Quoted By:
“Lady Deianira, if what you say is true, then we must act to rid ourselves of the beasts as soon as we may. You are too young to know this, but these Κενταυροι often send such raiding parties abroad in the search for rich lands to plunder – no doubt this group you speak of is meant to return to a greater host. We may find ourselves contending with a far larger number if they are left to their own devices. You will have 50 spears to the cause – in addition to your own troops, 100 spearmen should be quite enough to eradicate the beasts.” You do your best not to betray your joy – revealing your girlish excitement would spoil the moment. Instead, you nod dutifully at his words and discuss the arrangements. In a few days, you would coordinate your brother’s First Platoon, along with Argyros’ help, along with a phalanx of Aristonax’s Hillguard (as he calls them). You know little of armed tactics or of battle, but Aristonax assures you that 100 spearmen is well enough to handle the beasts, so long as your troops commit themselves well.
Deep in the discussions with Aristonax as you are, at first you do not hear Gerasimos’ mumblings – you half-way noticed that he had continued to drain his kylix while you negotiated with his father. You ignore his steadily-louder grumbling, along with Aristonax, and then -
“Father, I request command of the Hillguard for the raid!” Gerasimos nearly shouts. Aristonax and yourself turn to him in surprise – Gerasimos' eyes are narrowed in irritation; his shoulders slumped. The boy is now clearly drunk – and worse, he is clearly a fool as well. Aristonax stares steadily at his son, face blank, and he instead turns to you, saying “The matter is concluded, then. In four days time, we raid the beasts, and I will command the Hillguard.” Aristonax, perhaps out of fatherly love, is content to ignore his son's outburst.
But Gerasimos is visibly incensed, and rather than escaping with wounded pride, shouts, <span class="mu-s">“I challenge you for command of the raid!”</span> He stands abruptly, picks up his training δόρυ, and taking several steps back from the bench, rudely thrusting its blunted tip towards his father’s face. You cannot imagine a more idiotic decision on his part - you stifle a giggle at the outrageousness of the moment – the boy is challenging his father openly, before an audience of his peers. Aristonax has no choice but to respond.
Aristonax sighs deeply, looking in your direction, and you gesture placatingly with your slender hands – <span class="mu-i">he is your son, do as you wish</span>, your hands convey. He stands and without further ado, grabs his own training δόρυ; the set of his shoulders tells you that he is ready to make his son suffer for his antics. The guests, now sensing excitement, are busily shushing each other, and requesting fresh pours of wine into their kylixes. Lyciboeus appears positively delighted at the prospect of entertainment, you notice.
>more coming
