Sweet One, Sweet One

Linos was delirious with pain. He lay on a straw pallet, close to the tent's fire pit. Eudorus held his thigh steady, two other Myrmidons grasped his arms steady, and another held his head as the old surgeon approached Linos with a rusted saw and a sharp dagger. The room spun in the pungent odor of menthol and musk and burnt wood.

The cloud of pain surrounding Linos cleared, for a moment, to allow him to take notice of his approaching amputation. His screams and grunts were amplified trifold in the small enclosure. I winced at his yells. I winced as he moved his head in vain, searching for a savior from the coming pain, from the coming loss of his status as a Myrmidon soldier in this Achaean war. He cried out painfully, to nobody. His voice was choked in spit and terror. His chest heaved forcefully as the surgeon took his place by Linos' mangled leg.

My stomach turned painfully as the matted cloth was pulled from the injury. His lower leg no longer held the semblance of human anatomy. The bone shone brightly like a white beacon, encased in a mess of blood, tendons, and dying tissue. Even the most hardened soldiers, present in the tent, shook from the sight.

I stood in the dark of the tent, my back flattened to the leather. I only moved when they called for the bowl of hot water in my hands. We were deep into the night, one that I knew would last an eternity for Linos.

"Tie the leather. Elevate his leg."

Linos groaned deeply as his limb was handled. I held my breath as the surgeon moved over his instruments.

"Tighter! Tie it! He will bleed out if it is loose."

I watched Linos' eyes move over me as his jaw hung limply in pain. He was in too much shock.

"Please," I spoke loudly, emerging from the shadows, "he must bite against an object to ease the pain. Please."

"There. Steady him now." The surgeon blatantly ignored me, but I quickly saw Eudorus nod over his shoulder towards me, allowing me to find an object for Linos. I put down the bowl and looked around the tent for a strap or a length of thick cloth.

I found a small block of uncharred wood by the entrance of the tent.

"Here!" I exclaimed, "I have found…" My tongue was stilled as the leather flaps of the tent were pulled aside. I looked immediately to the entrance and slowly retreated deeper into the tent.

Achilles entered with a force, his concentration solely on his fellow soldier. The Myrmidons and the surgeon bowed quickly with reverence as their leader took root by Linos' side.

Linos cried out in pain, and maybe hope, as he sought the unruffled presence of Achilles. From my thin grasp on their rougher, more local Greek, I heard Achilles speak soundly to Linos about the heart of the Myrmidons. The strength of their kind, the power of their might, and their own mockery of death. Achilles provided a source of fortitude, and I slowly saw Linos regain that fortitude. His breathing became deeper and slower. His hands clenched and unclenched, and he nodded to his leader with the unspoken vows of brotherhood and resilience.

Achilles sought me, now. He beckoned with his eyes and I gave him the block of wood. He fitted the resistance between Linos' teeth and nodded the consent to the surgeon, whose saw was poised above the injury.

"Think of Larisa," Achilles breathed to Linos as he forcefully held down the shoulders of the man.

I did not know which sound was worse.

The grating scrapes and screeches as the jagged blades bore down on human bone.

The muffled shrieks of a man, muffled but clear, as he lost his defining characteristic as a man.

I watched, through blood and bone, screams and tears, as a soldier was made lame. There was a final crack as the bone was broken and Linos' fate was sealed.

"Where is the healer to sew him? Where?" The surgeon bellowed. He looked at me, pointing. "Will it be she?"

"No." Eudorus snapped, "She is common. She has neither the hands nor the skill."

I did not receive that as an insult. It was only a fact of the matter. Besides, the situation was too dire for insults.

"Burn it." Achilles stated. "Now. Before he wakes to feel the flames."

I left the tent, at this, but I still heard the sizzling of flesh and the continuation of screams.


Viv al shala, oo shamala

Li vi ala, oo shamala

Sweet one, sweet one, oo shamala

Viv al shala, oo shamala

"Where is that one from?" Linos asked, croakily. I slowly adjusted his head on my lap as I quietly massaged his head and hair.

"My father used to sing it to my brother and me. It is an old Mysian dialect." I smiled down at him. "Do you like it?"

