THESONGOFACHILLES
MadelineMiller
Dedication
Tomymother,Madeline,andNathaniel
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ChapterTwenty-Eight
ChapterTwenty-Nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-One
ChapterThirty-Two
ChapterThirty-Three
CharacterGlossary
Acknowledgments
AbouttheAuthor
Credits
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
ChapterOne
MYFATHERWASAKINGANDTHESONOFKINGS.HEwasashortman,asmostofuswere,andbuiltlikeabull,allshoulders.Hemarriedmymotherwhenshewasfourteenandswornbythepriestesstobefruitful.Itwasagoodmatch:shewasanonlychild,andherfather’sfortunewouldgotoherhusband.
Hedidnotfindoutuntiltheweddingthatshewassimple.Herfatherhadbeenscrupulousaboutkeepingherveileduntiltheceremony,andmyfatherhadhumoredhim.Ifshewasugly,therewerealwaysslavegirlsandservingboys.Whenatlasttheypulledofftheveil,theysaymymothersmiled.Thatishowtheyknewshewasquitestupid.Bridesdidnotsmile.
WhenIwasdelivered,aboy,hepluckedmefromherarmsandhandedmetoanurse.Inpity,themidwifegavemymotherapillowtoholdinsteadofme.Mymotherhuggedit.Shedidnotseemtonoticeachangehadbeenmade.
Quickly,Ibecameadisappointment:small,slight.Iwasnotfast.Iwasnotstrong.Icouldnotsing.ThebestthatcouldbesaidofmewasthatIwasnotsickly.Thecoldsandcrampsthatseizedmypeersleftmeuntouched.Thisonlymademyfathersuspicious.WasIachangeling,inhuman?Hescowledatme,watching.Myhandshook,feelinghisgaze.Andtherewasmymother,dribblingwineonherself.
IAMFIVEwhenitismyfather’sturntohostthegames.MengatherfromasfarasThessalyandSparta,andourstorehousesgrowrichwiththeirgold.Ahundredservantsworkfortwentydaysbeatingouttheracingtrackandclearingitofstones.Myfatherisdeterminedtohavethefinestgamesofhisgeneration.
Iremembertherunnersbest,nut-brownbodiesslickedwithoil,stretchingonthetrackbeneaththesun.Theymixtogether,broad-shoulderedhusbands,beardlessyouthsandboys,theircalvesallthicklycarvedwithmuscle.
Thebullhasbeenkilled,sweatingthelastofitsbloodintodustanddarkbronzebowls.Itwentquietlytoitsdeath,agoodomenforthegamestocome.
TherunnersaregatheredbeforethedaiswheremyfatherandIsit,surroundedbyprizeswewillgivetothewinners.Therearegoldenmixingbowlsforwine,beatenbronzetripods,ash-woodspearstippedwithpreciousiron.Buttherealprizeisinmyhands:awreathofdusty-greenleaves,freshlyclipped,rubbedtoashinebymythumb.Myfatherhasgivenittomegrudgingly.Hereassureshimself:allIhavetodoisholdit.
Theyoungestboysarerunningfirst,andtheywait,shufflingtheirfeetinthesandforthenodfromthepriest.They’reintheirfirstflushofgrowth,bonessharpandspindly,pokingagainsttautskin.Myeyecatchesonalightheadamongdozensofdark,tousledcrowns.Ileanforwardtosee.Hairlitlikehoneyinthesun,andwithinit,glintsofgold—thecircletofaprince.
Heisshorterthantheothers,andstillplumpwithchildhoodinawaytheyarenot.Hishairislongandtiedbackwithleather;itburnsagainstthedark,bareskinofhisback.Hisface,whenheturns,isseriousasaman’s.
Whentheprieststrikestheground,heslipspastthethickenedbodiesoftheolderboys.Hemoveseasily,hisheelsflashingpinkaslickingtongues.Hewins.
Istareasmyfatherliftsthegarlandfrommylapandcrownshim;theleavesseemalmostblackagainstthebrightnessofhishair.Hisfather,Peleus,comestoclaimhim,smilingandproud.Peleus’kingdomissmallerthanours,buthiswifeisrumoredtobeagoddess,andhispeoplelovehim.Myownfatherwatcheswithenvy.Hiswifeisstupidandhissontooslowtoraceineventheyoungestgroup.Heturnstome.
“Thatiswhatasonshouldbe.”
Myhandsfeelemptywithoutthegarland.IwatchKingPeleusembracehisson.Iseetheboytossthegarlandintheairandcatchitagain.Heislaughing,andhisfaceisbrightwithvictory.
BEYONDTHIS,Irememberlittlemorethanscatteredimagesfrommylifethen:myfatherfrowningonhisthrone,acunningtoyhorseIloved,mymotheronthebeach,hereyesturnedtowardstheAegean.Inthislastmemory,Iamskippingstonesforher,plink,plink,plink,acrosstheskinofthesea.Sheseemstolikethewaytherippleslook,dispersingbacktoglass.Orperhapsitistheseaitselfshelikes.Athertempleastarburstofwhitegleamslikebone,thescarfromthetimeherfatherhitherwiththehiltofasword.Hertoespokeupfromthesandwhereshehasburiedthem,andIamcarefulnottodisturbthemasIsearchforrocks.Ichooseoneandflingitout,gladtobegoodatthis.ItistheonlymemoryIhaveofmymotherandsogoldenthatIamalmostsureIhavemadeitup.Afterall,itwasunlikelyformyfathertohaveallowedustobealonetogether,hissimplesonandsimplerwife.Andwherearewe?Idonotrecognizethebeach,theviewofcoastline.Somuchhaspassedsincethen.
ChapterTwo
IWASSUMMONEDTOTHEKING.IREMEMBERHATINGTHIS,thelongwalkuptheendlessthroneroom.Atthefront,Ikneltonstone.Somekingschosetohaverugsthereforthekneesofmessengerswhohadlongnewstotell.Myfatherpreferrednotto.
“KingTyndareus’daughterisfinallyreadyformarriage,”hesaid.
Iknewthename.TyndareuswaskingofSpartaandheldhugetractsoftheripestsouthernlands,thekindmyfathercoveted.Ihadheardofhisdaughtertoo,rumoredtobethefairestwomaninourcountries.Hermother,Leda,wassaidtohavebeenravishedbyZeus,thekingofthegodshimself,disguisedasaswan.Ninemonthslater,herwombyieldedtwosetsoftwins:ClytemnestraandCastor,childrenofhermortalhusband;HelenandPolydeuces,theshiningcygnetsofthegod.Butgodswereknowntobenotoriouslypoorparents;itwasexpectedthatTyndareuswouldofferpatrimonytoall.
Ididnotrespondtomyfather’snews.Suchthingsmeantnothingtome.
Myfatherclearedhisthroat,loudinthesilentchamber.“Wewoulddowelltohaveherinourfamily.Youwillgoandputyourselfforthasasuitor.”Therewasnooneelseinthehall,somystartledhuffofbreathwasforhisearsalone.ButIknewbetterthantospeakmydiscomfort.MyfatheralreadyknewallthatImightsay:thatIwasnine,unsightly,unpromising,uninterested
Weleftthenextmorning,ourpacksheavywithgiftsandfoodforthejourney.Soldiersescortedus,intheirfinestarmor.Idon’tremembermuchofthetrip—itwasoverland,throughcountrysidethatleftnoimpression.Attheheadofthecolumn,myfatherdictatedneworderstosecretariesandmessengerswhorodeoffineverydirection.Ilookeddownattheleatherreins,smoothedtheirnapwithmythumb.Ididnotunderstandmyplacehere.Itwasincomprehensible,assomuchofwhatmyfatherdidwas.Mydonkeyswayed,andIswayedwithhim,gladforeventhisdistraction.
WewerenotthefirstsuitorstoarriveatTyndareus’citadel.Thestableswerefullofhorsesandmules,busywithservants.Myfatherseemeddispleasedwiththeceremonyaffordedus:Isawhimrubahandoverthestoneofthehearthinourrooms,frowning.Ihadbroughtatoyfromhome,ahorsewhoselegscouldmove.Iliftedonehoof,thentheother,imaginedthatIhadriddenhiminsteadofthedonkey.Asoldiertookpityonmeandlentmehisdice.Iclatteredthemagainsttheflooruntiltheyshowedallsixesinonethrow.
Finally,adaycameinwhichmyfatherorderedmebathedandbrushed.Hehadmechangemytunic,thenchangeagain.Iobeyed,thoughIsawnodifferencebetweenthepurplewithgoldorcrimsonwithgold.Neitherhidmyknobbyknees.Myfatherlookedpowerfulandsevere,hisblackbeardslashingacrosshisface.ThegiftthatwewerepresentingtoTyndareusstoodready,abeaten-goldmixingbowlembossedwiththestoryoftheprincessDanae.Zeushadwooedherinashowerofgoldenlight,andshehadbornehimPerseus,Gorgon-slayer,secondonlytoHeraclesamongourheroes.Myfatherhandedittome.“Donotdisgraceus,”hesaid.
IheardthegreathallbeforeIsawit,thesoundofhundredsofvoicesbangingagainststonewalls,theclatterofgobletsandarmor.Theservantshadthrownopenthewindowstotrytodampenthesound;theyhadhungtapestries,wealthindeed,oneverywall.Ihadneverseensomanymeninsidebefore.Notmen,Icorrectedmyself.Kings.
Wewerecalledforwardtocouncil,seatedonbenchesdrapedwithcowhide.Servantsfadedbackwards,totheshadows.Myfather’sfingersdugintomycollar,warningmenottofidget.
Therewasviolenceinthatroom,withsomanyprincesandheroesandkingscompetingforasingleprize,butweknewhowtoapecivilization.Onebyonetheyintroducedthemselves,theseyoungmen,showingoffshininghairandneatwaistsandexpensivelydyedclothing.Manywerethesonsorgrandsonsofgods.Allhadasongortwo,ormore,writtenoftheirdeeds.Tyndareusgreetedeachinturn,acceptedtheirgiftsinapileatthecenteroftheroom.Invitedeachtospeakandpresenthissuit.
Myfatherwastheoldestamongthem,exceptforthemanwho,whenhisturncame,namedhimselfPhiloctetes.“AcomradeofHeracles,”themanbesideuswhispered,withanaweIunderstood.Heracleswasthegreatestofourheroes,andPhilocteteshadbeentheclosestofhiscompanions,theonlyonestillliving.Hishairwasgray,andhisthickfingerswerealltendon,thesinewydexteritythatmarkedanarcher.Andindeed,amomentlaterheheldupthelargestbowIhadeverseen,polishedyewwoodwithalionskingrip.“ThebowofHeracles,”Philoctetesnamedit,“giventomeathisdeath.”Inourlandsabowwasmockedastheweaponofcowards.Butnoonecouldsaysuchathingaboutthisbow;thestrengthitwouldtaketodrawithumbledusall.
Thenextman,hiseyespaintedlikeawoman’s,spokehisname.“Idomeneus,KingofCrete.”Hewaslean,andhislonghairfelltohiswaistwhenhestood.Heofferedrareiron,adouble-headedax.“Thesymbolofmypeople.”Hismovementsremindedmeofthedancersthatmymotherliked.
AndthenMenelaus,sonofAtreus,seatedbesidehishulking,bearlikebrotherAgamemnon.Menelaus’hairwasastartlingred,thecoloroffire-forgedbronze.Hisbodywasstrong,stockywithmuscles,vital.Thegifthegavewasarichone,beautifullydyedcloth.“Thoughtheladyneedsnoadornment,”headded,smiling.Thiswasaprettybitofspeech.IwishedIhadsomethingasclevertosay.Iwastheonlyonehereundertwenty,andIwasnotdescendedfromagod.PerhapsPeleus’blond-hairedsonwouldbeequaltothis,Ithought.Buthisfatherhadkepthimathome.
Manafterman,andtheirnamesbegantoblurinmyhead.Myattentionwanderedtothedais,whereInoticed,forthefirsttime,thethreeveiledwomenseatedatTyndareus’side.Istaredatthewhiteclothovertheirfaces,asifImightbeabletocatchsomeglimpseofthewomanbehindit.Myfatherwantedoneofthemformywife.Threesetsofhands,prettilyadornedwithbracelets,layquietintheirlaps.Oneofthewomenwastallerthantheothertwo.IthoughtIsawastraydarkcurlpeekfrombeneaththebottomofherveil.Helenislighthaired,Iremembered.SothatonewasnotHelen.Ihadceasedtolistentothekings.
“Welcome,Menoitius.”Thespeakingofmyfather’snamestartledme.Tyndareuswaslookingatus.“Iamsorrytohearofthedeathofyourwife.”
“Mywifelives,Tyndareus.Itismysonwhocomestodaytowedyourdaughter.”TherewasasilenceinwhichIknelt,dizziedbythespinoffacesaroundme.
“Yoursonisnotyetaman.”Tyndareus’voiceseemedfaraway.Icoulddetectnothinginit.
“Heneednotbe.Iammanenoughforbothofus.”Itwasthesortofjestourpeopleloved,boldandboasting.Butnoonelaughed.
“Isee,”saidTyndareus.
Thestonefloordugintomyskin,yetIdidnotmove.Iwasusedtokneeling.Ihadneverbeforebeengladofthepracticeinmyfather’sthroneroom.
Myfatherspokeagain,inthesilence.“Othershavebroughtbronzeandwine,oilandwool.Ibringgold,anditisonlyasmallportionofmystores.”Iwasawareofmyhandsonthebeautifulbowl,touchingthestory’sfigures:Zeusappearingfromthestreamingsunlight,thestartledprincess,theircoupling.
“MydaughterandIaregratefulthatyouhavebroughtussuchaworthygift,thoughpaltrytoyou.”Amurmur,fromthekings.Therewashumiliationherethatmyfatherdidnotseemtounderstand.Myfaceflushedwithit.
“IwouldmakeHelenthequeenofmypalace.Formywife,asyouknowwell,isnotfittorule.Mywealthexceedsalloftheseyoungmen,andmydeedsspeakforthemselves.”
“Ithoughtthesuitorwasyourson.”
Ilookedupatthenewvoice.Amanwhohadnotspokenyet.Hewasthelastinline,sittingateaseonthebench,hiscurlinghairgleaminginthelightofthefire.Hehadajaggedscarononeleg,aseamthatstitchedhisdarkbrownfleshfromheeltoknee,wrappingaroundthemusclesofthecalfandburyingitselfintheshadowbeneathhistunic.Itlookedlikeithadbeenaknife,Ithought,orsomethinglikeit,rippingupwardsandleavingbehindfeatherededges,whosesoftnessbeliedtheviolencethatmusthavecausedit.
Myfatherwasangry.“SonofLaertes,Idonotrememberinvitingyoutospeak.”
Themansmiled.“Iwasnotinvited.Iinterrupted.Butyouneednotfearmyinterference.Ihavenovestedinterestinthematter.Ispeakonlyasanobserver.”Asmallmovementfromthedaisdrewmyeye.Oneoftheveiledfigureshadstirred.
“Whatdoeshemean?”Myfatherwasfrowning.“IfheisnothereforHelen,thenforwhat?Lethimgobacktohisrocksandhisgoats.”
Theman’seyebrowslifted,buthesaidnothing.
Tyndareuswasalsomild.“Ifyoursonistobeasuitor,asyousay,thenlethimpresenthimself.”
EvenIknewitwasmyturntospeak.“IamPatroclus,sonofMenoitius.”Myvoicesoundedhigh,andscratchywithdisuse.“IamhereasasuitorforHelen.Myfatherisakingandthesonofkings.”Ihadnomoretosay.Myfatherhadnotinstructedme;hehadnotthoughtthatTyndareuswouldaskmetospeak.Istoodandcarriedthebowltothepileofgifts,placeditwhereitwouldnottopple.Iturnedandwalkedbacktomybench.Ihadnotdisgracedmyselfwithtremblingortripping,andmywordshadnotbeenfoolish.Still,myfaceburnedwithshame.IknewhowImustlooktothesemen.
Oblivious,thelineofsuitorsmovedon.Themankneelingnowwashuge,halfagainastallasmyfather,andbroadbesides.Behindhim,twoservantsbracedanenormousshield.Itseemedtostandwithhimaspartofhissuit,reachingfromhisheelstohiscrown;noordinarymancouldhavecarriedit.Anditwasnodecoration:scarredandhackededgesborewitnesstothebattlesithadseen.Ajax,sonofTelamon,thisgiantnamedhimself.Hisspeechwasbluntandshort,claiminghislineagefromZeusandofferinghismightysizeasproofofhisgreat-grandfather’scontinuingfavor.Hisgiftwasaspear,supplewoodbeautifullycut.Thefire-forgedpointgleamedinthelightofthetorches.
Atlastitwasthemanwiththescar’sturn.“Well,sonofLaertes?”Tyndareusshiftedinhisseattofacehim.“Whatdoesadisinterestedobserverhavetosaytotheseproceedings?”
Themanleanedback.“Iwouldliketoknowhowyouaregoingtostopthelosersfromdeclaringwaronyou.OronHelen’sluckynewhusband.Iseehalfadozenmenherereadytoleapateachother’sthroats.”
“Youseemamused.”
Themanshrugged.“Ifindthefollyofmenamusing.”
“ThesonofLaertesscornsus!”Thiswasthelargeman,Ajax,hisclenchedfistasbigasmyhead.
“SonofTelamon,never.”
“Thenwhat,Odysseus?Speakyourmind,foronce.”Tyndareus’voicewasassharpasI’dheardit.
Odysseusshruggedagain.“Thiswasadangerousgamble,despitethetreasureandrenownyouhavewon.Eachofthesemenisworthy,andknowsit.Theywillnotbesoeasilyputoff.”
“Allthisyouhavesaidtomeinprivate.”
Myfatherstiffenedbesideme.Conspiracy.Hiswasnottheonlyangryfaceinthehall.
“True.ButnowIofferyouasolution.”Hehelduphishands,empty.“IhavebroughtnogiftanddonotseektowooHelen.Iamaking,ashasbeensaid,ofrocksandgoats.Inreturnformysolution,IseekfromyoutheprizethatIhavealreadynamed.”
“Givemeyoursolutionandyoushallhaveit.”Again,thatslightmovement,fromthedais.Onewoman’shandhadtwitchedagainsthercompanion’sdress
“Thenhereitis.IbelievethatweshouldletHelenchoose.”Odysseuspaused,toallowforthemurmursofdisbelief;womendidnothaveasayinsuchthings.“Noonemayfaultyou,then.Butshemustchoosenow,atthisverymoment,soshewillnotbesaidtohavetakencouncilorinstructionfromyou.And.”Heheldupafinger.“Beforeshechooses,everymanheremustswearanoath:toupholdHelen’schoice,andtodefendherhusbandagainstallwhowouldtakeherfromhim.”
Ifelttheunrestintheroom.Anoath?Andoversuchanunconventionalmatterasawomanchoosingherhusband.Themenweresuspicious.
“Verywell.”Tyndareus,hisfaceunreadable,turnedtotheveiledwomen.“Helen,doyouacceptthisproposal?”
Hervoicewaslowandlovely,carryingtoeverycornerofthehall.“Ido.”Itwasallshesaid,butIfelttheshivergothroughthemenaroundme.EvenasachildIfeltit,andImarveledatthepowerofthiswomanwho,thoughveiled,couldelectrifyaroom.Herskin,wesuddenlyremembered,wasrumoredtobegilded,hereyesdarkandshiningastheslickobsidianthatwetradedourolivesfor.Atthatmomentshewasworthalltheprizesinthecenterofthehall,andmore.Shewasworthourlives.
Tyndareusnodded.“ThenIdecreethatitisso.Allthosewhowishtoswearwilldoso,now.”
Iheardmuttering,afewhalf-angryvoices.Butnomanleft.Helen’svoice,andtheveil,gentlyflutteringwithherbreath,heldusallcaptive.
Aswiftlysummonedpriestledawhitegoattothealtar.Here,inside,itwasamorepropitiouschoicethanabull,whosethroatmightsplashunwholesomelyuponthestonefloor.Theanimaldiedeasily,andthemanmixeditsdarkbloodwiththecypress-ashfromthefire.Thebowlhissed,loudinthesilentroom.
“Youwillbefirst.”TyndareuspointedtoOdysseus.Evenanine-year-oldsawhowfittingthiswas.AlreadyOdysseushadshownhimselftoocleverbyhalf.Ourraggedalliancesprevailedonlywhennomanwasallowedtobetoomuchmorepowerfulthananother.Aroundtheroom,Isawsmirksandsatisfactionamongthekings;hewouldnotbeallowedtoescapehisownnoose.
Odysseus’mouthquirkedinahalf-smile.“Ofcourse.Itismypleasure.”ButIguessedthatitwasnotso.DuringthesacrificeIhadwatchedhimleanbackintotheshadows,asifhewouldbeforgotten.Herosenow,movedtothealtar.
“NowHelen”—Odysseuspaused,hisarmhalf-extendedtothepriest—“rememberthatIswearonlyinfellowship,notasasuitor.Youwouldneverforgiveyourselfifyouweretochooseme.”Hiswordswereteasing,anddrewscatteredlaughter.WeallknewitwasnotlikelythatonesoluminousasHelenwouldchoosethekingofbarrenIthaca.
Onebyonethepriestsummonedustothehearth,markingourwristswithbloodandash,bindingaschains.Ichantedthewordsoftheoathbacktohim,myarmliftedforalltosee.
Whenthelastmanhadreturnedtohisplace,Tyndareusrose.“Choosenow,mydaughter.”
“Menelaus.”Shespokewithouthesitation,startlingusall.Wehadexpectedsuspense,indecision.Iturnedtothered-hairedman,whostood,ahugegrincrackinghisface.Inoutsizejoy,heclappedhissilentbrotherontheback.Everywhereelsewasanger,disappointment,evengrief.Butnomanreachedforhissword;thebloodhaddriedthickonourwrists.
“Sobeit.”Tyndareusstoodalso.”IamgladtowelcomeasecondsonofAtreustomyfamily.YoushallhavemyHelen,evenasyourworthybrotheronceclaimedmyClytemnestra.”Hegesturedtothetallestwoman,asthoughshemightstand.Shedidnotmove.Perhapsshehadnotheard.
“Whataboutthethirdgirl?”Thisshoutfromasmallman,besidethegiantAjax.“Yourniece.CanIhaveher?”
Themenlaughed,gladforaneasinginthetension.
“You’retoolate,Teucer.”Odysseusspokeoverthenoise.“She’spromisedtome.”
Ididnothavethechancetohearmore.Myfather’shandseizedmyshoulder,pullingmeangrilyoffthebench.“Wearefinishedhere.”Weleftthatverynightforhome,andIclimbedbackonmydonkey,thickwithdisappointment:IhadnotevenbeenallowedtoglimpseHelen’sfabledface.
Myfatherwouldnevermentionthetripagain,andoncehometheeventstwistedstrangelyinmymemory.Thebloodandtheoath,theroomfullofkings:theyseemeddistantandpale,likesomethingabardhadspun,ratherthansomethingIlived.HadIreallyknelttherebeforethem?AndwhatoftheoathIhadsworn?Itseemedabsurdeventothinkof
ChapterThree
ISTOODINTHEFIELD.INMYHANDSWERETWOPAIRSOFdice,agift.Notfrommyfather,who’dneverthinkofit.Notfrommymother,whosometimesdidnotknowme.Icouldnotrememberwhohadgiventhemtome.Avisitingking?Afavor-curryingnoble?
Theywerecarvedfromivory,insetwithonyx,smoothundermythumb.Itwaslatesummer,andIwaspantingwithmyrunfromthepalace.SincethedayoftheracesIhadbeenappointedamantotrainmeinallourathleticarts:boxing,sword-and-spear,discus.ButIhadescapedhim,andglowedwiththegiddylightnessofsolitude.Itwasthefirst
Thentheboyappeared.HisnamewasClysonymus,andhewasthesonofanoblemanwhowasoftenatthepalace.Older,larger,andunpleasantlyfleshy.Hiseyeshadcaughttheflashofthediceinmypalm.Heleeredatme,heldouthishand.“Letmeseethem.”
“No.”Ididnotwanthisfingersonthem,grubbyandthick.AndIwastheprince,howeversmall.DidInotevenhavethisright?Butthesenoblesonswereusedtomedoingwhattheywished.Theyknewmyfatherwouldnotintervene.
“Iwantthem.”Hedidn’tbothertothreatenme,yet.Ihatedhimforit.Ishouldbeworththreatening.
“No.”
Hesteppedforward.“Letmehavethem.”
“They’remine.”Igrewteeth.Isnappedlikethedogswhofightforourtablescraps.
Hereachedtotakethem,andIshovedhimbackwards.Hestumbled,andIwasglad.Hewouldnotgetwhatwasmine.
“Hey!”Hewasangry.Iwassosmall;Iwasrumoredtobesimple.Ifhebackeddownnow,itwouldbeadishonor.Headvancedonme,facered.Withoutmeaningto,Isteppedback.
Hesmirkedthen.“Coward.”
“Iamnocoward.”Myvoicerose,andmyskinwenthot.
“Yourfatherthinksyouare.”Hiswordsweredeliberate,asifheweresavoringthem.“Iheardhimtellmyfatherso.”
“Hedidnot.”ButIknewhehad.
Theboysteppedcloser.Heliftedafist.“Areyoucallingmealiar?”Iknewthathewouldhitmenow.Hewasjustwaitingforanexcuse.IcouldimaginethewaymyfatherwouldhavesaiditCoward.Iplantedmyhandsonhischestandshoved,ashardasIcould.Ourlandwasoneofgrassandwheat.Tumblesshouldnothurt.
Iammakingexcuses.Itwasalsoalandofrocks.
Hisheadthuddeddullyagainststone,andIsawthesurprisedpopofhiseyes.Thegroundaroundhimbegantobleed
Istared,mythroatclosinginhorroratwhatIhaddone.Ihadnotseenthedeathofahumanbefore.Yes,thebulls,andthegoats,eventhebloodlessgaspingoffish.AndIhadseenitinpaintings,tapestries,theblackfiguresburnedontoourplatters.ButIhadnotseenthis:therattleofit,thechokeandscrabble.Thesmelloftheflux.Ifled.
Sometimelater,theyfoundmebythegnarledanklesofanolivetree.Iwaslimpandpale,surroundedbymyownvomit.Thediceweregone,lostinmyflight.Myfatherstareddownangrilyatme,hislipsdrawnbacktoshowhisyellowingteeth.Hegestured,andtheservantsliftedmeandcarriedmeinside.
Theboy’sfamilydemandedimmediateexileordeath.Theywerepowerful,andthiswastheireldestson.Theymightpermitakingtoburntheirfieldsorrapetheirdaughters,aslongaspaymentwasmade.Butyoudidnottouchaman’ssons.Forthis,thenobleswouldriot.Weallknewtherules;weclungtothemtoavoidtheanarchythatwasalwaysahairsbreadthaway.Bloodfeud.Theservantsmadethesignagainstevil.
Myfatherhadspenthislifescrabblingtokeephiskingdom,andwouldnotrisklosingitoversuchasonasme,whenheirsandthewombsthatborethemweresoeasytocomeby.Soheagreed:Iwouldbeexiled,andfosteredinanotherman’skingdom.Inexchangeformyweightingold,theywouldrearmetomanhood.Iwouldhavenoparents,nofamilyname,noinheritance.Inourday,deathwaspreferable.Butmyfatherwasapracticalman.Myweightingoldwaslessthantheexpenseofthelavishfuneralmydeathwouldhavedemanded.
ThiswashowIcametobeten,andanorphan.ThisishowIcametoPhthia.
TINY,GEMSTONE-SIZEDPHTHIAwasthesmallestofourcountries,setinanortherncrookoflandbetweentheridgesofMountOthrysandthesea.Itsking,Peleus,wasoneofthosemenwhomthegodslove:notdivinehimself,butclever,brave,handsome,andexcellingallhispeersinpiety.Asareward,ourdivinitiesofferedhimasea-nymphforawife.Itwasconsideredtheirhighesthonor.Afterall,whatmortalwouldnotwanttobedagoddessandsireasonfromher?Divinebloodpurifiedourmuddyrace,bredheroesfromdustandclay.Andthisgoddessbroughtagreaterpromisestill:theFateshadforetoldthathersonwouldfarsurpasshisfather.Peleus’linewouldbeassured.But,likeallthegods’gifts,therewasanedgetoit;thegoddessherselfwasunwilling.
