Chapter 2: The Temple of Arresus

Inside our home, Estrianes helped me fasten the straps of my linothorax armor around my chest. It was lighter than a solid bronze thorax, made from gluing layers of linen together with animal fat and metal scales sewn on to protect the stomach, but it did not offer the same protection. This is not to say that it was of poor quality or cheaply made but rather a far cheaper alternative to bronze. My appreciation for its weight grew the more I wore it.

I looked at the bronze helmet I had selected merely because of the green horsehair crest running from the back to its peak. Green was a color I have always favored. Though not being a new piece, the helmet was new to me. It bore scars of battle which probably led to father acquiring it for a cheap price. When I mentioned the crest would make me easy to spot on the battlefield, father said that most men would have crests and that I’d be lost in a sea of them. He explained they were to make warriors seem taller and more intimidating to their foes.

With my leather vambraces and bronze greaves on, I pulled the helmet over my head. I couldn’t help but grin, imagining how imposing I must look in full armor. I smiled and rotated my arms. Everything felt right.

I turned and held my arms out, “Do I look like the warrior that I feel?”

“Probably not,” we exchanged smiles. He bent over and picked up a leather thorax from the floor. Dusting it off, he tossed it to me, “Help me with mine.”

I removed my helmet, slid the thorax over his head and began to fasten the sides. “You know,” I began, “this might be the day of my life? This day begins the legend of Estrios and Estrianes.” A big smile grew on his face. “Now that you’re of sixteen years and have armor, you’ll get the honor of standing in the phalanx.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Please, brother, tell me about all the times you’ve stood in a phalanx.” He was right. I had never been in battle, though I often imagined its glory.

Father had instructed us with spear and sword from the time we had reached fourteen years of age. Now having only been a man for a year, I had been allowed to practice the war dances of our town, training us to advance, fall back, and wheel in different directions as one in the phalanx. Until now, we had never been called to war. Looking back, it made sense trying to avoid filling your ranks with men barely of age who possessed no real experience in warfare, at least for a couple years.

Being younger, Estrianes had less experience practicing the war dances with the others that just recently came of age, though he was blessed with a great memory. My little brother picked up the movements quickly and executed them flawlessly, time and again.

“Do you think everyone else is as ready as we are?” he asked as I fastened the cheap greaves, fashioned from bull’s hide, to his shins.

“I think our warriors are up to the task,” I replied. “If not, we must show them what real courage looks like.” My fingers trembled with excitement. I longed to do was run out into the street wearing my armor, letting it be seen to all that I was a warrior and would be marching off to battle with our town’s finest.

“There, you’re set.” I stood and looked at him. He looked proud in his cheap leather armor. I’m not ashamed to admit that the sight of it made me feel superior. His thorax was of brown, cracked leather with a dented bronze sheet of metal covering the center of his chest. In theory, it should stop a spear to the heart but it looked rather thin to my eyes. The only thing that made me jealous was the fact his beard came in quicker and fuller than mine. It usually led others to believe he was older.

Estrianes grabbed his crestless bronze helmet and I grabbed mine as we made our way to the bronze mirror. It was a thin sheet of bronze an arm’s length and a forearm’s width, polished bright so one’s reflection could be seen.

We stood proud and gazed at ourselves in the bronze. My thorax was stained and fraying in a couple places. The metal scales over my stomach were unpolished and a few were missing here and there, having either fallen off from battle or years of wear. Though it was expected that land owning citizens would provide armor for their sons once they were of age, nobles typically bought their sons full bronze panoplies. My thorax had come from a dead man. Father told me he took it off a Kalocean he had speared during a cattle raid.

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I loved my armor for the simple fact it was mine. After presenting me with a new thorax, father made it clear that it was up to me to collect the rest. My father always seemed like a man who valued his sons proving themselves on their own merits, even though we were of noble birth. It wasn’t until later I found out just how tight the purse strings of our family were.

I looked at Estrianes’ armor, “We look like a fearsome pair. Tell me, how is it you came by that armor?”

