Chapter Eleven

Euthenas did not like the way the soldiers stood, the way they looked blankly at everything happening in front of them. It was frightening, terrifying even. But fear and terror were impediments she was taught to put aside, for in life, no milestones can be reached if the soul continues to cower behind a rock. That was what Arreatus had taught her. She saw the truth in it, but never, she admitted, had that lesson been put to the test.

Never.

Now, she fought the urge to bolt from the clearing filled with obedient and fierce soldiers, all disciplined beyond her imagination. She recalled the last time she saw the soldiers of her own country lined up, in the throne hall of the palace. That was last year, in the autumn, and they were just as erect. Somehow, this time they seemed larger than life. Was it because of the unforgiving rays of the sun above? It must be.

Her father stood up ahead, stern and straight. He was unsmiling. Important-looking men flanked both sides of the King. They wore purple cloaks. Euthenas recalled Khokendatf telling her that the commanders, the highest rank of the army after the position of the High General was abolished, wore purple cloaks and armour made of iron, which was stronger than the ordinary bronze ones. On the armours, she saw the faint glimmer of a winged bird. The same image adorned her father’s armour.

Suddenly, Euthenas felt incredibly small in her grey riding dress and brown boots. Behind her, two sentinels escorted her. Their heavy and steady march unnerved her. She had never encountered such degree of seriousness before.

After several minutes of walking, Euthenas finally came to a wide clearing that stood before the platform where her father and his commanders stood. The sentinels behind her halted, and so did she, for she was unsure of what to do. King Hieros beckoned her to approach him.

Euthenas gulped and glanced behind at her escorts for some sort of assurance, perhaps an encouraging smile? But they remained silent and unmoved. Euthenas drew a deep breath and walked steadily towards her father. So much for support.

Several steps before the platform, Hieros lifted a hand to halt her. She stopped in surprise, but tried not to show it. His hand told her to turn around, and turn around she did.

The entire Hasanyan army immediately bowed and shouted simultaneously, “Hail, Princess Euthenas, Heir to the Golden Seat! Hail, Your Highness!” Euthenas was absolutely taken aback, but deep inside her was an odd sense of pride and pleasure for such high regard for her. The bask in pride did not last forever, though, for the sound of her father clearing his throat made her turn back to face him.

A fleeting sign of approval passed through his face, then Hieros stepped down from where he stood and gave her a solemn kiss on the forehead. “Today, you, my daughter, my sole heir, I will teach to fight,” he said loudly.

Euthenas’s eyes widened with shock and her jaw fell rather ungracefully. Hieros frowned. Her eyes flashed questioningly. A soldier appeared with a short sword in his hands, and a boy, no older than her, trailed behind him, his hands in chains.

Euthenas gaped at the sight of the boy. What was her father doing? This was a cruel act to do! She had never seen people in chains before, never!

In fact, all that she saw that day, she had never seen before.

The soldier halted beside the King, and her father took the sword from him. He handed the sword to Euthenas, who took it after some hesitation. It was heavy, because of the wood scabbard. It was such an effort to just hold it. Such heavy weight! Such burden!

The soldier knelt and unlocked the chains that held the boy, and another sword, not unlike the one she held in her hands now, was in his grasp in no time. The soldier stepped back and bowed to the King.

The boy unsheathed the sword, held it up, and studied it as he swung it with the skill Euthenas certainly never possessed. Her heart beat faster, and she cast a terrified glance at her father.

Hieros placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her towards the boy. “Fight him!” he ordered.

Euthenas’s heart stopped and her breath caught in her throat. But she did not dare protest. The boy standing opposite her gaped as well, but a kick from the soldier standing nearby made him stumble forward and tremble with rage.

Euthenas squeezed her eyes shut and unsheathed her sword. She prayed to the goddess Athene for guidance and suddenly found herself remembering the words she had heard two years ago: “Be one with the sword, and the sword will be one with you.”

All at once, she remembered how to use it. The sword was no longer a stranger to her hands, but seemed like an old, newly-acquainted friend.

Driven by rage, the boy ran towards her with his sword poised to attack. The clash of steel against steel rang out in the open as sword met sword, and Euthenas parried and dodged and attacked. Often, she escaped from his blows out of pure luck. When she attacked him, he always found some sort of weakness in it, and in the end she had to parry to save her neck.

She fought desperately for her life, but soon the weight of sword was tiring her. Sweat, exhaustion and the sun made her drowsy, and the world became a blur. She was sure she was going to collapse and have her throat slit by her opponent. It could happen any moment now.

Just then, Euthenas passed through a certain point in all her exhaustion and drowsiness, and found herself bequeathed with a new strength and determination. The world all whittled down to her opponent, and all that mattered was to strike him before he struck her down. It was a truly odd sensation, but Euthenas enjoyed it, and drank hungrily from the void of no feelings.

With a strength and ferocity she never knew before, she yelled and charged heavily at the boy, leaning all her weight on her sword. As expected, he parried her, and she quickly shifted to slash at him at his side. Again she was deflected, but she did not relent. She was gaining the upper hand now, and she moved with a fluidity that had never before been witnessed by anyone, even her father.

Finally, the boy grew weaker, and she easily hit the sword out of his grasp. He fell onto the ground and she pressed the flat side of the blade to his neck, carefully striking a fine balance between threat and murder.

