Free Legacy of Blood by Michael Ford

asked, leading Hector through a shallow ford. ‘Where’s your father?’
    â€˜He died before I was born,’ said Lysander, splashing beside her.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ said Chilonis. ‘What about your mother?’
    Hector had dipped his head to drink midstream.
    â€˜She’s dead too – half a year ago.’
    â€˜I should stop asking questions,’ she said. ‘I don’t seem to be doing very well.’
    They continued along the path, which had turnedmuddy where a minor tributary had overflowed its banks. Hundreds of footsteps marked the way – it was a popular route.
    â€˜Don’t worry. What about you?’
    Chilonis sighed. ‘I ran away.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜I fell out with my father. He’s stubborn as an ass. He gets angry because I want to do things my own way.’
    Lysander had to turn away so she wouldn’t see his smile.
Stubbornness must run in her family
, he thought.
    â€˜Like what?’
    â€˜I want to be an athlete – to compete in the women’s Games at Olympia.’
    â€˜
Women’s
Games?’ Lysander had thought the Games, held every four years, were only for men.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Chilonis. ‘The Elian Council have voted to allow the festival of Hera to fall in the period of the Olympic Truce.’
    â€˜You’re certainly faster than any girl I’ve ever seen,’ said Lysander. ‘Faster than most boys too.’
    â€˜That’s what I told my father,’ she said. ‘But he says running is not for women. He doesn’t want his daughter growing up to be a “Spartan thigh-flasher”.’
    Lysander laughed. It was true that many Spartan women trained like men, and wore tunics with slits up the side for ease of movement.
    â€˜So why are you going to the Oracle?’ he asked.
    â€˜My aunt suggested it,’ she replied. ‘She said the Oracle would be able to advise me on the correctcourse to take. But my father said the Oracle was a waste of time – “prophecy at a price”, he calls it. So I packed some things, took Hector from the stable, and came anyway.’
    They walked in silence for some way.
    â€˜Will your father be angry?’ Lysander asked eventually.
    â€˜For a while, I suppose. But he’ll forgive me in the end. Anyway, what about you?’
    Lysander shrugged. There was something so open about Chilonis that he didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her.
    â€˜I don’t really know,’ he said. ‘I suppose I want to find out what I should do next.’
    â€˜Isn’t there anyone you could talk to in your homeland? Who do you most admire?’
    â€˜My grandfather,’ said Lysander, without thinking. ‘He was the bravest man I ever knew. If I could be half the man he was …’
    â€˜Is he dead too?’ asked Chilonis.
    â€˜We burned his body a few days ago.’
    â€˜I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm.
    â€˜Don’t be,’ said Lysander. ‘It’s my fault he’s gone.’
    They reached a spring, gurgling up from the mossy ground at the edge of the path. Chilonis reached down to fill her flask.
    â€˜I remember when my great-grandmother died,’ she said. ‘She was old – in her seventies. She was known allover the city for her knowledge of herbs and medicines, and for helping bring forth children. Even the rich men would come to our father’s house when their daughters were with child. But even with my grandmother’s skill, there would be complications from time to time. She always said the worst was when the mother died during the birth. She’d leave the birthing hut, and pass the screaming newborn to its expectant father. Often he could tell from her eyes that his wife was dead, but she always used the same words of comfort: “Honour the dead by caring for the