gwenchan

Fandom: The Iliad
Characters: Hector, Deiphobus
Prompt: Interruzione

The air is thick with the smell of blood and sweat. It’s been days since the last rain, the powder covers everything and the sun wounds the eyes behind the helms.
Hector lifts his shield a fraction of second before a bronze-tipped spear hits him, by now the movement pure muscle memory. He waves his arm as far as he can from his face. The tip easily passes through two layers of pressed leathers and bronze, stopping only at the third.
Next to him, Deiphobus is charging another blow.
"We have to retreat," he shouts over the chaos of the battlefield, the neighs of the horses, the whistle of the flying spears and the constant rattle of metal against metal.
"Not yet." Hector counters, ducking swiftly to avoid a boulder. “Give order to reconstitute the ranks. And send a messenger to the city.”

He examines the field with attentive eyes, looking for a way out in the quagmire. On the right flank Aeneas is keeping Lesser Ajax busy. Polydamas is with him. On the other side Hector thinks to recognize Helenus whitish crest; no trace of Glaucous or Sarpedon. Probably the battle pushed them closer to the woods.

Then, suddenly, a man is rushing to them.

"Prince Hector! Prince Hector."

He shouts over the noise, out of breath. He hasn’t got any helm and by the light breastplate he’s wearing, he must be a messenger. Directly from Troy, judging also from his exertion.

"What is it?” Hector presses, as arrows fly around them. “News from inside the walls? Come here behind the shield."

"Yes!" The messenger pants, doubled over, hands on his thighs. "Yes. Your wife."

Hector feels his jaw tensing. "What about her? Is she sick?"

She is planned to deliver any day now.

"No need to worry, sir. Thank the gods she is well, and so is the baby.”

It takes a whole second for Hector to elaborate the news. Deiphobus, who apparently is listening even in the middle of battle, is faster. “Congratulations” he exclaims, urging at the same time a nearby attendant for a new spear. “A male?”

“Yes,” the messenger confirms. “Strong and healthy. And your wife requests your presence, my lord.”

A spear whistles a breath from them. His reflexes honed by years of warfare, Hector grabs the messenger and yanks him back.

“Careful there. Tell my wife I’ll see her as soon as night falls.”

“Your wife knew you would have said that. She gave me the explicit order to not return until I have you leave the battlefield.”

As expected from Andromache, who’s securing a core of iron behind her softness.

“I’ll see my wife and my son” - his son! A shiver runs down Hector’s spine - “later, when the night will bring an end to the fighting. “

The messenger doesn’t move, eyes alight with the fire of a mission. “The Fates are fickle, sir and the night is still too distant for any of us to be certain we’ll see tomorrow morning.”

“Go, brother,” Deiphobus says, nudging him. “Nobody is going to blame you for that. You deserve to meet your son at least once. And your son deserves to meet his father.”

His son. The messenger is right. The gods may have already decided he doesn’t live to see tomorrow. He may be dead in the next hour for what he knows. Andromache would be devastated, cradling the baby already made orphan.

Hector stills. He doesn’t want to die by the cruel sword and spear thinking he has never seen his son’s eyes, has never bounced him in his arms, never told how much he loves him.

He hesitates. “You … Can you resist a bit without me? I promise I’ll be quick.”

Deiphobus all but slaps him in the back. “Go, I said. And don’t be quick. I’ll see you later.”