Spartan Read Online Free Page B

fat.
    ‘Excellent!’ exclaimed Kritolaos. ‘It’s still in fine shape. It could strike again if guided by an expert hand.’ His eyes glittered. ‘By an expert
hand,’ he repeated, turning to the boy with a sudden flash of tremendous determination in his eyes. ‘Your hand, Talos!’
    The old man’s lean and bony arm, mapped with blue veins, extended the immense bow towards the boy. Talos gazed at it as if hypnotized, not daring to touch it. ‘Take it, boy,
it’s yours,’ Kritolaos urged.
    Talos took the amazing weapon into his hands. It was made of an animal’s horns, smooth and polished. The handgrip was wrapped in a thin sheath of silver embossed with a wolf’s head.
The deep indentation on the right showed how many arrows had been shot from that weapon, with great force. Talos was pervaded by wild emotion, a thousand thoughts wheeling through his head. A
strange essence seemed to emanate from that old bow and flow into his body, making him shake like a reed.
    ‘Whose bow is this, Kritolaos? Whose are these weapons? I’ve never seen anything like them. Not even the warriors down on the plain had anything like this. This bow isn’t made
of wood.’
    ‘You’re right, Talos. It’s made of horn.’
    ‘But animals with horns this long don’t exist!’
    ‘You’re right, they don’t. At least not in our country. The animal who provided these horns ran ten or more generations ago on the distant plains of Asia. The bow was given to
us as a gift by a lord of that land.’
    ‘But who . . . who did it belong to?’
    The old man had a solemn, almost noble, expression. ‘This is the bow of King Aristodemus, lord of Pylos and Ithome, sovereign of the Messenians, heir of Nestor, shepherd of peoples.’
He lowered his white head for a moment, then gazed again at the boy, who stood before him with widened eyes and parted lips: ‘Talos, my boy, I’ve waited so long for this
moment—’
    ‘What moment, Kritolaos, what do you mean? I don’t understand. It’s as if my mind were full of smoke.’
    ‘The moment in which to pass on the King’s bow. I am the last custodian of these weapons, preserved so jealously for generations. These are the symbols of the pride of our people,
the last remembrances of our freedom. The time has come for me to entrust you with this terrible and precious secret. I am old, and my days could soon come to an end.’
    The boy gripped the horn bow, and stared with bright eyes at the armour. Suddenly he raised his eyes to meet Kritolaos’ gaze. ‘But what am I to do? I don’t know anything about
our people. Weapons are made for fighting, aren’t they? Aren’t they, Kritolaos? I’m a cripple and I’m just a boy. Close up that chest again. I can’t, I don’t
know how. You shouldn’t have shown me those weapons, it’s useless. No one will ever use them again.’
    The old man rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘Calm down, Talos, calm down. There are still so many things that you don’t know and that you must learn. It will take time,
but one day someone will wear that suit of armour. When he does, King Aristodemus will return to his people again and restore their lost freedom. The gods already know his name. Now, take that bow.
I’ll teach you to use it to defend yourself, and to live with this secret even after I’m gone. The bow will be your faithful companion. It will save you from wolves and bears. And from
men, Talos. From men as well.’
    ‘Why would I be in any danger from men? I’ve never hurt anyone. Who cares about the life of a crippled shepherd?’ Talos asked morosely.
    ‘There are things I can’t tell you yet, boy. Be patient, one day you’ll know. Now close that chest, it’s time to go.’
    Talos set down the bow. Lowering the lid of the chest, he glanced once again at the weapons glowing with a sinister light under the flickering torch light. He suddenly reached out his right hand
to the sword’s hilt.
    ‘No, Talos, stop!’ cried out