Between Lions and Men

7: the gods have made him a great warrior

Briseis

By mid evening we are all sleepy. I am no exception. I should be ill at ease in the middle of the camp, surrounded by the men, half of whom have already started drinking. But I'm not. I'm past the point of caring, apparently. I'm quite tired and feel a bit dull. My legs are sore for no reason, no wait I've walked to the camp from the farm twice today, now, great reason.  And my back is sore and my stomach is twinging with pain and I don't know why. Well, I'm sure it's because I've thought of it so much today.

I stretch as comfortably as I can in Captain Peleus' tent. It's not all that bad; honestly he could spend more time here.

I'm leaning against his feet, using them as something of a cushion. He, for his part, is curled up like a child with his head on Menoetius' belly, face a bit snuggled into it with no shame what so ever.

Major Ithaca is here. He's remembered he has no better company than ours. And that while we may be insufferable, everyone else in camp is essentially intolerable.

So we are playing games of cards to pass the time away while we're all intended to be quarantined due to the illness passing through camp. Menoetius is of course medical and should be helping. Captain Peleus wasted no time complaining him out of that and demanding his company, so now he's here. I'm sure he'll sneak back later once the Captain is duly satisfied. For now he's lounging idly, playing cards with us and occasionally sipping from the Captain's cup of wine. I declined, but that's typical of me in camp. I tend to prefer to have my wits about me.

So we play cards. I know how to play, but I pretended I didn't for the sake of better beating the men. That turned out to not be necessary since at least two people here are cheating.

"If the Colonel expects us to stay in quarantine he ought to let me go home," Captain Peleus says, frowning at his cards.   He is not one of the people cheating.

"I've told you once, I'll tell you again, the lady's house is not yours, you're not even supposed to be there. Remarkable as it may be to you, we did not enlist you in this army for your sexual gratification," Major Ithaca says, primly, sipping his wine. It's against regulations to drink on duty. That's why they're doing it.

"You know what I mean; stop being pedantic when I'm feeling dull."

"Then stop saying things I'll dispute."

"If I wanted to be told things I already know, in a clever fashion, I'd read my wife's letters," Captain Peleus says.

"You should do that," I say.

"See? I have one woman about I don't need you," Captain Peleus says.

"I'll take that as a compliment as apparently you only credit women with rational thought," Ithaca, quitely rearanging his cards in his hand.

"I don't credit my wife with it—did you read her letters, Pat? What was she on about?" he asks, shoving Menoetius a bit with his elbow.

"I did not," he says, shrugging.

"She begs you to come, alternately with telling you never to show your face again, she begs you to resist temptation and not to take up with whores. I take it she's never met Sergeant Menoetius---," Ithaca, very primly drawing a card.

"I should be offended," Sergeant Menoetius, not at all moving nor offended, studying his cards.

"You've—read my wife's letters?" Captain Peleus frowns at him.

"I read everyone's letters, Peleus," Major Ithaca says, shrugging.

"You do?" Menoetius asks, frowning.