Between Lions and Men

25: a valient warrior

Menoetius

The battle rages all day. Major Ithaca and Colonel Mycenae come back wounded well into the night, Aias comes back briefly because he broke all his weapons and asks me for more because he knows I know where the finer weapons are which incidentally is Colonel Sparta's private stores which incidentally I'm not intended to access. I grant him them and he tells me he fought Hecktor and threw a rock at his chest. This is Aias so I'm guessing it's closer to a boulder than it is to a rock.

Major Ithaca, for somebody decidedly bent on avoiding battle at all costs, specifically hand to hand combat, also has a bizarre addiction to being the best at everything in the world. I swear to Asclepius, the man could walk into my medical tent missing three limbs and declare himself fit for battle.

"Flesh wound, nothing more, give me wrappings I'll do it myself," he says, stripping his shirt which is torn about his shoulders.

"I'll be the judge of that," I push him rather easily onto a bed because he's littler than I and has lost blood.

"I tell you I am well---are you actually a doctor? Is this man truly a doctor or did we just give him a scalpel because we thought it would be a productive sharp object for him--- ? While we determine that, I'll take my leave---,"

"Your silver tongue does nothing, you know why? Because you're smaller than I am, if you were taller I might take your opinion," I am quite used to using fallacious reasoning to amuse the younger ones out of their troubles, or distract them enough while I do what is needed.

"Again, I'd really like to see papers that this man has studied anatomy that is not Peleus aghhh---" he curses me as I put a hot iron to his skin. No, we don't typically cauterize wounds, I just keep the thing ready should headstrong Majors stagger into my tent actively bleeding to death and refusing normal treatment.

"There, bleeding's stopped, drink water if you weren't commissioned you'd lie down the rest of the night," I say, putting a canteen of water into his hands.

"Excellent," past gritted teeth, trying to tug his blouse back on which signifies his rank. Wait a minute.

"Did you switch blouses with a private?" I scoff.

"They aim for rank, Menoetius, you think you'd know that, my men will see me if they need to; more than that they know my voice."

"Everyone knows your voice, Ithaca," I say, ceasing stopping him from leaving as more wounded come in.

"We are losing badly. Aias himself was struck down by the god of the thunder, it is my luck alone we saved him while he was immobile—,"

"He is really tall; lightening does do its thing, not everything is a prophesy, Ithaca," I reason.

"You'd do better to believe the gods, Menoetius, speaking of, Peleus—will he fight or no?" he asks, face tight with pain as he tries to drink the water I gave him.

"He's still in his tent, I sent Auto to reason with him, and my son, nothing, now get out of here if you're claiming your well," Nestor says, "And stop distracting my nurse."

Ithaca goes. I turn to Eurypylus, who is brought in, wounded by the last of the gunshots. It's fallen silent out there, both sides are out off bullets and resort to cruder weapons of death.

"Please," the man whispers, blood trickling from his mouth.

"I know," I sigh, getting the morphine, "This will put you out."

"We are dying."

"I'll go to Captain Peleus, I promise, I will speak with him again. Rest now."

We are losing the day. And more than that, we are desperately close to losing our ships. The sun has barely set and still none of Peleus' troops will fight. Not without their Captain. They refuse.