"Why does this keep happening?" asked Odysseus in a long-suffering tone as he surveyed the aftermath of the battle on the beach.
Actually, considering what had just taken place there everything was in remarkable order. He was pleased to note that the time he'd always taken to go over with his men what should happen after a battle was not something exclusive to the Ithacans; their Trojan and Myrmidon counterparts appeared to be well-trained and knew their tasks well. Some men were working together diligently to seek out and gather those of their comrades who were wounded while others took meticulous stock of the enemies that had been killed, wounded, captured, and any important ones that had escaped. Odysseus could appreciate this level of efficiency – since the men required very little direction he only had to be present in case an extraordinary circumstance arose. That left him with a lot of time to muse over the current state of his life.
He let out a dramatic sigh. "Perhaps the better question is," said Ithaca's king, "is why does this keep happening to me?"
Pausing for a moment to catch his breath after helping the men under his command get yet another wounded soldier off to the healers, Lucius overheard the question. He looked over his shoulder, searching awkwardly for the person that the Grecian king was addressing; but no one was standing closer to him than Lucius himself. "Are – are you speaking to me?" he asked uncertainly.
"Are you listening to me?" returned Odysseus, falling into the good-natured banter pattern that came so easily when danger wasn't imminent.
"I suppose I could, if you want me to…"
"Good; then I am talking to you," the Greek nodded resolutely. He frowned and wrinkled his nose, looking perplexed. "Though now I'm not quite sure what I should say. Forgive me, good soldier of Troy; I'm just all flustered. I can't remember the last time that someone actually listened to me when I spoke."
Considering the loyalty demonstrated by his men Lucius thought that was a bit of an exaggeration. Nonetheless, though he had the courage to stand up to someone of greater power when he felt it justified he wasn't yet bold enough to correct an authority figure when the misconception was harmless. He elected to take another route instead. "I listened," he reassured Odysseus, feeling more than a little unbalanced. What a strange conversation this was! He supposed that it was a Grecian mannerism to carry on in such an odd and breezy way. Most likely no one would fault him for ending it quickly and moving on but Lucius had the distinct impression that his people would have more contact with the Ithacans and Myrmidons in the future; it was best to start getting used to interacting with wordy foreigners now.
Odysseus tried hard not so show his amusement at the soldier's earnestness. "Did you now?"
"Yes, on the day that King Hector revealed to us the truth about his father and about Prince Paris; and then you told me about Lord Isidore and how Lord Achilles really loved the prince," Lucius elaborated. "I heard everything that you said clearly. That's why I stand with the victorious today."
A huge grin broke out over Odysseus' face, making Lucius a little nervous. "Now that's refreshing," the king declared grandly. "Not only did someone actually heed the wisdom and insight of my words, but he also used them to alter his course and make the right decision. I'm flabbergasted – and flattered. If more people were like you, son, then I wouldn't be in the type of situation that I'm in now nearly as often."
Was he actually lamenting being on the winning side of the battle? From what Lucius had heard and observed about the Ithacan king he would have thought that Odysseus would possess a deeper understanding of how well Hector's victory would affect him. "And what situation do you find so terrible?"
"The one where I'm left behind to deal with and sort out other people's messes, of course," Odysseus told him as if it were obvious while trying to not make it sound like he was insulting the young man – or worse, the young man's king – in the process. Maybe Trojans didn't possess a sense of humor. "I came to Troy with the intention of seeking peace and an alliance that would be mutually beneficial to both kingdoms. Then my dear friend Achilles falls in love with your youngest prince – excuse me; I guess he's your oldest prince now – and runs away with him, leaving me behind to face the aftermath."
"But that led to good things, right?" Lucius pointed out hesitantly. "I mean, you weren't imprisoned or executed; and you got the chance to speak with King Hector."
"A part of listening is not interrupting, son," admonished Odysseus breezily. "But you're forgiven because you're right. I did speak with Hector and ended up rousing a hornet's nest by inadvertently uncovering some shocking family secrets. The ensuing eruption had me leading refugees to the mountains before running back and forth across the Aegean – do you realize that, if my luck holds out, this will be the first time in several weeks that I'll spend more than one night on dry land? Anyway, during that time I helped sort out jumbled familial relationship and romantic entanglements because that's the kind of man that I am."
"It was very noble of you, sire."
"And what was my reward for it?" demanded Odysseus rhetorically. "My men and I have just participated in a battle that really had very little to do with us on the surface; and now that it's all over and the time has come to clean up and restore order, where are my fellow leaders? Nowhere that I can see. I tell you, Lucius – it is Lucius, correct? – I tell you, the gods must have been laughing their heads off at me from the moment I decided to pursue an alliance with Troy."
