Maybe, but he was tired of the blood and sickened by watching men, young and old, hacked to pieces, and for what? Power? Money? Glory?
What good was it when you only needed a single obolos to pay Charon for the final crossing?
Every decision he made, good or bad, ended with someone being slaughtered. With someone calling out for a mother, wife, or one of the gods ... With them burning someone's home and possessions until nothing but ashes remained. A lifetime of memories and savings to build, a few minutes of war to destroy.
Styxx raked a hand over his eyes, trying to banish the images that wouldn't leave him in peace any more than the voices would. He would give anything to have a handful of minutes with Bethany so that she could kiss away his nightmares, and give him something beautiful to look at.
Something beautiful to hold on to.
Galen leaned forward. "How's your side, my lord?"
"Like my head. Throbbing."
The old man's gaze fell to Styxx's hand on his cup. "You're still not wearing a signet ring?"
Styxx glanced down at his bare fingers and shrugged. "To what purpose? If I fall, I'm not worth the price of a ransom. Why should I go home when the other soldiers fighting under my banner would be put to sword or market by our enemies? Better I should join them in death or slavery than live on in peace, knowing I failed to keep them safe." He poured more wine for himself and then handed the pitcher over to Galen, who declined drinking any more of it.
Sighing, Styxx toyed with Galen's flute the old man had been playing earlier. "Tell me, Galen, how do you sleep at night? I've seen nothing compared to the battles I know you've fought and led. Please tell me how to make peace with my conscience."
The old man's breath left him in a ragged rush. "It's hard, my lord. I won't lie. And I walked away from this way too late."
"How so?"
Galen reached for the dish of olives on Styxx's desk and took a handful. "My father was a simple farmer with a tiny farm. I hated working it in ways you can't imagine. Every day, I swore I was going to get away from the pig shit and plow no matter what I had to do, or who I had to kill. And then one day, I saw an army coming through our back field. The sun glinted off their armor and they looked like proud gods. Before I could stop myself, I ran to them and joined their ranks. But nothing, not even our fall slaughters or a butcher's hall, had prepared me for the true horrors and cold brutality of a soldier's life."
He swallowed. "Still, to me, it was far preferable to that little farm I'd despised. The fame and glory, and in particular, the riches and women, kept me distracted for a long time. And then one day, as my army was traveling through another backwoods field, I saw the most beautiful woman the gods had ever created. Her winsome smile dazzled me even more than that armor had when I was a boy, and so I stopped, right then and there, to talk to her."
Galen paused to savor his wife's memory. "She gave me two fine sons and two beautiful daughters. And while I was at war, she buried our youngest daughter who was stricken with a fever, and our son who fell from a tree and broke his neck. I still, and always will, hate myself for leaving her alone to deal with that in my absence." Unshed tears glistened in his old gray eyes. "My oldest son followed me into war and I was so proud." His voice cracked with the weight of his paternal love. "My Philip was a lion on the field. Tall, strong, respectful, and glorious. I would look at him and thank the gods for their benevolence in giving me such a magnificent child. Who was I to deserve such given how many sons I'd taken from their fathers?"
Swallowing hard, he swiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. "And then the day all fathers fear came. I can still see him as I slipped and fell in battle. I lay there thinking it was my time to have my thread cut by mighty Atropos's shears. Crying out, Philip ran toward me to save my life. And just as he reached me, his head was sent flying by the single stroke of an enemy's axe." His eyes burning with rage, he wiped his hand across his mouth. "I pray to the gods, young prince, that you never know the horror of picking through bodies, trying to find a part of the only thing in this world you truly took pride in. There is no greater nightmare and it's one that continues to stalk me even when I'm awake."
With an unfathomable strength, Galen took a deep breath and calmed his emotions. "After my Philip was gone from a battle we shouldn't have been in, I broke my xiphos in half and swore I'd never bend to the call of Ares again. I was done with him and Athena both. So I retired to that farm I'd hated so much as a boy and spent the best years of my life with my sweet Thia. I watched our last child grow into the most beautiful of women and wished I had more to give to my precious Antigone and her children. Then one day, another soldier came to my door and told me that the king wanted me to tutor his brat for war. I laughed in his face. But not at the mighty coin he offered."
Lifting his cup in salute, Galen grinned. "How could I pass on that? Plus, it gave me the opportunity to knock around the spoiled son of the man who had ordered me into the unnecessary battle that had taken my boy's life."
Styxx snorted as he drank his wine. "I commend you on your prowess, Master Tutor. Whenever the weather turns cold, I can still feel some of your finer lessons in my bones, and in particular, my wrist."
Galen pinned a malevolent glare on him. "The moment I first laid eyes on you, Highness, I hated you passionately. There you stood, barely reaching my waist, in child-sized armor far finer than any I'd ever worn to battle for the sake of your father or that my Philip had worn when he was slaughtered in service to a king who couldn't care less about his life or death. You held your head high with a commanding arrogance that offended me to the core of my soul. And I wanted to put my fist through your pretty, pampered face."
"As I recall, you did. And then you kicked me in the ass and sent me sprawling, pampered face first, into a pile of horseshit."
Galen chuckled at the memory. "And you said not a word about it to anyone. You got up, took your training sword, and faced me as if you'd landed in a bed of poppies. All the while, shit dripped off you."
"I stupidly thought you liked me and feared what you'd do if you didn't."
Galen shook his head. "I know you better than that, boy. But it took me awhile before I could let go my hatred and see that what I'd mistaken for disdainful arrogance was afflicted defiance that was trying to stand strong against all those determined to watch you burn and to do the right thing for others, even when it cost you dearly. It was that boy, who even then had the heart of a man, who taught me to respect a crown I'd grown to despise. A crown I'd sworn to never again defend. Forgive me for the treason, young prince, but I still hate your father and I always will. He cares nothing and thinks nothing of those who fight for him. But you ... it is and will always be my honor to stand with you against any foe. In battle, you don't hang back and order others to die for you. You lead us in, and I've seen you, time and again, throw yourself against much larger and stronger opponents to protect your men. I've seen you carry wounded soldiers, low and high, to safety with no regard for your own well-being, even today when you're badly wounded yourself."
"And I see the faces of all those I couldn't save. The faces of those who stared into my eyes as they died by my hand. Who am I to stand as their executioner?"
"You are Styxx of the House of the most famed Aricles, the prince and heir of Didymos. And one day, you will be king. Who better to rule the kingdom than a man who realizes he isn't a god and who knows the value and sacrifice of those who serve him and protect his people?"
"I don't feel like a prince, Galen." He felt like a tired whore.
"And that, Highness, is what makes you the worthiest to wear your father's crown."
Styxx laughed bitterly. "I wish I saw myself through your eyes." His saw only his flaws and shortcomings.
To his shock, Galen pulled him forward until their cheeks touched and held him in a fatherly embrace. Then Galen kissed his head and released him. He set his wine down on Styxx's desk and retrieved his flute. "You should try and sleep, Highness. The morning light will bring more battle to our swords."