Athenian Slave (Book 2)

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Alexios had found himself tossing and turning all night, unable to get comfortable no matter the position he lay in. Strangely, he had come to the conclusion, it was actually too comfortable. He was not used to such luxury, though he was sure Anaxagoras did not see it as luxury but necessity. He snorted thinking of the pompous male, who could not be any further up himself if he tried. Though he would probably never try very hard, or so Alexios thought. He could not ever see Anaxagoras breaking a sweat, well due to strenuous labour, maybe because he had had to run down a hallway after his employer. Alexios’ smile widened all the more at the thought.

And he turned once more. He was used to sleeping in a nest of blankets. Not wanting to weigh his ship down, they travelled with as little extras as possible. The tents the most extravagant items they carried. On the ship wooden pallets, or the gang way were the most comfortable areas that could be found to sleep upon. And here with the lavish surroundings. While he had chosen one of the least extravagantly decorated rooms, it was still too loud on his senses. Still at least it was quiet, even if the mat and wooden frame was a tad too comfortable for what his body had grown used too.

Finally giving up on any idea of sleep when the first light of day spilled into the room, filling it with a golden light. It was a light that washed away fears. Washed away shadows. But could not, and would not, touch his darkened soul. The fates had decided the male he had become, he could not change that. But he could appreciate the beauty that was around him, even if he was not able to touch it as others were.

The view over the roof tops of Athens was breath taking, especially in the golden glow of the rising sun. Yet it was claustrophobic. It was too crowded. Reminding him too much of the crush of tents. Taking him back to the smoke, the sand, the blood the death. His breathing became erratic. His heart thudding in his ears, only the sound of cries from falling men drowned it out. The screams of pain of those left to suffer before death claimed them. The tears of the boys becoming men in the worst of ways, leaving trails of salt across his mind. His vision blurred at the edges, and his knees buckled until they hit the floor.

…

He did not know how long he had been curled into the ball he found himself in upon the punishingly hard floor. There was more light in the room by now, so the sun had risen considerable, showing at least some passage of time while he had been trapped in his own memories. It did not matter how long he was within his own mind though. It was in fact always the same response. He felt weak, both physically and emotionally, he body coated in a fine coat of chilling sweat, his body shaking uncontrollably as he lay on his side, knees to chest. Trying to calm in any way he could.

His body still trembling, he closed his eyes and sent out his senses, trying to focus upon the here and now, allowing his mind to settle back into a normal pattern once more. He could hear heavy footsteps nearby, an odd cadence telling him Zeno was up and probably the hungriest warrior in existence at that moment. It was that humorous thought that finally broke into his mind, allowing him to put on the cloak of bravery once more. For bravery was just a mask people war. Underneath, while they would not admit it, they were terrified beyond compare.