The soldier clamped his hands stiffly as his eyes darted from the king to the ground and back again. He was under the impression that Odysseus wasn't being entirely serious about his complaints, but then again he was never very good at determining that sort of thing. How was he supposed to tell if he wanted a sincere reply or not? He cleared his throat to stall for another couple of seconds. "Well, um, well –"
"Pay him no mind," interrupted Achilles as he, Paris, and Hector came upon the unlikely duo. Paris stumbled a little as weight of the reality of facing the people he'd hurt when he left sunk in. Achilles tightened his grip around his lover's waist discreetly while sending a dismissive snort in his friend's direction. "He hasn't quite grasped yet that no one bothers listening to him because he's an insufferable dramatist."
"Look who's talking," scoffed Odysseus, thankful to have a proper verbal sparring partner again. "Have you threatened to remove some part of someone's body and do ghastly things to them with it today yet?"
Lucius was no longer listening to either of them; his senses had been overwhelmed with relief from the moment he'd laid eyes on Paris. He'd been told that the young prince hadn't been in danger with the Myrmidons and had even believed it when he was told that Achilles was in love with him, but until he saw him flanked by his father and lover he didn't really accept the fact that Paris was truly intact. "Prince Paris," he said joyfully, carefully appraising him. The boy looked shaken and disturbingly pale, not to mention wearing a garment that was odd and wasn't worthy to be worn on someone so beautiful, but other than that he appeared to be just fine. "It warms my heart to see that you are well. The gods have finally smiled down on you, thank Apollo! There are so many people who feared that the worst had happened, especially in light of what we found in your bedchamber…"
"I know," replied Paris guiltily, not wanting to even think about what had taken place in his bedchamber after he and Achilles had made love that night. "I'm so sorry for that. I didn't realize that – I thought, well, I thought that Father was the only one who would worry if I disappeared. Believe me, I didn't mean to cause so much turmoil."
"Father, huh?" Lucius smiled knowingly at Hector, who returned it while pressing his cheek against the top of his son's head. "I appreciate your remorse, but don't dwell on it for long," the soldier said to Paris. "There is not a soul who cares about you that doesn't understand why you did what you did. We owe you an apology too, for not doing our duty and protecting you from all who sought to harm you."
"Thank you," said Paris sincerely. "But don't judge yourself too harshly; everyone was fooled by Priam's act."
"Not everyone," Achilles felt the need to point out. He knew that there was no need to be jealous; it was nice that Trojans like Lucius were happy to see Paris and cared about him so much. Still, there was no harm in pulling his lover just a little bit closer.
"Yes, well," Lucius threw him a rebuked look and silently nodded to acknowledge Achilles' place in Paris' life before turning back to the boy. "Are you certain that you're feeling all right? I mean, I know that Lord Isidore disappeared during the battle and is unaccounted for as of yet –"
"We can take care of that right now," broke in Hector as he unconsciously ran a hand down the side of his son's head. "Isidore – don't refer to him as a lord anymore; he doesn't deserve the title – is down the beach by the boats, dead and ruining the sand with bloodstains. Good riddance to him; there was not one redeeming quality about that man."
This news was both a joy and a disappointment to Lucius. He was happy to hear that the perverted old lord had finally gotten what was coming to him. Finally, Troy was safe for good from his manipulations and schemes! Still, he and several of the other soldiers and guards had been looking forward to having Isidore under their 'care' in the nastiest of all of Troy's dungeons. It was a pity – a few of the more impetuous ones had taken to making the cell of choice even more disgusting than it already was, reasoning that it should reflect the nature of the man it was supposed to be holding; they were going to be most disappointed. Oh, well; what mattered most now was finding out if the former lord had hurt Paris or not. "Did he…"
Paris understood the implication and shook his head. "Wonderful," breathed Lucius in relief. "I didn't do wrong, then, by trusting your love to save you. I must apologize to you, Lord Achilles; I was a fool to believe anything that came out of L-Isidore's mouth. You are truly a blessing from the gods in the way that you continue to protect the prince – if you hadn't gotten there in time –"
"Hold on!" cried Achilles, holding up his hand. "I've got enough to be praised about without taking the credit for what others have done. In truth, I probably would have gotten there in time but Paris beat me to it."
"You?" gaped the Trojan soldier at his prince. Paris swallowed hard at the memory but obligingly unsheathed his bloody sword to serve as proof for Lucius. "That's – that's – who taught you how to fight?"
The boy's eyes flew to his lover's face. "I did," Achilles boasted proudly. "And who better than me?"
