Stefanos turned away from the Hippodrome and walked back down the embankment to the Alpheios where he placed his helmet on the stony ground and splashed water on his face.
He knew he could not face walking back through the sanctuary, especially now that he heard the echo of victory celebrations ringing in the Altis and around the Bouleuterion.
Still wearing his armour, he crossed the river and began making a large circle south and west to approach the Spartan camp from the south side, draped as he was in shame and guilt.
Nightfall came, and the Spartan camp was quiet as those competing in the wrestling, boxing, and pankration the following day rested for competition. In other camps, the mood was jovial, prematurely celebratory, but in the Spartan camp, there was an air of silent prepara