Everyone,evenI,hadheardthestoryofThetis’ravishment.ThegodshadledPeleustothesecretplacewhereshelikedtosituponthebeach.Theyhadwarnedhimnottowastetimewithovertures—shewouldneverconsenttomarriagewithamortal.
Theywarnedhimtooofwhatwouldcomeoncehehadcaughther:forthenymphThetiswaswily,likeherfather,Proteus,theslipperyoldmanofthesea,andsheknewhowtomakeherskinflowintoathousanddifferentshapesoffurandfeatherandflesh.Andthoughbeaksandclawsandteethandcoilsandstingingtailswouldflayhim,stillPeleus
Peleuswasapiousandobedientmananddidallthatthegodshadinstructedhimtodo.Hewaitedforhertoemergefromtheslate-coloredwaves,hairblackandlongasahorse’stail.Thenheseizedher,holdingondespiteherviolentstruggles,squeezinguntiltheywerebothexhausted,breathlessandsand-scraped.Thebloodfromthewoundsshehadgivenhimmixedwiththesmearsoflostmaidenheadonherthighs.Herresistancematterednolonger:adefloweringwasasbindingasmarriagevows.
Thegodsforcedhertoswearthatshewouldstaywithhermortalhusbandforatleastayear,andsheservedhertimeonearthasthedutyitwas,silent,unresponsive,andsullen.Nowwhenheclaspedher,shedidnotbothertowritheandtwistinprotest.Insteadshelaystiffandsilent,dampandchilledasanoldfish.Herreluctantwombboreonlyasinglechild.Thehourhersentencewasfinished,sheranoutofthehouseanddovebackintothesea.
Shewouldreturnonlytovisittheboy,neverforanyotherreason,andneverforlong.TherestofthetimethechildwasraisedbytutorsandnursesandoverseenbyPhoinix,Peleus’mosttrustedcounselor.DidPeleuseverregretthegods’gifttohim?AnordinarywifewouldhavecountedherselfluckytofindahusbandwithPeleus’mildness,hissmile-linedface.Butforthesea-nymphThetisnothingcouldevereclipsethestainofhisdirty,mortalmediocrity.
IWASLEDthroughthepalacebyaservantwhosenameIhadnotcaught.Perhapshehadnotsaidit.Thehallsweresmallerthanathome,asifrestrainedbythemodestyofthekingdomtheygoverned.Thewallsandfloorswerelocalmarble,whiterthanwasfoundinthesouth.Myfeetweredarkagainstitspallor.
Ihadnothingwithme.Myfewbelongingswerebeingcarriedtomyroom,andthegoldmyfathersentwasonitswaytothetreasury.IhadfeltastrangepanicasIwaspartedfromit.Ithadbeenmycompanionfortheweeksoftravel,areminderofmyworth.Iknewitscontentsbyheartnow:thefivegobletswithengravedstems,aheavyknobbedscepter,abeaten-goldnecklace,twoornamentalstatuesofbirds,andacarvedlyre,gildedatitstips.Thislast,Iknew,wascheating.Woodwascheapandplentifulandheavyandtookupspacethatshouldhavebeenusedforgold.Yetthelyrewassobeautifulnoonecouldobjecttoit;ithadbeenapieceofmymother’sdowry.Aswerode,Iwouldreachbackintomysaddlebagstostrokethepolishedwood.
IguessedthatIwasbeingledtothethroneroom,whereIwouldkneelandpouroutmygratitude.Buttheservantstoppedsuddenlyatasidedoor.KingPeleuswasabsent,hetoldme,soIwouldpresentmyselfbeforehissoninstead.Iwasunnerved.ThiswasnotwhatIhadpreparedmyselffor,thedutifulwordsI’dpracticedondonkeyback.Peleus’son.Icouldstillrememberthedarkwreathagainsthisbrighthair,thewayhispinksoleshadflashedalongthetrack.Thatiswhatasonshouldbe.
Hewaslyingonhisbackonawide,pillowedbench,balancingalyreonhisstomach.Idly,hepluckedatit.Hedidnothearmeenter,orhedidnotchoosetolook.ThisishowIfirstbegantounderstandmyplacehere.UntilthismomentIhadbeenaprince,expectedandannounced.NowIwasnegligible.
Itookanotherstepforward,scuffingmyfeet,andhisheadlolledtothesidetoregardme.InthefiveyearssinceIhadseenhim,hehadoutgrownhisbabyishroundness.Igapedatthecoldshockofhisbeauty,deep-greeneyes,featuresfineasagirl’s.Itstruckfrommeasudden,springingdislike.Ihadnotchangedsomuch,norsowell.
Heyawned,hiseyesheavy-lidded.“What’syourname?”
Hiskingdomwashalf,aquarter,aneighththesizeofmyfather’s,andIhadkilledaboyandbeenexiledandstillhedidnotknowme.Igroundmyjawshutandwouldnotspeak.
Heaskedagain,louder:“What’syourname?”
Mysilencewasexcusablethefirsttime;perhapsIhadnotheardhim.Nowitwasnot.
“Patroclus.”Itwasthenamemyfatherhadgivenme,hopefullybutinjudiciously,atmybirth,andittastedofbitternessonmytongue.“Honorofthefather,”itmeant.Iwaitedforhimtomakeajokeoutofit,somewittyjapeaboutmydisgrace.Hedidnot.Perhaps,Ithought,heistoostupidto.
Herolledontohissidetofaceme.Astraylockofgoldfellhalfintohiseyes;heblewitaway.“MynameisAchilles.”
Ijerkedmychinup,aninch,inbareacknowledgment.Weregardedeachotherforamoment.Thenheblinkedandyawnedagain,hismouthcrackedwideasacat’s.“WelcometoPhthia.”
IhadbeenraisedinacourtandknewdismissalwhenIheardit.
IDISCOVEREDTHATAFTERNOONthatIwasnottheonlyfosterchildofPeleus.Themodestkingturnedouttoberichincast-offsons.Hehadoncebeenarunawayhimself,itwasrumored,andhadareputationforcharitytowardsexiles.Mybedwasapalletinalongbarracks-styleroom,filledwithotherboystusslingandlounging.Aservantshowedmewheremythingshadbeenput.Afewboysliftedtheirheads,stared.Iamsureoneofthemspoketome,askedmyname.IamsureIgaveit.Theyreturnedtotheirgames.Nooneimportant.Iwalkedstiff-leggedtomypalletandwaitedfordinner.
Weweresummonedtoeatatduskbyabell,bronzestruckfromdeepinthepalace’sturnings.Theboysdroppedtheirgamesandtumbledoutintothehallway.Thecomplexwasbuiltlikearabbitwarren,fulloftwistingcorridorsandsuddeninnerrooms.Inearlytrippedovertheheelsoftheboyinfrontofme,fearfulofbeingleftbehindandlost.
Theroomformealswasalonghallatthefrontofthepalace,itswindowsopeningontoMountOthrys’foothills.Itwaslargeenoughtofeedallofus,manytimesover;Peleuswasakingwholikedtohostandentertain.Wesatonitsoakwoodbenches,attablesthatwerescratchedfromyearsofclatteringplates.Thefoodwassimplebutplentiful—saltedfish,andthickbreadservedwithherbedcheese.Therewasnofleshhere,ofgoatsorbulls.Thatwasonlyforroyalty,orfestivaldays.AcrosstheroomIcaughttheflashofbrighthairinlamplight.Achilles.Hesatwithagroupofboyswhosemouthswerewidewithlaughteratsomethinghe’dsaidordone.Thatiswhataprinceshouldbe.Istareddownatmybread,itscoarsegrainsthatrubbedroughagainstmyfingers.
Aftersupperwewereallowedtodoasweliked.Someboysweregatheringinacornerforagame.“Doyouwanttoplay?”oneasked.Hishairstillhunginchildhoodcurls;hewasyoungerthanIwas.
“Play?”
“Dice.”Heopenedhishandtoshowthem,carvedbonefleckedwithblackdye.
Istarted,steppedbackwards.“No,”Isaid,tooloudly.
Heblinkedinsurprise.“Allright.”Heshrugged,andwasgone.
ThatnightIdreamedofthedeadboy,hisskullcrackedlikeaneggagainsttheground.Hehasfollowedme.Thebloodspreads,darkasspilledwine.Hiseyesopen,andhismouthbeginstomove.Iclapmyhandsovermyears.Thevoicesofthedeadweresaidtohavethepowertomakethelivingmad.Imustnothearhimspeak.
Iwokeinterror,hopingIhadnotscreamedaloud.Thepinpricksofstarsoutsidethewindowweretheonlylight;therewasnomoonIcouldsee.Mybreathingwasharshinthesilence,andthemarsh-reedtickingofthemattresscrackledsoftlybeneathme,rubbingitsthinfingersagainstmyback.Thepresenceoftheotherboysdidnotcomfortme;ourdeadcomefortheirvengeanceregardlessofwitnesses.
Thestarsturned,andsomewherethemooncreptacrossthesky.Whenmyeyesdraggedclosedagain,hewaswaitingformestill,coveredinblood,hisfaceaspaleasbone.Ofcoursehewas.Nosoulwishedtobesentearlytotheendlessgloomofourunderworld.Exilemightsatisfytheangeroftheliving,butitdidnotappeasethedead.
Iwokesandy-eyed,mylimbsheavyanddull.Theotherboyssurgedaroundme,dressingforbreakfast,eagerfortheday.Wordhadspreadquicklyofmystrangeness,andtheyoungerboydidnotapproachmeagain,withdiceoranythingelse.Atbreakfast,myfingerspushedbreadbetweenmylips,andmythroatswallowed.Milkwaspouredforme.Idrank
Afterwardswewereledintothedustysunofthepracticeyardsfortraininginspearandsword.HereiswhereItastedthefulltruthofPeleus’kindness:welltrainedandindebted,wewouldonedaymakehimafinearmy.
Iwasgivenaspear,andacallusedhandcorrectedmygrip,thencorrecteditagain.Ithrewandgrazedtheedgeoftheoak-treetarget.Themasterblewoutabreathandpassedmeasecondspear.Myeyestraveledovertheotherboys,searchingforPeleus’son.Hewasnotthere.Isightedoncemoreattheoak,itsbarkpittedandcracked,oozingsapfrompunctures.Ithrew.
Thesundrovehigh,thenhigherstill.Mythroatgrewdryandhot,scratchedwithburningdust.Whenthemastersreleasedus,mostoftheboysfledtothebeach,wheresmallbreezesstillstirred.Theretheydicedandraced,shoutingjokesinthesharp,slantingdialectsofthenorth.
Myeyeswereheavyinmyhead,andmyarmachedfromthemorning’sexertion.Isatbeneaththescrubbyshadeofanolivetreetostareoutovertheocean’swaves.Noonespoketome.Iwaseasytoignore.Itwasnotsoverydifferentfromhome,really.
THENEXTDAYwasthesame,amorningofwearyexercises,andthenlongafternoonhoursalone.Atnight,themoonsliveredsmallerandsmaller.IstareduntilIcouldseeitevenwhenIclosedmyeyes,theyellowcurvebrightagainstthedarkofmyeyelids.Ihopedthatitmightkeepthevisionsoftheboyatbay.Ourgoddessofthemoonisgiftedwithmagic,withpoweroverthedead.Shecouldbanishthedreams,ifshewished.
Shedidnot.Theboycame,nightafternight,withhisstaringeyesandsplinteredskull.Sometimesheturnedandshowedmetheholeinhishead,wherethesoftmassofhisbrainhungloose.Sometimeshereachedforme.Iwouldwake,chokingonmyhorror,andstareatthedarknessuntildawn.
ChapterFour
MEALSINTHEVAULTEDDININGHALLWEREMYONLYrelief.Therethewallsdidnotseemtopressinonmesomuch,andthedustfromthecourtyarddidnotcloginmythroat.Thebuzzofconstantvoiceseasedasmouthswerestuffedfull.Icouldsitwithmyfoodaloneandbreatheagain
ItwastheonlytimeIsawAchilles.Hisdayswereseparate,princely,filledwithdutieswehadnopartof.Buthetookeachmealwithus,circulatingamongthetables.Inthehugehall,hisbeautyshonelikeaflame,vitalandbright,drawingmyeyeagainstmywill.Hismouthwasaplumpbow,hisnoseanaristocraticarrow.Whenhewasseated,hislimbsdidnotskewasminedid,butarrangedthemselveswithperfectgrace,asifforasculptor.Perhapsmostremarkablewashisunself-consciousness.Hedidnotpreenorpoutasotherhandsomechildrendid.Indeed,heseemedutterlyunawareofhiseffectontheboysaroundhim.Thoughhowhewas,Icouldnotimagine:theycrowdedhimlikedogsintheireagerness,tongueslolling.
Iwatchedallofthisfrommyplaceatacornertable,breadcrumpledinmyfist.Thekeenedgeofmyenvywaslikeflint,asparkawayfromfire.
Ononeofthesedayshesatclosertomethanusual;onlyatabledistant.Hisdustyfeetscuffedagainsttheflagstonesasheate.Theywerenotcrackedandcallusedasminewere,butpinkandsweetlybrownbeneaththedirt.Prince,Isneeredinsidemyhead.
Heturned,asifhehadheardme.Forasecondoureyesheld,andIfeltashockrunthroughme.Ijerkedmygazeaway,andbusiedmyselfwithmybread.Mycheekswerehot,andmyskinprickledasifbeforeastorm.When,atlast,Iventuredtolookupagain,hehadturnedbacktohistableandwasspeakingtotheotherboys.
Afterthat,Iwascraftierwithmyobservation,keptmyheaddownandmyeyesreadytoleapaway.Buthewascraftierstill.AtleastonceadinnerhewouldturnandcatchmebeforeIcouldfeignindifference.Thoseseconds,halfseconds,thatthelineofourgazeconnected,weretheonlymomentinmydaythatIfeltanythingatall.Thesuddenswoopofmystomach,thecoursinganger.Iwaslikeafisheyeingthehook.
INTHEFOURTHWEEKofmyexile,IwalkedintothedininghalltofindhimatthetablewhereIalwayssat.Mytable,asIhadcometothinkofit,sincefewotherschosetoshareitwithme.Now,becauseofhim,thebencheswerefullofjostlingboys.Ifroze,caughtbetweenflightandfury.Angerwon.Thiswasmine,andhewouldnotpushmefromit,nomatterhowmanyboyshebrought.
Isatatthelastemptyspace,myshoulderstensedasifforafight.Acrossthetabletheboysposturedandprattled,aboutaspearandabirdthathaddiedonthebeachandthespringraces.Ididnothearthem.Hispresencewaslikeastoneinmyshoe,impossibletoignore.Hisskinwasthecolorofjust-pressedoliveoil,andsmoothaspolishedwood,withoutthescabsandblemishesthatcoveredtherestofus.
Dinnerfinished,andtheplateswerecleared.Aharvestmoon,fullandorange,hungintheduskbeyondthediningroom’swindows.YetAchilleslingered.Absently,hepushedthehairfromhiseyes;ithadgrownlongerovertheweeksIhadbeenhere.Hereachedforabowlonthetablethatheldfigsandgatheredseveralinhishands.
Withatossofhiswrist,heflickedthefigsintotheair,one,two,three,jugglingthemsolightlythattheirdelicateskinsdidnotbruise.Headdedafourth,thenafifth.Theboyshootedandclapped.More,more!
Thefruitsflew,colorsblurring,sofasttheyseemednottotouchhishands,totumbleoftheirownaccord.Jugglingwasatrickoflowmummersandbeggars,buthemadeitsomethingelse,alivingpatternpaintedontheair,sobeautifulevenIcouldnotpretenddisinterest.
Hisgaze,whichhadbeenfollowingthecirclingfruit,flickeredtomine.Ididnothavetimetolookawaybeforehesaid,softlybutdistinctly,“Catch.”Afigleaptfromthepatterninagracefularctowardsme.Itfellintothecupofmypalms,softandslightlywarm.Iwasawareoftheboyscheering.
Onebyone,Achillescaughttheremainingfruits,returnedthemtothetablewithaperformer’sflourish.Exceptforthelast,whichheate,thedarkfleshpartingtopinkseedsunderhisteeth.Thefruitwasperfectlyripe,thejuicebrimming.Withoutthinking,Ibroughttheonehehadthrownmetomylips.Itsburstofgrainysweetnessfilledmymouth;theskinwasdownyonmytongue.Ihadlovedfigs,once.
Hestood,andtheboyschorusedtheirfarewells.Ithoughthemightlookatmeagain.Butheonlyturnedandvanishedbacktohisroomontheothersideofthepalace.
THENEXTDAYPeleusreturnedtothepalaceandIwasbroughtbeforehiminhisthroneroom,smokyandsharpfromayew-woodfire.DulyIknelt,saluted,receivedhisfamouslycharitablesmile.“Patroclus,”Itoldhim,whenheasked.Iwasalmostaccustomedtoitnow,thebarenessofmyname,withoutmyfather’sbehindit.Peleusnodded.Heseemedoldtome,bentover,buthewasnomorethanfifty,myfather’sage.Hedidnotlooklikeamanwhocouldhaveconqueredagoddess,orproducedsuchachildasAchilles.
“Youareherebecauseyoukilledaboy.Youunderstandthis?”
Thiswasthecrueltyofadults.Doyouunderstand?
“Yes,”Itoldhim.Icouldhavetoldhimmore,ofthedreamsthatleftmeblearyandbloodshot,thealmost-screamsthatscrapedmythroatasIswallowedthemdown.Thewaythestarsturnedandturnedthroughthenightabovemyunsleepingeyes.
“Youarewelcomehere.Youmaystillmakeagoodman.”Hemeantitascomfort.
LATERTHATDAY,perhapsfromhim,perhapsfromalisteningservant,theboyslearnedatlastofthereasonformyexile.Ishouldhaveexpectedit.Ihadheardthemgossipofothersoftenenough;rumorsweretheonlycointheboyshadtotradein.Still,ittookmebysurprisetoseethesuddenchangeinthem,thefearandfascinationbloomingontheirfacesasIpassed.Noweventheboldestofthemwouldwhisperaprayerifhebrushedagainstme:badluckcouldbecaught,andtheErinyes,ourhissingspiritsofvengeance,werenotalwaysparticular.Theboyswatchedfromasafedistance,enthralled.Willtheydrinkhisblood,doyouthink?
Theirwhisperschokedme,turnedthefoodinmymouthtoash.IpushedawaymyplateandsoughtoutcornersandsparehallswhereImightsitundisturbed,exceptfortheoccasionalpassingservant.Mynarrowworldnarrowedfurther:tothecracksinthefloor,thecarvedwhorlsinthestonewalls.TheyraspedsoftlyasItracedthemwithmyfingertip.
“IHEARDYOUWEREHERE.”Aclearvoice,likeice-meltedstreams.
Myheadjerkedup.Iwasinastoreroom,mykneesagainstmychest,wedgedbetweenjarsofthick-pressedoliveoil.Ihadbeendreamingmyselfafish,silveredbysunasitleaptfromthesea.Thewavesdissolved,becameamphoraeandgrainsacksagain.
ItwasAchilles,standingoverme.Hisfacewasserious,thegreenofhiseyessteadyasheregardedme.Iprickledwithguilt.IwasnotsupposedtobethereandIknewit.
“Ihavebeenlookingforyou,”hesaid.Thewordswereexpressionless;theycarriednohintofanythingIcouldread.“Youhavenotbeengoingtomorningdrills.”
Myfacewentred.Behindtheguilt,angerroseslowanddull.Itwashisrighttochastiseme,butIhatedhimforit.
“Howdoyouknow?Youaren’tthere.”
“Themasternoticed,andspoketomyfather.”
“Andhesentyou.”Iwantedtomakehimfeeluglyforhistale-bearing.
“No,Icameonmyown.”Achilles’voicewascool,butIsawhisjawtighten,justalittle.“Ioverheardthemspeaking.Ihavecometoseeifyouareill.”
Ididnotanswer.Hestudiedmeamoment.
“Myfatherisconsideringpunishment,”hesaid.
Weknewwhatthismeant.Punishmentwascorporal,andusuallypublic.Aprincewouldneverbewhipped,butIwasnolongeraprince.
“Youarenotill,”hesaid.
“No,”Ianswered,dully.
“Thenthatwillnotserveasyourexcuse.”
“What?”InmyfearIcouldnotfollowhim.
“Yourexcuseforwhereyouhavebeen.”Hisvoicewaspatient.“Soyouwillnotbepunished.Whatwillyousay?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Youmustsaysomething.”
Hisinsistencesparkedangerinme.“Youaretheprince,”Isnapped.
Thatsurprisedhim.Hetiltedhisheadalittle,likeacuriousbird.“So?”
“Sospeaktoyourfather,andsayIwaswithyou.Hewillexcuseit.”IsaidthismoreconfidentlythanIfelt.IfIhadspokentomyfatherforanotherboy,hewouldhavebeenwhippedoutofspite.ButIwasnotAchilles.
Theslightestcreaseappearedbetweenhiseyes.“Idonotliketolie,”hesaid.
Itwasthesortofinnocenceotherboystauntedoutofyou;evenifyoufeltit,youdidnotsayit.
“Thentakemewithyoutoyourlessons,”Isaid.“Soitwon’tbealie.”
Hiseyebrowslifted,andheregardedme.Hewasutterlystill,thetypeofquietthatIhadthoughtcouldnotbelongtohumans,astillingofeverythingbutbreathandpulse—likeadeer,listeningforthehunter’sbow.Ifoundmyselfholdingmybreath.
Thensomethingshiftedinhisface.Adecision.
“Come,”hesaid.
“Where?”Iwaswary;perhapsnowIwouldbepunishedforsuggestingdeceit
“Tomylyrelesson.So,asyousay,itwillnotbealie.After,wewillspeakwithmyfather.”
“Now?”
“Yes.Whynot?”Hewatchedme,curious.Whynot?
WhenIstoodtofollowhim,mylimbsachedfromsolongseatedoncoolstone.MychesttrilledwithsomethingIcouldnotquitename.Escape,anddanger,andhopeallatonce.
WEWALKEDINSILENCEthroughthewindinghallsandcameatlengthtoasmallroom,holdingonlyalargechestandstoolsforsitting.AchillesgesturedtooneandIwenttoit,leatherpulledtautoverasparewoodenframe.Amusician’schair.Ihadseenthemonlywhenbardscame,infrequently,toplayatmyfather’sfireside.
Achillesopenedthechest.Hepulledalyrefromitandhelditouttome.
“Idon’tplay,”Itoldhim.
Hisforeheadwrinkledatthis.“Never?”
Strangely,Ifoundmyselfnotwishingtodisappointhim.“Myfatherdidnotlikemusic.”
“So?Yourfatherisnothere.”
Itookthelyre.Itwascooltothetouch,andsmooth.Islidmyfingersoverthestrings,heardthehummingalmost-note;itwasthelyreIhadseenhimwiththefirstdayIcame.
Achillesbentagainintothetrunk,pulledoutasecondinstrument,andcametojoinme.
Hesettleditonhisknees.Thewoodwascarvedandgoldenandshonewithcarefulkeeping.Itwasmymother’slyre,theonemyfatherhadsentaspartofmyprice.
Achillespluckedastring.Thenoterosewarmandresonant,sweetlypure.Mymotherhadalwayspulledherchairclosetothebardswhentheycame,soclosemyfatherwouldscowlandtheservantswouldwhisper.Iremembered,suddenly,thedarkgleamofhereyesinthefirelightasshewatchedthebard’shands.Thelookonherfacewaslikethirst.
Achillespluckedanotherstring,andanoterangout,deeperthantheother.Hishandreachedforapeg,turnedit.
Thatismymother’slyre,Ialmostsaid.Thewordswereinmymouth,andbehindthemotherscrowdedclose.Thatismylyre.ButIdidnotspeak.Whatwouldhesaytosuchastatement?Thelyrewashis,now.
Iswallowed,mythroatdry.“Itisbeautiful.”
“Myfathergaveittome,”hesaid,carelessly.Onlythewayhisfingersheldit,sogently,stoppedmefromrisinginrage.
Hedidnotnotice.“Youcanholdit,ifyoulike.”
Thewoodwouldbesmoothandknownasmyownskin.
“No,”Isaid,throughtheacheinmychest.Iwillnotcryinfrontofhim.
Hestartedtosaysomething.Butatthatmomenttheteacherentered,amanofindeterminatemiddleage.Hehadthecallusedhandsofamusicianandcarriedhisownlyre,carvedofdarkwalnut.
“Whoisthis?”heasked.Hisvoicewasharshandloud.Amusician,butnotasinger.
“ThisisPatroclus,”Achillessaid.“Hedoesnotplay,buthewilllearn.”
“Notonthatinstrument.”Theman’shandswoopeddowntopluckthelyrefrommyhands.Instinctively,myfingerstightenedonit.Itwasnotasbeautifulasmymother’slyre,butitwasstillaprincelyinstrument.Ididnotwanttogiveitup.
Ididnothaveto.Achilleshadcaughthimbythewrist,midreach.“Yes,onthatinstrumentifhelikes.”
Themanwasangrybutsaidnomore.Achillesreleasedhimandhesat,stiffly.
“Begin,”hesaid.
Achillesnoddedandbentoverthelyre.Ididnothavetimetowonderabouthisintervention.Hisfingerstouchedthestrings,andallmythoughtsweredisplaced.Thesoundwaspureandsweetaswater,brightaslemons.ItwaslikenomusicIhadeverheardbefore.Ithadwarmthasafiredoes,atextureandweightlikepolishedivory.Itbuoyedandsoothedatonce.Afewhairsslippedforwardtohangoverhiseyesasheplayed.Theywerefineaslyrestringsthemselves,andshone.
Hestopped,pushedbackhishair,andturnedtome.
“Nowyou.”
Ishookmyhead,fulltospilling.Icouldnotplaynow.Notever,ifIcouldlistentohiminstead.“Youplay,”Isaid.
Achillesreturnedtohisstrings,andthemusicroseagain.Thistimehesangalso,weavinghisownaccompanimentwithaclear,richtreble.Hisheadfellbackalittle,exposinghisthroat,suppleandfawn-skinsoft.Asmallsmileliftedtheleftcornerofhismouth.WithoutmeaningtoIfoundmyselfleaningforward.
Whenatlastheceased,mychestfeltstrangelyhollowed.Iwatchedhimrisetoreplacethelyres,closethetrunk.Hebidfarewelltotheteacher,whoturnedandleft.IttookmealongmomentbeforeIcamebacktomyself,tonoticehewaswaitingforme.
“Wewillgoseemyfathernow.”
Ididnotquitetrustmyselftospeak,soInoddedandfollowedhimoutoftheroomandupthetwistinghallwaystotheking.
ChapterFive
ACHILLESSTOPPEDMEJUSTINSIDETHEBRONZE-STUDDEDdoorsofPeleus’audiencechamber.“Waithere,”hesaid.
Peleuswasseatedonahigh-backedchairattheroom’sotherend.Anolderman,oneIhadseenbeforewithPeleus,stoodnearasifthetwohadbeeninconference.Thefiresmokedthickly,andtheroomfelthotandclose.
Thewallswerehungwithdeep-dyedtapestriesandoldweaponskeptgleamingbyservants.Achilleswalkedpastthemandkneltathisfather’sfeet.“Father,Icometoaskyourpardon.”
“Oh?”Peleusliftedaneyebrow.“Speakthen.”FromwhereIstoodhisfacelookedcoldanddispleased.Iwassuddenlyfearful.Wehadinterrupted;Achilleshadnotevenknocked.
“IhavetakenPatroclusfromhisdrills.”Mynamesoundedstrangeonhislips;Ialmostdidnotrecognizeit.
Theoldking’sbrowsdrewtogether.“Who?”
“Menoitiades,”Achillessaid.Menoitius’son
“Ah.”Peleus’gazefollowedthecarpetbacktowhereIstood,tryingnottofidget.“Yes,theboythearms-masterwantstowhip.”
“Yes.Butitisnothisfault.IforgottosayIwishedhimforacompanion.”Theraponwasthewordheused.Abrother-in-armssworntoaprincebybloodoathsandlove.Inwar,thesemenwerehishonorguard;inpeace,hisclosestadvisers.Itwasaplaceofhighestesteem,anotherreasontheboysswarmedPeleus’son,showingoff;theyhopedtobechosen.
Peleus’eyesnarrowed.“Comehere,Patroclus.”
