotched with bruising varying from a dark purple to a pallid yellow. The boy moved a little stiffly and it was clear from his subdued manner and the frequent 'masters' with which he sprinkled his speech that his stripes still burnt hotly and kept the memory of his beating fresh in his mind.

Ayas was sorry for the boy but as the lad hurried nervously about trying to anticipate his needs could not help to think his attitude greatly improved. Now in the cool light of the morning he felt not the slightest guilt at the sight of the fresh weals that scored the young boy's rump, rather a certain satisfaction and pride. They showed all who saw them that he had asserted his authority.

Nor so far as he could tell was Perrin embarrassed by the havoc wrought by the cane. Indeed by the occasional slight wobble he gave his hips as he moved about and the surreptitious attempts to catch a glimpse of the damage he seemed far from ashamed of his stripes. If anything he seemed to take pride in them. Ayas remembered how in the old days his fellow slaves, although they had feared and loathed Xionides, found a perverse satisfaction in being owned by so powerful and fierce a master.

For a brief moment the comparison with Xionides, whom he had hated with all his soul, made him hesitate, Then he dismissed it from his mind.

"You stay naked," Ayas commanded as he pulled his tunic on over his head.

He was proud of Perrin, bruised bottom and all, and he wanted the whole world to know that he was his slave.

Ayas set out for his tutor's followed by Perrin carrying his tablet and stylus. Ayas had determined to wear rather than to carry his sandals so they did not walk briskly but then he was in no hurry to start his classes for the day.

Arriving at the tutor's modest villa Perrin squatted patiently down in the porch to wait while Ayas went inside for his lessons. Ayas did not pay much thought to what Perrin did while he was in class. He just assumed he remained quietly in the porch. What else after all was there for a small slave boy to do? Certainly at the end of the day Perrin was there quietly squatting in the shade.

This went on without incident for four days, Ayas enduring the tedium of learning to read and write followed by a long ride on Vulcan and some energetic sex with an eager Perrin. It had been Ayas's intention to spare the younger boy's bottom until the bruises had faded for he was a naturally considerate youth. However his beating seemed to have made Perrin more rather than less randy. Indeed the very first evening through his whimpers of pain he was urging his master to go harder and deeper.

It was on the evening of the fourth day that everything went wrong. Admetus had dropped round for a chat and he was sitting on a stool outside Ayas.s tent sipping a bowl of wine. Ayas was seated on another stool listening politely to him with Perrin sitting on the ground at his feet his head resting against the older boy's thigh. Both boys wished Admetus would shut up and go so they could get on with things.

At the end of the line of tents a man appeared striding angrily towards them. He was dragging along behind him by her wrist a weeping young girl. Her face was bruised and bloody and the brief grubby shift that was her only clothing was torn and pulled half way off one shoulder. Ayas with a sinking feeling that trouble was coming recognised her as being one of the girls who had been larking about on the cart with Perrin just before the Battle of Leuctra. He felt Perrin shift uneasily and huddle closer to him. The boy too sensed impending trouble.

The man, once he was close to them, practically through the girl at them. She staggered forward and lost her balance. She was a ludicrous sight, bawling, sprawled face downward on the ground her flimsy shift half way up her back, her bare rump sticking up in the air.

"I don't need to tell that brat of yours to help himself as he already has done so," the man shouted furiously at Ayas.

"A gentleman," he continued, his voice cracking with rage, "should make sure his slaves respect other peoples property and don't go about helping themselves. I didn't buy and go to the expense of keeping the bitch just to provide something so that little turd could stuff his cock into her…"

The man was forced to stop for breath and Admetus took the opportunity to interrupt.

"I don't expect the girl was a virgin," he said mildly. "She looks a good thirteen to me and very few slave girls get that old without the master fucking them."

"Of course the whore wasn't a virgin. I'm not such a fool as not to make full use of my possessions. That's not the point…"

"I am sure my young friend Ayas is very sorry for his boy's behaviour and will both punish him severely and pay you reasonable compensation."

"Compensation," the man snarled disgustedly landing a healthy kick up the sobbing girl's bare bottom, "the bitch is hardly worth a thing anyway. That's not the point. It's the principle. The little shit shouldn't have been allowed to go wandering about dipping his prick wherever he fancied."

