Off to the next vacation stop - well, sort of...not really...national competition - but this time I'm bringing my laptop and I have some down time between my competition times so updates will not be affected!
By the way, I have it set for only two more chapters after this one. Also, I apologize for the brevity of this chapter - the next two will be much longer. I was actually going to make it three but it works much better as two.
Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or any of the affiliated characters.
Chapter 28: Sour Grapes
The morning after the battle, the sky was covered by a haze of smoke that left the air thick and stifling. Nonetheless, one more fire burned, and with a coin over each eye, Achilles was lain to rest.
Patroclus stayed rooted to the spot long after there was nothing more to see. A hand on his shoulder gained his attention, and Odysseus led him away from the scene. He wasted no time in taking the young man's mind off of his cousin.
"There are no ships that are going to Thessaly, but Clemais says he can drop you off at Euboea. From there you can find a ship to take you to Phthia."
"That's very kind of him," Patroclus replied, gratefully, thinking of what getting to Phthia would mean. He looked out at the ocean, wondering how far they could have gotten.
Odysseus cleared his throat and gave a small, awkward chuckle. "Yes, for now it is."
Patroclus raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying?"
"That you will probably be one of the last to set sail. Clemais enjoys a good celebration."
Patroclus quickly discovered that Odysseus was truthful. Every night, the commander of the soldiers from Thermopylae grew red in the face as he filled his rather rotund body with enough wine to drown the remains of Troy. He was a decent man, though pompous, especially after a few drinks. His laugh was the most obnoxious; his voice was the loudest; his jokes were the longest. When he started talking, few others got a word in edgewise.
By the fifth day, Patroclus had learned that when Clemais's cup was filled for a third time, it was time for him to retire. It was not for the quiet; the thin fabric of his tent did not stop the noise from pervading his small island of privacy. But with every night, he grew more and more irritated by the man's drunkenness, and he thought it would be better if he did not inflict bodily harm on his ride home.
In the middle of the second week, however, Patroclus had taken all he could. He'd watched as all the other ships sailed away, leaving him with the drunks. He found Clemais around mid-afternoon, after his hangover from the previous night was mostly gone but before he would start drinking again. Patroclus took a breath to calm himself before approaching the commander.
"Clemais," he started. "May I have a word?"
"Patroclus!" the boisterous man shouted, much louder than was necessary seeing as they were standing barely three feet apart. Patroclus forced himself to smile as a strong breath of wine hit him full in the face. "I noticed you didn't stay up for festivities last night. Your presence was greatly missed!"
"Headache," Patroclus replied, deciding to be glad that the previous night was the first time his absence had been noticed.
"Sorry to hear it," Clemais said, still too loud. "Perhaps tonight!"
"Yes, perhaps," he lied, his intentions being nothing but the exact opposite. "Now, Clemais, I was wondering when we were setting sail."
Clemais laughed heartily. "Well, I suppose after all the wine has been drunk." Patroclus remained silent. "You see, it's not my wine. It's all that of Daryx, and I'm not wasting any of it!" He laughed again while Patroclus wondered how, with the way that man drank, there was any wine left in all the world. "Two days, boy. There's probably about two more days."
"May I have your word on that?"
The man looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "I suppose."
Patroclus was not assured.
Again, sorry for the shortness - next two will be much longer, I promise!
