Eumaios and the Skunks (Part 4/Conclusion)

Following is the fourth and final segment of the story "Eumaios and the Skunks," by author Michael O. Varhola. It is set 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 arrives on the outskirts of Kos City in time to witness the battle between the Koan and Rhodian armies ...

Read Part 1, Part 2, or Part 3 of "Eumaios and the Skunks"

What Eumaios took to be as many as two thousand other people were clustered around the plain, and one group of them was clearly a contingent of Koan hoplites, a full syntagma of two-hundred and fifty-six soldiers formed up in a rectangle sixty-four men wide and four deep. From their shield devices they appeared to be a mixed arrangement, with troops from the City Guard and any number of other militia and paramilitary units among their number. Who all these other people were he could not be sure, and they did not even all appear to be military; many appeared to be dressed simply as townsfolk or farmers, a few groups were clad in the colors of Blue or Green racetrack fans, and clusters of various sorts were scattered throughout. There was also a large group of people dressed in the formal garb of priests and officials. There did not appear to be any central organization amongst any of them, however, and Eumaios could not tell what was happening. Why were the Koan forces not driving the Rhodians back into the sea before they could all gain purchase on dry land? Why were light troops like himself not harrying them with sling stones and javelins, rather than letting them rest easy while their companions made landfall behind them? Was there some dark sorcery afoot that was impeding the actions of the Koan defenders? And how did a mere five ships constitute an invasion fleet?

"Gods!" Eumaios thought to himself, his heart leaping up into his chest in horror. Had the balance of the Rhodian fleet gone around the island to land at other locations, possibly even his home village of Kefalos, which he had abandoned to rush to battle here?

And now that he was here Eumaios was not sure exactly what he should do; he had vaguely envisioned joining whatever body of peltasts was assembled to participate in the battle but he did not see a group that he could clearly identify as such. Nor did he see the many supply wagons that he had expected to be present, and the only thing suggestive of a camp was a handful of colorful pavilions near the group of assembled officials. His exhaustion and inability to tell what was happening made everything before him seemed strange and phantasmagoric.

Eumaios began to cautiously make his way closer to the site of imminent battle, limping down the bluff and across the fields toward a group of men that looked like they might have been part of a militia unit; none of them seemed readied for battle, but perhaps he would be able to learn something from them. By the time he reached them he was just a few hundred yards from the opposing units of hoplites and the Rhodians had completely formed up in a simple arrangement similar to that of the Koan forces. There did not seem to be any art or strategy in play and only the heavy infantrymen appeared poised to engage each other. As he neared the men he had walked toward, in fact, he could see that they were chatting amongst themselves while they munched on snacks and passed wineskins back and forth between them. He noted that their shields bore the symbol of the nearby village of Zipari, the low walls of which lay just to the east.

None of the men seemed to notice his approach and, before Eumaios could ask them anything, a great cry went up from the opposing lines of heavily-armored troops and they charged each other. Spirited cheers followed from the onlookers, and the men around him yelled excitedly and thrust their shields and spears into the air.

Spears ... something had been bothering him and he had not quite been able to put his finger on it but now he realized what it was — neither group of charging combatants was bearing spears! This absolutely baffled him, as the longspear was the essential weapon of the hoplite, and he peered at the quickly-closing lines of troops to see what else they might be armed with and could not see anything. Then, the twin syntagmas struck with a resounding crash, shield-on-shield, and he could hear the grunts and gasps of the more than five-hundred antagonists as the lines slammed into each other.

Then a desperate struggle began, with each line pushing against the other, the men in the front ranks almost face-to-face with their enemies and the men in the second and subsequent ranks pressing their shields into the backs of those ahead of them and trying to push them forward, everyone digging their hobnailed sandals into the ground and driving forward with all their might. This was the classic method of combat between opposing forces of hoplites and, normally, would have begun with a clash of spears and any number of impaled and grievously-wounded men. Then, many of the pike hafts shattered and it being increasingly difficult for the men in the front ranks to use long weapons anyway, the antagonists would battle each other with broken-off spears, their iron-spiked butt ends, swords, and other close-combat weapons.

This battle was somewhat different, and seemed to be a contest of shield-against-shield; he could see some men lashing out at those across from them with their fists, sometimes pounding them into exposed flesh but even more often pulling them back bloodied from their impact with helmets or other protective gear. Men began to drop as they were injured or stumbled in the press against the other line, and when they did they were sometimes able to crawl back through their own companions or were dragged back by them. Other times they were stamped on as men from the opposing side pressed forward into the breaches; individual men grappled and fought each other one-on-one, and Eumaios could hear crunching and howls of pain and rage as the lines surged back and forth and became melded into one.

This battle continued for an hour, and eventually about half the men on either side had fallen from their injuries or reached the point where they could hardly keep their shields raised or lift their arms to strike at one another. Then, twin trumpet blasts blared out from the direction of the officials' pavilions, and the fray abruptly ended. Healers and other observers rushed in from both sides to tend to the injured and unconscious and carry them to where they could be treated, some of the opponents nodded to each other or traded words of admiration, and the men still capable of moving around on their own either sat down on the spot to rest or staggered back in the direction from which they had originally come.

It did not take Eumaios long to learn that the battle he had witnessed was the result of a maritime incident between the two rival nations that could only be answered by a show of force if either side was to publicly maintain its honor and integrity. Both sides had consummate diplomatic corps, however, and leaderships that wanted to avoid a costly, bloody, and ultimately pointless war, and so they had come to this accommodation. The opposing token armies had battled each other to a standstill, a draw was declared by the priests of Hermes and Helios and the other officials tapped to judge the contest, and a peace treaty that had been drafted in advance was duly signed. Animals were even now being sacrificed in celebration and a feast for the combatants was being prepared on the beach. Hundreds of men had been wounded, some with compound fractures or other serious injuries, but, miraculously, no one had actually been killed.

Eumaios sighed wearily. He figured that a more detailed message clarifying the situation had probably been delivered in Kefalos soon after he had left to prepare for his overnight odyssey, maybe even soon enough that he would have learned of it if he had gone back down through the village rather than up through the hills. He staggered over to the main road and, by the time he had painstakingly walked about two miles, was overtaken by a pair of merchant wagons headed to the far end of the island. He knew some of the young guards and, after promising to lend his efforts to the defense of the little caravan if it was molested, clambered up onto one of the wagons and kept as vigilant a watch as he could throughout the long day. It was past dark by the time the caravan reached the vicinity of Kefalos and Eumaios disembarked near the path off the main road that led up to his home.

The old soldier had stiffened up in the ride back in the rocking wagon and was completely exhausted during the last mile up the rough path through the wooded hills, and at one point had been sorely tempted to just crawl into the underbrush and go to sleep. By the time he made it back to the yard in front of his ruined farmhouse he could hardly move and was afraid he would pass out if he tried to make a fire or even eat or drink anything. He decided not to sleep in the open air and opted for the security of his cellar home. He staggered over to the trap door enclosing the stairway, unlocked the padlock securing it, and swung the panel open and, as he did, a number of his cats came to greet him and he muttered their names as he recognized them and weakly waved his hand toward their heads in an attempt to pet them.

Then, before Eumaois could descend into the subterranean apartment, he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye and, despite his fatigue, forced himself to turn and face it. There, clearly visible in the bright moonlight, he could see two skunks, as close as he could tell his Daphne and Claea, rooting around in search of something edible. As they came into contact, the two little monsters leaned into each other, dug their clawed toes into the ground, and began to jostle and shove at one another. And, in spite of himself and his exhaustion, Eumaois laughed at the spectacle and briefly paused to watch it.