Of Wine and Water
Pythagoras wandered the streets of Atlantis, and, for the thousandth time, repressed the need to curse.
It wasn't that the day was hot, or that the people were rude, it was that he was completely lost, and that was not a feeling he enjoyed.
Quixotically, he had hoped that after a week of hard traveling Atlantis would welcome him with open arms. That as he escaped the darkness of his former life, and plunged into the bustling urban shelter of the city the city would welcome him back. That Atlantis would whisper hello with good fortune and easy acquaintances. That the gods would smile on him. That work would be easy to find, lodgings would be cheap, time would pass slowly, and solitude, above all, solitude would be plenteous. For what was possibly the first time in his life, there was no proper plan, only run. Run anywhere. It didn't matter where he went, so long as Samos was left far behind. He had come to Atlantis on a stupid whim, blinded by hope and delusion.
Still, anywhere was better than Samos, he reasoned, passing what seemed to be the twelfth olive merchant. Even sleeping on the streets, wandering around lost, and feeling the constant urge to swear at everything was better than spending his life with the people who saw him as little more than the timid drunkard's boy. He would do anything to escape their scorn and pity.
His throat ached as he swallowed. He was so thirsty that the mud puddles steaming on the streets were beginning to look attractive. If he could just find a tavern, or a wayhouse of some sort. He had a few coppers left. A drink would be nice, not to mention he could ask the proprietor about proper lodgings in the city. And, if he'd learned anything in his eighteen years, it was that taverns were excellent places for picking up patients.
He wandered for at least another hour, growing steadily more frustrated as he wound through the dusty streets. Eventually, just has he was ready to give up, he stumbled upon it, The Clever Tumbler.
Feeling mildly nervous, as this was all too familiar, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. A tapestry of familiar smells assaulted him as he plunged into the musty dank. It was comforting, he mused darkly, to know that drunks in Atlantis smelled and acted exactly the same as drunks on Samos. It was almost as if he was a child again, coming to help his father home after a long day of drinking, and a short night of quarreling. There, in the corner, was the two leering men, making lewd comments at anyone, male or female, that passed. At the table next to them were the gamblers. The big, strong men who controlled the game, and the thin, desperate men who came to lose to them. Next to them, the token female. A woman of such poor and loose a character that no one minded her being in the bar anymore, despite the fact that she practically lived there. And then, right in the middle, in the prime of the room, was the king.
The king was an interesting position in the society of a bar. Back on Samos it had been taken by Pythagoras' father, the local tavern's best customer. Everybody liked this man, he was witty and entertaining when drunk, but no one so much as the proprietor, who kept a careful tally of the man's debts and infringements, waiting until the day when he would collect. Pythagoras knew, he had spent at least a month hiding from the man who owned the tavern on Samos after his father's death. Despite the fact that the man knew they had nothing, he had still insisted on collecting, taking everything they had, including their mother into debt slavery.
Pythagoras edged up the room, squirming with distaste. He would avoid the centre of the room. He changed his mind. He would not stay in the tavern for long, he would seek work elsewhere.
"Bread, and some water please." Pythagoras murmured when the barmaid came around, asking what he wanted "And some grapes."
The barmaid smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes. Pythagoras felt his stomach plunge in what could only be described as mild terror. If she started flirting with him he would faint, he just knew it.
Thankfully, she bustled away, leaving Pythagoras to his uneasy peace. He didn't want to deal with women, not today. He had not gotten nearly enough sleep for that.
As he surveyed the room he allowed himself to wonder if he was doing the right thing. If leaving Arcus alone on Samos had been the right decision. The boy was eleven, Pythagoras had been practically a man at that age, surely Arcus could manage. The fact that he and Arcus were completely different people drifted across his mind, but he dismissed it. He justified to himself, saying that he was here to earn money to free his mother from slavery. But when he was honest with himself he knew that he was really here because he needed a change of scene. He needed to get off Samos before he suffocated, and so, like the bastard he was, he abandoned his younger brother for his own pleasure. Reason 17 why Pythagoras was a terrible person.
"Bread, grapes, water, and a little cheese." the barmaid announced loudly, placing a plate and a large tankard in front of Pythagoras with a flourish. "Will there be anything else for you?" she asked sweetly, wiggling her ample bosom.
The tavern went quite as Pythagoras felt his face go up in flames. He stammered something about no, and the barmaid looked disappointed, as all the men burst out into peals of laughter, shouting insults.
"You could bring him some manhood." the king jeered "It seems like he's lost his."
Anger rose in his chest as the men of the tavern roared with laughter. "Perhaps she could bring you sobriety." Pythagoras snapped "Because at least at the end of the day I will be able to make my way home unassisted."
The king laughed "I'm sure that mummy will be pleased."
"Doubtful." Pythagoras said "But at least mine has no reason to be ashamed, unlike yours. How does your mother feel knowing she has given birth to a pig?"
"You would know." the king said "You're as pink as one."
The men laughed. "Give him a rest Hercules," one of the men yelled "He's only a boy. Don't make him cry."
Pythagoras stood up, his anger skyrocketing "Think you're some kind of hero?" he asked, stalking over to the table "Think you're a big man?"
Hercules stared at him, mirth turning to mild concern.
"It's because you are." Pythagoras said, leaning on the table, his voice deadly calm "You are a huge man."
It was a moment before Hercules began to laugh. Second later, the rest of the bar followed suit.
"Sit down lad," Hercules said "I'll buy you a drink."
"No thank you." Pythagoras said stiffly "I don't drink."
"Sit anyways." Hercules replied. You're new here, you could use a friend, and I could use a laugh."
Wondering exactly what had just happened, Pythagoras collected his food, and sat.
"To new friends." Hercules yelled, raising his tankard.
"To new friends." Pythagoras echoed, and, together, their took a drink. Hercules of wine, Pythagoras of water.
A/N After yesterday I figured the story should take a lighter turn. Please tell me how I did with a review.