Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

household helots. We place him in his boat and send him adrift with his sails flying—to finally float indefinitely. I keep the knife he gave me on me daily, still wrapped in my sandal straps in memory of him. His household is passed down to me, his only surviving relative. I now am in charge of three households, an almost unheard of feat.
    We watch Kali grow, and her looks start to change. Her nose becomes slightly eagle-shaped, and her lips lose their deep color. Her hair is wispy, and her shape is long and lanky. I’d hoped her beauty would attract a man who would overlook her mixed breeding, but now I see her fading. Every week, I get in my cart and force Kali to come with me to the oracle of Helen where we pray for Helen to bestow her beauty on her. Each time, we make our way to the temple on the mountaintop, past the statues lining the steep path, and climb the stairs to the columned circle. The air is hard to breathe so high up; I nearly faint when I bow before the oracle. I hold Kali’s hand as we recite our prayer, and when she drinks from the temple spring, I notice Ophira has given Kali her powerful medallion to wear. We do this for a year, and sure enough, she blossoms once again. Her muscle tone builds up to give her curves where there were none; her hair turns a bright strawberry-blonde, flowing thickly over her shoulders, and her eyes flash unusual amber.
    She’s not allowed to go to the festivals, being a mothax, but every time I go into the city, I bring her with me to be seen. I see how all of the men and women notice her. I watch from the house as Ophira teaches her to dance in the fields below. Kali’s almost as graceful as she is; they look like two sirens flittering between the bushes and trees. I worry every day that passes is one day closer to her being sent away. I pray to Hades to take Leander's life. I think if he never comes back, no one will know she is still with me. Leander survives, to my regret. He comes home again up the dirt road on his warhorse. He aged, though, much older than my forty-five years. War took a toll on him, and he’s walking stiffer and slower for it.
    He comes into the house without even acknowledging me, throws down his feathered helmet, and declares, “I have decided to wife-share with Nicholas. She has produced four fine sons, all fine specimens, all excelling in agoge even though they’re still young. He’s agreed to share her as long as I promise my household to the future child, and I’m agreeing to this.”
    I was expecting this one day and am ready for it. “If you are asking me for my permission, you can have it, but there is a price.”
    He looks curious but wary. “What price?”
    “Kali can stay, and when it comes time, I get to decide who I leave my households to.” He nods in agreement, but I continue, “You will also live in your house until you’re dead, and then you can give it to whomever you want.”
    Even though it’s beneficial for a woman to own three households, it’s important only if you have someone to give them to. Kali’s all I have left, and she can own a household only through marriage. He picks up his helmet, walks out to his horse, and rides out on my dirt road for the last time. Neither of us even cared enough to say good-bye. I feel free from the worry of Leander sending Kali away. Ophira seems to understand what happened after Leander never comes back, even though she knows the army has returned. She seems a little happier too.
    It catches us off guard when the ephor returns with a horse, cart, and six soldiers.
    I ask, “What brings you here?”
    “We have come to collect the mothax,” the ephor calls out.
    “There is no mothax in our house.”
    “It’s written here and signed by your mark that you birthed a child of Spartan-helot descent. Is this not your mark?”
    “Yes it is, but that child perished.”
    He must have heard this before upon collecting, since he retorts, “We have searched the records before we were sent here.”
    Unfortunately, Kali runs up to us at this time.
    “I presume this is the child.” He reads his orders. “Female, age ten.”
    “This is my helot’s child,” I say, hoping Ophira will play along again.
    “Is that true?” he asks Ophira.
    Ophira does not hesitate. “She’s my child.”
    “Every helot born has to be recorded as state property.”
    “She has a record.” Ophira’s at least buying us time. He looks suspicious but knows he has to have proof before