"Oh Master," Perrin whimpered, "I'm sorry Master… It was just that there was nothing else to do while you was in being taught an I didn't think there was any harm. She was only just a girl not like I was doing it with a boy… and it was fun…"

"How long has it been going on for?" Admetus asked, his amusement apparent in his voice.

"Since the first day Lord… Like I said there was nothing else for me to do and she came along…"

"Four, five days then," Admetus said reflectively and then addressing the still irritated man, "maybe he'll have taken and the bitch'll breed and you could even get something good out of her… the boy's a pretty little animal and healthy too…"

"That's all very well," the man interrupted, "but the brat shouldn't have done it and he ought to be punished."

"Punished," Admetus said, "punished. We'll do better than that I'll geld him that will make sure he doesn't get up to that particular nonsense in future. And Ayas it's either this or we sell him. He can't be allowed to run round having any slave girl that he comes across."

Footnote:

1. Swinburne's perceptive verse is in point here
   Oh tell me did the mind divine
   The boy for the rod
   Or the rod for the boy
   First design

Chapter 49

Meanwhile Perrin began to cry quietly.

Master please Master," he begged brokenly, pressing his face against the side of Ayas's bare thigh, "please let me keep my balls Master… I promise I won't do it ever again with anyone else but you Master…"

"It would have been better if it had been done sooner," the girl's owner remarked sourly, "but I suppose better late than never…"

"Now you whore," he added grabbing the loudly sobbing girl by one thin stick-like arm and dragging her to her feet, "come along with me. I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget."

Ayas shifted uneasily on his stool. He thought he had better put in a plea for Perrin but doubted very much if it would be effective.

"Sir," he said urgently, "couldn't you let Perrin keep his balls Sir. He's very sorry Sir and I'm sure he won't do it again."

"Perhaps if you just gave him a good whipping Sir…" he suggested hopefully.

"Don't worry boy," Admyntas said chuckling, apparently oblivious to the consternation his decision had caused, "I've cut a few brats in my time and he's a strong well grown boy. I'll give you five to one that he lives and his value'll be increased by a half. Funny isn't it? You cut off a brat's balls and he increases in value. You'd think it would be the other way about."

He paused to ponder this conundrum before continuing.

"I shan't do it tonight though…I've had a drink or two and I might cut too deep. You need a steady hand and a clear eye to do the job properly. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough, I'll take the brat with me now though. I'll tie him tonight otherwise he might run."

For a long time after Admyntus led the bitterly sobbing Perrin away Ayas sat on his still staring sightlessly ahead of himself as the world grew dark about him. He could not bear to think of Perrin being castrated. The thought of the boy lying, trussed up, waiting in dread for the next morning and the knife was almost unbearable but what could he do to stop it? Admyntus had clearly made his mind up and was not to be shifted. If he was to exercise his rights as Perrin's owner and forbid the operation Admyntus would insist on the boy being sold and he would loose him forever and Perrin would not necessarily be any better off. The choice was between Perrin without any balls or no Perrin at all.

And then would a ball-less be the same boy as the Perrin he loved? He thoughy of the Perrin he knew laughing, eager and affectionate and doubted if he would.

As the sun sank to the west and the last vestiges of light faded Ayas lay down on his couch. Stretched out in the darkness of his tent he could not sleep. He could not rid his mind of the memories of Perrin, the soft sound of his breathing as he slept, the feel of his taught young body against his, the touch of his lips. His mind went round in circles trying to find a solution but none presented itself.

Then slowly bit by bit an idea began to form itself. He lay there examining it. It did not offer a complete solution. If he put it into operation he would not get everything he wanted and he would loose a great deal but Perrin would be safe and an old debt that had lain at the back of his mind and bothered him ever since he had incurred it would be repaid. Anyway Vulcan and he had done pretty well together up to now and there was no reason why they shouldn't manage well enough in the future specially if they went in with Damos and old Horsey. He'd have to give up his idea of being a soldier but even that wasn't all bad. It would also be the end of that learning to read and write nonsense and those boring lectures and stupid questions which philosophy seemed to entail.

His mind made up he rose from his couch pulled on his tunic and strapped on his sword. He hesitated for a moment over his sandals and then left them. They were another thing he was well rid of along with lessons.

