Episode 20 (478 B.C):
Demosthenes wasn't thrilled about the idea of going to Zenodulos' house. However, seeing the smiles on Agatha and Kharma's faces, he couldn't help but smile too.
Normally, only the men of the house and perhaps one or two slaves would attend such an event, but Kharma insisted that Zenodulos meant "everyone" when he mentioned who the invitation was for. Additionally, Callisto was also invited, and it seemed she had already returned to Athens. Demosthenes had only met her twice: when an unconscious Zenodulos was brought to his house and when they obtained their immortality, so he wasn't holding his breath to see her either.
Then, the three immortals of the house dressed in their finest clothes, even Kharma, putting on luxurious tunics gifted by her mistress. Then, they all gathered at the entrance of the house with Apollo, the slave. The last one to arrive was Agatha, claiming she had forgotten "something."
Finally reunited, the group walked under the moonlight towards the demarchos' house. Two streets later, they reached their destination.
Zenodulos' dwelling wasn't as grand as Demosthenes had imagined. It was a modest two-story house with a white facade. A pair of Doric columns flanked the main door, which was adorned with a bronze lion-shaped knocker. Apparently, this house was a gift from the city to the "blessed by Zeus" for all he had done, and now that he was demarchos, he could afford it and even have slaves.
Demosthenes almost laughed at the image. One would think that after enduring such treatment, he wouldn't be able to live without slaves. However, Zenodulos was Zenodulos, and his ambition would likely lead him to have as many slaves as he could buy.
Looking closer at the door, they realized that images of heroes and monsters were etched on it.
—His love for stories couldn't be absent!— Agatha said, looking at the reliefs on the door.— This is Bellerophon on his Pegasus, and this is the Chimera.—she added with a sparkle in her eyes.
Sighing, Demosthenes knocked on the door with his knuckles while Agatha narrated the stories depicted in the images to Kharma. Anticipation filled them before a servant opened the door. He was a man slightly older than Demosthenes, with a robust build and a hostile gaze.
—Who are you? — He asked in a gruff voice.
—I am Demosthenes, son of Cleon. We were invited to a banquet by the demarchos.
—So, the son of Cleon…—the slave muttered, letting them pass—. Come in, Master Zenodulos is waiting for you.
The servant looked them up and down suspiciously and then indicated for them to pass.
Upon entering, they found themselves in a small vestibule with a mosaic floor and walls adorned with Greek-style frescoes that also depicted heroes with prominent muscles and scanty clothing fighting against serpentine beasts. The aroma of burning incense permeated the air. An elderly slave with a long beard and almost no hair on his head greeted them.
—Welcome to the demarchos' house—He said, with a marked Lacedaemonian accent, already quite recognizable to Demosthenes.
Agatha approached the old man to get a better look at him.
—You are Heraclius.
—That's right, Miss Agatha, it's been a while since I've seen you—The older man replied politely.
—How do you know him?—Asked Demosthenes.
—He was my father's slave. The man who greeted us also worked as a servant in our house.
—As perceptive as always, young lady—The old man replied with a smile.
Intrigued, Demosthenes wondered how it was possible that Zenodulos would go to such lengths to hire those who had done nothing in the midst of the terrible treatment imposed on him by Acacius. Something was not right about that situation, but a hunch was not enough evidence if he wanted to talk about it.
Heraclius led them down a long corridor until they reached the dining room, where Zenodulos awaited them.
The demarchos was seated on a bench, reclining on a cushion. He wore an expensive tunic and sandals that also appeared to be high-priced. His recognizable face with sunken cheeks and small eyes reflected nothing more than arrogance.
Upon seeing them, he rose with a smile on his lips.
—My dear guests—He exclaimed, raising a glass of wine—. Go ahead, sit down. Apollo, help the other slaves, if it's not too much trouble.
—As you command—Demosthenes' servant said with a bow, surprised to be taking orders from his former fellow slave.
Demosthenes sat down, feeling a lump in his throat. Beside him sat Callisto, her veil pulled back and her hair loose, drinking wine with natural ease. Her tunic accentuated her figure, and the jewels that adorned her skin made her an irresistible spectacle for any heterosexual man.
