Following is the second segment of the four-part story "Eumaios and the Skunks," by author Michael O. Varhola. It takes place in Skirmisher Publishing LLC's "Swords of Kos" fantasy campaign setting, along with the novel Swords of Kos: Necropolis and the multi-author fantasy anthology Swords of Kos: Hekaton (and takes place in the year following the stories of the latter book). In this piece Eumaios learns of an imminent invasion by the Titan-worshipping people of Rhodes ...

Read Part 1 of "Eumaios and the Skunks"

Eumaios rose with the dawn, dressed, and donned his foxskin cap. He looked at it briefly and, as he had many times before, regretted having killed the fox some three decades earlier. He had not thought twice about it at the time but, over the years, had come to feel that some of the animal's spirit still resided in this item and he hoped that it forgave him his act and considered that it had been a companion on his adventures. This cap marked him, in any event, as peltast, a light infantryman, and he liked those he dealt with to be cognizant of that. He armed himself with an old military dagger and a sturdy walking stick that could serve well as a cudgel and, even though he would certainly not need it, had in his haversack a leather sling and three or four stone bullets. 

Armed or not, Eumaios avoided killing anything at all anymore to the greatest extent that this was possible; most of the time this meant a couple of small animals a week, generally some of the feral chickens that roamed the island or maybe a rabbit, and he did this only to keep his strength up. Most of his diet consisted of olives, fruit, herbs, eggs, and other things gathered from the remains of the farm and the surrounding hills, supplemented with bread, cheese, or fish, and sometimes a meal purchased in the village. Eumaios especially liked roast lamb and, as this was something that he had not enjoyed since the last moon, decided he would have a meal of it during his foray into the nearby village of Kefalos. 

Eumaios's legs were always stiff in the mornings and he moved down through the wooded hills at a casual pace, enjoying the cool morning and alert to changes in the familiar landscape. He lived about half an hour outside of Kefalos, close enough that he could conveniently visit it when he wanted but far enough that he did not have to worry too much about having his privacy encroached upon. 

Kefalos was in a state of chaos when Eumaios arrived at it. At least half of the community's five-hundred citizens milled about in the town square or its surrounding businesses or streets, engaged in heated dispute over something with emotions ranging from panic to excitement. It did not take Eumaios long to learn that a government dispatch rider had arrived late the previous night from Fort Karpathios, some fifteen miles up the southern coast of the island, with a message that was both vague and ominous. This messenger was the last link in a chain of people who had conveyed the brief epistle from the Strategion, the headquarters for the army in Kos City and, as such, did not know much more than anyone else about what it contained. What was known, however, spread quickly and people in the village were quick to fill in the blanks, and it was possible that one of the hundred theories they proffered might have even been correct. 

The little that was certain had been contained in the short official missive from the capital, which announced that an invasion fleet from the rival city of Rhodes, a hundred miles or so south across the wine-dark Aegean Sea, was en route to Kos and expected to land along the north coast of the island, on the plains between Kos City and the village of Tigaki. How that much was known, while nothing else was, was by no means clear, and the presumption was that more details would follow in a subsequent message. 

The Rhodians were, of course, worshippers of the dread Titans and their city was dedicated to Helios, their monstrous personification of the sun. Unlike most peoples who paid homage to the enemies of the Olympian Gods, they were generally believed to be honorable and almost as benign as any pious folk, but this news of invasion cast their motives in the most ominous light. As baffling as anything is that the previous year had marked the hekatontaeti̱rída, the hundred-year anniversary of the cataclysm that had devastated and irrevocably changed the world, and many people had expected the followers of the Titans to rise up then. If they had not presumed to attack during the "Hekaton," why would they do so now? 

What was especially consternating for the military men and women of Kefalos was the lack of instruction on what they were supposed to do. Should the four-dozen heavy infantrymen of the village militia take up their large, round, Medusa-faced shields and march off toward the capital, accompanied by their light and specialist troops, to help face the invading Rhodians as they landed? Or should they remain at Kefalos to defend the village from any actions against it? Opinions were divided on these questions and, in Greek fashion, the officers, men, and general citizenry argued their various points and it did not appear as if they would come to any sort of a decision very soon. 

Eumaois was past the age of military service and, no longer part of the active militia, could thus do as he pleased, as could any of the other men over the age of forty. He had been born fifty-one years earlier, a half century after the cataclysmic eruption of the Thera volcano, and had served the village of Kefalos as a light infantryman for more than two decades. Beyond that, he had adventured and traveled abroad a little and, over the past several years in particular, spent his time roaming the wooded hills at the western end of the island where he made his home. There, he combed the ruins of abandoned estates for things that he could use or sell in the agoras of Kefalos or Kos City, and hunted and gathered for his daily needs. Periodically he also served as a caravan guard when there was a shortage of younger men and he needed a little extra money; his face was etched with the marks of a lifetime spent in the elements and his skin was the color of blackened bronze and sagged with age, but the muscles underneath were still strong and hard. He had never married but had enjoyed the company of many women in his lifetime and still met with one or another periodically at a brothel or temple to Aphrodite during his visits to Kefalos or the capital. 

Because he had no direct say in what the active military forces would ultimately do, Eumaios instead went to the Gorgon's Head, ordered a mug of beer, and then joined one of the groups of veterans gathered at the tavern to discuss the current situation. None of them had ever been fulltime soldiers of course, like the vulgar and warlike Spartans who spent their entire lives in martial pursuits, and all had other trades or occupations, from blacksmith to fisherman to common laborer. While they were no longer required to drill with the militia, most still had some weapons and armor, and were part of the general levee that might be called upon in times of extreme crisis.  

None of these grognards was very much in favor of going to Kos City themselves, and Eumaios knew that perhaps moreso than any other reason this was because most of them had bad knees; almost all of them, larger, heavier men than himself, had been hoplites, heavy infantryman, and decades of carrying their body weights in armor, weapons, and other gear had taken a toll on them. A few did voice the opinion that the militia should deploy to Kos City, marching quicktime with nothing but shields and weapons while their other gear and supplies followed in wagons, and a delegation from the ranks of the older militamen might eventually make this case to the leaders of the active forces. 

Eumaios had a sense of forboding about all this. He was a strong proponent of democracy and discussion but, during his travels to foreign lands, had been impressed that non-Greeks were often able to make decisions quickly, with little deliberation, and sometimes under the direction of a few rather than the many. If the island's main city was threatened by a Titanic invasion force, then quick and deliberate action was called for, and indecision might be fatal. 

With this idea in mind, Eumaois resolved, whatever anyone else opted to do, to make haste to the plains west of Kos City, on the other side of the island, and to lend his efforts to the defense of the capital. That decided, he finished his beer, announced his intentions to the clamoring veterans — although he had no sense that any either heard or really understood what he had said — and departed the tavern. 

Read Part 3 of "Eumaios and the Skunks"