Thecarpetwasthickbeneathmyfeet.IkneltalittlebehindAchilles.Icouldfeeltheking’sgazeonme.
“Formanyyearsnow,Achilles,Ihaveurgedcompanionsonyouandyouhaveturnedthemaway.Whythisboy?”
Thequestionmighthavebeenmyown.Ihadnothingtooffersuchaprince.Why,then,hadhemadeacharitycaseofme?PeleusandIbothwaitedforhisanswer.
“Heissurprising.”
Ilookedup,frowning.Ifhethoughtso,hewastheonlyone.
“Surprising,”Peleusechoed.
“Yes.”Achillesexplainednofurther,thoughIhopedhewould.
Peleusrubbedhisnoseinthought.“Theboyisanexilewithastainuponhim.Hewilladdnolustertoyourreputation.”
“Idonotneedhimto,”Achillessaid.Notproudlyorboastfully.Honestly
Peleusacknowledgedthis.“Yetotherboyswillbeenviousthatyouhavechosensuchaone.Whatwillyoutellthem?”
“Iwilltellthemnothing.”Theanswercamewithnohesitation,clearandcrisp.“ItisnotforthemtosaywhatIwilldo.”
Ifoundmypulsebeatingthicklyinmyveins,fearingPeleus’anger.Itdidnotcome.Fatherandsonmeteachother’sgaze,andthefaintesttouchofamusementbloomedatthecornerofPeleus’mouth.
“Standup,bothofyou.”
Ididso,dizzily.
“Ipronounceyoursentence.Achilles,youwillgiveyourapologytoAmphidamas,andPatrocluswillgivehisaswell.”
“Yes,Father.”
“Thatisall.”Heturnedfromus,backtohiscounselor,indismissal.
OUTSIDEAGAINACHILLESwasbrisk.“Iwillseeyouatdinner,”hesaid,andturnedtogo.
AnhourbeforeIwouldhavesaidIwasgladtoberidofhim;now,strangely,Ifeltstung.
“Whereareyougoing?”
Hestopped.“Drills.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.Nooneseesmefight.”Thewordscameasifhewereusedtosayingthem.
“Why?”
Helookedatmealongmoment,asifweighingsomething.“Mymotherhasforbiddenit.Becauseoftheprophecy.”
“Whatprophecy?”Ihadnotheardofthis.
“ThatIwillbethebestwarriorofmygeneration.”
Itsoundedlikesomethingayoungchildwouldclaim,inmake-believe.Buthesaiditassimplyasifheweregivinghisname.
ThequestionIwantedtoaskwas,Andareyouthebest?InsteadIstutteredout,“Whenwastheprophecygiven?”
“WhenIwasborn.Justbefore.Eleithyiacameandtoldittomymother.”Eleithyia,goddessofchildbirth,rumoredtopresideinpersonoverthebirthofhalf-gods.Thosewhosenativitiesweretooimportanttobelefttochance.Ihadforgotten.Hismotherisagoddess
“Isthisknown?”Iwastentative,notwantingtopresstoofar.
“Someknowofit,andsomedonot.ButthatiswhyIgoalone.”Buthedidn’tgo.Hewatchedme.Heseemedtobewaiting.
“ThenIwillseeyouatdinner,”Isaidatlast.
Henoddedandleft.
HEWASALREADYSEATEDwhenIarrived,wedgedatmytableamidtheusualclatterofboys.Ihadhalf-expectedhimnottobe;thatIhaddreamedthemorning.AsIsat,Imethiseyes,quickly,almostguiltily,thenlookedaway.Myfacewasflushing,Iwassure.Myhandsfeltheavyandawkwardastheyreachedforthefood.Iwasawareofeveryswallow,everyexpressiononmyface.Themealwasverygoodthatnight,roastedfishdressedwithlemonandherbs,freshcheeseandbread,andheatewell.Theboyswereunconcernedbymypresence.Theyhadlongagoceasedtoseeme.
“Patroclus.”Achillesdidnotslurmyname,aspeopleoftendid,runningittogetherasifinahurrytoberidofit.Instead,herangeachsyllable:Pa-tro-clus.Aroundusdinnerwasending,theservantsclearingtheplates.Ilookedup,andtheboysquieted,watchingwithinterest.Hedidnotusuallyaddressusbyname.
“Tonightyou’retosleepinmyroom,”hesaid.Iwassoshockedthatmymouthwouldhavehungopen.Buttheboyswerethere,andIhadbeenraisedwithaprince’spride.
“Allright,”Isaid.
“Aservantwillbringyourthings.”
Icouldhearthethoughtsofthestaringboysasiftheysaidthem.Whyhim?Peleushadspokentrue:hehadoftenencouragedAchillestochoosehiscompanions.Butinallthoseyears,Achillesshowednospecialinterestinanyoftheboys,thoughhewaspolitetoall,asbefittedhisupbringing.Andnowhehadbestowedthelong-awaitedhonoruponthemostunlikelyofus,smallandungratefulandprobablycursed.
HeturnedtogoandIfollowedhim,tryingnottostumble,feelingtheeyesofthetableonmyback.Heledmepastmyoldroomandthechamberofstatewithitshigh-backedthrone.Anotherturn,andwewereinaportionofthepalaceIdidnotknow,awingthatslanteddowntowardswater.Thewallswerepaintedwithbrightpatternsthatbledtograyashistorchpassedthem.
Hisroomwassoclosetotheseathattheairtastedofsalt.Therewerenowallpictureshere,onlyplainstoneandasinglesoftrug.Thefurniturewassimplebutwellmade,carvedfromdark-grainedwoodIrecognizedasforeign.OfftoonesideIsawathickpallet.
Hegesturedtoit.“Thatisforyou.”
“Oh.”Sayingthankyoudidnotseemtherightresponse.
“Areyoutired?”heasked.
“No.”
Henodded,asifIhadsaidsomethingwise.“Meneither.”
Inoddedinturn.Eachofus,warilypolite,bobbingourheadlikebirds.Therewasasilence.
“Doyouwanttohelpmejuggle?”
“Idon’tknowhow.”
“Youdon’thavetoknow.I’llshowyou.”
IwasregrettingsayingIwasnottired.Ididnotwanttomakeafoolofmyselfinfrontofhim.Buthisfacewashopeful,andIfeltlikeamisertorefuse.
“Allright.”
“Howmanycanyouhold?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Showmeyourhand.”
Idid,palmout.Herestedhisownpalmagainstit.Itriednottostartle.Hisskinwassoftandslightlystickyfromdinner.Theplumpfingerpadsbrushingminewereverywarm.
“Aboutthesame.Itwillbebettertostartwithtwo,then.Takethese.”Hereachedforsixleather-coveredballs,thetypethatmummersused.Obediently,Iclaimedtwo.
“WhenIsay,throwonetome.”
NormallyIwouldchafeatbeingbossedthisway.Butsomehowthewordsdidnotsoundlikecommandsinhismouth.Hebegantojuggletheremainingballs.“Now,”hesaid.Ilettheballflyfrommyhandtowardshim,sawitpulledseamlesslyintothecirclingblur.
“Again,”hesaid.Ithrewanotherball,anditjoinedtheothers.
“Youdothatwell,”hesaid.
Ilookedup,quickly.Washemockingme?Buthisfacewassincere.
“Catch.”Aballcamebacktome,justlikethefigatdinner.
Myparttooknogreatskill,butIenjoyeditanyway.Wefoundourselvessmilingatthesatisfactionofeachsmoothcatchandthrow.
Aftersometimehestopped,yawned.“It’slate,”hesaid.Iwassurprisedtoseethemoonhighoutsidethewindow;Ihadnotnoticedtheminutespassing.
Isatonthepalletandwatchedashebusiedhimselfwiththetasksofbed,washinghisfacewithwaterfromawide-mouthedewer,untyingthebitofleatherthatboundhishair.Thesilencebroughtmyuneasinessback.WhywasIhere?
Achillessnuffedoutthetorch.
“Goodnight,”hesaid.“Goodnight.”Thewordfeltstrangeinmymouth,likeanotherlanguage.
Timepassed.Inthemoonlight,Icouldjustmakeouttheshapeofhisface,sculptor-perfect,acrosstheroom.Hislipswerepartedslightly,anarmthrowncarelesslyabovehishead.Helookeddifferentinsleep,beautifulbutcoldasmoonlight.IfoundmyselfwishinghewouldwakesothatImightwatchthelifereturn.
THENEXTMORNING,afterbreakfast,Iwentbacktotheboys’room,expectingtofindmythingsreturned.Theywerenot,andIsawthatmybedhadbeenstrippedofitslinens.Icheckedagainafterlunch,andafterspearpracticeandthenagainbeforebed,butmyoldplaceremainedemptyandunmade.So.Still.Warily,Imademywaytohisroom,half-expectingaservanttostopme.Nonedid.
Inthedoorwayofhisroom,Ihesitated.Hewaswithin,loungingasIhadseenhimthatfirstday,onelegdangling
“Hello,”hesaid.Ifhehadshownanyhesitationorsurprise,Iwouldhaveleft,gonebackandsleptonthebarereedsratherthanstayhere.Buthedidnot.Therewasonlyhiseasytoneandasharpattentioninhiseyes.
“Hello,”Ianswered,andwenttotakemyplaceonthecotacrosstheroom.
SLOWLY,IGREWUSEDTOIT;Inolongerstartledwhenhespoke,nolongerwaitedforrebuke.Istoppedexpectingtobesentaway.Afterdinner,myfeettookmetohisroomoutofhabit,andIthoughtofthepalletwhereIlayasmine.
AtnightIstilldreamedofthedeadboy.ButwhenIwoke,sweatyandterror-stricken,themoonwouldbebrightonthewateroutsideandIcouldhearthelickofthewavesagainsttheshore.InthedimlightIsawhiseasybreathing,thedrowsytangleofhislimbs.Inspiteofmyself,mypulseslowed.Therewasavividnesstohim,evenatrest,thatmadedeathandspiritsseemfoolish.Afteratime,IfoundIcouldsleepagain.Timeafterthat,thedreamslessenedanddroppedaway.
Ilearnedthathewasnotsodignifiedashelooked.Beneathhispoiseandstillnesswasanotherface,fullofmischiefandfacetedlikeagem,catchingthelight.Helikedtoplaygamesagainsthisownskill,catchingthingswithhiseyesclosed,settinghimselfimpossibleleapsoverbedsandchairs.Whenhesmiled,theskinatthecornersofhis
Hewaslikeaflamehimself.Heglittered,dreweyes.Therewasaglamourtohim,evenonwaking,withhishairtousledandhisfacestillmuddledwithsleep.Upclose,hisfeetlookedalmostunearthly:theperfectlyformedpadsofthetoes,thetendonsthatflickeredlikelyrestrings.Theheelswerecallusedwhiteoverpinkfromgoingeverywhere
Hebegantotellmethestoriesofhisdaybeforewedriftedofftosleep.AtfirstIonlylistened,butaftertimemytongueloosened.Ibegantotellmyownstories,firstofthepalace,andlatersmallbitsfrombefore:theskippingstones,thewoodenhorseIhadplayedwith,thelyrefrommymother’sdowry.
“Iamgladyourfathersentitwithyou,”hesaid.
Soonourconversationsspilledoutofthenight’sconfinement.Isurprisedmyselfwithhowmuchtherewastosay,abouteverything,thebeachanddinnerandoneboyoranother.
Istoppedwatchingforridicule,thescorpion’stailhiddeninhiswords.Hesaidwhathemeant;hewaspuzzledifyoudidnot.Somepeoplemighthavemistakenthisforsimplicity.Butisitnotasortofgeniustocutalwaystotheheart?
ONEAFTERNOON,asIwenttoleavehimtohisprivatedrillshesaid,“Whydon’tyoucomewithme?”Hisvoicewasalittlestrained;ifIhadnotthoughtitimpossible,Imighthavesaidhewasnervous.Theair,whichhadgrowncomfortablebetweenus,feltsuddenlytaut.
“Allright,”Isaid.
Itwasthequiethoursoflateafternoon;thepalacesleptouttheheatandleftusalone.Wetookthelongestway,throughtheolivegrove’stwistingpath,tothehousewherethearmswerekept.
Istoodinthedoorwayasheselectedhispracticeweapons,aspearandasword,slightlybluntedatthetip.Ireachedformyown,thenhesitated.
“ShouldI—?”Heshookhishead.No
“Idonotfightwithothers,”hetoldme.
Ifollowedhimoutsidetothepackedsandcircle.“Never?”
“No.”
“Thenhowdoyouknowthat…”Itrailedoffashetookupastanceinthecenter,hisspearinhishand,hisswordathiswaist.
“Thattheprophecyistrue?IguessIdon’t.”
Divinebloodflowsdifferentlyineachgod-bornchild.Orpheus’voicemadethetreesweep,Heraclescouldkillamanbyclappinghimontheback.Achilles’miraclewashisspeed.Hisspear,ashebeganthefirstpass,movedfasterthanmyeyecouldfollow.Itwhirled,flashingforward,reversed,thenflashedbehind.Theshaftseemedtoflowinhishands,thedarkgraypointflickeredlikeasnake’stongue.Hisfeetbeatthegroundlikeadancer,neverstill.
Icouldnotmove,watching.Ialmostdidnotbreathe.Hisfacewascalmandblank,nottensedwitheffort.HismovementsweresopreciseIcouldalmostseethemenhefought,ten,twentyofthem,advancingonallsides.Heleapt,scythinghisspear,evenashisotherhandsnatchedtheswordfromitssheath.Heswungoutwiththemboth,movinglike
Hestopped,suddenly.Icouldhearhisbreaths,onlyalittlelouderthanusual,inthestillafternoonair.
“Whotrainedyou?”Iasked.Ididnotknowwhatelsetosay.
“Myfather,alittle.”
Alittle.Ifeltalmostfrightened.
“Nooneelse?”
“No.”
Isteppedforward.“Fightme.”
Hemadeasoundalmostlikealaugh.“No.Ofcoursenot.”
“Fightme.”Ifeltinatrance.Hehadbeentrained,alittle,byhisfather.Therestwas—what?Divine?ThiswasmoreofthegodsthanIhadeverseeninmylife.Hemadeitlookbeautiful,thissweating,hackingartofours.Iunderstoodwhyhisfatherdidnotlethimfightinfrontoftheothers.Howcouldanyordinarymantakeprideinhisownskillwhentherewasthisintheworld?
“Idon’twantto.”
“Idareyou.”
“Youdon’thaveanyweapons.”
“I’llgetthem.”
Hekneltandlaidhisweaponsinthedirt.Hiseyesmetmine.“Iwillnot.Donotaskmeagain.”
“Iwillaskyouagain.Youcannotforbidme.”Isteppedforward,defiant.Somethingburnedhotinmenow,animpatience,acertainty.Iwouldhavethisthing.Hewouldgiveittome.
Hisfacetwistedand,almost,IthoughtIsawanger.Thispleasedme.Iwouldgoadhim,ifnothingelse.Hewouldfightmethen.Mynervessangwiththedangerofit.
Butinsteadhewalkedaway,hisweaponsabandonedinthedust.
“Comeback,”Isaid.Thenlouder:“Comeback.Areyouafraid?”
Thatstrangehalf-laughagain,hisbackstillturned.“No,Iamnotafraid.”
“Youshouldbe.”Imeantitasajoke,aneasing,butitdidnotsoundthatwayinthestillairthathungbetweenus.Hisbackstaredatme,unmoving,unmovable.
Iwillmakehimlookatme,Ithought.Mylegsswallowedupthefivestepsbetweenus,andIcrashedintohisback.
Hestumbledforward,falling,andIclungtohim.Welanded,andIheardthequickhuffofhisbreathasitwasdrivenfromhim.ButbeforeIcouldspeak,hewastwistingaroundbeneathme,hadseizedmywristsinhishands.Istruggled,notsurewhatIhadmeanttodo.Butherewasresistance,andthatwassomethingIcouldfight.“Letmego!”Iyankedmywristsagainsthisgrip.
“No.”Inaswiftmotion,herolledmebeneathhim,pinningme,hiskneesinmybelly.Ipanted,angrybutstrangelysatisfied.
“Ihaveneverseenanyonefightthewayyoudo,”Itoldhim.Confessionoraccusation,orboth.
“Youhavenotseenmuch.”
Ibridled,despitethemildnessofhistone.“YouknowwhatImean.”
Hiseyeswereunreadable.Overusboth,theunripeolivesrattledgently.
“Maybe.Whatdoyoumean?”
Itwisted,hard,andheletgo.Wesatup,ourtunicsdustyandstucktoourbacks.
“Imean—”Ibrokeoff.Therewasanedgetomenow,thatfamiliarkeennessofangerandenvy,strucktolifelikeflint.ButthebitterwordsdiedevenasIthoughtthem.
“Thereisnoonelikeyou,”Isaid,atlast.
Heregardedmeamoment,insilence.“So?”
Somethinginthewayhespokeitdrainedthelastofmyangerfromme.Ihadminded,once.ButwhowasInow,tobegrudgesuchathing?
Asifheheardme,hesmiled,andhisfacewaslikethesun.
ChapterSix
OURFRIENDSHIPCAMEALLATONCEAFTERTHAT,LIKEspringfloodsfromthemountains.Before,theboysandIhadimaginedthathisdayswerefilledwithprincelyinstruction,statecraftandspear.ButIhadlongsincelearnedthetruth:otherthanhislyrelessonsandhisdrills,hehadnoinstruction.Onedaywemightgoswimming,anotherwemightclimbtrees.Wemadeupgamesforourselves,ofracingandtumbling.Wewouldlieonthewarmsandandsay,“GuesswhatI’mthinkingabout.”
Thefalconwehadseenfromourwindow.
Theboywiththecrookedfronttooth.
Dinner.
Andasweswam,orplayed,ortalked,afeelingwouldcome.Itwasalmostlikefear,inthewayitfilledme,risinginmychest.Itwasalmostliketears,inhowswiftlyitcame.Butitwasneitherofthose,buoyantwheretheywereheavy,brightwheretheyweredull.Ihadknowncontentmentbefore,briefsnatchesoftimeinwhichIpursuedsolitarypleasure:skippingstonesordicingordreaming.Butintruth,ithadbeenlessapresencethananabsence,alayingasideofdread:myfatherwasnotnear,norboys.Iwasnothungry,ortired,orsick.
Thisfeelingwasdifferent.Ifoundmyselfgrinninguntilmycheekshurt,myscalppricklingtillIthoughtitmightliftoffmyhead.Mytongueranawayfromme,giddywithfreedom.Thisandthisandthis,Isaidtohim.IdidnothavetofearthatIspoketoomuch.IdidnothavetoworrythatIwastooslenderortooslow.Thisandthisandthis!Itaughthimhowtoskipstones,andhetaughtmehowtocarvewood.Icouldfeeleverynerveinmybody,everybrushofairagainstmyskin.
Heplayedmymother’slyre,andIwatched.Whenitwasmyturntoplay,myfingerstangledinthestringsandtheteacherdespairedofme.Ididnotcare.“Playagain,”Itoldhim.AndheplayeduntilIcouldbarelyseehisfingersinthedark.
IsawthenhowIhadchanged.IdidnotmindanymorethatIlostwhenweracedandIlostwhenweswamouttotherocksandIlostwhenwetossedspearsorskippedstones.Forwhocanbeashamedtolosetosuchbeauty?Itwasenoughtowatchhimwin,toseethesolesofhisfeetflashingastheykickedupsand,ortheriseandfallofhisshouldersashepulledthroughthesalt.Itwasenough.
ITWASLATESUMMER,overayearaftermyexilehadbegun,whenatlastItoldhimofhowIhadkilledtheboy.Wewereinthebranchesofthecourtyardoak,hiddenbythepatchworkleaves.Itwaseasierheresomehow,offtheground,withthesolidtrunkatmyback.Helistenedsilently,andwhenIhadfinished,heasked:
“Whydidyounotsaythatyouweredefendingyourself?”
Itwaslikehimtoaskthis,thethingIhadnotthoughtofbefore.
“Idon’tknow.”
“Oryoucouldhavelied.Saidyoufoundhimalreadydead.”
Istaredathim,stunnedbythesimplicityofit.Icouldhavelied.Andthentherevelationthatfollowed:ifIhadlied,Iwouldstillbeaprince.Itwasnotmurderthathadexiledme,itwasmylackofcunning.Iunderstood,now,thedisgustinmyfather’seyes.Hismoronson,confessingall.IrecalledhowhisjawhadhardenedasIspokeHedoesnotdeservetobeaking.
“Youwouldnothavelied,”Isaid.
“No,”headmitted.
“Whatwouldyouhavedone?”Iasked
Achillestappedafingeragainstthebranchhesaton.“Idon’tknow.Ican’timagineit.Thewaytheboyspoketoyou.”Heshrugged.“Noonehasevertriedtotakesomethingfromme.”
“Never?”Icouldnotbelieveit.Alifewithoutsuchthingsseemedimpossible.
“Never.”Hewassilentamoment,thinking.“Idon’tknow,”herepeated,finally.“IthinkIwouldbeangry.”Heclosedhiseyesandrestedhisheadbackagainstabranch.Thegreenoakleavescrowdedaroundhishair,likeacrown.
ISAWKINGPELEUSoftennow;wewerecalledtocouncilssometimes,anddinnerswithvisitingkings.IwasallowedtositatthetablebesideAchilles,eventospeakifIwished.Ididnotwish;Iwashappytobesilentandwatchthemenaroundme.Skops,Peleustooktocallingme.Owl,formybigeyes.Hewasgoodatthissortofaffection,generalandunbinding.
Afterthemenweregone,wewouldsitwithhimbythefiretohearthestoriesofhisyouth.Theoldman,nowgrayandfaded,toldusthathehadoncefoughtbesideHeracles.WhenIsaidthatIhadseenPhiloctetes,hesmiled.
“Yes,thebearerofHeracles’greatbow.Backthenhewasaspearman,andmuchthebravestofus.”Thiswaslikehimtoo,thesesortsofcompliments.Iunderstood,now,howhistreasuryhadcometobesofullofthegiftsoftreatyandalliance.Amongourbragging,rantingheroes,Peleuswastheexception:amanofmodesty.Westayedtolistenastheservantsaddedonelog,andthenanother,totheflames.Itwashalfwaytodawnbeforehewouldsendusbacktoourbeds.
THEONLYPLACEIdidnotfollowwastoseehismother.Hewentlateatnight,oratdawnbeforethepalacewasawake,andreturnedflushedandsmellingofthesea.WhenIaskedaboutit,hetoldmefreely,hisvoicestrangelytoneless.
“Itisalwaysthesame.ShewantstoknowwhatIamdoingandifIamwell.Shespeakstomeofmyreputationamongmen.AttheendsheasksifIwillcomewithher.”
Iwasrapt.“Where?”
“Thecavesunderthesea.”Wherethesea-nymphslived,sodeepthesundidnotpenetrate.
“Willyougo?”
Heshookhishead.“MyfathersaysIshouldnot.Hesaysnomortalwhoseesthemcomesbackthesame.”
Whenheturnedaway,Imadethepeasantsignagainstevil.Godsavert.Itfrightenedmealittletohearhimspeakofathingsocalmly.Godsandmortalsnevermixedhappilyinourstories.Butshewashismother,Ireassuredmyself,andhewashalf-godhimself.
IntimehisvisitswithherwerejustanotherstrangenessabouthimthatIbecameaccustomedto,likethemarvelofhisfeetortheinhumandeftnessofhisfingers.WhenIheardhimclimbingbackthroughthewindowatdawn,Iwouldmumblefrommybed,“Isshewell?”
Andhewouldanswer.“Yes,sheiswell.”Andhemightadd:“Thefisharethicktoday”or“Thebayiswarmasabath.”Andthenwewouldsleepagain.
ONEMORNINGofmysecondspring,hecamebackfromhisvisitwithhismotherlaterthanusual;thesunwasalmostoutofthewaterandthegoatbellswereclanginginthehills.
“Isshewell?”
“Sheiswell.Shewantstomeetyou.”
Ifeltasurgeoffear,butstifledit.“DoyouthinkIshould?”Icouldnotimaginewhatshewouldwantwithme.Iknewherreputationforhatingmortals.
Hedidnotmeetmyeyes;hisfingersturnedastonehehadfoundoverandover.“Thereisnoharminit.Tomorrownight,shesaid.”Iunderstoodnowthatitwasacommand.Thegodsdidnotmakerequests.Iknewhimwellenoughtoseethathewasembarrassed.Hewasneversostiffwithme.
“Tomorrow?”
Henodded.
Ididnotwanthimtoseemyfear,thoughnormallywekeptnothingfromeachother.“ShouldI—shouldIbringagift?Honeyedwine?”Wepoureditoverthealtarsofthegodsonfestivaldays.Itwasoneofourrichestofferings.
Heshookhishead.“Shedoesn’tlikeit.”
Thenextnight,whenthehouseholdslept,Iclimbedoutofourwindow.Themoonwashalffull,brightenoughformetopickmywayovertherockswithoutatorch.HehadsaidthatIwastostandinthesurfandshewouldcome.No,hehadreassuredme,youdonotneedtospeak.Shewillknow.
Thewaveswerewarm,andthickwithsand.Ishifted,watchedthesmallwhitecrabsrunthroughthesurf.Iwaslistening,thinkingImighthearthesplashofherfeetassheapproached.Abreezeblewdownthebeachand,grateful,Iclosedmyeyestoit.WhenIopenedthemagain,shewasstandingbeforeme.
ShewastallerthanIwas,tallerthananywomanIhadeverseen.Herblackhairwasloosedownherback,andherskinshoneluminousandimpossiblypale,asifitdranklightfromthemoon.ShewassocloseIcouldsmellher,seawaterlacedwithdarkbrownhoney.Ididnotbreathe.Ididnotdare.
“YouarePatroclus.”Iflinchedatthesoundofhervoice,hoarseandrasping.Ihadexpectedchimes,notthegrindingofrocksinthesurf.
“Yes,lady.”
Distasteranoverherface.Hereyeswerenotlikeahuman’s;theywereblacktotheircenterandfleckedwithgold.Icouldnotbringmyselftomeetthem.
“Hewillbeagod,”shesaid.Ididnotknowwhattosay,soIsaidnothing.Sheleanedforward,andIhalf-thoughtshemighttouchme.Butofcourseshedidnot.
“Doyouunderstand?”Icouldfeelherbreathonmycheek,notwarmatall,butchilledlikethedepthsoftheseaDoyouunderstand?Hehadtoldmethatshehatedtobekeptwaiting.
“Yes.”
Sheleanedcloserstill,loomingoverme.Hermouthwasagashofred,likethetorn-openstomachofasacrifice,bloodyandoracular.Behinditherteethshonesharpandwhiteasbone.
“Good.”Carelessly,asiftoherself,sheadded,“Youwillbedeadsoonenough.”
Sheturnedanddoveintothesea,leavingnoripplesbehindher.
IDIDNOTGOstraightbacktothepalace.Icouldnot.Iwenttotheolivegroveinstead,tositamongthetwistingtrunksandfallenfruits.Itwasfarfromthesea.Ididnotwishtosmellthesaltnow.
Youwillbedeadsoonenough.Shehadsaiditcoldly,asafact.Shedidnotwishmeforhiscompanion,butIwasnotworthkilling.Toagoddess,thefewdecadesofhumanlifewerebarelyevenaninconvenience.
Andshewishedhimtobeagod.Shehadspokenitsosimply,asifitwereobvious.Agod.Icouldnotimaginehimso.Godswerecoldanddistant,faroffasthemoon,nothinglikehisbrighteyes,thewarmmischiefofhissmiles.
Herdesirewasambitious.Itwasadifficultthing,tomakeevenahalf-godimmortal.True,ithadhappenedbefore,toHeraclesandOrpheusandOrion.Theysatintheskynow,presidingasconstellations,feastingwiththegodsonambrosia.ButthesemenhadbeenthesonsofZeus,theirsinewsstrongwiththepurestichorthatflowed.Thetiswasa
“WHATAREYOUthinkingabout?”ItwasAchilles,cometofindme.Hisvoicewasloudinthequietgrove,butIdidnotstartle.Ihadhalf-expectedhimtocome.Ihadwantedhimto.
“Nothing,”Isaid.Itwasuntrue.Iguessitalwaysis.
Hesatdownbesideme,hisfeetbareanddusty.
“Didshetellyouthatyouwoulddiesoon?”