But Demosthenes already had Agatha, so he looked away. Callisto, however, noticed and smiled mischievously.
—It's been a while—She said, raising her glass.
—Pleasure to see you again—Kharma murmured, ignoring her master's blush.
They all sat down at the table, in an unusual scene where men, women, and a slave shared the same space. A servant of the house, a man in his 40s, served them wine. Kharma was the first to drink.
Demosthenes watched Zenodulos, who dodged his gaze.
—So you are the demarchos—The Athenian said.
—That's right. It was a surprise to win the election, the competition was tough.
"He could only have won with his tricks" Demosthenes thought.
—Look at you, just a couple of years ago you were still in a coma and now you're demarchos. Congratulations—Agatha added. Demosthenes remembered the letters they used to send each other when they were children. But he quickly took a deep breath, he couldn't ruin such an evening.
—It's all thanks to my lessons—Said the hetaira, taking another glass of wine and gesturing to the slave to pour her more.
—It's true, your lessons helped a lot.
Kharma looked around.
—Two of us are missing—She commented.
The memory of Arsames weighed heavily on Demosthenes' heart.
—I invited Auxentius, but he didn't want to risk being captured by the Scythian archers—Zenodulos said with a sarcastic laugh. —And as for Arsames…
Demosthenes' eyes widened with anticipation.
—he… Well, I also called you to talk about that—The master of the house said with feigned sadness.
—What happened to Arsames? — Agatha asked with concern. — The last we heard was that the Persians had taken him prisoner.
—That's only partly true...
Zenodulos' tone alerted Demosthenes.
—So you do know what happened to him?—Anger tinged every word of the war veteran.
Zenodulos took a deep breath and rose from his chair.
—The truth is, when we were captured by the invading army, they took us before the Persian king himself. There, he convinced Arsames to betray me. Not just me, but also you and the city.
—What do you mean?— Agatha asked, her skin pale and her eyes full of terror.
—Xerxes promised him that if he revealed the secret of immortality, he would let him return to his family. And he... he gave in.
Everyone present fell silent. None of them knew that Arsames had family in his hometown, nor could they imagine such a man doing something like that. However...
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—After all, he was born there—Callisto said, the one who knew him least of the group.
—It's true, but he's such an honorable person—Kharma defended him.
—There's more...— Zenodulos interrupted with a trembling voice.
All eyes were on him. What more could there be?
—I wholly refused to help Xerxes and they locked me up. But I managed to escape. Then I met Arsames: he had already become a servant of the king.— Zenodulos swallowed hard, fighting back tears.— He tried to kill me and I... I had no choice but to defend myself.
Tears welled up in his eyes and he covered his face with his hands.
—I... I killed him.
An even deeper silence fell over the room. Disbelief and pain contorted the faces of those present.
—But he's immortal, isn't he? — Callisto asked, breaking the silence.
—Angra Mainyu told me something terrible after I realized that Arsames wasn't getting up—Zenodulos continued—. "Only an immortal can kill another immortal."
Demosthenes's world shattered. His friend, his mentor, his protector... gone. He was the one who had always stood by him, like he was another father.
His gaze fell on the table, unsure of how to react or what to do, if that was true... Why had he hidden it for so long?
—Demosthenes, I need to talk to you alone.
Zenodulos looked at him with an intensity that intimidated him. Demosthenes nodded, unable to express his pain and confusion in words. They got up and went to the back garden, leaving the others in uncertainty.
Under the torches that dimly lit the open space, Zenodulos stopped, his back to Demosthenes.
—What do you want to talk to me about?— The Athenian asked in a trembling voice.
— You know the truth now, are you happy?
Zenodulos' indifference ignited Demosthenes' fury.
— Don't you feel even an ounce of guilt for killing the man who tried to defend you so many times?
The former servant turned around, his gaze a grimace of hatred.
— I asked you if you were satisfied. Besides, do you really think you're going to defend what that traitor did?
— I don't believe you. There must be more to it.
— You weren't there. You didn't see how I begged for forgiveness until I was hoarse while the guards dragged me to an abandoned house to die over and over again for their satisfaction. All the while your Persian friend didn't even try to help me once.
—Arsames would never do that.
