Untold

Misthophoros

Aren't you dead yet? I don't know why you still hold on to your shield. Haven't you realized it is useless against me? You are getting weaker. I can hear it in your breathing. I don't have to fight you anymore. All I have to do is to wait and eventually you'll be dead. Time has always been on my side.

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A winter passed. Life in the streets carelessly carried on for everyone but me. Following Cetos' decree I was treated like a pestilence to be avoided by all. I survived by fighting rats over trash. I got used to rotten food, scraping off maggots and flies just to get my hands on bones left by dogs. I was dressed in rags and smelled like dried feces and clotted menses. As I turned into skin over bones, people grew afraid of my repulsive appearance. I was worse than a ghost. Trojans referred to me as an uncleansed soul.

Either by chance, or by mercy, she found me in the outskirts of Ilion. I don't remember sensing any emotion from her when she saw me. Perhaps I was too nervous or too weak to notice anything. She ordered a couple of men who accompanied her to take me to their camp. For the first time since my last day at the temple I had a full meal. Then they got rid of the fleas and ticks that infested my body. I was in such poor shape that they had to shave my head as my hair could not be fixed. When finished, my skin felt as if it could breathe again.

Stheno was unlike any other woman I had ever met. She was a Misthophoros, a warrior: wild, loud and unrestrained. All you needed to do was to look at her and you knew what you were in for. She wore a tight-fitting blouse made from the skin of cobras which was cut low exposing her cleavage. Her matching skirt was bell shaped and cut open in the front for easy horseback riding. A sword hung from her black belt while a bow and a quiver full of arrows crossed behind her back. Her deep brown skin was tanned by the sun and smoothed by the sand. Her green eyes were like jade gems shining through the brightest day. It was said her stare would turn men to stone. Wide mouthed with a thin nose, her lips were thick but yelling with passion. Her hair was also brown, long and braided. About a hundred warriors, men and women, followed her lead. As most Misthophoros she worked for coins. Unlike any Misthophoros she did not go for the highest bidder. In her view, silver or gold was just a requirement they needed to fill for sustenance. She paid attention to those who were most in need: small villages, women, children and the elderly. She spoke to me for the first time a few days after she found me.

"I heard you were dealt a raw deal," she asserted. "It does not matter to me. You can either make yourself useful or return to where I found you. I am not a god so my charity has its limits."

I was not about to go back. At first, I helped with the food: cleaning and cooking. I gained strength by dragging or carrying the animals we would prepare for everyone. I learned how to skin a sheep and how to butcher cows. As the winters passed, I became a hunter and not the cook. The Misthophoros were people of horses and, as such, I mastered the ride. They taught me the ways of the warrior. We rode from Ilion to Egypt and sometimes beyond. We were never too long in one place and never ventured far from the sea. Stheno used to say that the sound of waves calmed her down. That was peculiar as she was quite promiscuous at night. I rejected her seductions.

"It doesn't matter to me if you let me have you or not. I have plenty to choose from and passion tastes better when it is mutually desired. You don't owe The Gods anything. They let you go. Here you do not owe anything to anyone either. You work for what you have. Yet happiness eludes you. I can see it in you. You still linger in the past. True happiness is watered from three springs: to love, to feel loved, and be useful to others. Forget The Gods! They are self-serving. You are useful and you do care for those around you. However you will not allow anyone to love you and that is because you deny yourself of your individuality. You are not a faceless part of a collective. You must learn to love yourself before you can be loved."