Iturnedtolookathim,startled.
“Yes,”Isaid.
“I’msorry,”hesaid.
Thewindblewthegrayleavesaboveus,andsomewhereIheardthesoftpatofanolivefall.
“Shewantsyoutobeagod,”Itoldhim.
“Iknow.”Hisfacetwistedwithembarrassment,andinspiteofitselfmyheartlightened.Itwassuchaboyishresponse.Andsohuman.Parents,everywhere.
Butthequestionstillwaitedtobeasked;IcoulddonothinguntilIknewtheanswer.
“Doyouwanttobe—”Ipaused,struggling,thoughIhadpromisedmyselfIwouldn’t.Ihadsatinthegrove,practicingthisveryquestion,asIwaitedforhimtofindme.“Doyouwanttobeagod?”
Hiseyesweredarkinthehalf-light.Icouldnotmakeoutthegoldflecksinthegreen.“Idon’tknow,”hesaidatlast.“Idon’tknowwhatitmeans,orhowithappens.”Helookeddownathishands,claspinghisknees.“Idon’twanttoleavehere.Whenwouldithappenanyway?Soon?”
Iwasataloss.Iknewnothingofhowgodsweremade.Iwasmortal,only.
Hewasfrowningnow,hisvoicelouder.“Andistherereallyaplacelikethat?Olympus?Shedoesn’tevenknowhowshewilldoit.Shepretendssheknows.ShethinksifIbecomefamousenough…”Hetrailedoff.
ThisatleastIcouldfollow.“Thenthegodswilltakeyouvoluntarily.”
Henodded.Buthehadnotansweredmyquestion.
“Achilles.”
Heturnedtome,hiseyesstillfilledwithfrustration,withasortofangrybewilderment.Hewasbarelytwelve.
“Doyouwanttobeagod?”Itwaseasierthistime.
“Notyet,”hesaid.
AtightnessIhadnotknownwasthereeasedalittle.Iwouldnotlosehimyet.
Hecuppedahandagainsthischin;hisfeatureslookedfinerthanusual,likecarvedmarble.“I’dliketobeahero,though.IthinkIcoulddoit.Iftheprophecyistrue.Ifthere’sawar.MymothersaysIambettereventhanHeracleswas.”
Ididnotknowwhattosaytothis.Ididnotknowifitwasmotherlybiasorfact.Ididnotcare.Notyet.
Hewassilentamoment.Thenturnedtome,suddenly.“Wouldyouwanttobeagod?”
There,amongthemossandolives,itstruckmeasfunny.Ilaughedand,amomentlater,hedidtoo.
“Idonotthinkthatislikely,”Itoldhim.
Istood,putdownahandforhim.Hetookit,pulledhimselfup.Ourtunicsweredusty,andmyfeettingledslightlywithdryingseasalt.
“Therewerefigsinthekitchen.Isawthem,”hesaid.
Wewereonlytwelve,tooyoungtobrood.
“IbetIcaneatmorethanyou.”
“Raceyou!”
Ilaughed.Weran.
ChapterSeven
THENEXTSUMMERWETURNEDTHIRTEEN,HIMFIRST,andthenme.Ourbodiesbegantostretch,pullingatourjointstilltheywereachingandweak.InPeleus’shiningbronzemirror,Ialmostdidnotrecognizemyself—lankyandgaunt,storklegsandsharpeningchin.Achilleswastallerstill,seemingtotoweraboveme.Eventuallywewouldbeofaheight,buthecametohismaturitysooner,withastartlingspeed,primedperhapsbythedivinityinhisblood.
Theboys,too,weregrowingolder.Regularlynowweheardmoansbehindcloseddoorsandsawshadowsreturningtotheirbedsbeforedawn.Inourcountries,amanoftentookawifebeforehisbeardwasfullyfledged.Howmuchearlier,then,didhetakeaservinggirl?Itwasexpected;veryfewmencametotheirmarriagebedswithouthavingdoneso.Thosewhodidwereunluckyindeed:tooweaktocompel,toouglytocharm,andtoopoortopay.
Itwascustomaryforapalacetohaveafullcomplementofnoblybornwomenasservantsforthemistressofthehouse.ButPeleushadnowifeinthepalace,andsothewomenwesawweremostlyslaves.Theyhadbeenboughtortakeninwarfare,orbredfromthosewhowere.Duringthedaytheypouredwineandscrubbedfloorsandkeptthekitchen.Atnighttheybelongedtosoldiersorfosterboys,tovisitingkingsorPeleushimself.Theswollenbelliesthatfollowedwerenotathingofshame;theywereprofit:moreslaves.Theseunionswerenotalwaysrape;sometimestherewasmutualsatisfactionandevenaffection.Atleastthatiswhatthemenwhospokeofthembelieved.
Itwouldhavebeeneasy,infinitelyeasy,forAchillesormetohavebeddedoneofthesegirlsourselves.Atthirteenwewerealmostlatetodoso,especiallyhim,asprinceswereknownfortheirappetites.Instead,wewatchedinsilenceasthefosterboyspulledgirlsontotheirlaps,orPeleussummonedtheprettiesttohisroomafterdinner.Once,Ievenheardthekingofferhertohisson.Heanswered,almostdiffidently:Iamtiredtonight.Later,aswewalkedbacktoourroom,heavoidedmyeyes.
AndI?IwasshyandsilentwithallbutAchilles;Icouldscarcelyspeaktotheotherboys,letaloneagirl.Asacomradeoftheprince,IsupposeIwouldnothavehadtospeak;agestureoralookwouldhavebeenenough.Butsuchathingdidnotoccurtome.Thefeelingsthatstirredinmeatnightseemedstrangelydistantfromthoseservinggirlswiththeirloweredeyesandobedience.Iwatchedaboyfumblingatagirl’sdress,thedulllookonherfaceasshepouredhiswine.Ididnotwishforsuchathing.
ONENIGHTWEhadstayedlateinPeleus’chamber.Achilleswasonthefloor,anarmthrownbeneathhisheadforapillow.Isatmoreformally,inachair.ItwasnotjustbecauseofPeleus.Ididnotlikethesprawlinglengthofmynewlimbs.
Theoldking’seyeswerehalf-closed.Hewastellingusastory.
“Meleagerwasthefinestwarriorofhisday,butalsotheproudest.Heexpectedthebestofeverything,andbecausethepeoplelovedhim,hereceivedit.”
MyeyesdriftedtoAchilles.Hisfingerswerestirring,justbarely,intheair.Heoftendidthiswhenhewascomposinganewsong.ThestoryofMeleager,Iguessed,ashisfathertoldit.
“ButonedaythekingofCalydonsaid,‘WhymustwegivesomuchtoMeleager?ThereareotherworthymeninCalydon.’”
Achillesshifted,andhistunicpulledtightacrosshischest.Thatday,Ihadoverheardaservinggirlwhisperingtoherfriend:“Doyouthinktheprincelookedatme,atdinner?”Hertonewasoneofhope.
“Meleagerheardthewordsofthekingandwasenraged.”
Thismorninghehadleaptontomybedandpressedhisnoseagainstmine.“Goodmorning,”he’dsaid.Irememberedtheheatofhimagainstmyskin.
“Hesaid,‘Iwillnotfightforyouanylonger.’Andhewentbacktohishouseandsoughtcomfortinthearmsofhiswife.”
Ifeltatugonmyfoot.ItwasAchilles,grinningatmefromthefloor.
“Calydonhadfierceenemies,andwhentheyheardthatMeleagerwouldnolongerfightforCalydon—”
Ipushedmyfoottowardshimalittle,provokingly.Hisfingerswrappedaroundmyankle.
“Theyattacked.AndthecityofCalydonsufferedterriblelosses.”
Achillesyanked,andIslidhalfoutofthechair.IclungtothewoodenframesoIwouldnotbepulledontothefloor.
“SothepeoplewenttoMeleager,tobeghimforhishelp.And—Achilles,areyoulistening?”
“Yes,Father.”
“Youarenot.YouaretormentingourpoorSkops.”
Itriedtolooktormented.ButallIfeltwasthecoolnessagainstmyankle,wherehisfingershadbeen,amomentbefore.
“Itisjustaswell,perhaps.Iamgettingtired.Wewillfinishthestoryanotherevening.”
Westoodandwishedtheoldmangoodnight.Butasweturned,hesaid,“Achilles,youmightlookforthelight-hairedgirl,fromthekitchen.Shehasbeenhauntingdoorwaysforyou,Ihear.”
Itwashardtoknowifitwasthefirelightthatmadehisfacelooksochanged.
“Perhaps,Father.Iamtiredtonight.”
Peleuschuckled,asifthiswereajoke.“I’msureshecouldwakeyouup.”Hewavedusoff.
Ihadtotrot,alittle,tokeepupwithhimaswewalkedbacktoourrooms.Wewashedourfacesinsilence,buttherewasanacheinme,likearottentooth.Icouldnotletitbe.
“Thatgirl—doyoulikeher?”
Achillesturnedtofacemefromacrosstheroom.“Why?Doyou?”
“No,no.”Iflushed.“ThatisnotwhatImeant.”Ihadnotfeltsouncertainwithhimsincetheearliestdays.“Imean,doyouwant—”
Heranatme,pushedmebackwardsontomycot.Leanedoverme.“I’msickoftalkingabouther,”hesaid.
Theheatroseupmyneck,wrappedfingersovermyface.Hishairfellaroundme,andIcouldsmellnothingbuthim.Thegrainofhislipsseemedtorestahairsbreadthfrommine.
Then,justlikethatmorning,hewasgone.Upacrosstheroom,andpouringalastcupofwater.Hisfacewasstill,andcalm.
“Goodnight,”hesaid.
ATNIGHT,INBED,imagescome.Theybeginasdreams,trailingcaressesinmysleepfromwhichIstart,trembling.Ilieawake,andstilltheycome,theflickeroffirelightonaneck,thecurveofahipbone,drawingdownwards.Hands,smoothandstrong,reachingtotouchme.IknowthosehandsButevenhere,behindthedarknessofmyeyelids,IcannotnamethethingIhopefor.DuringthedaysIgrowrestless,fidgety.Butallmypacing,singing,runningdoesnotkeepthematbay.Theycome,andwillnotbestopped.
ITISSUMMER,oneofthefirstfinedays.Weareonthebeachafterlunch,ourbackstoaslopingpieceofdriftwood.Thesunishigh,andtheairwarmaroundus.Besideme,Achillesshifts,andhisfootfallsopenagainstmine.Itiscool,andchafedpinkfromthesand,softfromawinterindoors.Hehumssomething,apieceofasonghehadplayedearlier.
Iturntolookathim.Hisfaceissmooth,withouttheblotchesandspotsthathavebeguntoafflicttheotherboys.Hisfeaturesaredrawnwithafirmhand;nothingawryorsloppy,nothingtoolarge—allprecise,cutwiththesharpestofknives.Andyettheeffectitselfisnotsharp.
Heturnsandfindsmelookingathim.“What?”hesays.
“Nothing.”
Icansmellhim.Theoilsthatheusesonhisfeet,pomegranateandsandalwood;thesaltofcleansweat;thehyacinthswehadwalkedthrough,theirscentcrushedagainstourankles.Beneathitallishisownsmell,theoneIgotosleepwith,theoneIwakeupto.Icannotdescribeit.Itissweet,butnotjust.Itisstrongbutnottoostrong.Somethinglikealmond,butthatstillisnotright.Sometimes,afterwehavewrestled,myownskinsmellslikeit.
Heputsahanddown,toleanagainst.Themusclesinhisarmscurvesoftly,appearinganddisappearingashemoves.Hiseyesaredeepgreenonmine.
Mypulsejumps,fornoreasonIcanname.Hehaslookedatmeathousandthousandtimes,butthereissomethingdifferentinthisgaze,anintensityIdonotknow.Mymouthisdry,andIcanhearthesoundofmythroatasIswallow.
Hewatchesme.Itseemsthatheiswaiting.
Ishift,aninfinitesimalmovement,towardshim.Itisliketheleapfromawaterfall.Idonotknow,untilthen,whatIamgoingtodo.Ileanforwardandourlipslandclumsilyoneachother.Theyarelikethefatbodiesofbees,softandroundandgiddywithpollen.Icantastehismouth—hotandsweetwithhoneyfromdessert.Mystomachtrembles,andawarmdropofpleasurespreadsbeneathmyskin.More.
Thestrengthofmydesire,thespeedwithwhichitflowers,shocksme;Iflinchandstartlebackfromhim.Ihaveamoment,onlyamoment,toseehisfaceframedintheafternoonlight,hislipsslightlyparted,stillhalf-formingakiss.Hiseyesarewidewithsurprise.
Iamhorrified.WhathaveIdone?ButIdonothavetimetoapologize.Hestandsandstepsbackwards.Hisfacehasclosedover,impenetrableanddistant,freezingtheexplanationsinmymouth.Heturnsandraces,thefastestboyintheworld,upthebeachandaway.
Mysideiscoldwithhisabsence.Myskinfeelstight,andmyface,Iknow,isredandrawasaburn.
Deargods,Ithink,lethimnothateme.
Ishouldhaveknownbetterthantocalluponthegods.
WHENITURNEDTHECORNERontothegardenpath,shewasthere,sharpandknife-bright.Abluedressclungtoherskinasifdamp.Herdarkeyesheldmine,andherfingers,chillandunearthlypale,reachedforme.Myfeetknockedagainsteachotherassheliftedmefromtheearth.
“Ihaveseen,”shehissed.Thesoundofwavesbreakingonstone.
Icouldnotspeak.Sheheldmebythethroat.
“Heisleaving.”Hereyeswereblacknow,darkassea-wetrocks,andasjagged.“Ishouldhavesenthimlongago.Donottrytofollow.”
Icouldnotbreathenow.ButIdidnotstruggle.Thatmuch,atleast,Iknew.Sheseemedtopause,andIthoughtshemightspeakagain.Shedidnot.Onlyopenedherhandandreleasedme,boneless,totheground.
Amother’swishes.Inourcountries,theywerenotworthmuch.Butshewasagoddess,firstandalways.
WhenIreturnedtotheroom,itwasalreadydark.IfoundAchillessittingonhisbed,staringathisfeet.Hisheadlifted,almosthopefully,asIcametothedoorway.Ididnotspeak;hismother’sblackeyesstillburnedinfrontofme,andthesightofhisheels,flashingupthebeach.Forgiveme,itwasamistake.ThisiswhatImighthavedaredtosaythen,ifithadnotbeenforher.
Icameintotheroom,satonmyownbed.Heshifted,hiseyesflickingtomine.Hedidnotresembleherthewaythatchildrennormallylooklikeaparent,atiltofchin,theshapeofaneye.Itwassomethinginhismovements,inhisluminousskin.Sonofagoddess.WhathadIthoughtwouldhappen?
EvenfromwhereIsatIcouldsmelltheseaonhim.
“I’msupposedtoleavetomorrow,”hesaid.Itwasalmostanaccusation.
“Oh,”Isaid.Mymouthfeltswollenandnumb,toothicktoformwords.
“I’mgoingtobetaughtbyChiron.”Hepaused,thenadded.“HetaughtHeracles.AndPerseus.”
Notyet,hehadsaidtome.Buthismotherhadchosendifferently.
Hestoodandpulledoffhistunic.Itwashot,fullsummer,andwewereaccustomedtosleepingnaked.Themoonshoneonhisbelly,smooth,muscled,downedwithlightbrownhairsthatdarkenedastheyranbelowhiswaist.Iavertedmyeyes.
Thenextmorning,atdawn,heroseanddressed.Iwasawake;Ihadnotslept.Iwatchedhimthroughthefringesofmyeyelids,feigningsleep.Fromtimetotimeheglancedatme;inthedimhalf-lighthisskinglowedgrayandsmoothasmarble.Heslunghisbagoverhisshoulderandpaused,alasttime,atthedoor.Irememberhimthere,outlinedinthestoneframe,hishairfallingloose,stilluntidyfromsleep.Iclosedmyeyes,andamomentpassed.WhenIopenedthemagain,Iwasalone.
ChapterEight
BYBREAKFAST,EVERYONEKNEWHEWASGONE.THEIRglancesandwhispersfollowedmetothetable,lingeredasIreachedforfood.Ichewedandswallowed,thoughthebreadsatlikeastoneinmystomach.Iyearnedtobeawayfromthepalace;Iwantedtheair.
Iwalkedtotheolivegrove,theearthdrybeneathmyfeet.Ihalf-wonderedifIwasexpectedtojointheboys,nowthathewasgone.Ihalf-wonderedifanyonewouldnoticewhetherIdid.Ihalf-hopedtheywould.Whipme,Ithought.
Icouldsmellthesea.Itwaseverywhere,inmyhair,inmyclothes,inthestickydampofmyskin.Evenhereinthegrove,amidstthemustofleavesandearth,theunwholesomesaltydecaystillfoundme.Mystomachheavedamoment,andIleanedagainstthescabbedtrunkofatree.Theroughbarkprickedmyforehead,steadyingme.Imustgetawayfromthissmell,Ithought.
Iwalkednorth,tothepalaceroad,adustystripwornsmoothbywagonwheelsandhorses’hooves.Alittlebeyondthepalaceyarditdivided.Onehalfransouthandwest,throughgrassandrocksandlowhills;thatwasthewayIhadcome,threeyearsago.Theotherhalftwistednorthwards,towardsMountOthrysandthenbeyond,toMountPelion.Itraceditwithmyeyes.Itskirtedthewoodedfoothillsforsometimebeforedisappearingwithinthem.
Thesunboredownonme,hotandhardinthesummersky,asifitwoulddrivemebacktothepalace.YetIlingered.Ihadheardtheywerebeautiful,ourmountains—pearsandcypressandstreamsofjust-meltedice.Itwouldbecoolthereandshaded.Farawayfromthediamond-brightbeaches,andtheflashingofthesea.
Icouldleave.Thethoughtwassudden,arresting.Ihadcometotheroadmeaningonlytoescapethesea.Butthepathlaybeforeme,andthemountains.AndAchilles.Mychestroseandfellrapidly,asiftryingtokeeppacewithmythoughts.Ihadnothingthatbelongedtome,notatunic,notasandal;theywerePeleus’all.Idonotneedtopack,even.
Onlymymother’slyre,keptinthewoodenchestwithintheinnerroom,stayedme.Ihesitatedamoment,thinkingImighttrytogoback,totakeitwithme.Butitwasalreadymidday.Ihadonlytheafternoontotravel,beforetheywoulddiscovermyabsence—soIflatteredmyself—andsendafterme.Iglancedbackatthepalaceandsawnoone.Theguardswereelsewhere.Now.Itmustbenow.
Iran.Awayfromthepalace,downthepathtowardsthewoods,feetstingingastheyslappedtheheat-bakedground.AsIran,IpromisedmyselfthatifIeversawhimagain,Iwouldkeepmythoughtsbehindmyeyes.Ihadlearned,now,whatitwouldcostmeifIdidnot.Theacheinmylegs,theknifingheavesofmychestfeltcleanandgood.Iran.
Sweatslickedmyskin,fellupontheearthbeneathmyfeet.Igrewdirty,thendirtier.Dustandbrokenbitsofleavesclungtomylegs.Theworldaroundmenarrowedtothepoundingofmyfeetandthenextdustyyardofroad.
Finally,afteranhour?Two?Icouldgonofarther.Ibentoverinpain,thebrightafternoonsunwaveringtoblack,therushofblooddeafeninginmyears.Thepathwasheavilywoodednow,onbothsides,andPeleus’palacewasalongwaybehindme.TomyrightloomedOthrys,withPelionjustbeyondit.Istaredatitspeakandtriedtoguesshowmuchfarther.Tenthousandpaces?Fifteen?Ibegantowalk.
Hourspassed.Mymusclesgrewwobblyandweak,myfeetjumbledtogether.Thesunwaswellacrossthezenithnow,hanginglowinthewesternsky.Ihadfour,perhapsfive,hoursuntildark,andthepeakwasasfarasever.Suddenly,Iunderstood:IwouldnotreachPelionbynightfall.Ihadnofood,norwater,norhopeofshelter.Ihadnothingbut
IwouldnotcatchuptoAchilles,Iwassureofthatnow.Hehadlefttheroadandhishorselongago,wasnowmovinguptheslopesonfoot.Agoodtrackerwouldhaveobservedthewoodsbesidetheroad,couldhaveseenwherethebrackenwasbentortorn,whereaboyhadmadeapath.ButIwasnotagoodtracker,andthescrubbytheroadlookedallthesametome.Myearsbuzzeddully—withcicadas,withtheshrillcallsofbirds,withtheraspofmyownbreath.Therewasanacheinmystomach,likehungerordespair.
Andthentherewassomethingelse.Thebarestsound,justatthelimitofhearing.ButIcaughtit,andmyskin,evenintheheat,wentcold.Iknewthatsound.Itwasthesoundofstealth,ofamanattemptingsilence.Ithadbeenjustthesmallestmisstep,thegivingwayofasingleleaf,butithadbeenenough.
Istrainedtolisten,fearjumpinginmythroat.Wherehaditcomefrom?Myeyestrackedthewoodsoneitherside.Idarednotmove;anysoundwouldecholoudlyuptheslopes.IhadnotthoughtofdangersasIran,butnowmymindtumbledwiththem:soldiers,sentbyPeleusorThetisherself,whitehandscoldassandonmythroat.Orbandits.Iknewthattheywaitedbyroads,andIrememberedstoriesofboystakenandkeptuntiltheydiedofmisuse.MyfingerspinchedthemselveswhiteasItriedtostillallbreath,allmovement,togivenothingaway.Mygazecaughtonathickclutchofbloomingyarrowthatcouldhideme.Now.Go.
Therewasmovementfromthewoodsatmyside,andIjerkedmyheadtowardsit.Toolate.Something—someone—struckmefrombehind,throwingmeforward.Ilandedheavily,facedownontheground,withthepersonalreadyontopofme.Iclosedmyeyesandwaitedforaknife.
Therewasnothing.Nothingbutsilenceandthekneesthatpinnedmyback.Amomentpassed,anditcametomethatthekneeswerenotsoveryheavyandwereplacedsothattheirpressuredidnothurt.
“Patroclus.”Pa-tro-clus
Ididnotmove.
Thekneeslifted,andhandsreacheddowntoturnme,gently,over.Achilleswaslookingdownatme.
“Ihopedthatyouwouldcome,”hesaid.Mystomachrolled,awashwithnervesandreliefatonce.Idrankhimin,thebrighthair,thesoftcurveofhislipsupwards.MyjoywassosharpIdidnotdaretobreathe.IdonotknowwhatImighthavesaidthen.I’msorry,perhaps.Orperhapssomethingmore.Iopenedmymouth.
“Istheboyhurt?”
Adeepvoicespokefrombehindusboth.Achilles’headturned.FromwhereIwas,beneathhim,Icouldseeonlythelegsoftheman’shorse—chestnut,fetlocksdulledwithdust.
Thevoiceagain,measuredanddeliberate.“Iamassuming,AchillesPelides,thatthisiswhyyouhavenotyetjoinedmeonthemountain?”
Mymindgropedtowardsunderstanding.AchilleshadnotgonetoChiron.Hehadwaited,here.Forme.
“Greetings,MasterChiron,andmyapologies.Yes,itiswhyIhavenotcome.”Hewasusinghisprince’svoice.
“Isee.”
IwishedthatAchilleswouldgetup.Ifeltfoolishhere,onthegroundbeneathhim.AndIwasalsoafraid.Theman’svoiceshowednoanger,butitshowednokindness,either.Itwasclearandgraveanddispassionate.
“Standup,”itsaid.
Slowly,Achillesrose.
Iwouldhavescreamedthen,ifmythroathadnotclosedoverwithfear.InsteadImadeanoiselikeahalf-strangledyelpandscrambledbackwards.
Thehorse’smuscularlegsendedinflesh,theequallymusculartorsoofaman.Istared—atthatimpossiblesutureofhorseandhuman,wheresmoothskinbecameagleamingbrowncoat.
BesidemeAchillesbowedhishead.“MasterCentaur,”hesaid.“Iamsorryforthedelay.Ihadtowaitformycompanion.”Heknelt,hiscleantunicinthedustyearth.“Pleaseacceptmyapologies.Ihavelongwishedtobeyourstudent.”
Theman’s—centaur’s—facewasseriousashisvoice.Hewasolder,Isaw,withaneatlytrimmedblackbeard.
HeregardedAchillesamoment.“Youdonotneedtokneeltome,Pelides.ThoughIappreciatethecourtesy.Andwhoisthiscompanionthathaskeptusbothwaiting?”
Achillesturnedbacktomeandreachedahanddown.Unsteadily,Itookitandpulledmyselfup.
“ThisisPatroclus.”
Therewasasilence,andIknewitwasmyturntospeak.
“Mylord,”Isaid.Andbowed.
“Iamnotalord,PatroclusMenoitiades.”
Myheadjerkedupatthesoundofmyfather’sname.
“Iamacentaur,andateacherofmen.MynameisChiron.”
Igulpedandnodded.Ididnotdaretoaskhowheknewmyname.
Hiseyessurveyedme.“Youareovertired,Ithink.Youneedwaterandfood,both.ItisalongwaytomyhomeonPelion,toolongforyoutowalk.Sowemustmakeotherarrangements.”
Heturnedthen,andItriednottogawkatthewayhishorselegsmovedbeneathhim.
“Youwillrideonmyback,”thecentaursaid.“Idonotusuallyoffersuchthingsonfirstacquaintance.Butexceptionsmustbemade.”Hepaused.“Youhavebeentaughttoride,Isuppose?”
Wenodded,quickly.
“Thatisunfortunate.Forgetwhatyoulearned.Idonotliketobesqueezedbylegsortuggedat.Theoneinfrontwillholdontomywaist,theonebehindwillholdontohim.Ifyoufeelthatyouaregoingtofall,speakup.”
AchillesandIexchangedalook,quickly.
Hesteppedforward.
“HowshouldI—?”
“Iwillkneel.”Hishorselegsfoldedthemselvesintothedust.Hisbackwasbroadandlightlysheenedwithsweat.“Takemyarmforbalance,”thecentaurinstructed.Achillesdid,swinginghislegoverandsettlinghimself.
Itwasmyturn.AtleastIwouldnotbeinfront,soclosetothatplacewhereskingavewaytochestnutcoat.Chironofferedmehisarm,andItookit.Itwasmuscledandlarge,thicklycoveredwithblackhairthatwasnothinglikethecolorofhishorsehalf.Iseatedmyself,mylegsstretchedacrossthatwideback,almosttodiscomfort.
Chironsaid,“Iwillstandnow.”Themotionwassmooth,butstillIgrabbedforAchilles.Chironwashalfashighagainasanormalhorse,andmyfeetdangledsofarabovethegrounditmademedizzy.Achilles’handsrestedlooselyonChiron’strunk.“Youwillfall,ifyouholdsolightly,”thecentaursaid.
MyfingersgrewdampwithsweatfromclutchingAchilles’chest.Idarednotrelaxthem,evenforamoment.Thecentaur’sgaitwaslesssymmetricalthanahorse’s,andthegroundwasuneven.Islippedalarminglyuponthesweat-slickhorsehair.
TherewasnopathIcouldsee,butwewererisingswiftlyupwardsthroughthetrees,carriedalongbyChiron’ssure,unslowingsteps.Iwincedeverytimeajouncecausedmyheelstokickintothecentaur’ssides.
Aswewent,Chironpointedthingsouttous,inthatsamesteadyvoice.
ThereisMountOthrys.
Thecypresstreesarethickerhere,onthenorthside,youcansee.
ThisstreamfeedstheApidanosRiverthatrunsthroughPhthia’slands.
Achillestwistedbacktolookatme,grinning.
Weclimbedhigherstill,andthecentaurswishedhisgreatblacktail,swattingfliesforallofus.
CHIRONSTOPPEDSUDDENLY,andIjerkedforwardintoAchilles’back.Wewereinasmallbreakinthewoods,agroveofsorts,halfencircledbyarockyoutcrop.Wewerenotquiteatthepeak,butwewereclose,andtheskywasblueandglowingaboveus.
“Wearehere.”Chironknelt,andwesteppedoffhisback,abitunsteadily
Infrontofuswasacave.Buttocallitthatistodemeanit,foritwasnotmadeofdarkstone,butpalerosequartz.
