Menander towered above him, his shoulders wide and square, his jaw hard and course with black stubble, his red cloak fluttering in the icy mid-winter gale. “You are smarter than the whole lot I send you with. Do you have the balls to speak to my commander, to look him in the eye and sway him with words?”
Sebastian’s response caught in his throat, for he dearly wanted to say the right thing, the perfect sentence, to ally the suspicions of his ruthless master. But only a slight squeak emerged from his mouth as he blushed in shame.
The voice of Menander, with its deep grinding quality, continued with a note of irritation for having to waste words, “Augulus did you see, did you hear, this scented coward fail to give voice on my command?”
The beastly one-eyed jagged-toothed Agrianian stepped up beside him and leered sideways into his face while Sebastian sought to meet his gaze with his own watery eyes, but found himself unable. The Agrianian captain’s voice was less than cruel, “He is a woman with a penis. He should be brushing hair in Babylon. What of it, commander?”
“You shall stand by this fool when he speaks to Leosthenes on my behalf. If he does as he just did, you shall run him through on the spot, and explain it to our general as an apology for having wasted his time.”
The Agrianian spit in the frozen mud and then placed the flat of his long-hafted knife beneath Sebastian’s chin and raised it until he looked into the soulless eyes of Menander. “Like that pretty boy, look the big man in the eye.”
I will be killed, I know it!
He gathered himself and in the attempt swallowed so hard that his Adam’s apple pushed out against the blade and caused blood to trickle down his neck.
Courage, the courage of Peter! He is just a mean little soul within that menacing body. Regard him squarely.
Augulus’s voice—and foul breath as well—came to him on the gale, “That’s my girl! Look your master in the eye so he knows your heart. This isn’t the Court of the Median King.”
He held steady, looking up into Menander, now somehow without fear, and his voice came steadily without a squeak, “I shall bring your words to the allied commander and have your men assigned a post.”
The goading knife was lowered and Menander slapped him on the back with his hard hand nearly driving the breath from him. “Off with you. Send word or return as you judge necessary.”
He walked off now with the bandy-legged old heathen dressed in goat hide, fleece and his coifed hood of wolf-mane, and also bearing the terrible scars of war. To his surprise the old savage was kind with his words. “You will do fine, and I won’t cut your sweet ass down unless you truly humiliate yourself.”
Sebastian turned his head to regard the man, who had hair sprouting like grass from his nose. “I shall endeavor to unburden you of the responsibility of killing me.”
The man chuckled and continued in his ragged koine, “I could use a favor for keeping you alive. You know these Aetolian curs are not to be trusted. I’ll see you safe.”
“What is it you desire? What could I possibly do for you?”
“Your teacher I know—brought him a white leopard from old Alex I did—my men and I. And your matron, the Cimmerian vixen with the blood hair, it is well known she is a witch.”
You cannot betray Lady Arlene to witch hunters. You are sworn to preserve her.
Augulus chuckled in his odd way again and went on as they continued down the mountainside toward the outer camp and the Aetolians, “I mean your matron no harm, just want a blessing is all. Haven’t seen my village witch for ages. Ugly fat old thing she were—skin like bark. But I poked her for a blessing. Haven’t been blessed in a grove since the Roof of India; some old naked grass-muncher he was—nice ‘nough.”
The Agrianians were now closing on their leader to finish the march into the allied camp and Sebastian hesitated, causing Augulus to snicker, “Girl, they can’t speak no civil. Gives the answer.”
What choice do I have?
“Yes Agulus, My Lady is possessed of supernatural power, and I promise her blessing, in sacred conclave though, and without any poking!”
The man guffawed and mucus blew from his nose and fouled his tangled beard. “No worry city-boy I’ll get me a poke from a whore up at the front. I know she The Thinker’s companion. Just get me my blessing city-boy and I’ll see you all the way to Dolphins.”
“Yes, certainly, Captain.”
That honorable term made the man to whom it was directed laugh. And then they were leading his lean smelly fellows down the mountainside to the camp of men not quite so foul but no less ruthless.
The Red heathens of the New World were virtual cherubs next to this lot. And the Spartan is worse than any conquistador. How will we ever escape his grasp?
The captain of the Aetolians was now coming to great him.
Oh look, he is such a mean beastie.
Smile and now hug him—oh he reeks and his fleas are leaping onto my neck!
“Greetings, Captain, I am in your care and prepared to carry your plea to the general.”
The tall lean scraggily bearded man placed a claw like hand on his shoulder and sunk his talons in as he smiled to his men, “Our emissary, boys; slippery speaker to sway the general for us!”
While the men cheered and moved off the man snarled, “Cross me and I’ll eat your guts raw you city-bred bitch.”
Sebastian just nodded his understanding and smiled all around to the ragged loveless band of killers in whose care he now found himself.
My evil-smelling guardian and his men are outnumbered five-to-one.
You better make everyone happy or you will not see Your Fair Lady again.
