Anakis (Part 4)

      "Another one for you, Anakis," called Kaymele from the door of the hut.   She stumbled in, holding the legs of the cook's assistant with Beleg not far behind.
      "I'll do my best.   I'll see if Prid can watch Nairi."   I walked over to the pallet where the assistant lay.   His eyes were closed, and he was moaning in pain.   I took one look at his shoulder and grimaced.
      "Don't tell me.   I can guess well enough."   Kaymele smiled as she walked out.
      I went to fetch all of the dressing for the poor soul's arm.   As I did, Natia walked to his bedside, as Nairi slept.
      "Hush," she told him, "hush.   Soon Anakis will come with the supplies to make you feel all well again, and you can get back to the cooking you so love."
      "Fair maiden," he whispered, as if it pained him to speak, "it is not cooking I love.   I am to be a soldier.   As you can see I am to be a very poor one, since a small cut to the arm pains me so."   He looked straight into her eyes as he said this, but as soon as he finished, he plopped down again in agony.
      "This is not a small cut!" said Natia, raising her voice a little.   "It is an injury, and you could pass for a gladiator the way that you are enduring it!"
      The assistant smiled weakly.   "Thank you, maiden.   I wish that the others may see it so."   Just then, Nairi awoke, Natia left, and I went to apply the dressing.
      "Talk to me through this, sir, so it may not hurt so badly," I instructed, remembering that my old teacher, Principes Sanatore, told us that talking took the mind of the pain.
      "The damsel is very fair, kind lady," he said to me.   "I have never noticed her before.   Pray tell, what is her name?"
      "Her name is Natia.   What is yours, sir?"
      "Percival."    He winced, telling me that the bandage was tight enough.
      "Percival.   I'll be sure to tell her."