Legacy of Blood Read Online Free PDF Page A

the chair.
    Finally he heard the wood splinter, and the back of the chair fell away.
    He was dripping with sweat, but almost there.
    â€˜Come on,’ he muttered. Kassandra would be wondering where he was! He tried to bring his bound hands over the top of his head, but couldn’t – not without dislocating his shoulder. Then he saw the candle burning on the table. Of course. With the base of the chair still attached to him, he dragged himself over to it.
    With his back to the table, and craning behind him, he lowered his hands slowly above the candle. Straight away the rope started to blacken and give off a noxious smell. It sizzled a little, then gave way. Yes! Lysander immediately bent over to grapple with the knotted rope that tied his ankles.
    He was free!
    Pushing open the door, he peered into the alley. No sign of Tellios, his henchmen, or the man disguised as a Helot. Lysander headed back quickly into the bright street and found it eerily quiet. The fragments of the jar in the middle of the track were the only sign of his capture. Lysander suddenly felt dizzy and placed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It gave a little from side to side – definitely broken.
    He splashed some water from a nearby trough against his face, and washed away the blood that was already beginning to crust. Catching sight of his reflection in the rippling water, he saw a dark cut across his face, and managed a smile – just another war wound.
    Lysander soon reached Sarpedon’s villa. Outside, a cart was half-loaded with bolts of linen, and wooden crates. His footsteps slowed as he approached the doorway and a sense of unease washed over him. It was only three days since he’d last been here, and interrupted the
gerousia
– the Council of Elders – but already change was all around. No armed guard stood watch over thefront gate, and Lysander walked through unhindered.
    The courtyard was deserted, and Lysander remembered the many mornings he had come here to train as dawn broke, how Sarpedon had paced the mosaic floor, observing his stances and sword drills from every angle. The tiny tiles that were set painstakingly into the ground depicted two symmetrical horses’ heads, one black, one white, facing each other. When Lysander had first come here, he thought nothing could match its beauty, but now the image seemed to be one of wretchedness and faded glory.
    Half the colonnade that ringed the courtyard gleamed white in the afternoon sun. The other columns were buried in shadow. Lysander stood against the pillar where he and Kassandra had hidden to watch the Council debate. He remembered bursting with pride at Sarpedon’s authority before his peers.
    On one side of the courtyard, Lysander saw a spear resting against a column. The first time Lysander held an eight-footer had been right here, an exercise of strength and balance.
    But Sarpedon would never teach Lysander again.
    Lysander walked over and grasped the spear in his right hand, just back from its centre as his tutor had showed him, then assumed the position Sarpedon had taught him. Lifting his left leg to the horizontal behind him, he extended his right arm so the spear was vertical, its point a foot from the ground. He almost laughed – it was so easy now, but that first time heremembered it felt like his shoulder was being torn apart with hot irons.
    â€˜I thought you’d have had enough of weapons?’ said a voice.
    Lysander relaxed his posture and turned to see Kassandra standing under the portico that led to her chamber. She looked tired, with dark smudges beneath her eyes. For once she wasn’t wearing an ornate dress, but instead a simple grey
peplos
– a draped tunic fastened at the shoulders and girdled at the waist. Her arms were bare and her hair was loose.
    Lysander rested the spear back against the column and walked over to his cousin.
    Her eyes widened as she looked into his face.
    â€˜That looks like a fresh