When Lucius shook his head in amazement and looked to Hector to see what reaction his king would deem appropriate, Achilles' expression softened and he leaned closer to Paris' ear. "Put that away, my love," he whispered soothingly. "You don't need to look on it again until I clean it."
"I'm sorry about –"
"Don't be," Achilles cut in before Paris could finish. "Don't feel so down, Paris; you did what you had to do and it's not a weakness not to revel in taking another man's life. I think you take after your father in that respect."
Hector didn't hear what Achilles was saying but he smiled as he felt the tension drain from Paris' body. "I do hate to interrupt this atmosphere of understanding and marveling," he announced, "but we've still go the not-so-small matter of seeing to the troops. Tell me, how did our men fare?"
"Better than the other army's men did," answered Odysseus dryly to disguise the pain he felt at losing any of their men.
"I sent out a couple of soldiers to do a quick tally and send off those who need it to the healers," added Lucius. He faltered a bit when he realized something. "They – they will probably only survey the Trojans. Not that we don't care about your men as well, my lords; it's just that there are so many and a lot of details to process…"
"No need to worry," Odysseus told him flippantly. "I've also got men who will see the needs of the Ithacans."
"And even the Myrmidons think it valuable to see who's dead, who's alive, and who'll need a healer before that can be determined after we fight," Achilles jumped in, using a tone that could or could not be interpreted as sarcastic (which, of course, it was). "In fact, one of my men should have gathered all of that information by now. Odysseus, could you tell me if you have the vaguest notion of where Eudores is? They would have reported it to him since I wasn't around and I can only hope that he wasn't too busy mooning over a certain someone to absorb it."
"No one's going to be reporting anything to Eudores," said Odysseus, sounding taken-aback. He wouldn't think that the man would be so blasé about Eudores' condition; then again, he had been down by the ship for awhile and might have been still ignorant to it. "Didn't you hear what happened?"
Achilles' blood froze. He'd lost men before, but Eudores – for all of his faults, not the least of which was his taste in men who were, well, Achilles' cousin– was one of his closest friends. He shut his eyes to hide the emotion there. "Is he dead?"
"Not that I've heard," replied Odysseus. Both Achilles and Paris exhaled with sweet relief. "But he was injured fairly early on in the battle; and not insignificantly either, according to what people are saying. He's lucky, though; Patroclus was near at hand when it happened and he made sure that Eudores got to the healers right away."
"Poor Eudores, and poor Patroclus too," commented Paris as he remembered that day on the ship when Patroclus told him that sometimes he thought that he could love the older man.
"Don't count either of them out yet," advised Achilles knowingly. He looked at Odysseus and the Ithacan could see that he was having trouble heeding his own advice. "Point me in the direction of the healers' tents, my friend," the warrior requested grimly.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Achilles jogged through the maze of people and bodies, down to where the Myrmidon tents had been set up, with Paris following closely at his heels. The boy had been momentarily torn between what his official duties to the Trojan people as one of their princes might be and his need to be there for two people whom he'd come to regard as great friends. The latter had quickly won out, for there was really nothing that he had to do for his people that Hector was incapable of doing himself. His father had even observed the conflict within him and had urged him to go. Paris' dueling obligations would have to be sorted out later, after this personal crisis had passed.
The couple paused after they entered the circle in the middle of the clusters of tents. Odysseus had been able to tell then that Eudores had been taken to the Myrmidon encampment but hadn't been able to offer any specific details as to his exact location. There were several tents and people swarming around most of them – none offered any indication that this was the tent that the second-of-command was bleeding in. Most people would have viewed searching through all of them as a daunting and frustrating task, but fortunately Achilles knew ways around doing that.
"I want answers and I want them now!" he yelled out authoritatively, unashamed of his brashness. After all, he was those men's lord and he could act in whatever manner he deemed fit as long as what he was doing wasn't putting them in any danger. Anyway, they should've been used to it by now.
Jason, one of the bolder and less wounded men, rose from his makeshift seat near one of the tents and walked the short distance over to Achilles. "And I'll give them to you if I have them, my lord," he replied. "Although I'm afraid that I don't know any exact figures concerning the battle. The men in charge of that haven't had anyone to give the information too; we didn't know where you went to and Eudores and Patroclus are indisposed at the moment."
"I heard about what happened to Eudores," said Achilles, his heart sinking, "but not about Patroclus. Was he injured too?"
"Not yet," responded Jason flatly. "But I haven't checked on him and the healers for a few minutes though, so I can't swear to it."
"Then he's with Eudores, I presume" reasoned Achilles. "Then you can answer my questions: how does Eudores fare and what in the name of Tartarus happened?"