—You have so much fate in your slave— Zenodulos said sarcastically. — Meanwhile, you treated me like garbage.
—I have already apologized for everything I did to you, isn't that enough?—Demosthenes roared, his anger growing with each word.— We did everything we could to wake you up and took care of you for all those years.
— You say that, but the wounds from when you beat me over and over again still hurt.— Zenodulos whispered, his voice also tinged with anger.— The only thing more painful was what Acacius did to me, and none of that would have happened if it weren't for you.
The man's eyes were bloodshot with hatred and anger.
— I could have abandoned you when you were unconscious, you know?—Demosthenes replied— But it was all because my father and the others convinced me... no, I'm not going to blame them. It was because I felt bad about what happened to you at Acacius's house.
— Go on with your excuses, you bastard. You... are the person I hate most in this world. I tried to forgive you, but I can't. And now that I have more power than you, I can finally look down on you.
— So all this was to make you feel superior to me? And what did Arsames have to do with all this?
— Nothing really. However, I knew that this news would affect you like this. That's why I waited to tell you.
Demosthenes grabbed Zenodulos by the collar of his tunic and lifted him off the ground.
—Tell me, what really happened with Arsames?
— Do you care that much? I killed him because he was going to make Xerxes immortal again. He betrayed us all, Demosthenes. How stupid can you be?
— You're provoking me, but I won't fall for it.
— You're nothing more than an animal, and your thoughts go no further than violence. I'm pretty sure you enjoyed killing the foreigners. And with those bloodstained hands, you touch your wife. She doesn't deserve you.
Demosthenes could no longer contain himself. Anger took over him and he punched Zenodulos with such force that he sent him flying several meters across the garden.
— This is who you really are, a rabid dog who always responds with aggression.
Zenodulos struggled to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth.
— And you're a damn manipulator. Everything you've achieved is thanks to that monster giving you the power to deceive anyone, but that's not going to work with me.
Demosthenes walked over to him and took him by the shoulders. Their eyes met in an implacable hatred that consumed them completely.
— All this time, everyone pitied you and no one believed me— Demosthenes whispered through his teeth. — But now I can finally confirm it, who you really are: a beast hidden under human skin.
— And what are you going to do about it? Are you going to kill me? How would your dear wife feel if you did that?
Demosthenes froze in his tracks. His wedding night had been a disaster, not just because of Zenodulos and his manipulations, but also because of Demosthenes's own inability to control his anger. He didn't want to go through that again.
He released the other man carefully, requiring a great deal of willpower to do so. But this was far from over.
—I don't want you in my presence anymore. —Zenodulos confessed with hatred—Get out of this city before I bring charges against you.
Demosthenes couldn't believe Zenodulos' audacity.
— You heard me, get lost. Leave everything behind. Everyone is happier without you.
—As if I'm going to let you do that.
— Who are they going to believe? You or me, who have done everything I can to win the sympathy of the people? Besides, I have a bruise on my face.
The bumps and bruises didn't heal as quickly as serious wounds and cuts. Demosthenes knew this from the many battles he had fought.
— If you don't get lost, I'm going to capture you. I will torture you over and over again, day and night, and turn your immortal life into a living hell. Only then will you be able to feel a fraction of what I've suffered while you enjoyed a life of luxury, and when I've drowned out your voice from begging me for forgiveness, Agatha would be mine.—Zenodulos continued laughing with a grin from ear to ear.
Demosthenes clenched his fists. He couldn't let this man get away with it, but he knew full well that Zenodulos was capable of convincing anyone to dance to the tune of his words. Suddenly, a spark of lucidity lit up his mind and, without a second thought, he ran towards the room where the others were.
When he arrived, he was met with a desolate sight: everyone was lying unconscious. Agatha, in the arms of the burly slave.
— The wine I gave them was poison. Between its effects and how long it will take them to revive, they will be unconscious for a while. — Zenodulos' voice explained behind him. —Besides, I couldn't let you take my dear Agatha.
Demosthenes, with no time to formulate a plan, prepared to attack the slave.
But suddenly Agatha woke up and before her captor could do anything, she pulled out an object hidden in her tunic, it was the needle created by Kharma. With a quick thrust she stabbed it into the servant's eye and the man writhed in pain, dropping her to the ground.