He made his way through the sleeping camp towards Admyntus's tent. No doubt there were sentries posted but with the Spartans soundly defeated they were content to slumber quietly at their posts.

Ayas had wondered if he would have any difficulty in finding Perrin but the sound of quiet sobbing led him to look behind Admyntus tent. There the boy lay on the bare earth, his hands bound behind his back, tethered by an ankle to a stake driven into the ground.

"I knew you would come and safe me Master," Perrin said.

"Then why were you crying you big baby," Ayas asked fondly.

He drew his sword and sliced through Perrin's bonds.

"Come on," he continued helping the boy to his feet, "we're getting out of here."

Leading Perrin by the hand he set off for the horse lines. Vulcan greeted them with a low whinnie. Moving quickly Ayas saddled the big horse up while Vulcan, apparently aware of the need for quiet, stood silent and still. Ayas vaulted onto his back and held out his hand to help Perrin up. The smaller boy hesitated irresolute. Ayas remembered his fear of horses.

"All right," he whispered fiercely, "you stay here and wait for Admyntus and his knife I'm off."

Perrin choosing the lesser evil took his proffered hand and was soon sitting behind Ayas on Vulcan's back. his arms clasped tight round the older boy's waste.

It took them four days to reach Corinth for Ayas, once they were well clear of the camp, saw no reason to hurry. Neither he nor Perrin was of sufficient importance he thought for Admyntus or any other Theban to expend much effort chasing them. They'd probably send out a search party when eventually they noticed they were gone but after that had drawn a blank they would just shrug their shoulders and get on with other more important things.

The journey was uneventful and made easier by the money he had taken off Xionides. He made a detour to visit the villa where Otus and his mother lived and where Deipirus had been slain. But someone had been there before him. or the slaves on the estate had risen in rebellion, for there was nothing left of the luxurious manor house but a burnt out ruin.

At the head of the pass where Peleus had stood with his few men against the Spartan army a great cairn had been raised. Ayas traced the letters carved into a marble slab set in the cairn and for the first time in his life thought there might be something to be said for being able to read.

They arrived on the outskirts of Corinth on the evening of the fourth day and put up at an inn. Ayas knew that the visit he was about to pay was likely to be tricky and he thought he might get a better reception both for himself and the proposal he was planning to make if he paid it in the day time.

Perrin asked no questions. He seemed content to follow Ayas and to do what he was told and he did so with a cheerfulness and willingness that was exemplary in a slave boy.

Ayas rose early the next morning in order to check that Vulcan was all right before he had his own breakfast. Followed by Perrin, who tagged along in case he could help, he crossed the inn yard to the stables. Vulcan was perfectly all right but that of course did not stop Ayas from fussing over him for half an hour or so. It was when he turned to leave the stables that he realised that he had fatally underestimated his own importance.

Just inside the archway that led from the yard out on to the public road stood two soldiers, unmistakably Theban soldiers and unmistakably on guard. Nobody could go in or out of the inn without passing them. They hadn't been there half an hour before when he entered the stables. They were there now..

Ayas's mind raced. They must be there after Perrin and himself. There was no other conceivable reason for them being there.

It wasn't too difficult to see how they had caught up with them. Ayas trusting in his estimate of his own insignificance had made little effort to hurry and none to disguise himself. A young lord with a pretty slave boy riding a fine horse, indeed the finest horse there was, would be easy to remember and therefore to track. Once they had traced them to Corinth all their pursuers had to do was to split up into small groups and go round the various inns till they found the one they were staying in.

Obviously this is what the two soldiers, now lounging in the gateway to the inn subjecting all people going in or out to a close scrutiny, had done. Presumably having run there quarry down they had sent one of their number back to report to their leader, probably Ayas though gloomily Admyntus and now they were awaiting his arrival. If Admyntus had been there Ayas was sure he would have come straight to the stables looking for him.

That he wasn't there gave them a brief chance to escape but they had to think and act quickly. The two soldiers were not stopping anyone going in and out of the inn. They just lounged there keeping a close eye on the people passing by. Ayas did not think he had seen the men before and he thought it likely therefore that they had not seen him. No doubt they were looking out for a young lord with a pretty slave boy and a big black horse.