“I never asked how yours was acquired.” It was hard to tell if it was pride or shame, but I had a feeling what he didn’t win in some kind of wager. Pieces of armor sometimes go missing if one isn’t careful. That was his danger growing up. He always had a swift mind and swifter hands. “I bet I spear more men than you,” he said with a smug look.

“You’re free to try,” I said.

We walked into the common room to find our family slave, Leandros, helping father into his bronze thorax. Leandros was of a similar age as me though he didn’t look it. He was taller and well-muscled, one of our last slaves father had not sold in a failing effort to stem the debts of his youth. It took me longer than I’d like to admit to figure out why he had father’s eyes.

Estriadites was already in his panoply, father’s old armor. That panoply had seen many battles, but still caught the eye when polished. He was busy braiding some of his long hair to cushion the bare bronze inside of his helmet when the time came to wear it. I never had the foresight to try that, having always fancied shorter hair.

Father’s armor was the newest set in the house, though it had dents and scrapes from combat. His thorax was shaped to look like a muscled chest. Not every man that wears such armor looks natural in it, but father looked sincerely malevolent in full armor. I pitied whoever faced is spear on the battlefield.

Walking proudly into the room Leandros was the only one who offered any kind of greeting. He smiled in approval at us while, fastening the leather straps of father’s thorax. Estriadites and father were too wrapped up in a discussion of politics to notice us. “I have no doubt the gesture alone will endear us to the Lektrians but throwing in our lot with them threatens our polis,” stated father.

“Shouldn’t we always strive to minimize risk to our people?” questioned Estriadites.

“Consider the alternative,” replied father. “Losing our alliance with the Lektrians would be more dangerous to our people. I would rather afford united front rather than inviting the enemy to pick us off in singular strokes.”

Estrianes and I stood at the threshold of the room as confident as we could. I cleared my throat, “The warriors of Demepolis have finally arrived.”

Father turned and looked at the two of us, his face unchanging. “Good, make sure you have what provisions you need. We’ll meet you outside presently.” He turned back to Estriadites, “So you can see, the decision is removed from our hands.”

I cannot speak for Estrianes, but I stood there wanting. A dejected sigh left my lips as Leandros walked over. “I’ve laid bags by the door, packed with salted pork and bread for you. The water skins in them are full.” His head was held low while he talked, as slaves are trained to do. I nodded in response. My brother and I collected our supplies and walked outside.

Within the whitewashed mud brick wall that surrounded our house, laid our spears and shields that I assumed Leandros had placed for us. I removed my helmet to slide the leather strap on my shield over my head so the shield hung over my back and picked up my spear. Estrianes mimicked my movements with his own equipment. Both of our shields were made of wood and bull’s hide, which made them an ease to carry, as opposed to our older brother and father’s shields, which were made of oak layered with bronze.

Without much delay, Estriadites emerged with his newly painted bronze shield. Its face depicted three crows flying in a circle. With his helmet pushed back on his head, he stood proudly with the shield on his arm, as one tends to do when hoping that someone will compliment how great their shield looks. He certainly would not brooch the topic himself. Estrianes and I quickly found our equipment extremely interesting in that moment.

Estrianes finally looked at our brother’s shield and raised an eyebrow, “You look very fierce with your birds.”

Estriadites’ air of superiority faded, “They’re crows.”

“Well, they’re black. That would be my guess,” Estrianes said disinterestedly examining his sandals.

“Crows are a death omen,” Estriadites elaborated. “It’s so anyone facing me knows what they can expect if we cross spears.”

“So, if they fight you they should expect to see birds?” Estrianes winked at me while my older brother’s face flushed with frustration, like someone trying to educate a stubborn child. I could barely contain my laughter.

Father and Leandros walked out of the front doorway and motioned us on. “We’re to join Tyochenes at his house before going to the temple. Estriadites, make sure your farewells leave a favorable impression on his daughter. Now let’s be on our way, the sooner we reach the temple, the better.”