Agatha got up quickly and looked at Demosthenes.
— It seems the time has come to flee— She said without hesitation.
Demosthenes watched her without a word. It was as if she had read his thoughts. With a quick nod, they both broke into a frenzied run towards the exit.
In the distance, Zenodulos's furious voice could be heard:
— Slaves! If you don't catch them, I'll punish you like never before! Remember, you are now my property!
The old man, who had been standing in a corner until then, ran after them. While the other servant, the man who had also previously been in Acacius's service, stood in Demosthenes's path. However, the immortal did not hesitate. With great force, he pushed him aside, causing him to crash into the wall with a crack. The older man raised his arms in surrender.
With no more adversaries, the couple continued their flight at full speed. Demosthenes pushed the door with such force that the hinges gave way with a bang. Then they plunged into the dark Athenian night, seeking escape among the intricate streets of the city.
Upon reaching a dead end, they spotted a carriage with a horse included, parked in front of a small bar. It was their only hope of escape.
Without a second thought, Demosthenes lunged at the vehicle, took the reins firmly, and helped Agatha into the other side of the seat. The horse whinnied restlessly at the sudden movement.
Grasping the reins with determination, Demosthenes whipped the animal and they set off on a frenzied run through the city streets. The night was dark and the streets were deserted, which favored their escape.
However, the greatest danger was at the gate of the Athenian walls. A guard, seeing them approach, ordered them to stop. Demosthenes, aware that he could not waste time, approached the armed man.
—Get out of the way! —Demosthenes shouted.
The guard, surprised by the man's attitude, stood in his way, determined to fulfill his duty. Demosthenes, with an agile movement, dodged him by passing through a small opening between the man and the exit, leaving him behind.
The guard's shouts were drowned out in the night as the carriage sped away. When they were finally far enough away from the city to be out of sight of its walls, a sigh of relief escaped the lips of both fugitives.
Taking a deep breath, Demosthenes looked at Agatha. She, with her dark green eyes, watched him with admiration.
— It's amazing how you tackled Misthios. — She exclaimed in awe, referring to the man who had been her slave in her father's house.
—No more than when you stabbed the other man —He replied, also impressed. — How did you know you were going to need the knife?
— I suspected something wasn't right when Kharma told us that Zendodulos had invited us to a banquet. I preferred to be alert, after all, you told me that his ability could be to manipulate.
— That's why I married you, your intelligence is greater than Athena herself —The veteran immortal said with a smile.
They both laughed and fell silent for a while. Demosthenes, still shaken by the experience, couldn't believe that finally someone believed him before his former servant.
—Agatha —He whispered— I’m a bit embarrassed to say it, but... It's the first time I have seen someone not side with Zendodulos against me.
— I'm sorry I doubted you all these years—She replied—. However, I couldn't keep believing him... not after seeing that the two slaves who were my father's servants had bruises and wounds under their tunics. The only one who could do that was their new master. He was probably punishing them for not helping him when... he was my father's prisoner.
The Athenian was still dumbfounded, so many years and finally someone he could really trust.
— Thank you, my love.
Agatha nodded, a smile on her lips.
— We've shared so many moons together, Demosthenes, that I have no reason to doubt you. I trust your word completely.
Somewhat saddened, the immortal looked down the road and tightened the reins as the cart moved forward along the path, illuminated only by the faint light of the moon and stars.
—What did Zenodulos tell you? —Agatha asked, breaking the silence.
— He told me about Arsames—He confessed, his voice breaking. — He kept insisting that he had betrayed him and that's why he had to kill him, but it can't be...
Agatha put her hand on her husband's and kissed him on the cheek.
— It's okay, I'm sorry you had to go through that.
She rested her head on Demosthenes' shoulder. Only the creaking of the cart wheels, the trotting of the horse, and the sounds of the creatures of the night broke the silence of the night.
— It hurts me to have believed him for so long.
Sadness reflected in Agatha's eyes. Demosthenes wanted to tell her that he hadn't trusted Zendodulos either, but a pang of doubt assailed him. As he remembered the man sleeping peacefully for so many years, in those years he had forgotten the kind of being he really was.