Then he saw it. It was obvious what they had to do. All right it would leave Vulcan and him in a bit of a hole but they would get by as they had so many times in the past. Perrin was the one that needed looking after and if this worked he'd keep his balls and have a good home with a kind master who would spoil him.

Ayas pulled off his tunic and loincloth and, watched in wide eyed surprise by Perrin, began smearing his face and body with dirt from the stable floor.

"Put your hands behind your back," he ordered urgently.

He bound Perrin's wrists together and then spinning the boy about to face him punched him hard in the face. Perrin staggered backwards blood spurting from his nose and running down his chin. Ayas stepped forward and landed two further sharp blows one on his mouth splitting his lips the other on his eye.

"Master…" Perrin began to protest but got no further before Ayas slipped a halter over his neck and silenced him with a sharp tug so that the rope bit into his neck choking him.

Then Ayas, transformed from a young lord into a naked grubby slave brat, stepped out into the inn yard and began to walk boldly towards the two soldiers dragging the battered and blood stained Perrin behind him.

"That's not a bad looking slut under the dirt Asius," one of the soldiers remarked loudly eyeing Ayas as he approached.

"I wouldn't mind the other one. Wash his face and get the blood off him and I reckon he'd make a pretty little whore," the second remarked.

"Hey boys," Asius stepped forward jingling two copper coins in his hand while blocking Ayas's path, "Where are you off to? Stay a minute or two with us and you could earn these."

Ayas thought fast. It was the sort of invitation that could not be safely refused but…

"Lord Master said to get him," Ayas spoke in as thick an accent as he could manage slurring his words and at the same time jerking hatd yet again on the halter round Perrin's neck to show that he was referring to him, "away from here fore he spread it anymore but…" and he moistened his lips suggestively with the tip of his tongue.

"Spread? what do you mean, spread?" the second soldier asked sharply.

"Master says the sores are his fault Lord that's why he hit him Lord, nasty big sores on his cock an balls. They came after he fucked him an they make his cum taste funny too Lord, like bad eggs, when I sucked him…"

"Get out of here," Asius ordered urgently, stepping back to let Ayas pass. "Get away from me you disease ridden little whore…"

"I'll give you a good suck Lord… I won't let the sores in my mouth bother me…"

"Go away… Clear off…"

"Very well Lord. If you don't want me," and giving his bottom a petulant wriggle Ayas flounced off into the street dragging Perrin behind him.

An hour or so later Ayas stood in a narrow lane between tall whitewashed walls outside a pair of familiar double gates. Perrin, looking utterly confused and frightened, the halter still round his neck and his hands still bound behind his back, standing, head bowed and dejected, behind him. Ayas had not taken the time to explain his plan to him. Why should he have done so? His priority was to get Perrin off the streets and into a place of safety. Explanations could wait till later.

Now while hammering urgently on the wooden gates he wondered if it might not have been better if he taken some time to explain things. His plan was he knew at a critical stage, Its success or failure would depend on Perrin making a favourable impression and at that moment he thought the boy was not, to put it mildly, looking his best. However it was too late to do anything about it now.

"What is it? Who's there?" someone demanded from the other side of the double gates.

"It's me Theocrates," Ayas shouted recognising the voice as that of the slave of Attis the man who had bought him in the market at Corinth and had been so kind to him, "Ayas, you remember me. Please open the gate and let me in."

It was clear that he was remembered for there was the sound of bolts being shot back and the gates swung open to reveal Theocrates his kind old face split by the mist enormous grin.

"Ayas," he cried, "you've come back, I always told the Master you would."

"Get the gate closed quick," Ayas said starting forward dragging Perrin along behind him.

"Who's that? What's all that noise about? What nonsense are you up to now you foolish old man?"

Ayas recognised the sharp cantankerous voice of Alcestis.

"It's our Ayas come back to us…"

"Our Ayas," his wife snapped, "our Ayas. He maybe your Ayas but he's certainly not mine. Ungrateful selfish little brute – running off and breaking the heart of the best and kindest of master's. Come back has he? I suppose we'll have to take him in but in my view, not that anyone takes any notice of it, he should be beaten on that pretty little bottom of his till it bleeds."

Alcestis came to the kitchen door scowling fiercely but something about her lips belied both the scowl and the fierce words.

Then she caught sight of Perrin.

