Louernios filled up a shallow wooden cup with water, and had the presence of mind to bring over a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from his brow. For a moment he was put in mind of the cunning woman that had treat such injuries back home. What was he doing? Perhaps he was just tired of suffering and in dire need to do something other than run through the events of the past few weeks.
As he looked down at the gladiator, he could see the tears making tracks down his face. There was no real comfort he could offer him. He went to place a hand on his shoulder, any gesture of solidarity, any kindness and stopped himself. There was no room for such comforts.
"Friend," he said, "You'll have to sit up slightly to drink. Let me help."