“Come,”thecentaursaid.Wefollowedhimthroughtheentrance,highenoughsothathedidnotneedtostoop.Weblinked,foritwasshadowyinside,thoughlighterthanitshouldhavebeen,becauseofthecrystalwalls.Atoneendwasasmallspringthatseemedtodrainawayinsidetherock.
OnthewallshungthingsIdidnotrecognize:strangebronzeimplements.Aboveusonthecave’sceiling,linesandspecksofdyeshapedtheconstellationsandthemovementsoftheheavens.Oncarvedshelvesweredozensofsmallceramicjarscoveredwithslantedmarkings.Instrumentshunginonecorner,lyresandflutes,andnexttothemtoolsandcookingpots.
Therewasasinglehuman-sizedbed,thickandpaddedwithanimalskins,madeupforAchilles.Ididnotseewherethecentaurslept.Perhapshedidnot.
“Sitnow,”hesaid.Itwaspleasantlycoolinside,perfectafterthesun,andIsankgratefullyontooneofthecushionsChironindicated.Hewenttothespringandfilledcups,whichhebroughttous.Thewaterwassweetandfresh.IdrankasChironstoodoverme.“Youwillbesoreandtiredtomorrow,”hetoldme.“Butitwillbebetterifyoueat.”
Heladledoutstew,thickwithchunksofvegetablesandmeat,fromapotsimmeringoverasmallfireatthebackofthecave.Therewerefruits,too,roundredberriesthathekeptinahollowedoutcroppingofrock.Iatequickly,surprisedathowhungryIwas.MyeyeskeptreturningtoAchilles,andItingledwiththegiddybuoyancyofrelief.Ihaveescaped.
Withmynewboldness,Ipointedtosomeofthebronzetoolsonthewall.“Whatarethose?”
Chironsatacrossfromus,hishorse-legsfoldedbeneathhim.“Theyareforsurgery,”hetoldme.
“Surgery?”ItwasnotawordIknew
“Healing.Iforgetthebarbaritiesofthelowcountries.”Hisvoicewasneutralandcalm,factual.“Sometimesalimbmustgo.Thoseareforcutting,thoseforsuturing.Oftenbyremovingsome,wemaysavetherest.”Hewatchedmestaringatthem,takinginthesharp,saw-toothededges.“Doyouwishtolearnmedicine?”
Iflushed.“Idon’tknowanythingaboutit.”
“YouansweradifferentquestionthantheoneIasked.”
“I’msorry,MasterChiron.”Ididnotwanttoangerhim.Hewillsendmeback.
“Thereisnoneedtobesorry.Simplyanswer.”
Istammeredalittle.“Yes.Iwouldliketolearn.Itseemsuseful,doesitnot?”
“Itisveryuseful,”Chironagreed.HeturnedtoAchilles,whohadbeenfollowingtheconversation.
“Andyou,Pelides?Doyoualsothinkmedicineisuseful?”
“Ofcourse,”Achillessaid.“PleasedonotcallmePelides.HereIam—IamjustAchilles.”
SomethingpassedthroughChiron’sdarkeyes.Aflickerthatwasalmostamusement.
“Verywell.Doyouseeanythingyouwishtoknowof?”
“Those.”Achilleswaspointingtothemusicalinstruments,thelyresandflutesandseven-stringedkithara.“Doyouplay?”
Chiron’sgazewassteady.“Ido.”
“SodoI,”saidAchilles.“IhaveheardthatyoutaughtHeraclesandJason,thick-fingeredthoughtheywere.Isittrue?”
“Itis.”
Ifeltamomentaryunreality:heknewHeraclesandJason.Hadknownthemaschildren.
“Iwouldlikeyoutoteachme.”
Chiron’ssternfacesoftened.“Thatiswhyyouhavebeensenthere.SothatImayteachyouwhatIknow.”
INTHELATEAFTERNOONLIGHT,Chironguidedusthroughtheridgesnearthecave.Heshoweduswherethemountainlionshadtheirdens,andwheretheriverwas,slowandsun-warm,forustoswim.
“Youmaybathe,ifyoulike.”Hewaslookingatme.IhadforgottenhowgrimyIwas,sweat-stainedanddustyfromtheroad.Iranahandthroughmyhairandfeltthegrit.
“Iwilltoo,”Achillessaid.Hepulledoffhistunicand,amomentafter,Ifollowed.Thewaterwascoolinthedepths,butnotunpleasantlyso.FromthebankChirontaughtstill:“Thoseareloaches,doyousee?Andperch.Thatisavimba,youwillnotfinditfarthersouth.Youmayknowitbytheupturnedmouthandsilverbelly.”
Hiswordsmingledwiththesoundoftheriveroveritsrocks,soothinganystrangenesstheremighthavebeenbetweenAchillesandme.TherewassomethinginChiron’sface,firmandcalmandimbuedwithauthority,thatmadeuschildrenagain,withnoworldbeyondthismoment’splayandthisnight’sdinner.Withhimnearus,itwashardtorememberwhatmighthavehappenedonthedaybythebeach.Evenourbodiesfeltsmallerbesidethecentaur’sbulk.Howhadwethoughtweweregrown?
Weemergedfromthewatersweetandclean,shakingourhairinthelastofthesun.Ikneltbythebankandusedstonestoscrubthedirtandsweatfrommytunic.Iwouldhavetobenakeduntilitdried,butsofardidChiron’sinfluencestretchthatIthoughtnothingofit.
WefollowedChironbacktothecave,ourwrung-drytunicsdrapedoverourshoulders.Hestoppedoccasionally,topointoutthetrailsofhareandcorncrakesanddeer.Hetolduswewouldhuntforthem,indaystocome,andlearntotrack.Welistened,questioninghimeagerly.AtPeleus’palacetherehadbeenonlythedourlyre-masterforateacher,orPeleushimself,half-drowsingashespoke.WeknewnothingofforestryortheotherskillsChironhadspokenof.Mymindwentbacktotheimplementsonthecave’swall,theherbsandtoolsofhealing.Surgerywasthewordhehadused.
Itwasalmostfulldarkwhenwereachedthecaveagain.Chirongaveuseasytasks,gatheringwoodandkindlingthefireintheclearingatthecave’smouth.Afteritcaught,welingeredbytheflames,gratefulfortheirsteadywarmthinthecoolingair.Ourbodieswerepleasantlytired,heavyfromourexertions,andourlegsandfeettangledcomfortablyaswesat.Wetalkedaboutwherewe’dgotomorrow,butlazily,ourwordsfatandslowwithcontentment.Dinnerwasmorestew,andathintypeofbreadthatChironcookedonbronzesheetsoverthefire.Fordessert,berrieswithmountain-gatheredhoney.
Asthefiredwindled,myeyesclosedinhalf-dreaming.Iwaswarm,andthegroundbeneathmewassoftwithmossandfallenleaves.IcouldnotbelievethatonlythismorningIhadwokeninPeleus’palace.Thissmallclearing,thegleamingwallsofthecavewithin,weremorevividthanthepalewhitepalacehadeverbeen.
Chiron’svoice,whenitcame,startledme.“Iwilltellyouthatyourmotherhassentamessage,Achilles.”
IfeltthemusclesofAchilles’armtenseagainstme.Ifeltmyownthroattighten.
“Oh?Whatdidshesay?”Hiswordswerecareful,neutral.
“ShesaidthatshouldtheexiledsonofMenoitiusfollowyou,Iwastobarhimfromyourpresence.”
Isatup,alldrowsinessgone.
Achilles’voiceswungcarelesslyinthedark.“Didshesaywhy?”
“Shedidnot.”
Iclosedmyeyes.AtleastIwouldnotbehumiliatedbeforeChiron,thetaleofthedayatthebeachtold.Butitwasbarecomfort.
Chironcontinued,“Iassumeyouknewofherfeelingsonthematter.Idonotliketobedeceived.”
Myfaceflushed,andIwasgladofthedarkness.Thecentaur’svoicesoundedharderthanithadbefore.
Iclearedmythroat,rustyandsuddenlydry.“I’msorry,”Iheardmyselfsay.“ItisnotAchilles’fault.Icameonmyown.HedidnotknowthatIwould.Ididnotthink—”Istoppedmyself.“Ihopedshewouldnotnotice.”
“Thatwasfoolishofyou.”Chiron’sfacewasdeepinshadow.
“Chiron—”Achillesbegan,bravely.
Thecentaurheldupahand.“Asithappens,themessagecamethismorning,beforeeitherofyouarrived.Sodespiteyourfoolishness,Iwasnotdeceived.”
“Youknew?”ThiswasAchilles.Iwouldneverhavespokensoboldly.“Thenyouhavedecided?Youwilldisregardhermessage?”
Chiron’svoiceheldawarningofdispleasure.“Sheisagoddess,Achilles,andyourmotherbesides.Doyouthinksolittleofherwishes?”
“Ihonorher,Chiron.Butsheiswronginthis.”HishandswereballedsotightlyIcouldseethetendons,eveninthelowlight.
“Andwhyisshewrong,Pelides?”
Iwatchedhimthroughthedarkness,mystomachclenching.Ididnotknowwhathemightsay.
“Shefeelsthat—”Hefalteredamoment,andIalmostdidnotbreathe.“Thatheisamortalandnotafitcompanion.”
“Doyouthinkheis?”Chironasked.Hisvoicegavenohintoftheanswer.
“Yes.”
Mycheekswarmed.Achilles,hisjawjutting,hadthrownthewordbackwithnohesitation.
“Isee.”Thecentaurturnedtome.“Andyou,Patroclus?Youareworthy?”
Iswallowed.“IdonotknowifIamworthy.ButIwishtostay.”Ipaused,swallowedagain.“Please.”
Therewassilence.ThenChironsaid,“WhenIbroughtyoubothhere,IhadnotdecidedyetwhatIwoulddo.Thetisseesmanyfaults,somethatareandsomethatarenot.”
Hisvoicewasunreadableagain.Hopeanddespairflaredanddiedinmebyturns.
“Sheisalsoyoungandhastheprejudicesofherkind.IamolderandflattermyselfthatIcanreadamanmoreclearly.IhavenoobjectiontoPatroclusasyourcompanion.”
Mybodyfelthollowinitsrelief,asifastormhadgonethrough.
“Shewillnotbepleased,butIhaveweatheredtheangerofgodsbefore.”Hepaused.“Andnowitislate,andtimeforyoutosleep.”
“Thankyou,MasterChiron.”Achilles’voice,earnestandvigorous.Westood,butIhesitated.
“Ijustwant—”MyfingerstwitchedtowardsChiron.Achillesunderstoodanddisappearedintothecave.
Iturnedtofacethecentaur.“Iwillleave,iftherewillbetrouble.”
Therewasalongsilence,andIalmostthoughthehadnotheardme.Atlast,hesaid:“Donotletwhatyougainedthisdaybesoeasilylost.”
Thenhebademegoodnight,andIturnedtojoinAchillesinthecave.
ChapterNine
THENEXTMORNINGIWOKETOTHESOFTSOUNDSOFChirongettingbreakfastready.Thepalletwasthickbeneathme;Ihadsleptwell,anddeeply.Istretched,startlingalittlewhenmylimbsbumpedagainstAchilles,stillasleepbesideme.Iwatchedhimamoment,rosycheeksandsteadybreaths.Somethingtuggedatme,justbeneathmyskin,butthenChironliftedahandingreetingfromacrossthecave,andIliftedoneshylyinreturn,anditwasforgotten.
Thatday,afterweate,wejoinedChironforhischores.Itwaseasy,pleasurablework:collectingberries,catchingfishfordinner,settingquailsnares.Thebeginningofourstudies,ifitispossibletocallthemthat.ForChironlikedtoteach,notinsetlessons,butinopportunities.Whenthegoatsthatwanderedtheridgestookill,welearnedhowtomixpurgativesfortheirbadstomachs,andwhentheywerewellagain,howtomakeapoulticethatrepelledtheirticks.WhenIfelldownaravine,fracturingmyarmandtearingopenmyknee,welearnedhowtosetsplints,cleanwounds,andwhatherbstogiveagainstinfection.
Onahuntingtrip,afterwehadaccidentallyflushedacorncrakefromitsnest,hetaughtushowtomovesilentlyandhowtoreadthescufflesoftracks.Andwhenwehadfoundtheanimal,thebestwaytoaimaboworslingsothatdeathwasquick.
Ifwewerethirstyandhadnowaterskin,hewouldteachusabouttheplantswhoserootscarriedbeadsofmoisture.Whenamountain-ashfell,welearnedcarpentry,splittingoffthebark,sandingandshapingthewoodthatwasleft.Imadeanaxehandle,andAchillestheshaftofaspear;Chironsaidthatsoonwewouldlearntoforgethebladesforsuchthings.
Everyeveningandeverymorningwehelpedwithmeals,churningthethickgoat’smilkforyogurtandcheese,guttingfish.Itwasworkwehadneverbeenallowedtodobefore,asprinces,andwefelluponiteagerly.FollowingChiron’sinstructions,wewatchedinamazementasbutterformedbeforeoureyes,atthewaypheasanteggssizzledandsolidifiedonfire-warmedrocks.
Afteramonth,overbreakfast,Chironaskeduswhatelsewewishedtolearn.“Those.”Ipointedtotheinstrumentsonthewall.Forsurgery,hehadsaid.Hetookthemdownforus,onebyone.
“Careful.Thebladeisverysharp.Itisforwhenthereisrotinthefleshthatmustbecut.Presstheskinaroundthewound,andyouwillhearacrackle.”
Thenhehadustracethebonesinourownbodies,runningahandovertheridgingvertebraeofeachother’sbacks.Hepointedwithhisfingers,teachingtheplacesbeneaththeskinwheretheorganslodged.
“Awoundinanyofthemwilleventuallybefatal.Butdeathisquickesthere.”HisfingertappedtheslightconcavityofAchilles’temple.Achillwentthroughmetoseeittouched,thatplacewhereAchilles’lifewassoslenderlyprotected.Iwasgladwhenwespokeofotherthings.
Atnightwelayonthesoftgrassinfrontofthecave,andChironshowedustheconstellations,tellingtheirstories—Andromeda,coweringbeforetheseamonster’sjaws,andPerseuspoisedtorescueher;theimmortalhorsePegasus,aloftonhiswings,bornfromtheseveredneckofMedusa.HetoldustooofHeracles,hislabors,andthemadnessthattookhim.Initsgriphehadnotrecognizedhiswifeandchildren,andhadkilledthemforenemies.
Achillesasked,“Howcouldhenotrecognizehiswife?”
“Thatisthenatureofmadness,”Chironsaid.Hisvoicesoundeddeeperthanusual.Hehadknownthisman,Iremembered.Hadknownthewife.
“Butwhydidthemadnesscome?”
“Thegodswishedtopunishhim,”Chironanswered.
Achillesshookhishead,impatiently.“Butthiswasagreaterpunishmentforher.Itwasnotfairofthem.”
“Thereisnolawthatgodsmustbefair,Achilles,”Chironsaid.“Andperhapsitisthegreatergrief,afterall,tobeleftonearthwhenanotherisgone.Doyouthink?”
“Perhaps,”Achillesadmitted.
Ilistenedanddidnotspeak.Achilles’eyeswerebrightinthefirelight,hisfacedrawnsharplybytheflickeringshadows.Iwouldknowitindarkordisguise,Itoldmyself.Iwouldknowiteveninmadness.
“Come,”saidChiron.“HaveItoldyouthelegendofAesclepius,andhowhecametoknowthesecretsofhealing?”
Hehad,butwewantedtohearitagain,thestoryofhowthehero,sonofApollo,hadsparedasnake’slife.Thesnakehadlickedhisearscleaningratitude,sothathemighthearherwhisperthesecretsofherbstohim.
“Butyouweretheonewhoreallytaughthimhealing,”Achillessaid.
“Iwas.”
“Youdonotmindthatthesnakegetsallthecredit?”
Chiron’steethshowedthroughhisdarkbeard.Asmile.“No,Achilles,Idonotmind.”
LaterAchilleswouldplaythelyre,asChironandIlistened.Mymother’slyre.Hehadbroughtitwithhim.
“IwishIhadknown,”Isaidthefirstday,whenhehadshowedittome.“Ialmostdidnotcome,becauseIdidnotwanttoleaveit.”
Hesmiled.“NowIknowhowtomakeyoufollowmeeverywhere.”
ThesunsankbelowPelion’sridges,andwewerehappy.
TIMEPASSEDQUICKLYonMountPelion,daysslippingbyinidyll.Themountainairwascoldnowinthemorningswhenwewoke,andwarmedonlyreluctantlyinthethinsunlightthatfilteredthroughthedyingleaves.Chirongaveusfurstowear,andhunganimalskinsfromthecave’sentrancetokeepthewarmthin.Duringthedayswecollectedwoodforwinterfires,orsaltedmeatforpreserving.Theanimalshadnotyetgonetotheirdens,buttheywouldsoon,Chironsaid.Inthemornings,wemarveledatthefrost-etchedleaves.Weknewofsnowfrombardsandstories;wehadneverseenit.
Onemorning,IwoketofindChirongone.Thiswasnotunusual.Heoftenrosebeforewedid,tomilkthegoatsorpickfruitsforbreakfast.IleftthecavesothatAchillesmightsleep,andsattowaitforChironintheclearing.Theashesoflastnight’sfirewerewhiteandcold.Istirredthemidlywithastick,listeningtothewoodsaroundme
Thestrangenessbeganasapricklingofmyskin.Firstthequailwentsilent,thenthedove.Theleavesstilled,andthebreezedied,andnoanimalsmovedinthebrush.Therewasaqualitytothesilencelikeaheldbreath.Liketherabbitbeneaththehawk’sshadow.Icouldfeelmypulsestrikingmyskin.
Sometimes,Iremindedmyself,Chirondidsmallmagics,tricksofdivinity,likewarmingwaterorcalminganimals.
“Chiron?”Icalled.Myvoicewavered,thinly.“Chiron?”
“ItisnotChiron.”
Iturned.Thetisstoodattheedgeoftheclearing,herbone-whiteskinandblackhairbrightasslashesoflightning.Thedresssheworeclungclosetoherbodyandshimmeredlikefish-scale.Mybreathdiedinmythroat.
“Youwerenottobehere,”shesaid.Thescrapeofjaggedrocksagainstaship’shull.
Shesteppedforward,andthegrassseemedtowiltbeneathherfeet.Shewasasea-nymph,andthethingsofearthdidnotloveher.
“I’msorry,”Imanaged,myvoiceadriedleaf,rattlinginmythroat.
“Iwarnedyou,”shesaid.Theblackofhereyesseemedtoseepintome,fillmythroattochoking.IcouldnothavecriedoutifI’ddaredto.
Anoisebehindme,andthenChiron’svoice,loudinthequiet.“Greetings,Thetis.”
Warmthsurgedbackintomyskin,andbreathreturned.Ialmostrantohim.Buthergazeheldmethere,unwavering.Ididnotdoubtshecouldreachmeifshewished.
“Youarefrighteningtheboy,”Chironsaid.
“Hedoesnotbelonghere,”shesaid.Herlipswereredasnewlyspilledblood.
Chiron’shandlandedfirmlyonmyshoulder.“Patroclus,”hesaid.“Youwillreturntothecavenow.Iwillspeakwithyoulater.”
Istood,unsteadily,andobeyed.
“Youhavelivedtoolongwithmortals,Centaur,”Iheardhersaybeforetheanimalskinsclosedbehindme.Isaggedagainstthecave’swall;mythroattastedbrackishandraw.
“Achilles,”Isaid.
Hiseyesopened,andhewasbesidemebeforeIcouldspeakagain.
“Areyouallright?”
“Yourmotherishere,”Isaid.
Isawthetighteningofmusclebeneathhisskin.“Shedidnothurtyou?”
Ishookmyhead.IdidnotaddthatIthoughtshewantedto.Thatshemighthave,ifChironhadnotcome.
“Imustgo,”hesaid.Theskinswhisperedagainsteachotherastheypartedforhim,thenslippedshutagain.
Icouldnothearwhatwassaidintheclearing.Theirvoiceswerelow,orperhapstheyhadgonetospeakelsewhere.Iwaited,tracingspiralsinthepackedearthfloor.Ididnotworry,anylonger,formyself.Chironmeanttokeepme,andhewasolderthanshewas,fullgrownwhenthegodsstillrockedintheircradles,whenshehadbeenonlyanegginthewombofthesea.Buttherewassomethingelse,lesseasytoname.Aloss,orlessening,thatIfearedherpresencemightbring.
Itwasalmostmiddaywhentheyreturned.MygazewenttoAchilles’facefirst,searchinghiseyes,thesetofhismouth.Isawnothingbutperhapsatouchoftiredness.Hethrewhimselfontothepalletbesideme.“I’mhungry,”hesaid.
“Aswellyoushouldbe,”Chironsaid.“Itismuchpastlunch.”Hewasalreadypreparingfoodforus,maneuveringinthecave’sspaceeasilydespitehisbulk.
Achillesturnedtome.“Itisallright,”hesaid.“Shejustwantedtospeaktome.Toseeme.”
“Shewillcometospeakwithhimagain,”Chironsaid.AndasifheknewwhatIthought,headded,“Asisproper.Sheishismother.”
Sheisagoddessfirst,Ithought.
Yetasweate,myfearseased.Ihadhalf-worriedshemighthavetoldChironofthedaybythebeach,buthewasnodifferenttowardseitherofus,andAchilleswasthesameashealwayswas.Iwenttobed,ifnotatpeace,atleastreassured.
Shecamemoreoftenafterthatday,asChironhadsaidshewould.Ilearnedtolistenforit—asilencethatdroppedlikeacurtain—andknewtostayclosetoChironthen,andthecave.Theintrusionwasnotmuch,andItoldmyselfIdidnotbegrudgeher.ButIwasalwaysgladwhenshewasgoneagain.
WINTERCAME,andtheriverfroze.AchillesandIventuredontoit,feetslipping.Later,wecutcirclesfromitanddroppedlinesforfishing.Itwastheonlyfreshmeatwehad;theforestswereemptyofallbutmiceandtheoccasionalmarten.
Snowscame,asChironhadpromisedtheywould.Welayonthegroundandlettheflakescoverus,blowingthemwithourbreathtilltheymelted.Wehadnoboots,norcloaksotherthanChiron’sfurs,andweregladofthecave’swarmth.EvenChirondonnedashaggyovershirt,sewedfromwhathesaidwasbearskin.
Wecountedthedaysafterthefirstsnowfall,markingthemoffwithlinesonastone.“Whenyoureachfifty,”Chironsaid,“theriver’sicewillbegintocrack.”Themorningofthefiftiethdayweheardit,astrangesound,likeatreefalling.Aseamhadsplitthefrozensurfacenearlyfrombanktobank.“Springwillcomesoonnow,”Chironsaid.
Itwasnotlongafterthatthegrassbegantogrowagain,andthesquirrelsemergedleanandwhip-thinfromtheirburrows.Wefollowedthem,eatingourbreakfastsinthenew-scrubbedspringair.ItwasononeofthesemorningsthatAchillesaskedChironifhewouldteachustofight.
Idonotknowwhatmadehimthinkofthisthen.Awinterindoors,withnotenoughexerciseperhaps,orthevisitfromhismother,theweekbefore.Perhapsneither.
Willyouteachustofight?
TherewasapausesobriefIalmostmighthaveimaginedit,beforeChironanswered,“Ifyouwishit,Iwillteachyou.”
Laterthatday,hetookustoaclearing,highonaridge.Hehadspear-haftsandtwopracticeswordsforus,takenfromstorageinsomecornerofthecave.Heaskeduseachtoperformthedrillsthatweknew.Idid,slowly,theblocksandstrikesandfootworkIhadlearnedinPhthia.Tomyside,justatthecornerofmyvision,Achilles’limbsblurredandstruck.Chironhadbroughtabronze-bandedstaff,andheinterposeditoccasionallyintoourpasses,probingwithit,testingourreactions.
Itseemedtogoonforalongtime,andmyarmsgrewsorewithliftingandplacingthepointofthesword.AtlastChironcalledastop.Wedrankdeepfromwaterskinsandlaybackonthegrass.Mychestwasheaving.Achilles’wassteady.
Chironwassilent,standinginfrontofus.
“Well,whatdoyouthink?”Achilleswaseager,andIrememberedthatChironwasonlythefourthpersontohaveeverseenhimfight.
IdidnotknowwhatIexpectedthecentaurtosay.Butitwasnotwhatfollowed.
“ThereisnothingIcanteachyou.YouknowallthatHeraclesknew,andmore.Youarethegreatestwarriorofyourgeneration,andallthegenerationsbefore.”
AflushstainedAchilles’cheeks.Icouldnottellifitwasembarrassmentorpleasureorboth.
“Menwillhearofyourskill,andtheywillwishforyoutofighttheirwars.”Hepaused.“Whatwillyouanswer?”
“Idonotknow,”Achillessaid.
“Thatisananswerfornow.Itwillnotbegoodenoughlater,”Chironsaid
Therewasasilencethen,andIfeltthetightnessintheairaroundus.Achilles’face,forthefirsttimesincewehadcome,lookedpinchedandsolemn.
“Whataboutme?”Iasked.
Chiron’sdarkeyesmovedtorestonmine.“Youwillnevergainfamefromyourfighting.Isthissurprisingtoyou?”
Histonewasmatter-of-fact,andsomehowthateasedthestingofit.
“No,”Isaidtruthfully.
“Yetitisnotbeyondyoutobeacompetentsoldier.Doyouwishtolearnthis?”
Ithoughtoftheboy’sdulledeyes,howquicklyhisbloodhadsoakedtheground.IthoughtofAchilles,thegreatestwarriorofhisgeneration.IthoughtofThetiswhowouldtakehimfromme,ifshecould.
“No,”Isaid.
Andthatwastheendofourlessonsinsoldiery.
SPRINGPASSEDINTOSUMMER,andthewoodsgrewwarmandabundant,lushwithgameandfruit.Achillesturnedfourteen,andmessengersbroughtgiftsforhimfromPeleus.Itwasstrangetoseethemhere,intheiruniformsandpalacecolors.Iwatchedtheireyes,flickeringoverme,overAchilles,overChironmostofall.Gossipwasdearinthepalace,andthesemenwouldbereceivedlikekingswhentheyreturned.Iwasgladtoseethemshouldertheiremptytrunksandbegone.
Thegiftswerewelcome—newlyrestringsandfreshtunics,spunfromthefinestwool.Therewasanewbowaswell,andarrowstippedwithiron.Wefingeredtheirmetal,thekeen-edgedpointsthatwouldbringdownourdinnersindaystocome.
Somethingswerelessuseful—cloaksstiffwithinlaidgoldthatwouldgivetheowner’spresenceawayatfiftypaces,andajewel-studdedbelt,tooheavytowearforanythingpractical.Therewasahorsecoataswell,thicklyembroidered,meanttoadornthemountofaprince.
“Ihopethatisnotforme,”Chironsaid,liftinganeyebrow.Wetoreitupforcompressesandbandagesandscrubcloths;theroughmaterialwasperfectforpullingupcrusteddirtandfood.
Thatafternoon,welayonthegrassinfrontofthecave.“Ithasbeenalmostayearsincewecame,”Achillessaid.Thebreezewascoolagainstourskin
“Itdoesnotfeelsolong,”Ianswered.Iwashalf-sleepy,myeyeslostinthetiltingblueoftheafternoonsky.
“Doyoumissthepalace?”
Ithoughtofhisfather’sgifts,theservantsandtheirgazes,thewhisperinggossiptheywouldbringbacktothepalace.
“No,”Isaid.
“Idon’teither,”hesaid.“IthoughtImight,butIdon’t.”
Thedaysturned,andthemonths,andtwoyearspassed.
ChapterTen
ITWASSPRING,ANDWEWEREFIFTEEN.THEWINTERICEHADlastedlongerthanusual,andweweregladtobeoutsideoncemore,beneaththesun.Ourtunicswerediscarded,andourskinprickledinthelightbreeze.Ihadnotbeensonakedallwinter;ithadbeentoocoldtotakeoffourfursandcloaks,beyondquickwashesinthehollowed-outrockthatservedasourbath.Achilleswasstretching,rollinglimbsthatwerestifffromtoolongindoors.Wehadspentthemorningswimmingandchasinggamethroughtheforest.Mymusclesfeltwearilycontent,gladtobeusedagain.