"What's that?" she demanded. "What a wretched looking little brat. Look at him blood and bruises and his neck all sore from the rope round it and I expect his wrists are as bad too all chafed and torn from being tied like that."

"I suppose it's your doing Ayas it's typical of you nasty rough boy… no consideration for others."

"Well since you're here child I'd better do something about cleaning you up and dressing those cuts. Nobody else will. Men wouldn't even think of such things."

As Alcestis spoke she busied herself freeing Perrin from the halter and untying the rope that bound his wrists together. Then she began to hustle Perrin towards the kitchen door.

"And," she said , "you had better have some breakfast. I don't suppose Ayas even thought of letting you have anything to eat poor little mite… to get involved with him. I think I have some honey and figs. Boys like honey and figs."

Catching the expression on Perrin's face just before he was bundled into the kitchen Ayas could see that with the mention of food and honey the 'poor little mite' was beginning to feel that things were looking up.

"How is the Master?" Ayas asked Theocrates anxiously when they were alone in the yard.

"Well enough in a way. That's to say he's not ill, not with a fever or a cough or being sick or anything like that but to be honest he took your going off very hard. First he went wild when you left running about everywhere, trying to find you and then after a day or two he just took to his room and moped. He hasn't gone out he hasn't done any business since then and I know Alcestis is having a hard time feeding us with no money coming in. And what makes it still harder is I know there's money for him that's he's owed just waiting for him to go and get it but he won't stir himself and you know what traders are like. They won't pay up unless they're pushed."

"I'm sorry I ran away but there was something I had to do," Ayas said who, while Theocrates was talking, had drawn a bucket of water from the well in the yard and was busy sponging the filth from his face and body. "Once I've got myself cleaned up I'll go and see the Master and try to make it up to him."

At that moment a loud braying interrupted their conversation.

"Penelope!" Ayas exclaimed throwing down the rag with which he was washing himself and starting towards the stables, "She came back."

"Yes, she knew better than to desert the kindest and gentlest of masters," Theocrates said reproachfully as he followed the naked and still dripping boy from the court-yard.

Penelope raised her head and gazed with soft gentle eyes at Ayas. She had Ayas thought put weight, a great deal of weight. He had spent a great deal of time with horses and in stables. He looked at her more closely.

"Oh Penelope, Penelope," he exclaimed, "how could you."

"Yes," Theocrates, standing behind him confirmed his suspicions gloomily, "yes, any day now and there'll be another mouth to feed."

Back in the kitchen Perrin was sitting helping himself from a bowl set on the table in front of him with his fingers. He looked up at Ayas, his face smeared with honey.

"Please Mother," Ayas asked Alcestis humbly, "have you taken the Master his breakfast yet?"

"Don't 'Mother' me you ungrateful brat," the woman snapped, "I'm no 'Mother' of yours a boy who runs off and breaks his Master's heart like you did doesn't deserve to have a 'Mother'."

"And anyway how can I serve the Master his breakfast when I've got to look after this poor little thing that you maltreated so badly?" she continued gesturing at Perrin happily licking honey from his fingers.

"I was only asking Mother," Ayas persevered quietly, "because if you haven't Perrin and I could take it to him. Maybe he'd like that."

"Maybe he would and maybe you could beg his pardon for being a wicked thieving little boy and probably he'll take you back because he's as soft as butter the poor gentleman. Too kind for his own good he is. Oh well what will be will be. Let me get some bread and olives and things together for him. There's not much honey left I'm afraid and take that boy out in the yard and get his hands and face cleaned up. I'm not going to send him to the Master all sticky and grubby."

The two boys found Attis was sitting slumped on a stool staring sightlessly at his chamber's wall. He did not look up when the two boys entered the room.

Ayas stooped and put the water jug he was carrying on the floor before he spoke. He was a sensible boy and thought it best to be prepared for every eventuality.

"Master," he said softly and at that moment any doubts about his reception were dispelled.

At the sound of his voice Attis leapt to his feet and turning round stare at him open mouthed in amazement. He spread his arms wide in welcome and Ayas ran to him, winding his arms around the man and hugging him tight. Ayas lifted his head to be kissed and their lips met.

After a moment Ayas broke the embrace and began to speak.

"Master," he said his words coming in a rush, "this is Perrin."