Her father, eyes wide with amazement, clapped his hands. The entire army clapped hesitantly, then more confidently as Euthenas backed away from the boy. She herself did not believe what she had just done, but it felt so right, so natural, she wondered why she was afraid of it in the first place. She looked at her father and broke into a grin.

She did it. Her first victory.

A soldier came, unsheathed his sword and pressed the blade at the boy’s neck. The sword cut slightly into his flesh, spilling some blood. He cried out in pain. Euthenas turned to look. Her mouth gaped with horror. “What are you doing?” she shouted at the soldier.

“This boy is of no more use to us, Your Highness. He must be disposed of.”

“No!” She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around him to protect him. “Spare him! He is innocent, he has done you no wrong.”

The soldier was as taken aback as her father and his commanders. Hieros approached his daughter and tugged gently on her arm. “The boy is a captive, Euthenas. A captive from the war. He served the northern rebellion!”

“Rebel or not, do you not think that he should live?” Euthenas retorted back, tears springing to her eyes. The boy looked at her, shocked. Hieros’s face grew red. “Let him go, Euthenas! He is not worthy of your sympathy!”

“No! No, I won’t, unless you give the order to release him!”

“Euthenas!” He was growing angrier by the minute.

“No!”

“Your Highness,” the boy croaked at her, “His Majesty is right. I – I do not deserve your pity.”

“See? Even the boy has some sense!”

“Let him come with me, please!” Euthenas was crying now. “Please, I promise you that he will be of no harm to you, or to the country. I – I will fully account for his behaviour.” She gulped and looked pleadingly at her father. “Please say you’ll let me have him as my friend.”

The boy’s jaw dropped, so did the soldier’s.

Hieros’s, however, was sealed shut. He trembled with rage, then he took a deep breath and said, with powerful restraint, “Fine. If he tries to harm you, he is as good as dead.” He glared fiercely at the boy. “Do you hear me? She has saved your life, and it’s your responsibility to look out for hers!”

Hieros huffed and walked away. He dismissed the army with a wave of his hand and went for his horse.

Euthenas let go of the boy and sniffed. The boy dried her tears with the back of his hands and said painfully, “Th – thank you, Your Highness. I will never forget this. I owe you my life.”

Euthenas smiled sadly and said, “I am your lady, just your lady, not a princess. Do you understand me?” When the boy nodded, she said, “Come, I shall tend to your wounds myself. Arreatus taught me a little bit about first aid.”

He looked at her in wonder. She asked him, “What’s your name?”

The boy gulped and said quietly, “Petroclus.”

---

Arreatus smiled as he watched Euthenas tending to the wound on the boy’s neck. He had only begun teaching her the basics in first aid, yet she was quite capable of figuring the more complex matters of the knowledge without his help. But still, she was only a beginner.

After washing the wound, she hesitated for a moment, studying it. Then she turned and looked at her teacher. “Must it be stitched, Arreatus?” she asked.

He studied it from where he sat, then answered, “Yes. Do you want me to do it?”

Euthenas folded her arms and retorted. “I’ll do it myself!”

Arreatus raised his eyebrows and said, “And how exactly are you going to that? Have I taught you that already, or have you learned it somehow in your dreams?”

She laughed weakly and had to surrender. “No, I have no clue. I need you to show me how to do it.”

Arreatus gathered his surgical equipment and performed the minor operation. He showed her where to insert the needle, how to tie the thread to it, and how to knot it up after the stitching. When he was done, Euthenas sighed and said, “I didn’t know it would be that simple!”

“I’d like to see you stitch an arm to the shoulder, then, Euthenas,” Arreatus washed his equipment in a basin of cold water and dried them. Euthenas frowned. “Well, I’ll wait until you teach me how to do it,” she said indignantly. Arreatus laughed. “I will teach you, Euthenas, I will. You needn’t worry about it.” He glanced at the boy sleeping on the bed. “What is his name?”

“Petroclus,” Euthenas answered. She stood and tucked the blankets around him. Arreatus smiled at the simple display of tenderness. “What do you intend to do with him?”

“I want him to be my friend,” she said, smiling at her tutor. “I want him to join me in my lessons with you.”

“That is only if your father agrees to it,” he replied.

Euthenas frowned. “But you’re my tutor. Father always listens to you! Doesn’t that mean that you’re able to make decisions without waiting for his approval?”

Arreatus shook his head. “No. Even the Prime Minister’s power is not as great as that. It is impossible.”

Euthenas folded her arms stubbornly. “I don’t care. I want Petroclus with me during training and lessons and even mealtimes! I want his bedchamber close to mine! I want -”

“You should think twice about what you want, Euthenas,” Arreatus cut in, “before you bring harm upon both of you.”

At that, Euthenas’s temper flared, her face grew red and her lips pursed in displeasure. “I will make sure that I’ll get what I want, Arreatus! I will!”

Arreatus’s jaw nearly dropped at the princess’s words. “Euthenas -”

“I will, Arreatus! I will! I’ll talk to Father about it! I’ll make him comply! I didn’t save Petroclus for nothing!” Euthenas’s blue eyes blazed with fury. “You’ll see, Arreatus! You’ll see!”

She stormed out of the room, leaving Arreatus shocked and sad for his failure.