Iwatchedhim.Otherthantheunsteadysurfaceoftheriver,therewerenomirrorsonMountPelion,soIcouldonlymeasuremyselfbythechangesinAchilles.Hislimbswerestillslender,butIcouldseethemusclesinthemnow,risingandfallingbeneathhisskinashemoved.Hisface,too,wasfirmer,andhisshouldersbroaderthantheyhadbeen
“Youlookolder,”Isaid.
Hestopped,turnedtome.“Ido?”
“Yes.”Inodded.“DoI?”
“Comeoverhere,”hesaid.Istood,walkedtohim.Heregardedmeamoment.“Yes,”hesaid.
“How?”Iwantedtoknow.“Alot?”
“Yourfaceisdifferent,”hesaid.
“Where?”
Hetouchedmyjawwithhisrighthand,drewhisfingertipsalongit.“Here.Yourfaceiswiderthanitoncewas.”Ireachedupwithmyownhand,toseeifIcouldfeelthisdifference,butitwasallthesametome,boneandskin.Hetookmyhandandbroughtitdowntomycollarbone.“Youarewiderherealso,”hesaid.“Andthis.”Hisfingertouched,gently,thesoftbulbthathademergedfrommythroat.Iswallowed,andfelthisfingertiprideagainstthemotion.
“Whereelse?”Iasked.
Hepointedtothetrailoffine,darkhairthatrandownmychestandovermystomach.
Hepaused,andmyfacegrewwarm.
“That’senough,”Isaid,moreabruptlythanImeantto.Isatagainonthegrass,andheresumedhisstretches.Iwatchedthebreezestirhishair;Iwatchedthesunfallonhisgoldenskin.Ileanedbackandletitfallonmeaswell.
Aftersometime,hestoppedandcametositbesideme.Wewatchedthegrass,andthetrees,andthenubsofnewbuds,justgrowing.
Hisvoicewasremote,almostcareless.“Youwouldnotbedispleased,Ithink.Withhowyoulooknow.”
Myfacegrewwarm,again.Butwespokenomoreofit.
WEWEREALMOSTSIXTEEN.SoonPeleus’messengerswouldcomewithgifts;soontheberrieswouldripen,thefruitswouldblushandfallintoourhands.Sixteenwasourlastyearofchildhood,theyearbeforeourfathersnamedusmen,andwewouldbegintowearnotjusttunicsbutcapesandchitonsaswell.AmarriagewouldbearrangedforAchilles,andImighttakeawife,ifIwishedto.Ithoughtagainoftheservinggirlswiththeirdulleyes.IrememberedthesnatchesofconversationIhadoverheardfromtheboys,thetalkofbreastsandhipsandcoupling.
She’slikecream,she’sthatsoft.
Onceherthighsarearoundyou,you’llforgetyourownname.
Theboys’voiceshadbeensharpwithexcitement,theircolorhigh.ButwhenItriedtoimaginewhattheyspokeof,mymindslidaway,likeafishwhowouldnotbecaught.
Otherimagescameintheirstead.Thecurveofaneckbentoveralyre,hairgleaminginfirelight,handswiththeirflickeringtendons.Weweretogetherallday,andIcouldnotescape:thesmelloftheoilsheusedonhisfeet,theglimpsesofskinashedressed.Iwouldwrenchmygazefromhimandrememberthedayonthebeach,thecoldnessinhiseyesandhowheranfromme.And,always,Irememberedhismother.
Ibegantogooffbymyself,earlyinthemornings,whenAchillesstillslept,orintheafternoons,whenhewouldpracticehisspearthrusts.Ibroughtaflutewithme,butrarelyplayedit.InsteadIwouldfindatreetoleanagainstandbreathethesharpdriftofcypress-scent,blownfromthehighestpartofthemountain.
Slowly,asiftoescapemyownnotice,myhandwouldmovetorestbetweenmythighs.TherewasshameinthisthingthatIdid,andagreatershamestillinthethoughtsthatcamewithit.Butitwouldbeworsetothinktheminsidetherose-quartzcave,withhimbesideme
Itwasdifficultsometimes,after,toreturntothecave.“Wherewereyou?”he’dask.
“Just—”I’dsay,andpointvaguely.
He’dnod.ButIknewhesawtheflushthatcoloredmycheeks.
THESUMMERGREWHOTTER,andwesoughttheriver’sshade,itswaterthatthrewoffarcsoflightaswesplashedanddove.Therocksofthebottomweremossyandcool,rollingbeneathmytoesasIwaded.Weshouted,andfrightenedthefish,whofledtotheirmuddyholesorquieterwatersupstream.Therushingicemeltofspringwasgone;Ilayonmybackandletthedozycurrentcarryme.Ilikedthefeelofthesunonmystomachandthecooldepthsoftheriverbeneathme.Achillesfloatedbesidemeorswamagainsttheslowtugoftheriver’sflow.
Whenwetiredofthis,wewouldseizethelow-hangingbranchesoftheosiersandhoistourselveshalf-outofthewater.Onthisdaywekickedateachother,ourlegstangling,tryingtodislodgetheother,orperhapsclimbontotheirbranch.Onanimpulse,Ireleasedmybranchandseizedhimaroundhishangingtorso.Heletoutanoophofsurprise.Westruggledthatwayforamoment,laughing,myarmswrappedaroundhim.Thentherewasasharpcrackingsound,andhisbranchgaveway,plungingusintotheriver.Thecoolwaterclosedoverus,andstillwewrestled,handsagainstslipperyskin.
Whenwesurfaced,wewerepantingandeager.Heleaptforme,bearingmedownthroughtheclearwater.Wegrappled,emergedtogaspair,thensankagain.
Atlength,ourlungsburning,ourfacesredfromtoolongunderwater,wedraggedourselvestothebankandlaythereamidstthesedge-grassandmarshyweeds.Ourfeetsankintothecoolmudofthewater’sedge.Waterstillstreamedfromhishair,andIwatcheditbead,tracingacrosshisarmsandthelinesofhischest.
ONTHEMORNINGofhissixteenthbirthdayIwokeearly.ChironhadshowedmeatreeonPelion’sfarslopethathadfigsjustripening,thefirstoftheseason.Achillesdidnotknowofit,thecentaurassuredme.Iwatchedthemfordays,theirhardgreenknotsswellinganddarkening,growinggravidwithseed.AndnowIwouldpickthemforhisbreakfast.
Itwasn’tmyonlygift.Ihadfoundaseasonedpieceofashandbegantofashionitsecretly,carvingoffitssoftlayers.Overnearlytwomonthsashapehademerged—aboyplayingthelyre,headraisedtothesky,mouthopen,asifheweresinging.Ihaditwithmenow,asIwalked.
Thefigshungrichandheavyonthetree,theircurvedfleshplianttomytouch—twodayslaterandtheywouldbetooripe.Igatheredtheminacarved-woodbowlandborethemcarefullybacktothecave.
AchilleswassittingintheclearingwithChiron,anewboxfromPeleusrestingunopenedathisfeet.Isawthequickwideningofhiseyesashetookinthefigs.Hewasonhisfeet,eagerlyreachingintothebowlbeforeIcouldevensetitdownbesidehim.Weateuntilwewerestuffed,ourfingersandchinsstickywithsweetness.
TheboxfromPeleusheldmoretunicsandlyrestrings,andthistime,forhissixteenthbirthday,acloakdyedwiththeexpensivepurplefromthemurex’sshell.Itwasthecapeofaprince,ofafutureking,andIsawthatitpleasedhim.Itwouldlookgoodonhim,Iknew,thepurpleseemingricherstillbesidethegoldofhishair.
Chiron,too,gavepresents—astaffforhiking,andanewbelt-knife.Andlast,Ipassedhimthestatue.Heexaminedit,hisfingertipsmovingoverthesmallmarksmyknifehadleftbehind.
“It’syou,”Isaid,grinningfoolishly.
Helookedup,andtherewasbrightpleasureinhiseyes.
“Iknow,”hesaid.
ONEEVENING,notlongafter,westayedlatebesidethefire’sembers.Achilleshadbeengoneformuchoftheafternoon—Thetishadcomeandkepthimlongereventhanusual.Nowhewasplayingmymother’slyre.Themusicwasquietandbrightasthestarsoverourheads.
Nexttome,IheardChironyawn,settlemoredeeplyontohisfoldedlegs.Amomentlaterthelyreceased,andAchilles’voicecameloudinthedarkness.“Areyouweary,Chiron?”
“Iam.”
“Thenwewillleaveyoutoyourrest.”
Hewasnotusuallysoquicktogo,nortospeakforme,butIwastiredmyselfanddidnotobject.HeroseandbadeChirongoodnight,turningforthecave.Istretched,soakedupafewmoremomentsoffirelight,andfollowed.
Insidethecave,Achilleswasalreadyinbed,hisfacedampfromawashatthespring.Iwashedtoo,thewatercoolacrossmyforehead.
Hesaid,“Youdidn’taskmeaboutmymother’svisityet.”
Isaid,“Howisshe?”
“Sheiswell.”Thiswastheanswerhealwaysgave.ItwaswhyIsometimesdidnotaskhim.
“Good.”Iliftedahandfulofwater,torinsethesoapoffmyface.Wemadeitfromtheoilofolives,anditstillsmelledfaintlyofthem,richandbuttery.
Achillesspokeagain.“Shesaysshecannotseeushere.”
Ihadnotbeenexpectinghimtosaymore.“Hmmm?”
“Shecannotseeushere.OnPelion.”
Therewassomethinginhisvoice,astrain.Iturnedtohim.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Hiseyesstudiedtheceiling.“Shesays—Iaskedherifshewatchesushere.”Hisvoicewashigh.“Shesays,shedoesnot.”
Therewassilenceinthecave.Silence,butforthesoundoftheslowlydrainingwater.
“Oh,”Isaid.
“Iwishedtotellyou.Because—”Hepaused.“Ithoughtyouwouldwishtoknow.She—”Hehesitatedagain.“ShewasnotpleasedthatIaskedher.”
“Shewasnotpleased,”Irepeated.Ifeltdizzy,mymindturningandturningthroughhiswords.Shecannotseeus.IrealizedthatIwasstandinghalf-frozenbythewaterbasin,thetowelstillraisedtomychin.Iforcedmyselftoputdownthecloth,tomovetothebed.Therewasawildnessinme,ofhopeandterror.
Ipulledbackthecoversandlaydownonbeddingalreadywarmfromhisskin.Hiseyeswerestillfixedontheceiling.
“Areyou—pleasedwithheranswer?”Isaid,finally.
“Yes,”hesaid.
Welaythereamoment,inthatstrainedandlivingsilence.Usuallyatnightwewouldtelleachotherjokesorstories.Theceilingaboveuswaspaintedwiththestars,andifwegrewtiredoftalking,wewouldpointtothem.“Orion,”Iwouldsay,followinghisfinger.“ThePleiades.”
Buttonighttherewasnothing.Iclosedmyeyesandwaited,longminutes,untilIguessedhewasasleep.ThenIturnedtolookathim.
Hewasonhisside,watchingme.Ihadnotheardhimturn.Ineverhearhim.Hewasutterlymotionless,thatstillnessthatwashisalone.Ibreathed,andwasawareofthebarestretchofdarkpillowbetweenus.
Heleanedforward.
Ourmouthsopenedundereachother,andthewarmthofhissweetenedthroatpouredintomine.Icouldnotthink,couldnotdoanythingbutdrinkhimin,eachbreathasitcame,thesoftmovementsofhislips.Itwasamiracle.
Iwastrembling,afraidtoputhimtoflight.Ididnotknowwhattodo,whathewouldlike.Ikissedhisneck,thespanofhischest,andtastedthesalt.Heseemedtoswellbeneathmytouch,toripen.Hesmelledlikealmondsandearth.Hepressedagainstme,crushingmylipstowine.
HewentstillasItookhiminmyhand,softasthedelicatevelvetofpetals.IknewAchilles’goldenskinandthecurveofhisneck,thecrooksofhiselbows.Iknewhowpleasurelookedonhim.Ourbodiescuppedeachotherlikehands.
Theblanketshadtwistedaroundme.Heshuckedthemfromusboth.Theairovermyskinwasashock,andIshivered.Hewasoutlinedagainstthepaintedstars;Polarissatonhisshoulder.Hishandslippedoverthequickenedriseandfallofmybelly’sbreathing.Hestrokedmegently,asthoughsmoothingfinestcloth,andmyhipsliftedtohistouch.Ipulledhimtome,andtrembledandtrembled.Hewastrembling,too.Hesoundedasthoughhehadbeenrunningfarandfast.
Isaidhisname,Ithink.Itblewthroughme;Iwashollowasareedhungupforthewindtosound.Therewasnotimethatpassedbutourbreaths.
Ifoundhishairbetweenmyfingers.Therewasagatheringinsideme,abeatofbloodagainstthemovementofhishand.Hisfacewaspressedagainstme,butItriedtoclutchhimcloserstill.Donotstop,Isaid.
Hedidnotstop.Thefeelinggatheredandgatheredtillahoarsecryleaptfrommythroat,andthesharpfloweringdroveme,arching,againsthim.
Itwasnotenough.Myhandreached,foundtheplaceofhispleasure.Hiseyesclosed.Therewasarhythmheliked,Icouldfeelit,thecatchofhisbreath,theyearning.Myfingerswereceaseless,followingeachquickeninggasp.Hiseyelidswerethecolorofthedawnsky;hesmelledlikeearthafterrain.Hismouthopenedinaninarticulatecry,andwewerepressedsoclosethatIfeltthespurtofhiswarmthagainstme.Heshuddered,andwelaystill.
Slowly,likedusk-fall,Ibecameawareofmysweat,thedampnessofthecovers,andthewetnessthatslidbetweenourbellies.Weseparated,peelingawayfromeachother,ourfacespuffyandhalf-bruisedfromkisses.Thecavesmelledhotandsweet,likefruitbeneaththesun.Oureyesmet,andwedidnotspeak.Fearroseinme,suddenandsharp.Thiswasthemomentoftruestperil,andItensed,fearinghisregret.
Hesaid,“Ididnotthink—”Andstopped.TherewasnothingintheworldIwantedmorethantohearwhathehadnotsaid.
“What?”Iaskedhim.Ifitisbad,letitbeoverquickly.“Ididnotthinkthatwewouldever—”Hewashesitatingovereveryword,andIcouldnotblamehim.
“Ididnotthinksoeither,”Isaid
“Areyousorry?”Thewordswerequicklyoutofhim,asinglebreath.
“Iamnot,”Isaid.
“Iamnoteither.”
Therewassilencethen,andIdidnotcareaboutthedamppalletorhowsweatyIwas.Hiseyeswereunwavering,greenfleckedwithgold.Asuretyroseinme,lodgedinmythroat.Iwillneverleavehim.Itwillbethis,always,foraslongashewillletme
IfIhadhadwordstospeaksuchathing,Iwouldhave.Buttherewerenonethatseemedbigenoughforit,toholdthatswellingtruth.
Asifhehadheardme,hereachedformyhand.Ididnotneedtolook;hisfingerswereetchedintomymemory,slenderandpetal-veined,strongandquickandneverwrong.
“Patroclus,”hesaid.HewasalwaysbetterwithwordsthanI.
THENEXTMORNINGIawokelight-headed,mybodywoozywithwarmthandease.Afterthetendernesshadcomemorepassion;wehadbeenslowerthen,andlingering,adreamynightthatstretchedonandon.Now,watchinghimstirbesideme,hishandrestingonmystomach,dampandcurledasafloweratdawn,Iwasnervousagain.IrememberedinarushthethingsIhadsaidanddone,thenoisesIhadmade.Ifearedthatthespellwasbroken,thatthelightthatcreptthroughthecave’sentrancewouldturnitalltostone.Butthenhewasawake,hislipsformingahalf-sleepygreeting,andhishandwasalreadyreachingformine.Welaythere,likethat,untilthecavewasbrightwithmorning,andChironcalled.
Weate,thenrantotherivertowash.Isavoredthemiracleofbeingabletowatchhimopenly,toenjoytheplayofdappledlightonhislimbs,thecurvingofhisbackashedovebeneaththewater.Later,welayontheriverbank,learningthelinesofeachother’sbodiesanew.This,andthisandthis.Wewerelikegodsatthedawningoftheworld,andourjoywassobrightwecouldseenothingelsebuttheother.
IFCHIRONNOTICEDachange,hedidnotspeakofit.ButIcouldnothelpworrying.
“Doyouthinkhewillbeangry?”
Wewerebytheolivegroveonthenorthsideofthemountain.Thebreezesweresweetesthere,coolandcleanasspringwater.
“Idon’tthinkhewill.”Hereachedformycollarbone,thelinehelikedtodrawhisfingerdown.
“Buthemight.Surelyhemustknowbynow.Shouldwesaysomething?”
ItwasnotthefirsttimeIhadwonderedthis.Wehaddiscusseditoften,eagerwithconspiracy.
“Ifyoulike.”Thatiswhathehadsaidbefore.
“Youdon’tthinkhewillbeangry?”
Hepausednow,considering.Ilovedthisabouthim.NomatterhowmanytimesIhadasked,heansweredmeasifitwerethefirsttime.
“Idon’tknow.”Hiseyesmetmine.“Doesitmatter?Iwouldnotstop.”Hisvoicewaswarmwithdesire.Ifeltanansweringflushacrossmyskin.
“Buthecouldtellyourfather.Hemightbeangry.”
Isaiditalmostdesperately.Soonmyskinwouldgrowtoowarm,andIwouldnolongerbeabletothink.
“Sowhatifheis?”Thefirsttimehehadsaidsomethinglikethis,Ihadbeenshocked.ThathisfathermightbeangryandAchilleswouldstilldoashewished—itwassomethingIdidnotunderstand,couldbarelyimagine.Itwaslikeadrugtohearhimsayit.Inevertiredofit.
“Whataboutyourmother?”
Thiswasthetrinityofmyfears—Chiron,Peleus,andThetis.
Heshrugged.“Whatcouldshedo?Kidnapme?”
Shecouldkillme,Ithought.ButIdidnotsaythis.Thebreezewastoosweet,andthesuntoowarmforathoughtlikethattobespoken.
Hestudiedmeamoment.“Doyoucareiftheyareangry?”
Yes.IwouldbehorrifiedtofindChironupsetwithme.Disapprovalhadalwaysburroweddeepinme;IcouldnotshakeitoffasAchillesdid.ButIwouldnotletitseparateus,ifitcametothat.“No,”Itoldhim.
“Good,”hesaid.
Ireacheddowntostrokethewispsofhairathistemple.Heclosedhiseyes.Iwatchedhisface,tippeduptomeetthesun.Therewasadelicacytohisfeaturesthatsometimesmadehimlookyoungerthanhewas.Hislipswereflushedandfull.
Hiseyesopened.“Nameoneherowhowashappy.”
Iconsidered.Heracleswentmadandkilledhisfamily;Theseuslosthisbrideandfather;Jason’schildrenandnewwifeweremurderedbyhisold;BellerophonkilledtheChimerabutwascrippledbythefallfromPegasus’back.
“Youcan’t.”Hewassittingupnow,leaningforward.
“Ican’t.”
“Iknow.Theyneverletyoubefamousandhappy.”Heliftedaneyebrow.“I’lltellyouasecret.”
“Tellme.”Iloveditwhenhewaslikethis.
“I’mgoingtobethefirst.”Hetookmypalmandheldittohis.“Swearit.”
“Whyme?”
“Becauseyou’rethereason.Swearit.”
“Iswearit,”Isaid,lostinthehighcolorofhischeeks,theflameinhiseyes.
“Iswearit,”heechoed.
Wesatlikethatamoment,handstouching.Hegrinned.
“IfeellikeIcouldeattheworldraw.”
Atrumpetblew,somewhereontheslopesbeneathus.Itwasabruptandragged,asifsoundedinwarning.BeforeIcouldspeakormove,hewasonhisfeet,hisdaggerout,slappedupfromthesheathonhisthigh.Itwasonlyahuntingknife,butinhishandsitwouldbeenough.Hestoodpoised,utterlystill,listeningwithallofhishalf-godsenses
Ihadaknife,too.Quietly,Ireachedforitandstood.Hehadplacedhimselfbetweenmeandthesound.IdidnotknowifIshouldgotohim,standbesidehimwithmyownweaponlifted.Intheend,Ididnot.Ithadbeenasoldier’strumpet,andbattle,asChironhadsobluntlysaid,washisgift,notmine
Thetrumpetsoundedagain.Weheardtheswishofunderbrush,tangledbyapairoffeet.Oneman.Perhapshewaslost,perhapsindanger.Achillestookasteptowardsthesound.Asifinanswer,thetrumpetcameagain.Thenavoicebawledupthemountain,“PrinceAchilles!”
Wefroze.
“Achilles!IamhereforPrinceAchilles!”
Birdsburstfromthetrees,fleeingtheclamor.
“Fromyourfather,”Iwhispered.Onlyaroyalheraldwouldhaveknownwheretocallforus.
Achillesnodded,butseemedstrangelyreluctanttoanswer.Iimaginedhowhardhispulsewouldbebeating;hehadbeenpreparedtokillamomentago.
“Wearehere!”Ishoutedintothecuppedpalmsofmyhand.Thenoisestoppedforamoment.
“Where?”
“Canyoufollowmyvoice?”
Hecould,thoughpoorly.Itwassometimebeforehesteppedforwardintotheclearing.Hisfacewasscratched,andhehadsweatedthroughhispalacetunic.Hekneltwithillgrace,resentfully.Achilleshadloweredtheknife,thoughIsawhowtightlyhestillheldit.
“Yes?”Hisvoicewascool.
“Yourfathersummonsyou.Thereisurgentbusinessathome.”
Ifeltmyselfgostill,asstillasAchilleshadbeenamomentbefore.IfIstayedstillenough,perhapswewouldnothavetogo.
“Whatsortofbusiness?”Achillesasked.
Themanhadrecoveredhimself,somewhat.Herememberedhewasspeakingtoaprince.
“Mylord,yourpardon,Idonotknowallofit.MessengerscametoPeleusfromMycenaewithnews.Yourfatherplanstospeaktonighttothepeople,andwishesyoutobethere.Ihavehorsesforyoubelow.”
Therewasamomentofsilence.Almost,IthoughtAchilleswoulddecline.Butatlasthesaid,“PatroclusandIwillneedtopackourthings.”
OnthewaybacktothecaveandChiron,AchillesandIspeculatedaboutthenews.Mycenaewasfartooursouth,anditskingwasAgamemnon,wholikedtocallhimselfalordofmen.Hewassaidtohavethegreatestarmyofallourkingdoms.
“Whateveritis,we’llonlybegoneforanightortwo,”Achillestoldme.Inodded,gratefultohearhimsayit.Justafewdays.
Chironwaswaitingforus.“Iheardtheshouts,”thecentaursaid.AchillesandI,knowinghimwell,recognizedthedisapprovalinhisvoice.Hedidnotlikethepeaceofhismountaindisturbed.
“Myfatherhassummonedmehome,”Achillessaid,“justfortonight.IexpectIwillbebacksoon.”
“Isee,”Chironsaid.Heseemedlargerthanusual,standingthere,hoovesdullagainstthebrightgrass,hischestnut-coloredflankslitbythesun.Iwonderedifhewouldbelonelywithoutus.Ihadneverseenhimwithanothercentaur.Weaskedhimaboutthemonce,andhisfacehadgonestiff.“Barbarians,”he’dsaid.
Wegatheredourthings.Ihadalmostnothingtobringwithme,sometunics,aflute.Achilleshadonlyafewpossessionsmore,hisclothes,andsomespearheadshehadmade,andthestatueIhadcarvedforhim.WeplacedtheminleatherbagsandwenttosayourfarewellstoChiron.Achilles,alwaysbolder,embracedthecentaur,hisarmsencirclingtheplacewherethehorseflankgavewaytoflesh.Themessenger,waitingbehindme,shifted.
“Achilles,”Chironsaid,“doyourememberwhenIaskedyouwhatyouwoulddowhenmenwantedyoutofight?”
“Yes,”saidAchilles.
“Youshouldconsideryouranswer,”Chironsaid.Achillwentthroughme,butIdidnothavetimetothinkonit.Chironwasturningtome.
“Patroclus,”hesaid,asummons.Iwalkedforward,andheplacedhishand,largeandwarmasthesun,onmyhead.Ibreathedinthescentthatwashisalone,horseandsweatandherbsandforest.
Hisvoicewasquiet.“Youdonotgivethingsupsoeasilynowasyouoncedid,”hesaid.
Ididnotknowwhattosaytothis,soIsaid,“Thankyou.”
Atraceofsmile.“Bewell.”Thenhishandwasgone,leavingmyheadchilledinitsabsence.
“Wewillbebacksoon,”Achillessaid,again.
Chiron’seyesweredarkintheslantingafternoonlight.“Iwilllookforyou,”hesaid.
Weshoulderedourbagsandleftthecave’sclearing.Thesunwasalreadypastthemeridian,andthemessengerwasimpatient.Wemovedquicklydownthehillandclimbedonthehorsesthatwaitedforus.Asaddlefeltstrangeaftersomanyyearsonfoot,andthehorsesunnervedme.Ihalf-expectedthemtospeak,butofcoursetheycouldnot.ItwistedinmyseattolookbackatPelion.IhopedthatImightbeabletoseetherose-quartzcave,ormaybeChironhimself.Butweweretoofar.IturnedtofacetheroadandallowedmyselftobeledtoPhthia.
ChapterEleven
THELASTBITOFSUNWASFLARINGONTHEWESTERNhorizonaswepassedtheboundarystonethatmarkedthepalacegrounds.Weheardthecrygoupfromtheguards,andanansweringtrumpet.Wecrestedthehill,andthepalacelaybeforeus;behinditbroodedthesea.
Andthereonthehouse’sthreshold,suddenaslightning-strike,stoodThetis.Herhairshoneblackagainstthewhitemarbleofthepalace.Herdresswasdark,thecolorofanuneasyocean,bruisingpurplesmixedwithchurninggrays.Somewherebesidehertherewereguards,andPeleus,too,butIdidnotlookatthem.Isawonlyher,andthecurvedknife’sbladeofherjaw.
“Yourmother,”IwhisperedtoAchilles.Icouldhaveswornhereyesflashedovermeasifshehadheard.Iswallowedandforcedmyselfonward.Shewillnothurtme;Chironhassaidshewillnot.
Itwasstrangetoseeheramongmortals;shemadeallofthem,guardsandPeleusalike,lookbleachedandwan,thoughitwasherskinthatwaspaleasbone.Shestoodwellawayfromthem,spearingtheskywithherunnaturalheight.Theguardsloweredtheireyesinfearanddeference.
Achillesswungdownfromhishorse,andIfollowed.Thetisdrewhimintoanembrace,andIsawtheguardsshiftingtheirfeet.Theywerewonderingwhatherskinfeltlike;theyweregladtheydidnotknow.
“Sonofmywomb,fleshofmyflesh,Achilles,”shesaid.Thewordswerenotspokenloudlybuttheycarriedthroughthecourtyard.“Bewelcomehome.”
“Thankyou,Mother,”Achillessaid.Heunderstoodthatshewasclaiminghim.Wealldid.Itwasproperforasontogreethisfatherfirst;motherscamesecond,ifatall.Butshewasagoddess.Peleus’mouthhadtightened,buthesaidnothing.
Whenshereleasedhim,hewenttohisfather.“Bewelcome,son,”Peleussaid.Hisvoicesoundedweakafterhisgoddess-wife’s,andhelookedolderthanhehadbeen.Threeyearswehadbeenaway.
“Andbewelcomealso,Patroclus.”
Everyoneturnedtome,andImanagedabow.IwasawareofThetis’gaze,rakingoverme.Itleftmyskinstinging,asifIhadgonefromthebriarpatchtotheocean.IwasgladwhenAchillesspoke.
“Whatisthenews,Father?”
Peleuseyedtheguards.Speculationandrumormustberacingdowneverycorridor.
“Ihavenotannouncedit,andIdonotmeantountileveryoneisgathered.Wewerewaitingonyou.Comeandletusbegin.”
Wefollowedhimintothepalace.IwantedtospeaktoAchillesbutdidnotdareto;Thetiswalkedrightbehindus.Servantsskitteredfromher,huffinginsurprise.Thegoddess.Herfeetmadenosoundastheymovedoverthestonefloors.
THEGREATDININGHALLwascrammedfulloftablesandbenches.Servantshurriedbywithplattersoffoodorluggedmixingbowlsbrimmingwithwine.Atthefrontoftheroomwasadais,raised.ThisiswherePeleuswouldsit,besidehissonandwife.Threeplaces.Mycheekswentred.WhathadIexpected?