"Perrin put that tray down so the Master can get a good look at you."

"You can see Master," he continued as Perrin stood head bowed hands down by his sides submitting himself obediently to Attis's somewhat surprised inspection, "that he's prettier than me."

"Turn round Perrin so the Master can see your bottom."

"And he's a good tempered obedient boy and he doesn't get himself into trouble hardly at all Master not like me that seems always to be getting into trouble. I can't help it. It just seems to happen."

"So I wonder Master couldn't you have him as your boy instead of me. He'd be much better for you and much less trouble than I would be."

"And Master," Ayas added putting in what he regarded as the clinching argument, "he's really good at sex."

Attis fell back onto his stool and sat staring at the two boys standing in front of him awaiting his decision. He was a shy man, lacking in confidence and rather fearful of his own emotions. A much more sophisticated person than Attis might well have been surprised by Ayas's proposal. Attis was rendered totally speechless.

Ayas saw only one way to break the deadlock

"Show him Perrin," he ordered.

Perrin dropped to his knees in front of Attis. He lifted the man's tunic. His fingers fumbled with his loin cloth. He buried his head in the man's crutch. Attis moaned loudly arching his back in excitement..

Ayas crept unnoticed from the room.

Back in the courtyard he paused to think. He felt rather sad. He had loved Perrin, indeed he loved him still, but he was realist enough to know that he had done what was best for both of them. Perrin was a lovely boy but he needed someone to look after and protect and pet him. He was never going to be able to do that. His was going to be a life of adventure and risk. He had no choice in the matter. It was just that was just the sort of boy he was.

Anyway there was no point spending time now regretting Perrin. He needed to think about himself for he had problems enough. penniless and naked in the middle of a strange city.

Vulcan, his clothes and what was left, and there was quite a bit still left, of the money he had taken off Xionedes were still at the inn where he had left them. The Theban soldiers having searched the place and found he had gone would have moved on to look elsewhere. Well that would be so with any luck. It was of course quite possible that the soldiers had found or taken Vulcan, his clothes and his money or were camped out at the Inn waiting for him to come back and collect them.

Anyway he couldn't think of anything else to try at that moment.

Quietly sliding back the bolts he opened the double gates and stepped out into the lane, Admyntus stepped forward to meet him carrying his sandals with his tunic folded over one arm. Two men stepped up quickly behind Ayas blocking his way back into Attis's villa.

"I can't find Perrin," Ayas said hastily, "he's not in there. I've just looked."

Admyntus laughed.

"You're a good friend but a poor liar," he remarked. "I couldn't care less about the brat provided he's no longer with you."

"Now put your sandals and tunic on and come along with us. Your tutor wants you back."

Four days later Penelope assisted by Perrin gave birth to a donkey foal that even Alcestis agreed was the most beautiful donkey foal ever. This was the start of the famed Attis (later after Attis had freed him and adopted him as his son, Attis and Perrin) donkey stud. Indeed so famous did the stud become that even to this day in more remote areas of Anatolia a particularly sweet natured and beautiful donkey or boy is still referred to colloquially as 'a true Perrin.'

Made rich by the success of the stud Attis hastened to free Theocrates and Alcestis and settled a sufficient sum on them both to make them independent. Both however refused to leave the service of their old master and Alcestis continued to exercise the same generally benevolent but capricious tyranny over his him and his household as she had done in the past.

Damos and Horsey prospered greatly but in racing circles it was generally agreed that the most audacious coups and brilliant stratagems were the responsibility of the third member of the syndicate. This was a somewhat eccentric character who walked with a strange stoop and stammered badly. He was a well known and respected figure on the race tracks of the Eastern Mediterranean universally known as the 'Mighty Mus.'

It was to this syndicates racing stables that Vulcan and Dapple retired after spending many years and sharing many adventures with Ayas to live a life of ease and luxury.

There is no need to detail Ayas's achievements in later life here. Anyone interested in his career as a soldier, general and later statesman needs only to turn to the histories of the time. I will only say that he did, in time, learn to read and write. Indeed he wrote two books. His Hippophilia the earliest recorded work on horsemanship and Beyond the Oxus his account of Alexander the Great's campaign in which he played such a distinguished part. Unfortunately both these books are now lost and their existence only known to us through references in the works of other ancient historians.

The End