Between Lions and Men

3: so much other care

Briseis

Camp is where the soldiers set up, in the middle of our village. Far enough from the city walls to evade arrows or bullets. But close enough that the walls still cast a formidable shadow down across the flapping fabric of the tents.

We don't like the city. Because when the soldiers came the gates were closed and we were not allowed in. Instead, the men were let inside to defend the city. And we women were left out to be raped by the incoming soldiers. A sacrifice they were willing to make to slow them down.

I knew of the war for years. I didn't know what it was for. They didn't tell people like me that. Then the soldiers came and I cared less. Whatever it was for. It wasn't worth this.

They should have taken the city in a day. It's been years. The fighting here is important, I suppose. There are elsewhere. Sometimes units pass through to go on to other fronts. But many stay right here.

We walk through the maze of tents, soldiers shout to us. But it's friendly. The sun is up. It's morning. All is well with the world, we can pretend for now, anyway.

Menoetius is popular, he knows every man's name without even looking at their shirts. And despite the number of people he's cheated at cards that I'm aware of, they greet him with fondness.

"Benefit of being medical," he says, tapping the cross sewn to the sleeve of his unbuttoned blouse. He's wearing his own blouse, but has stolen Peleus' cap. I, of course, am wearing Peleus' thick leather jacket. Taking ourselves for a walk about but reminding everyone who our master is.

"I suppose," I say, glancing around.

"Different way, that's the colonel up ahead," he says, stopping short and doubling back.

"Which?" they have two colonels, brothers. They're from south of the river. I knew of them before the war, or should have as they were rich.

"Mycenae, the more ill tempered one, and that's saying something," he scoffs.

"Why is he more ill tempered?"

"Because it's frustrating having his head that far up his own ass? I wouldn't know," he says, as I jog to catch up with him.

"He's bad with the girls," I say, simply. The women in town speak of him. He thinks he has a right to all of them. It's easier to give him what he wants, they say.

"I'm not surprised. Word has it his wife is having an affair in his absence, which has done nothing for his personality. But I pity the woman," he says.

"Are they both married?" I ask.

"According to Ithaca---occasionally Ithaca can be goaded into proving how terribly clever he is and he'll reveal some gossip---supposedly the other Colonel, Sparta, his wife ran away with her lover---behind the city gates. That's why he's so intent in pursuing the siege."

"How would Ithaca know that?" I ask. He wasn't from here, as I understood. He's not from where Peleus and Menoetius are either, but he's not from anywhere near here.

"Apparently because he's cleverest person in the world—this is all coming from him, mind---so Sparta and Mycenae are intent on keeping him here to cover up that they're waging the siege as a personal vendetta and not to help the overall war effort."

"So he found that out and so they're keeping him hostage or so?"

"And using him. He can be useful if it suits him."

"All this is coming from him though," I point out.

"Which means it's probably not true," he shrugs, "Sparta did have a wife though. I know that."