EvenamidstthenoiseofthepreparationsAchilles’voiceseemedloud.“Father,IdonotseeaplaceforPatroclus.”Myblushwentevendeeper.
“Achilles,”Ibeganinawhisper.Itdoesnotmatter,Iwantedtosay.Iwillsitwiththemen;itisallright.Butheignoredme.
“Patroclusismysworncompanion.Hisplaceisbesideme.”Thetis’eyesflickered.Icouldfeeltheheatinthem.Isawtherefusalonherlips.
“Verywell,”Peleussaid.Hegesturedtoaservantandaplacewasaddedforme,thankfullyattheoppositesideofthetablefromThetis.MakingmyselfassmallasIcould,IfollowedAchillestoourseats.
“She’llhatemenow,”Isaid.
“Shealreadyhatesyou,”heanswered,withaflashofsmile.
Thisdidnotreassureme.“Whyhasshecome?”Iwhispered.Onlysomethingtrulyimportantwouldhavedrawnherherefromhercavesinthesea.HerloathingformewasnothingtowhatIsawonherfacewhenshelookedatPeleus.
Heshookhishead.“Idonotknow.Itisstrange.IhavenotseenthemtogethersinceIwasaboy.”
IrememberedChiron’spartingwordstoAchilles:youshouldconsideryouranswer
“Chironthinksthenewswillbewar.”
Achillesfrowned.“ButthereisalwayswarinMycenae.Idonotseewhyweshouldhavebeencalled.”
Peleussat,andaheraldblewthreeshortblastsuponhistrumpet.Thesignalforthemealtobegin.Normallyittookseveralminutesforthementogather,dawdlingonthepracticefields,drawingoutthelastbitofwhatevertheyweredoing.Butthistimetheycamelikeafloodafterthebreakingofthewinter’sice.Quickly,theroomwasswollenwiththem,jostlingforseatsandgossiping.Iheardtheedgeintheirvoices,arisingexcitement.Noonebotheredtosnapataservantorkickasideabeggingdog.TherewasnothingontheirmindsbutthemanfromMycenaeandthenewshehadbrought.
Thetiswasseatedalso.Therewasnoplateforher,noknife:thegodslivedonambrosiaandnectar,onthesavorofourburntofferings,andthewinewepouredovertheiraltars.Strangely,shewasnotsovisiblehere,soblazingasshehadbeenoutside.Thebulky,ordinaryfurnitureseemedtodiminishher,somehow.
Peleusstood.Theroomquieted,outtothefarthestbenches.Heliftedhiscup.
“IhavereceivedwordfromMycenae,fromthesonsofAtreus,AgamemnonandMenelaus.”Thefinalstirringsandmurmursceased,utterly.Eventheservantsstopped.Ididnotbreathe.Beneaththetable,Achillespressedhislegtomine.
“Therehasbeenacrime.”Hepausedagain,asifhewereweighingwhathewouldsay.“ThewifeofMenelaus,QueenHelen,hasbeenabductedfromthepalaceinSparta.”
Helen!Thehushedwhisperofmentotheirneighbors.Sincehermarriagethetalesofherbeautyhadgrownstillgreater.Menelaushadbuiltaroundherpalacewallsthickwithdouble-layeredrock;hehadtrainedhissoldiersforadecadetodefendit.But,forallhiscare,shehadbeenstolen.Whohaddoneit?
“MenelauswelcomedanembassysentfromKingPriamofTroy.AtitsheadwasPriam’sson,theprinceParis,anditishewhoisresponsible.HestolethequeenofSpartafromherbedchamberwhilethekingslept.”
Arumbleofoutrage.OnlyanEasternerwouldsodishonorthekindnessofhishost.Everyoneknewhowtheydrippedwithperfume,werecorruptfromsoftliving.Arealherowouldhavetakenheroutright,withthestrengthofhissword
“AgamemnonandMycenaeappealtothemenofHellastosailtothekingdomofPriamforherrescue.Troyisrichandwillbeeasilytaken,theysay.Allwhofightwillcomehomewealthyandrenowned.”
Thiswaswellworded.Wealthandreputationwerethethingsourpeoplehadalwayskilledfor.
“TheyhaveaskedmetosendadelegationofmenfromPhthia,andIhaveagreed.”Hewaitedforthemurmuringtosettlebeforeadding,“ThoughIwillnottakeanymanwhodoesnotwishtogo.AndIwillnotleadthearmymyself.”
“Whowillleadit?”someoneshouted
“Thatisnotyetdetermined,”Peleussaid.ButIsawhiseyesflickertohisson.
No,Ithought.Myhandtightenedontheedgeofthechair.Notyet.AcrossfrommeThetis’facewascoolandstill,hereyesdistant.Sheknewthiswascoming,Irealized.Shewantshimtogo.Chironandtherosecaveseemedimpossiblyfaraway;achildishidyll.Iunderstood,suddenly,theweightofChiron’swords:warwaswhattheworldwouldsayAchilleswasbornfor.Thathishandsandswiftfeetwerefashionedforthisalone—thecrackingofTroy’smightywalls.TheywouldthrowhimamongthousandsofTrojanspearsandwatchwithtriumphashestainedhisfairhandsred
PeleusgesturedtoPhoinix,hisoldestfriend,atoneofthefirsttables.“LordPhoinixwillnotethenamesofallwhowishtofight.”
Therewasamovementatthebenches,asmenstartedtorise.ButPeleushelduphishand.
“Thereismore.”Heliftedapieceoflinen,darkwithdensemarkings.“BeforeHelen’sbetrothaltoKingMenelaus,shehadmanysuitors.Itseemsthesesuitorssworeanoathtoprotecther,whosoevermightwinherhand.AgamemnonandMenelausnowchargethesementofulfilltheiroathandbringherbacktoherrightfulhusband.”Hehandedthelinensheettotheherald.
Istared.Anoath.Inmymind,thesuddenimageofabrazier,andthespillofbloodfromawhitegoat.Arichhall,filledwithtoweringmen.
Theheraldliftedthelist.Theroomseemedtotilt,andmyeyeswouldnotfocus.Hebegantoread.
Antenor.
Eurypylus.
Machaon.
Irecognizedmanyofthenames;wealldid.Theyweretheheroesandkingsofourtime.Buttheyweremoretomethanthat.Ihadseenthem,inastonechamberheavywithfire-smoke.
Agamemnon.Amemoryofathickblackbeard;abroodingmanwithnarrowed,watchfuleyes
Odysseus.Thescarthatwrappedhiscalf,pinkasgums.
Ajax.Twiceaslargeasanymanintheroom,withhishugeshieldbehindhim.
Philoctetes,thebowman.
Menoitiades
Theheraldpausedamoment,andIheardthemurmur:who?Myfatherhadnotdistinguishedhimselfintheyearssincemyexile.Hisfamehaddiminished;hisnamewasforgotten.Andthosewhodidknowhimhadneverheardofason.Isatfrozen,afraidtomovelestIgivemyselfaway.Iamboundtothiswar.
Theheraldclearedhisthroat.
Idomeneus.
Diomedes.
“Isthatyou?Youwerethere?”Achilleshadturnedbacktofaceme.Hisvoicewaslow,barelyaudible,butstillIfearedthatsomeonemighthearit.
Inodded.Mythroatwastoodryforwords.IhadthoughtonlyofAchilles’danger,ofhowIwouldtrytokeephimhere,ifIcould.Ihadnotevenconsideredmyself.
“Listen.Itisnotyournameanymore.Saynothing.Wewillthinkwhattodo.WewillaskChiron.”Achillesneverspokelikethat,eachwordcuttingoffthenextinhaste.Hisurgencybroughtmebacktomyself,alittle,andItookheartfromhiseyesonmine.Inoddedagain.
Thenameskeptcoming,andmemoriescamewiththem.Threewomenonadais,andoneofthemHelen.Apileoftreasure,andmyfather’sfrown.Thestonebeneathmyknees.IhadthoughtIdreamtit.Ihadnot.
Whentheheraldhadfinished,Peleusdismissedthemen.Theystoodasone,benchesscraping,eagertogettoPhoinixtoenlist.Peleusturnedtous.“Come.Iwouldspeakfurtherwithyouboth.”IlookedtoThetis,toseeifshewouldcometoo,butshewasgone.
WESATBYPELEUS’FIRESIDE;hehadoffereduswine,barelywatered.Achillesrefusedit.Itookacup,butdidnotdrink.Thekingwasinhisoldchair,theoneclosesttothefire,withitscushionsandhighback.HiseyesrestedonAchilles.
“Ihavecalledyouhomewiththethoughtthatyoumightwishtoleadthisarmy.”
Itwasspoken.Thefirepopped;itswoodwasgreen.
Achillesmethisfather’sgaze.“IhavenotfinishedyetwithChiron.”
“YouhavestayedonPelionlongerthanIdid,thananyherobefore.”
“ThatdoesnotmeanImustruntohelpthesonsofAtreuseverytimetheylosetheirwives.”
IthoughtPeleusmightsmileatthat,buthedidnot.“IdonotdoubtthatMenelausragesatthelossofhiswife,butthemessengercamefromAgamemnon.HehaswatchedTroygrowrichandripeforyears,andnowthinkstopluckher.ThetakingofTroyisafeatworthyofourgreatestheroes.Theremaybemuchhonortobewonfromsailingwithhim.”
Achilles’mouthtightened.“Therewillbeotherwars.”
Peleusdidnotnod,exactly.ButIsawhimregisterthetruthofit.“WhatofPatroclus,then?Heiscalledtoserve.”
“HeisnolongerthesonofMenoitius.Heisnotboundbytheoath.”
PiousPeleusraisedaneyebrow.“Thereissomeshufflingthere.”
“Idonotthinkso.”Achillesliftedhischin.“Theoathwasundonewhenhisfatherdisownedhim.”
“Idonotwishtogo,”Isaid,softly.
Peleusregardedusbothforamoment.Thenhesaid,“Suchathingisnotformetodecide.Iwillleaveittoyou.”
Ifeltthetensionslidefrommealittle.Hewouldnotexposeme.
“Achilles,menarecomingheretospeakwithyou,kingssentbyAgamemnon.”
Outsidethewindow,Iheardtheocean’ssteadywhisperagainstthesand.Icouldsmellthesalt.
“Theywillaskmetofight,”Achillessaid.Itwasnotaquestion.
“Theywill.”
“Youwishmetogivethemaudience.”
“Ido.”
Therewasquietagain.ThenAchillessaid,“Iwillnotdishonorthem,oryou.Iwillheartheirreasons.ButIsaytoyouthatIdonotthinktheywillconvinceme.”
IsawthatPeleuswassurprised,alittle,byhisson’scertainty,butnotdispleased.“Thatisalsonotformetodecide,”hesaidmildly.
Thefirepoppedagain,spittingoutitssap.
Achillesknelt,andPeleusplacedonehandonhishead.IwasusedtoseeingChirondothis,andPeleus’handlookedwitheredbycomparison,threadedwithtremblingveins.Itwashardtoremember,sometimes,thathehadbeenawarrior,thathehadwalkedwithgods.
ACHILLES’ROOMwasaswehadleftit,exceptforthecot,whichhadbeenremovedinourabsence.Iwasglad;itwasaneasyexcuse,incaseanyoneaskedwhywesharedabed.Wereachedforeachother,andIthoughtofhowmanynightsIhadlainawakeinthisroomlovinghiminsilence.
Later,Achillespressedcloseforafinal,drowsywhisper.“Ifyouhavetogo,youknowIwillgowithyou.”Weslept.
ChapterTwelve
IWOKETOTHEREDOFMYEYELIDSSTRAININGOUTTHESUN.Iwascold,myrightshoulderexposedtothebreezesofthewindow,theonethatfacedthesea.Thespacebesidemeonthebedwasempty,butthepillowstillheldtheshapeofhim,andthesheetssmelledofusboth.
Ihadspentsomanymorningsaloneinthisroom,ashevisitedhismother,Ididnotthinkitwasstrangetofindhimgone.Myeyesclosed,andIsankagainintothetrailingthoughtsofdreams.Timepassed,andthesuncamehotoverthewindowsill.Thebirdswereup,andtheservants,andeventhemen.Iheardtheirvoicesfromthebeachandthepracticehall,therattleandbangofchores.Isatup.Hissandalswereoverturnedbesidethebed,forgotten.Itwasnotunusual;hewentbarefootmostplaces.
Hehadgonetobreakfast,Iguessed.HewaslettingmesleepHalfofmewantedtostayintheroomuntilhisreturn,butthatwascowardice.Ihadarighttoaplacebyhissidenow,andIwouldnotlettheeyesoftheservantsdrivemeaway.Ipulledonmytunicandlefttofindhim.
HEWASNOTINthegreathall,busywithservantsremovingthesameplattersandbowlstherehadalwaysbeen.HewasnotinPeleus’councilchamber,hungwithpurpletapestryandtheweaponsofformerPhthiankings.Andhewasnotintheroomwhereweusedtoplaythelyre.Thetrunkthathadoncekeptourinstrumentssatforlornintheroom’scenter.
Hewasnotoutside,either,inthetreesheandIhadclimbed.Orbythesea,onthejuttingrockswherehewaitedforhismother.Noronthepracticefieldwheremensweatedthroughdrills,clackingtheirwoodenswords.
Idonotneedtosaythatmypanicswelled,thatitbecamealivething,slipperyanddeaftoreason.Mystepsgrewhurried;thekitchen,thebasement,thestoreroomswiththeiramphoraeofoilandwine.AndstillIdidnotfindhim
ItwasmiddaywhenIsoughtoutPeleus’room.ItwasasignofthesizeofmyuneasethatIwentatall:Ihadneverspokentotheoldmanalonebefore.TheguardsoutsidestoppedmewhenItriedtoenter.Thekingwasatrest,theysaid.Hewasaloneandwouldseenoone.
“ButisAchilles—”Igulped,tryingnottomakeaspectacleofmyself,tofeedthecuriosityIsawintheireyes.“Istheprincewithhim?”
“Heisalone,”oneofthemrepeated
IwenttoPhoinixnext,theoldcounselorwhohadlookedafterAchilleswhenhewasaboy.IwasalmostchokingwithfearasIwalkedtohisstateroom,amodestsquarechamberatthepalace’sheart.Hehadclaytabletsinfrontofhim,andonthemthemen’smarksfromthenightbefore,angularandcrisscrossing,pledgingtheirarmstothewaragainstTroy.
“TheprinceAchilles—”Isaid.Ispokehaltingly,myvoicethickwithpanic.“Icannotfindhim.”
Helookedupwithsomesurprise.Hehadnotheardmecomeintheroom;hishearingwaspoor,andhiseyeswhentheymetminewererheumyandopaquewithcataract.
“Peleusdidnottellyouthen.”Hisvoicewassoft.
“No.”Mytonguewaslikeastoneinmymouth,sobigIcouldbarelyspeakaroundit.
“I’msorry,”hesaidkindly.“Hismotherhashim.Shetookhimlastnightashewassleeping.Theyaregone,nooneknowswhere.”
LaterIwouldseetheredmarkswheremynailshaddugthroughmypalms.Nooneknowswhere.ToOlympusperhaps,whereIcouldneverfollow.ToAfrica,orIndia.TosomevillagewhereIwouldnotthinktolook.
Phoinix’sgentlehandsguidedmebacktomyroom.Mymindtwisteddesperatelyfromthoughttothought.IwouldreturntoChironandseekcounsel.Iwouldwalkthecountryside,callinghisname.Shemusthavedruggedhim,ortrickedhim.Hewouldnothavegonewillingly.
AsIhuddledinouremptyroom,Iimaginedit:thegoddessleaningoverus,coldandwhitebesidethewarmthofoursleepingbodies.Herfingernailsprickintohisskinassheliftshim,herneckissilveryinthewindow’smoonlight.Hisbodylollsonhershoulder,sleepingorspelled.Shecarrieshimfrommeasasoldiermightcarryacorpse.Sheisstrong;ittakesonlyoneofherhandstokeephimfromfalling.
Ididnotwonderwhyshehadtakenhim.Iknew.Shehadwantedtoseparateus,thefirstchanceshehad,assoonaswewereoutofthemountains.Iwasangryathowfoolishwehadbeen.Ofcourseshewoulddothis;whyhadIthoughtwewouldbesafe?ThatChiron’sprotectionwouldextendhere,whereitneverhadbefore.
Shewouldtakehimtothecavesoftheseaandteachhimcontemptformortals.Shewouldfeedhimwiththefoodofthegodsandburnhishumanbloodfromhisveins.Shewouldshapehimintoafiguremeanttobepaintedonvases,tobesungofinsongs,tofightagainstTroy.Iimaginedhiminblackarmor,adarkhelmetthatlefthimnothingbuteyes,bronzegreavesthatcoveredhisfeet.Hestandswithaspearineachhandanddoesnotknowme.
Timefoldedinonitself,closedoverme,buriedme.Outsidemywindow,themoonmovedthroughhershapesandcameupfullagain.Isleptlittleandateless;griefpinnedmetothebedlikeananchor.ItwasonlymyprickingmemoryofChironthatfinallydrovemeforth.Youdonotgiveupsoeasilyasyouoncedid
IwenttoPeleus.Ikneltbeforehimonawoolrug,wovenbrightwithpurple.Hestartedtospeak,butIwastooquickforhim.Oneofmyhandswenttoclasphisknees,theotherreachedupwards,toseizehischinwithmyhand.Theposeofsupplication.ItwasagestureIhadseenmanytimes,buthadnevermademyself.Iwasunderhisprotectionnow;hewasboundtotreatmefairly,bythelawofthegods.
“Tellmewhereheis,”Isaid.
Hedidnotmove.Icouldhearthemuffledbatterofhisheartagainsthischest.Ihadnotrealizedhowintimatesupplicationwas,howcloselywewouldbepressed.Hisribsweresharpbeneathmycheek;theskinofhislegswassoftandthinwithage.
“Idonotknow,”hesaid,andthewordsechoeddownthechamber,stirringtheguards.Ifelttheireyesonmyback.SuppliantswererareinPhthia;Peleuswastoogoodakingforsuchdesperatemeasures.
Ipulledathischin,tugginghisfacetomine.Hedidnotresist.
“Idonotbelieveyou,”Isaid.
Amomentpassed.
“Leaveus,”hesaid.Thewordswerefortheguards.Theyshuffledtheirfeet,butobeyed.Wewerealone.
Heleanedforward,downtomyear.Hewhispered,“Scyros.”
Aplace,anisland.Achilles.
WhenIstood,mykneesached,asifIhadbeenkneelingalongtime.PerhapsIhad.IdonotknowhowmanymomentspassedbetweenusinthatlonghallofPhthiankings.Oureyeswerelevelnow,buthewouldnotmeetmygaze.Hehadansweredmebecausehewasapiousman,becauseIhadaskedhimasasuppliant,becausethegodsdemandedit.Hewouldnothaveotherwise.Therewasadullnessintheairbetweenus,andsomethingheavy,likeanger.
“Iwillneedmoney,”Itoldhim.Idonotknowwherethesewordscamefrom.Ihadneverspokensobefore,toanyone.ButIhadnothinglefttolose.
“SpeaktoPhoinix.Hewillgiveittoyou.”
Inoddedmyhead,barely.Ishouldhavedonemuchmore.Ishouldhavekneltagainandthankedhim,rubbedmyforeheadonhisexpensiverug.Ididn’t.Peleusmovedtostareouttheopenwindow;theseawashiddenbythehouse’scurve,butwecouldbothhearit,thedistanthissofwavesagainstsand.
“Youmaygo,”hetoldme.Hemeantittobecold,Ithink,anddismissive;adispleasedkingtohissubject.ButallIheardwashisweariness.
Inoddedoncemoreandleft.
THEGOLDTHATPhoinixgavemewouldhavecarriedmetoScyrosandbacktwiceover.Theship’scaptainstaredwhenIhandedittohim.Isawhiseyesflickingoverit,weighingitsworth,countingwhatitcouldbuyhim.
“Youwilltakeme?”
Myeagernessdispleasedhim.Hedidnotliketoseedesperationinthosewhosoughtpassage;hasteandafreehandspokeofhiddencrimes.Butthegoldwastoomuchforhimtoobject.Hemadeanoise,grudging,ofacceptance,andsentmetomyberth.
Ihadneverbeenatseabeforeandwassurprisedathowslowitwas.Theboatwasabig-belliedtrader,makingitslazyroundsoftheislands,sharingthefleece,oil,andcarvedfurnitureofthemainlandwiththemoreisolatedkingdoms.Everynightweputinatadifferentporttorefillourwaterpotsandunloadourstores.DuringthedaysIstoodattheship’sprow,watchingthewavesfallawayfromourblack-tarredhull,waitingforthesightofland.AtanothertimeIwouldhavebeenenchantedwithitall:thenamesoftheship’sparts,halyard,mast,stern;thecolorofthewater;thescrubbed-cleansmellofthewinds.ButIbarelynoticedthesethings.Ithoughtonlyofthesmallislandflungoutsomewhereinfrontofme,andthefair-hairedboyIhopedIwouldfindthere.
THEBAYOFSCYROSwassosmallthatIdidnotseeituntilwehadswungaroundtherockyisland’ssouthernrimandwerealmostuponit.Ourshipnarrowlysqueezedbetweenitsextendingarms,andthesailorsleanedoverthesidestowatchtherocksslideby,holdingtheirbreath.Oncewewereinside,thewaterwasutterlycalm,andthemenhadtorowustherestoftheway.Theconfinesweredifficulttomaneuver;Ididnotenvythecaptain’svoyageout.
“Wearehere,”hetoldme,sullenly.Iwasalreadywalkingforthegangway
Theclifffacerosesharplyinfrontofme.Therewasapathofstepscarvedintotherock,coilinguptothepalace,andItookthem.Attheirtopwerescrubbytreesandgoats,andthepalace,modestanddull,madehalffromstoneandhalffromwood.Ifithadnotbeentheonlybuildinginsight,Imightnothaveknownitfortheking’shome.Iwenttothedoorandentered.
Thehallwasnarrowanddim,theairdingywiththesmellofolddinners.Atthefarendtwothronessatempty.Afewguardsidledattables,dicing.Theylookedup.
“Well?”oneaskedme.
“IamheretoseeKingLycomedes,”Isaid.Iliftedmychin,sotheywouldknowIwasamanofsomeimportance.IhadwornthefinesttunicIcouldfind—oneofAchilles’.
“I’llgo,”anotheronesaidtohisfellows.Hedroppedhisdicewithaclatterandslumpedoutofthehall.Peleuswouldneverhaveallowedsuchdisaffection;hekepthismenwellandexpectedmuchfromtheminreturn.Everythingabouttheroomseemedthreadbareandgray.
Themanreappeared.“Come,”hesaid.Ifollowedhim,andmyheartpickedup.IhadthoughtlongaboutwhatIwouldsay.Iwasready.
“Inhere.”Hegesturedtoanopendoor,thenturnedtogobacktohisdice
Isteppedthroughthedoorway.Inside,seatedbeforethewispyremainsofafire,satayoungwoman.
“IamtheprincessDeidameia,”sheannounced.Hervoicewasbrightandalmostchildishlyloud,startlingafterthedullnessofthehall.Shehadatipped-upnoseandasharpface,likeafox.Shewaspretty,andsheknewit.
Isummonedmymannersandbowed.“Iamastranger,comeforakindnessfromyourfather.”
“Whynotakindnessfromme?”Shesmiled,tiltingherhead.Shewassurprisinglysmall;Iguessedshewouldbarelybeuptomychestifshestood.“Myfatherisoldandill.Youmayaddressyourpetitiontome,andIwillanswerit.”Sheaffectedaregalpose,carefullypositionedsothewindowlitherfrombehind.
“Iamlookingformyfriend.”
“Oh?”Hereyebrowlifted.“Andwhoisyourfriend?”
“Ayoungman,”Isaid,carefully.
“Isee.Wedohavesomeofthosehere.”Hertonewasplayful,fullofitself.Herdarkhairfelldownherbackinthickcurls.Shetossedherheadalittle,makingitswing,andsmiledatmeagain.“Perhapsyou’dliketostartwithtellingmeyourname?”
“Chironides,”Isaid.SonofChiron.
Shewrinkledhernoseatthename’sstrangeness.
“Chironides.And?”
“Iamseekingafriendofmine,whowouldhavearrivedhereperhapsamonthago.HeisfromPhthia.”
Somethingflashedinhereyes,ormaybeIimagineditdid.“Andwhydoyouseekhim?”sheasked.Ithoughtthathertonewasnotsolightasithadbeen
“Ihaveamessageforhim.”IwishedverymuchthatIhadbeenledtotheoldandillking,ratherthanher.Herfacewaslikequicksilver,alwaysracingtosomethingnew.Sheunsettledme.
“Hmmm.Amessage.”Shesmiledcoyly,tappedherchinwithapaintedfingertip.“Amessageforafriend.AndwhyshouldItellyouifIknowthisyoungmanornot?”
“Becauseyouareapowerfulprincess,andIamyourhumblesuitor.”Iknelt.
Thispleasedher.“Well,perhapsIdoknowsuchaman,andperhapsIdonot.Iwillhavetothinkonit.Youwillstayfordinnerandawaitmydecision.Ifyouarelucky,Imayevendanceforyou,withmywomen.”Shecockedherhead,suddenly.“YouhaveheardofDeidameia’swomen?”
“IamsorrytosaythatIhavenot.”
Shemadeamoueofdispleasure.“Allthekingssendtheirdaughtershereforfostering.Everyoneknowsthatbutyou.”
Ibowedmyhead,sorrowfully.“Ihavespentmytimeinthemountainsandhavenotseenmuchoftheworld.”
Shefrownedalittle.Thenflickedherhandatthedoor.“Tilldinner,Chironides.”
Ispenttheafternooninthedustycourtyardgrounds.Thepalacesatontheisland’shighestpoint,heldupagainsttheblueofthesky,andtheviewwaspretty,despitetheshabbiness.AsIsat,ItriedtorememberallthatIhadheardofLycomedes.Hewasknowntobekindenough,butaweakking,oflimitedresources.EuboiatothewestandIoniatotheeasthadlongeyedhislands;soonenoughoneofthemwouldbringwar,despitetheinhospitableshoreline.Iftheyheardawomanruledhere,itwouldbeallthesooner.
Whenthesunhadset,Ireturnedtothehall.Torcheshadbeenlit,buttheyonlyseemedtoincreasethegloom.Deidameia,agoldcircletgleaminginherhair,ledanoldmanintotheroom.Hewashunchedover,andsodrapedwithfursthatIcouldnottellwherehisbodybegan.Shesettledhimonathroneandgesturedgrandlytoaservant.Istood
Aservantmotionedtothecrackedbenchesandtables,andIsat.Thekingandtheprincessdidnotjoinus;theyremainedontheirthronesatthehall’sotherend.Foodarrived,heartyenough,butmyeyeskeptreturningtothefrontoftheroom.IcouldnottellifIshouldmakemyselfknown.Hadsheforgottenme?
Butthenshestoodandturnedherfacetowardsourtables.“StrangerfromPelion,”shecalled,“youwillneveragainbeabletosaythatyouhavenotheardofDeidameia’swomen.”Anothergesture,withabraceletedhand.Agroupofwomenentered,perhapstwodozen,speakingsoftlytoeachother,theirhaircoveredandboundbackincloth.TheystoodintheemptycentralareathatIsawnowwasadancingcircle.Afewmentookoutflutesanddrums,onealyre.Deidameiadidnotseemtoexpectaresponsefromme,oreventocareifIhadheard.Shesteppeddownfromthethrone’sdaisandwenttothewomen,claimingoneofthetalleronesasapartner
Themusicbegan.Thestepswereintricate,andthegirlsmovedthroughthemfeatly.Inspiteofmyself,Iwasimpressed.Theirdressesswirled,andjewelryswungaroundtheirwristsandanklesastheyspun.Theytossedtheirheadsastheywhirled,likehigh-spiritedhorses.
Deidameiawasthemostbeautiful,ofcourse.Withhergoldencrownandunboundhair,shedrewtheeye,flashingherwristsprettilyintheair.Herfacewasflushedwithpleasure,andasIwatchedher,Isawherbrightnessgrowbrighterstill.Shewasbeamingatherpartner,almostflirting.Nowshewouldduckhereyesatthewoman,nowstepclose
Themusictrilledtoanend,andthedancersfinished.Deidameialedthemforwardinalinetoreceiveourpraise.Herpartnerstoodbesideher,headbowed.Shecurtsiedwiththerestandlookedup.
