Between Lions and Men

22: rend your heart with rage

Briseis

For this to be a happy story, it ought to end here. I most certainly wanted it to. It could have ended that very night. The whole world could have ended and I would have been perfectly happy. For I fell asleep safe in his arms. And I was whole for one small moment in time.

But this isn't a story with a happy ending. It's a story like I always expected it to be. Full of pain, and fear, and sadness. Except we were moving towards sadness I didn't imagine I could ever feel. Because I don't think I'd ever truly loved before.

And so just as things were lining up, they were again blown apart, into chaos. So if it is a good ending you seek, end here. And I'll simply tell you what happened. The story we want to read.

The war was won. We sailed home. Menoetius married me well before the child was born. And my acceptably dark haired, swift footed child grew to adult hood in the safety of his father's land. And Peleus returned to his court, and continued loving me. He was happy to raise his child, however illegitimate. And we all grew old in the most boring of manners. Years later we would laugh about the war, how we met. Captain Peleus slyly joking with younger men, telling them fantastic stories of how they found me. The war stories would be filled with glory, and increasingly less blood and pain and sadness. And Ithaca would return home to raise his son as he wished, and Aias and Auto and all the others would come to visit their old friends. And one by one, they would bury us in sacred fields, after sweet death carried us off in our sleep, our strong, healthy children standing by to mourn us.

We all know that isn't what happened.

It's not what happened. It's not what's going to happen. It's what shall never happen. The sweet end of nothings and no regrets. Life's not like that. No matter how we wish it.

So I'm not going to give you a happy tale. But it is a true one. Perhaps that's worth something, centuries later, as the story goes around again and again an again. The story of love, and hate, and anger, and revenge so burning it burns itself out. I don't know why it has to go on. I only know why we tell it. Because it deserves to be spoken. Because we don't deserve to die alone.

We are awoken by a knock on the door. I'm in a daze, still half asleep. Captain Peleus moves first, he is up of course, moving out from under Sergeant Menoetius who, like I, is still half asleep. We are expecting it be Ithaca, or Auto with a message, even though it is neither of their knocks.

"What brings you here?" I hear Captain Peleus saying. The girls are huddled on the stairs, watching. And there are no less than fifteen men in my house.

"What?" I mutter, standing. Sergeant Menoetius has a knife quietly in his hand, eyes growing focuses as he realizes what is happening long before I do.

"Since you were so thoughtful as to escort my girl home last night, I thought I would return the favor," it's one of the Colonels, Mycenae, the one with the crueler face I think.

"What?" Captain Peleus asks, his voice rising.

"I trusted you, obviously, to mind her company, and bring her back here in fact. So you shall clearly extend the same courtesy?"

I feel hands taking mine and shoving them behind my back. I realize slowly what is happening. I'm being kidnapped, in exchange for Krista's freedom.

"Don't be ridiculous---it's not the same, she is like my wife---that girl was not yours wedded----" Captain Peleus stutters, looking close to bringing this to blows.

"It's fine, I'm fine," I say, quickly, to abate his anger, even though my heard is pounding in my chest.

"It is not," Captain Peleus says, frowning at me.

"Take your coat," Sergeant Menoetius moves quickly, wrapping my coat around me. I feel him press his knife into my pocket. I dip my head. It is something if only to slit my own wrists with.

"You wouldn't fight your own men," the Colonel laughs, as he sees Captain Peleus weigh up actually striking down the men taking me.

"I'm fine," I say, trying to look in his eyes. He won't bring them to me, he's looking everywhere else.  If he denies this, they'll take Krista. That is the threat. And I am not sending that girl back. I can handle them. I have worse. "I will be well."

"You will bring her back."

"You won't fight me."

Captain Peleus looks ready to do just that then and there, but one of the men graps his arm and twists it, for whatever reason that breaks him and he does stop.

"Fighting may be all you keep me for—so you'll sorely regret this," Captain Peleus spits, as they tug me from the house. 

They say more. I'm being moved on. I didn't have time to put on shoes, and soon the gravel cuts through my feet.  They are leading me all the way back to that cursed house.

By the time we get there, my feet are leaving bloody trails. My hair sticks to my face, I had no moment to fix it and Captain Peleus' hand was in it all the night long. They feel me down, more for sport than anything else, and immediately find Menoetius' knife. They take that of course.

They put me in a room, an actual room, and I hear the click of the lock. I chock back a sob. My stomach and head are spinning. I need to think. I must survive in here. That look on Captain Peleus' face. He was afraid yes, not just for me but for himself. The hurt---I didn't realize he wanted me as much as I want him.

Breath. I put a hand to my stomach, which is churning, and bloated. His hands around me so recently, protecting me. Nothing in the world could harm me then, me or his unborn child. Now though, I'm quite alone. I can survive this. I must. I roll my fingers inside my pocket. The vials of morphine and syringe, they did not find those. I still have something, however small. I can get out of here. I just don't know how yet.