"He still lives; the healers won't say anything for certain yet but they seem to think that he has a good chance at making a full recovery. As for how he ended up with a sword wound in his side," Jason paused to roll his eyes, "he did it to himself."
"He took a blade to himself?" gasped Paris. In all of his miserable years under Priam's rule he'd never hit that low point where suicide turned from a disturbing fantasy of escape to a viable option for reality. He couldn't imagine what would have driven his lover's second-in-command to do such a desperate thing. "That doesn't sound like Eudores."
Jason waved his hands as if to brush away the suggestion. "No, I didn't mean it like that," he explained. "What I meant was that he did something astonishingly foolish. What I heard, and Patroclus confirmed it, was that some disgusting Trojan – no offense to you, Paris – said some crude things to Patroclus and Eudores got so worked up about it that he threw himself at the man without thinking and effectively impaled himself on his opponent's sword. It wasn't intentional, but this whole mess was completely preventable; and if Eudores hadn't acted like such an idiot –"
"Jason?"
The man turned around to see who was talking to him and was rewarded with a swift, powerful punch to his face. "Ungh!" he grunted in surprise and pain, his hands flying up to cradle his broken nose.
"How dare you?" seethed Patroclus. Achilles suppressed a smile at seeing his cousin well and still fiery while Paris grew even more concerned with his friend's distraught demeanor. "Eudores – who outranks you in every possible way, and I should know – is fighting for his life after caring more about mine and you're calling him an idiot? Well, now you two have one more thing in common: you've both sustained injuries that could have been avoided if you'd have exercised more common sense. He still has more bravery and decency than you could ever hope to have, though; and if you ever insult him again I'll skip your nose and get right around to breaking your jaw! Now get out of here!"
Achilles chuckled as Jason headed off in a hurry, probably smart enough to know better than to seek care from a nearby healer with Patroclus in such an unstable mood. "Nice to see that you haven't lost your edge, cousin," he noted.
"This isn't funny," Paris scolded Achilles before turning his attentions to the younger man. "Patroclus, how are you doing? We heard that you've seen Eudores."
"Oh, I've seen him all right," replied Patroclus darkly as he fought back tears. "I saw him jump from out of nowhere to attack some man who threatened to 'mount' me and then I saw him collapse in my arms while his blood covered my hands."
"Were you with him just now?" asked Achilles gently. Patroclus' behavior was really dampening his jocularity. He was surprised at the strong reaction his cousin had to Eudores' injuries; one, he was never one to over-exaggerate; two, he'd been quite angry with Eudores during the entire trip to Troy; and three, Achilles had never known Patroclus to take any man that he'd formed that kind of relationship with so seriously.
"I was, but those moronic healers ordered me to leave! I told them that I didn't take orders from them and they told me that they couldn't take care of Eudores properly until I was gone; so I left." Patroclus bowed his head as a few tears slipped out and when he spoke again he sounded worn down and wretched. "'I love you.' That was the last thing he said to me before he lost consciousness. Stupid idiot…"
"I thought you didn't want people to insult Eudores like that," Achilles reminded him as Paris clutched Patroclus' arm to console him.
To his astonishment, the look that his cousin gave him was full of sadness and regret rather than annoyance and sarcasm. Achilles didn't have time to dwell on it or ask what it meant, though, for Hector and Odysseus chose that moment to join them. "Greetings once again," said Odysseus. "How's Eudores doing?"
"He'll probably live," answered Patroclus, wiping his eyes furiously.
Odysseus smiled fondly at the clever and sometimes deceptive young man who'd apparently found one of his own weaknesses. "Don't hide your tears," he counseled quietly so that only Patroclus could hear him. "There's no shame in feeling something for someone who's so obviously in love with you."
"I'm sorry that we must intrude now," said Hector as he studied Paris' anxious face, Achilles' bewildered expression, and Patroclus' sheer misery, "but everything down here is pretty much under control down here. Seeing as I'm now apparently the king, I'm going to have to make an appearance in the city soon. Odysseus is coming too; it would probably be best if you two, Paris and Achilles, came with us."
"Politics as usual," sighed Patroclus wearily. "Go on then, Achilles; and you too, Paris – show those Trojans what things are really like between you two and make the Myrmidons proud."
"Maybe you should come with us," suggested Paris, not wanting to leave his friend alone at a time like this.
"I'm not leaving Eudores," stressed Patroclus a little defensively; Paris understood and backed off. "I'll be fine; but you four need to go to make sure that what happened today wasn't in vain."
With one last round of comforting words and reassuring squeezes, Hector, Paris, Achilles, and Odysseus walked off in three separate directions. Once they'd gathered as many troops as possible they would march to the gates, ready to re-enter the city they'd fled in triumph.
To be continued…