"I do not know what it means," he answered. The surgeon instructed me to keep Linos conscious throughout this night. He would have a better chance of surviving the surgery.

"It is about happiness and love."

He laughed bitterly at this. "Ismene, the loss of my leg did not render my mind useless. Your sweet words are for a child, little fish." They were. "I am a man who is not a man."

We were still under the cloak of night, watchful and hopeful. Unfortunately, Linos had developed a fever. His body blazed hot above mine. Continuously, I would douse his body with cold seawater. We were alone in his tent. The fires had been put out, save for spirals of smoke emanating from lost embers. Eudorus kept watch outside the tent. I could hear the crashing of waves behind me. Linos once told me that the noise lulled him to sleep.

"Tell me about your family, Linos."

I had to keep him awake. We talked about everything and nothing. We laughed at everything and nothing.

"Go, Eudorus." I knew that it was Achilles. I felt his presence before he even dismissed Eudorus, outside. He came into the tent, and my heart jumped from his strength. He was my only totem of support this night and in this war. He saw me, smiling slightly. A smile of assurance.

"Has he eaten?" he asked me softly.

I nodded.

"Have you eaten?"

I nodded again, lying.

Linos shook with chills, then. He was violent, and growing delirious. Achilles covered the stride and carefully lifted Linos, so that I could move from under him. Linos' eyes were wide open as he shook from the fever and the pain. My heart was rendered into pieces at the sight of my dear friend.

"Is there more poppy?" Achilles asked.

"There is no more. Nor fresh bark."

Achilles sighed. "Give him water. Cold water."

I turned to find the amphora, my eyes misting with tears. There was nothing more that we could do for Linos. I had heard this line many times in the camp. 'Give him water.' Cold, fresh water was the last taste that the dying would have on this earth. Rarely would a man survive a shock amputation like this.

Achilles tilted his head as I poured the water down Linos' throat. I retreated as he arranged Linos on the bed of furs, the wet rag damp on his forehead.

I gathered my knees to myself as I watched from the opposite side of the tent. I was taken aback by the sight. It was surreal. It was painful. Achilles moved methodically, for I knew that he had done this many times before.

Linos looked restful. His breathing was calm and gentle. Achilles watched over him for a time, before turning to sit by me.

And we waited.

And we waited.

"He will be fine, Ismene." I turned to look at him, my face wet with tears. I shook my head as another burst of tears engulfed my body. Achilles pulled me towards him, his arm encasing me tight to him. I had no power to control myself as I lay my head on his shoulder. Death had visited me many times, but this meeting was too broken. Too unfair. I shook there in Achilles' arms as he whispered nothing and everything to me. I was so tired. I was not a soldier like him. I was only Ismene.

"He will die." I whispered.

"He was taught to die. He was born to die." He answered.

I shook my head. "He does not deserve to die."

"We all deserve to die. All of us." I looked up into those powerful eyes and shook as I did not see all of my invincible Achilles. I looked back at Linos, his breathing growing slower.

"How can you do this, Achilles?" I whispered.

"I am a soldier. He is a soldier." He lowered his head to mine. "This is a war. I have told you, Ismene. Linos does not deserve this and neither did the eighty Trojan soldiers killed for his sake after his injury in combat. They will all greet him on the Styx. Yet, they all do not deserve this."

My eyes closed in sadness and pain as I bid goodbye to my dear Linos. The one who had saved me, who had watched over me, who had learned about me, who cared for me. I bid him goodbye.

I did not see him when I awoke in the morning sun. His body was not there. Achilles was still with me, watchful as ever. His eyes roved over me as he felt me move. His lips brushed over my forehead as I hugged his body closer to mine.

The waves crashed louder than I had ever heard them before. I could see the sun streaming in sharp lines through the holes in the tent.

We sat there, with an aura of pain between us. The faint horns in the distance signaled the start of funeral games. An ode to dear Linos.

Little fish…


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I'm super sorry that I haven't been posting as much as I have. I am a Chemistry major in University, so it is hard to write when I have all of this science and math on my plate :)

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