Imadesomesortofsound,thebreathjumpinginmythroat.Itwasquiet,butitwasenough.Thegirl’seyesflickeredtome.
Severalthingshappenedatoncethen.Achilles—foritwasAchilles—droppedDeidameia’shandandflunghimselfjoyouslyatme,knockingmebackwardswiththeforceofhisembrace.Deidameiascreamed“Pyrrha!”andburstintotears.Lycomedes,whowasnotsofarsunkintodotageashisdaughterhadledmetobelieve,stood.
“Pyrrha,whatisthemeaningofthis?”
Ibarelyheard.AchillesandIclutchedeachother,almostincoherentwithrelief.
“Mymother,”hewhispered,“mymother,she—”
“Pyrrha!”Lycomedes’voicecarriedthelengthofthehall,risingoverhisdaughter’snoisysobs.HewastalkingtoAchilles,Irealized.Pyrrha.Fire-hair.
Achillesignoredhim;Deidameiawailedlouder.Theking,showingajudiciousnessthatsurprisedme,threwhiseyeupontherestofhiscourt,womenandmenboth.“Out,”heordered.Theyobeyedreluctantly,trailingtheirglancesbehindthem.
“Now.”Lycomedescameforward,andIsawhisfaceforthefirsttime.Hisskinwasyellowed,andhisgrayingbeardlookedlikedirtyfleece;yethiseyesweresharpenough.“Whoisthisman,Pyrrha?”
“Noone!”DeidameiahadseizedAchilles’arm,wastuggingatit.
Atthesametime,Achillesansweredcoolly,“Myhusband.”
Iclosedmymouthquickly,soIdidnotgapelikeafish.
“Heisnot!That’snottrue!”Deidameia’svoicerosehigh,startlingthebirdsroostingintherafters.Afewfeatherswafteddowntothefloor.Shemighthavesaidmore,butshewascryingtoohardtospeakclearly.
Lycomedesturnedtomeasifforrefuge,mantoman.“Sir,isthistrue?”
Achilleswassqueezingmyfingers.
“Yes,”Isaid.
“No!”theprincessshrieked.
Achillesignoredherpullingathim,andgracefullyinclinedhisheadatLycomedes.“Myhusbandhascomeforme,andnowImayleaveyourcourt.Thankyouforyourhospitality.”Achillescurtsied.Inotedwithanidle,dazedpartofmymindthathediditremarkablywell.
Lycomedesheldupahandtopreventus.“Weshouldconsultyourmotherfirst.Itwasshewhogaveyoutometofoster.Doessheknowofthishusband?”
“No!”Deidameiasaidagain.
“Daughter!”ThiswasLycomedes,frowninginawaythatwasnotunlikehisdaughter’shabit.“Stopthisscene.ReleasePyrrha.”
Herfacewasblotchyandswollenwithtears,herchestheaving.“No!”SheturnedtoAchilles.“Youarelying!Youhavebetrayedme!Monster!Apathes!”Heartless
Lycomedesfroze.Achilles’fingerstightenedonmine.Inourlanguage,wordscomeindifferentgenders.Shehadusedthemasculineform.
“Whatwasthat?”saidLycomedes,slowly.
Deidameia’sfacehadgonepale,butsheliftedherchinindefiance,andhervoicedidnotwaver.
“Heisaman,”shesaid.Andthen,“Wearemarried.”
“What!”Lycomedesclutchedhisthroat.
Icouldnotspeak.Achilles’handwastheonlythingthatkeptmetoearth.
“Donotdothis,”Achillessaidtoher.“Please.”
Itseemedtoenrageher.“Iwilldoit!”Sheturnedtoherfather.“Youareafool!I’mtheonlyonewhoknew!Iknew!”Shestruckherchestinemphasis.“AndnowI’lltelleveryone.Achilles!”Shescreamedasifshewouldforcehisnamethroughthestoutstonewalls,uptothegodsthemselves.“Achilles!Achilles!I’lltelleveryone!”
“Youwillnot.”Thewordswerecoldandknife-sharp;theypartedtheprincess’sshoutseasily.
Iknowthatvoice.Iturned.
Thetisstoodinthedoorway.Herfaceglowed,thewhite-blueoftheflame’scenter.Hereyeswereblack,gashedintoherskin,andshestoodtallerthanIhadeverseenher.Herhairwasassleekasitalwayswas,andherdressasbeautiful,buttherewassomethingaboutherthatseemedwild,asifaninvisiblewindwhippedaroundher.ShelookedlikeaFury,thedemonsthatcomeformen’sblood.Ifeltmyscalptryingtoclimboffmyhead;evenDeidameiadroppedintosilence.
Westoodthereamoment,facingher.ThenAchillesreachedupandtoretheveilfromhishair.Heseizedthenecklineofhisdressandrippeditdownthefront,exposinghischestbeneath.Thefirelightplayedoverhisskin,warmingittogold.
“Nomore,Mother,”hesaid.
Somethingrippledbeneathherfeatures,aspasmofsorts.Iwashalfafraidshewouldstrikehimdown.Butsheonlywatchedhimwiththoserestlessblackeyes.
Achillesturnedthen,toLycomedes.“MymotherandIhavedeceivedyou,forwhichIoffermyapologies.IamtheprinceAchilles,sonofPeleus.Shedidnotwishmetogotowarandhidmehere,asoneofyourfosterdaughters.”
Lycomedesswallowedanddidnotspeak
“Wewillleavenow,”Achillessaidgently.
ThewordsshookDeidameiafromhertrance.“No,”shesaid,voicerisingagain.“Youcannot.Yourmothersaidthewordsoverus,andwearemarried.Youaremyhusband.”
Lycomedes’breathraspedloudlyinthechamber;hiseyeswereforThetisalone.“Isthistrue?”heasked.
“Itis,”thegoddessanswered.
Somethingfellfromalongheightinmychest.Achillesturnedtome,asifhewouldspeak.Buthismotherwasfaster.
“Youareboundtousnow,KingLycomedes.YouwillcontinuetoshelterAchilleshere.Youwillsaynothingofwhoheis.Inreturn,yourdaughterwillonedaybeabletoclaimafamoushusband.”HereyeswenttoapointaboveDeidameia’shead,thenback.Sheadded,“Itisbetterthanshewouldhavedone.”
Lycomedesrubbedathisneck,asifhewouldsmoothitswrinkles.“Ihavenochoice,”hesaid.“Asyouknow.”
“WhatifIwillnotbesilent?”Deidameia’scolorwashigh.“Youhaveruinedme,youandyourson.Ihavelainwithhim,asyoutoldmeto,andmyhonorisgone.Iwillclaimhimnow,beforethecourt,asrecompense.”
Ihavelainwithhim.
“Youareafoolishgirl,”Thetissaid.Eachwordfelllikeanaxeblade,sharpandsevering.“Poorandordinary,anexpedientonly.Youdonotdeservemyson.YouwillkeepyourpeaceorIwillkeepitforyou.”
Deidameiasteppedbackwards,hereyeswide,herlipsgonewhite.Herhandsweretrembling.Sheliftedonetoherstomachandclutchedthefabricofherdressthere,asiftosteadyherself.Outsidethepalace,beyondthecliffs,wecouldhearhugewavesbreakingontherocks,dashingtheshorelinetopieces.
“Iampregnant,”theprincesswhispered.
IwaswatchingAchilleswhenshesaidit,andIsawthehorroronhisface.Lycomedesmadeanoiseofpain.
Mychestfelthollowed,andegg-shellthin.Enough.PerhapsIsaidit,perhapsIonlythoughtit.IletgoofAchilles’handandstrodetothedoor.Thetismusthavemovedasideforme;Iwouldhaverunintoherifshehadnot.Alone,Isteppedintothedarkness.
“WAIT!”ACHILLESSHOUTED.Ittookhimlongertoreachmethanitshouldhave,Inotedwithdetachment.Thedressmustbetanglinghislegs.Hecaughtuptome,seizedmyarm.
“Letgo,”Isaid.
“Please,wait.Please,letmeexplain.Ididnotwanttodoit.Mymother—”Hewasbreathless,almostpanting.Ihadneverseenhimsoupset.
“Sheledthegirltomyroom.Shemademe.Ididnotwantto.Mymothersaid—shesaid—”Hewasstumblingoverhiswords.“ShesaidthatifIdidasshesaid,shewouldtellyouwhereIwas.”
WhathadDeidameiathoughtwouldhappen,Iwondered,whenshehadherwomendanceforme?HadshereallythoughtIwouldnotknowhim?Icouldrecognizehimbytouchalone,bysmell;Iwouldknowhimblind,bythewayhisbreathscameandhisfeetstrucktheearth.Iwouldknowhimindeath,attheendoftheworld.
“Patroclus.”Hecuppedmycheekwithhishand.“Doyouhearme?Please,saysomething.”
Icouldnotstopimaginingherskinbesidehis,herswellingbreastsandcurvinghips.IrememberedthelongdaysIgrievedforhim,myhandsemptyandidle,pluckingtheairlikebirdspeckatdryearth.
“Patroclus?”
“Youdiditfornothing.”
Heflinchedattheemptinessofmyvoice.ButhowelsewasItosound?
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Yourmotherdidnottellmewhereyouwere.ItwasPeleus.”
Hisfacehadgonepale,bleddry.“Shedidnottellyou?”
“No.Didyoutrulyexpectshewould?”MyvoicecutharderthanImeantitto.
“Yes,”hewhispered.
TherewereathousandthingsImighthavesaid,toreproachhimforhisna?veté.Hehadalwaystrustedtooeasily;hehadhadsolittleinhislifetofearorsuspect.Inthedaysbeforeourfriendship,Ihadalmosthatedhimforthis,andsomeoldsparkofthatflaredinme,tryingtorelight.AnyoneelsewouldhaveknownthatThetisactedforherownpurposesonly.Howcouldhebesofoolish?Theangrywordsprickedinmymouth.
ButwhenItriedtospeakthem,IfoundIcouldnot.Hischeekswereflushedwithshame,andtheskinbeneathhiseyeswasweary.Histrustwasapartofhim,asmuchashishandsorhismiraculousfeet.Anddespitemyhurt,Iwouldnotwishtoseeitgone,toseehimasuneasyandfearfulastherestofus,foranyprice.
Hewaswatchingmeclosely,readingmyfaceoverandover,likeapriestsearchingtheauguriesforananswer.Icouldseetheslightlineinhisforeheadthatmeantutmostconcentration.
Somethingshiftedinmethen,likethefrozensurfaceoftheApidanosinspring.IhadseenthewayhelookedatDeidameia;orratherthewayhedidnot.ItwasthesamewayhehadlookedattheboysinPhthia,blankandunseeing.Hehadnever,notonce,lookedatmethatway.
“Forgiveme,”hesaidagain.“Ididnotwantit.Itwasnotyou.Ididnot—Ididnotlikeit.”
HearingitsoothedthelastofthejaggedgriefthathadbegunwhenDeidameiashoutedhisname.Mythroatwasthickwiththebeginningoftears.“Thereisnothingtoforgive,”Isaid.
LATERTHATEVENINGwereturnedtothepalace.Thegreathallwasdark,itsfireburnedtoembers.Achilleshadrepairedhisdressasbesthecould,butitstillgapedtothewaist;hehelditclosedincasewemetalingeringguard.
Thevoicecamefromtheshadows,startlingus.
“Youhavereturned.”Themoonlightdidnotquitereachthethrones,butwesawtheoutlineofamanthere,thickwithfurs.Hisvoiceseemeddeeperthanithadbefore,heavier.
“Wehave,”Achillessaid.Icouldheartheslighthesitationbeforeheanswered.Hehadnotexpectedtofacethekingagainsosoon.
“Yourmotherisgone,Idonotknowwhere.”Thekingpaused,asifawaitingaresponse.
Achillessaidnothing.
“Mydaughter,yourwife,isinherroomcrying.Shehopesyouwillcometoher.”
IfelttheflinchofAchilles’guilt.Hiswordscameoutstiffly;itwasnotafeelinghewasusedto.
“Itisunfortunatethatshehopesforthis.”
“Itisindeed,”Lycomedessaid.
Westoodinsilenceamoment.ThenLycomedesdrewawearybreath.“Isupposethatyouwantaroomforyourfriend?”
“Ifyoudonotmind,”Achillessaid,carefully.
Lycomedesletoutasoftlaugh.“No,PrinceAchilles,Idonotmind.”Therewasanothersilence.Iheardthekingliftagoblet,drink,replaceitonthetable.
“Thechildmusthaveyourname.Youunderstandthis?”Thisiswhathehadwaitedinthedarktosay,beneathhisfurs,bythedyingfire.
“Iunderstandit,”Achillessaidquietly.
“Andyouswearit?”
Therewasahairsbreadthofapause.Ipitiedtheoldking.IwasgladwhenAchillessaid,“Iswearit.”
Theoldmanmadeasoundlikeasigh.Buthiswords,whentheycame,wereformal;hewasakingagain.
“Goodnighttoyouboth.”
Webowedandlefthim.
Inthebowelsofthepalace,Achillesfoundaguardtoshowustotheguestquarters.Thevoiceheusedwashighandfluting,hisgirl’svoice.Isawtheguard’seyesflickeroverhim,lingeringonthetornedgesofthedress,hisdisheveledhair.Hegrinnedatmewithallhisteeth.
“Rightaway,mistress,”hesaid.
INTHESTORIES,thegodshavethepowertodelaythemoon’scourseiftheywish,tospinasinglenightthelengthofmany.Suchwasthisnight,abountyofhoursthatneverrandry.Wedrankdeeply,thirstyforallthatwehadmissedintheweekswewereseparated.ItwasnotuntiltheskybegantoblanchatlasttograythatIrememberedwhathehadsaidtoLycomedesinthehall.IthadbeenforgottenamidstDeidameia’spregnancy,hismarriage,ourreunion.
“Yourmotherwastryingtohideyoufromthewar?”
Henodded.“ShedoesnotwantmetogotoTroy.”
“Why?”Ihadalwaysthoughtshewantedhimtofight.
“Idon’tknow.ShesaysI’mtooyoung.Notyet,shesays.”
“Anditwasheridea—?”Igesturedattheremnantsofthedress.
“Ofcourse.Iwouldn’thavedoneitmyself.”Hemadeafaceandyankedathishair,hangingstillinitswomanlycurls.Anirritant,butnotacripplingshame,asitwouldhavebeentoanotherboy.Hedidnotfearridicule;hehadneverknownit.“Anyway,itisonlyuntilthearmyleaves.”
Mymindstruggledwiththis.
“So,truly,itwasnotbecauseofme?Thatshetookyou?”
“Deidameiawasbecauseofyou,Ithink.”Hestaredathishandsamoment.“Buttherestwasthewar.”
ChapterThirteen
THENEXTDAYSPASSEDQUIETLY.WETOOKMEALSINourroomandspentlonghoursawayfromthepalace,exploringtheisland,seekingwhatshadetherewasbeneaththescruffytrees.Wehadtobecareful;Achillescouldnotbeseenmovingtooquickly,climbingtooskillfully,holdingaspear.Butwewerenotfollowed,andthereweremanyplaceswherehecouldsafelylethisdisguisedrop.
Onthefarsideoftheislandtherewasadesertedstretchofbeach,rock-filledbuttwicethesizeofourrunningtracks.Achillesmadeasoundofdelightwhenhesawit,andtoreoffhisdress.Iwatchedhimraceacrossit,asswiftlyasifthebeachhadbeenflat.“Countforme,”heshouted,overhisshoulder.Idid,tappingagainstthesandtokeepthetime.
“Howmany?”hecalled,fromthebeach’send.
“Thirteen,”Icalledback.
“I’mjustwarmingup,”hesaid.
Thenexttimeitwaseleven.Thelasttimeitwasnine.Hesatdownnexttome,barelywinded,hischeeksflushedwithjoy.Hehadtoldmeofhisdaysasawoman,thelonghoursofenforcedtedium,withonlythedancesforrelief.Freenow,hestretchedhismuscleslikeoneofPelion’smountaincats,luxuriantinhisownstrength.
Intheevenings,though,wehadtoreturntothegreathall.Reluctant,Achilleswouldputonhisdressandsmoothbackhishair.Oftenhebounditupincloth,ashehadthatfirstnight;goldenhairwasuncommonenoughtoberemarkeduponbythesailorsandmerchantswhopassedthroughourharbor.Iftheirtalesfoundtheearsofsomeonecleverenough—Ididnotliketothinkofit.
Atablewassetforusatthefrontofthehallnearthethrones.Weatethere,thefourofus,Lycomedes,Deidameia,Achilles,andI.Sometimeswewerejoinedbyacounselorortwo,sometimesnot.Thesedinnersweremostlysilent;theywereforform,toquellgossipandmaintainthefictionofAchillesasmywifeandtheking’sward.Deidameia’seyesdartedeagerlytowardshim,hopinghewouldlookather.Butheneverdid.“Goodevening,”hewouldsay,inhispropergirl’svoice,aswesat,butnothingmore.Hisindifferencewasapalpablething,andIsawherprettyfaceflinchthroughemotionsofshameandhurtandanger.Shekeptlookingtoherfather,asifshehopedhemightintervene.ButLycomedesputbiteafterbiteinhismouthandsaidnothing.
Sometimesshesawmewatchingher;herfacewouldgrowhardthen,andhereyeswouldnarrow.Sheputahandonherbelly,possessively,asiftowardoffsomespellImightcast.PerhapsshethoughtIwasmockingher,flourishingmytriumph.PerhapsshethoughtIhatedher.ShedidnotknowthatIalmostaskedhim,ahundredtimes,tobealittlekindertoher.Youdonothavetohumiliatehersothoroughly,IthoughtButitwasnotkindnesshelacked;itwasinterest.Hisgazepassedoverherasifshewerenotthere.
Onceshetriedtospeaktohim,hervoicetremblingwithhope.
“Areyouwell,Pyrrha?”
Hecontinuedeating,inhiselegantswiftbites.HeandIhadplannedtotakespearstothefarsideoftheislandafterdinnerandcatchfishbymoonlight.Hewaseagertobegone.Ihadtonudgehim,beneaththetable.
“Whatisit?”heaskedme.
“Theprincesswantstoknowifyouarewell.”
“Oh.”Heglancedatherbriefly,thenbacktome.“Iamwell,”hesaid.
ASTHEDAYSWOREON,Achillestooktowakingearly,sothathemightpracticewithspearsbeforethesunrosehigh.Wehadhiddenweaponsinadistantgrove,andhewouldexercisetherebeforereturningtowomanhoodinthepalace.Sometimeshemightvisithismotherafterwards,sittingononeofScyros’jaggedrocks,danglinghisfeetintothesea.
Itwasoneofthesemornings,whenAchilleswasgone,thattherewasaloudraponmydoor.
“Yes?”Icalled.Buttheguardswerealreadysteppinginside.TheyweremoreformalthanIhadeverseenthem,carryingspearsandstandingatattention.Itwasstrangetoseethemwithouttheirdice.
“You’retocomewithus,”oneofthemsaid.
“Why?”Iwasbarelyoutofbedandstillblearywithsleep.
“Theprincessorderedit.”Aguardtookeachofmyarmsandtowedmetothedoor.WhenIstutteredaprotest,thefirstguardleanedtowardsme,hiseyesonmine.“Itwillbebetterifyougoquietly.”Hedrewhisthumboverhisspearpointintheatricalmenace.
Ididnotreallythinktheywouldhurtme,butneitherdidIwanttobedraggedthroughthehallsofthepalace.“Allright,”Isaid.
THENARROWCORRIDORSwheretheyledmeIhadnevervisitedbefore.Theywerethewomen’squarters,twistingofffromthemainrooms,abeehiveofnarrowcellswhereDeidameia’sfostersisterssleptandlived.Iheardlaughterfrombehindthedoors,andtheendlessshush-shushoftheshuttle.Achillessaidthatthesundidnotcomethroughthewindowshere,andtherewasnobreeze.Hehadspentnearlytwomonthsinthem;Icouldnotimagineit.
Atlastwecametoalargedoor,cutfromfinerwoodthantherest.Theguardknockedonit,openedit,andpushedmethrough.Ihearditclosefirmlybehindme.
Inside,Deidameiawasseatedprimlyonaleather-coveredchair,regardingme.Therewasatablebesideher,andasmallstoolatherfeet;otherwisetheroomwasempty.
Shemusthaveplannedthis,Irealized.SheknewthatAchilleswasaway.
Therewasnoplaceformetosit,soIstood.Thefloorwascoldstone,andmyfeetwerebare.Therewasasecond,smallerdoor;itledtoherbedroom,Iguessed.
Shewatchedmelooking,hereyesbrightasabird’s.Therewasnothingclevertosay,soIsaidsomethingfoolish.
“Youwantedtospeakwithme.”
Shesniffedalittle,withcontempt.“Yes,Patroclus.Iwantedtospeakwithyou.”
Iwaited,butshesaidnothingmore,onlystudiedme,afingertappingthearmofherchair.Herdresswaslooserthanusual;shedidnothaveittiedacrossthewaistassheoftendid,toshowherfigure.Herhairwasunboundandheldbackatthetempleswithcarvedivorycombs.Shetiltedherheadandsmiledatme.
“Youarenotevenhandsome,thatisthefunnything.Youarequiteordinary.”
Shehadherfather’swayofpausingasifsheexpectedareply.Ifeltmyselfflushing.Imustsaysomething.Iclearedmythroat.
Sheglaredatme.“Ihavenotgivenyouleavetospeak.”Sheheldmygazeamoment,asiftomakesurethatIwouldnotdisobey,thencontinued.“Ithinkit’sfunny.Lookatyou.”Sherose,andherquickstepsateupthespacebetweenus.“Yourneckisshort.Yourchestisthinasaboy’s.”Shegesturedatmewithdisdainfulfingers.“Andyourface.”Shegrimaced.“Hideous.Mywomenquiteagree.Evenmyfatheragrees.”Herprettyredlipspartedtoshowherwhiteteeth.ItwastheclosestIhadeverbeentoher.Icouldsmellsomethingsweet,likeacanthusflower;closeup,Icouldseethatherhairwasnotjustblack,butshotthroughwithshiftingcolorsofrichbrown.
“Well?Whatdoyousay?”Herhandswereonherhips.
“Youhavenotgivenmeleavetospeak,”Isaid.
Angerflashedoverherface.“Don’tbeanidiot,”shespatatme.
“Iwasn’t—”
Sheslappedme.Herhandwassmallbutcarriedsurprisingforce.Itturnedmyheadtothesideroughly.Theskinstung,andmylipthrobbedsharplywhereshehadcaughtitwitharing.IhadnotbeenstrucklikethissinceIwasachild.Boyswerenotusuallyslapped,butafathermightdoittoshowcontempt.Minehad.Itshockedme;IcouldnothavespokenevenifIhadknownwhattosay.
Shebaredherteethatme,asifdaringmetostrikeherinreturn.WhenshesawIwouldnot,herfacetwistedwithtriumph.“Coward.Ascravenasyouareugly.Andhalf-moronbesides,Ihear.Idonotunderstandit!Itmakesnosensethatheshould—”Shestoppedabruptly,andthecornerofhermouthtuggeddown,asifcaughtbyafisherman’shook.Sheturnedherbacktomeandwassilent.Amomentpassed.Icouldhearthesoundofherbreaths,drawnslowly,soIwouldnotguessshewascrying.Iknewthetrick.Ihaddoneitmyself.
“Ihateyou,”shesaid,buthervoicewasthickandtherewasnoforceinit.Asortofpityroseinme,coolingtheheatofmycheeks.Irememberedhowhardathingindifferencewastobear.
Iheardherswallow,andherhandmovedswiftlytoherface,asiftowipeawaytears.“I’mleavingtomorrow,”shesaid.“Thatshouldmakeyouhappy.Myfatherwantsmetobeginmyconfinementearly.Hesaysitwouldbringshameuponmeforthepregnancytobeseen,beforeitwasknownIwasmarried.”
Confinement.Iheardthebitternessinhervoicewhenshesaidit.Somesmallhouse,attheedgeofLycomedes’land.Shewouldnotbeabletodanceorspeakwithcompanionsthere.Shewouldbealone,withaservantandhergrowingbelly.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.
Shedidnotanswer.Iwatchedthesoftheavingofherbackbeneaththewhitegown.Itookasteptowardsher,thenstopped.Ihadthoughttotouchher,tosmoothherhairincomfort.Butitwouldnotbecomfort,fromme.Myhandfellbacktomyside.
Westoodtherelikethatforsometime,thesoundofourbreathsfillingthechamber.Whensheturned,herfacewasruddyfromcrying.
“Achillesdoesnotregardme.”Hervoicetrembledalittle.“EventhoughIbearhischildandamhiswife.Doyou—knowwhythisisso?”
Itwasachild’squestion,likewhytherainfallsorwhythesea’smotionneverceases.Ifeltolderthanher,thoughIwasnot.
“Idonotknow,”Isaidsoftly.
Herfacetwisted.“That’salie.You’rethereason.Youwillsailwithhim,andIwillbelefthere.”
Iknewsomethingofwhatitwastobealone.Ofhowanother’sgoodfortuneprickedlikeagoad.ButtherewasnothingIcoulddo.
“Ishouldgo,”Isaid,asgentlyasIcould.
“No!”Shemovedquicklytoblockmyway.Herwordstumbledout.“Youcannot.Iwillcalltheguardsifyoutry.Iwill—Iwillsayyouattackedme.”
Sorrowforherdraggedatme,bearingmedown.Evenifshecalledthem,eveniftheybelievedher,theycouldnothelpher.IwasthecompanionofAchillesandinvulnerable.
Myfeelingsmusthaveshownonmyface;sherecoiledfrommeasifstung,andtheheatsparkedinheragain.
“Youwereangrythathemarriedme,thathelaywithme.Youwerejealous.Youshouldbe.”Herchinlifted,asitusedto.“Itwasnotjustonce.”
Itwastwice.Achilleshadtoldme.Shethoughtthatshehadpowertodriveawedgebetweenus,butshehadnothing.
“I’msorry,”Isaidagain.Ihadnothingbettertosay.Hedidnotloveher;heneverwould.
Asifsheheardmythought,herfacecrumpled.Hertearsfellonthefloor,turningthegraystoneblack,dropbydrop.
“Letmegetyourfather,”Isaid.“Oroneofyourwomen.”
Shelookedupatme.“Please—”shewhispered.“Pleasedonotleave.”
Shewasshivering,likesomethingjustborn.Alwaysbefore,herhurtshadbeensmall,andtherehadbeensomeonetoofferhercomfort.Nowtherewasonlythisroom,thebarewallsandsinglechair,theclosetofhergrief.
Almostunwillingly,Isteppedtowardsher.Shegaveasmallsigh,likeasleepychild,anddroopedgratefullyintothecircleofmyarms.Hertearsbledthroughmytunic;Iheldthecurvesofherwaist,feltthewarm,softskinofherarms.Hehadheldherjustlikethis,perhaps.ButAchillesseemedalongwayoff;hisbrightnesshadnoplaceinthisdull,wearyroom.Herface,hotasifwithfever,pressedagainstmychest.AllIcouldseeofherwasthetopofherhead,thewhorlandtangleofhershiningdarkhair,thepalescalpbeneath.
Afteratime,hersobssubsided,andshedrewmecloser.Ifeltherhandsstrokingmyback,thelengthofherbodypressingtomine.AtfirstIdidnotunderstand.ThenIdid.
“Youdonotwantthis,”Isaid.Imadetostepback,butsheheldmetootightly.
“Ido.”Hereyeshadanintensitytothemthatalmostfrightenedme.
“Deidameia.”ItriedtosummonthevoiceIhadusedtomakePeleusyield.“Theguardsareoutside.Youmustnot—”
Butshewascalmnow,andsure.“Theywillnotdisturbus.”
Iswallowed,mythroatdrywithpanic.“Achilleswillbelookingforme.”
Shesmiledsadly.“Hewillnotlookhere.”Shetookmyhand.“Come,”shesaid.Anddrewmethroughherbedroom’sdoor.
AchilleshadtoldmeabouttheirnightstogetherwhenIasked.Ithadnotbeenawkwardforhimtodoso—nothingwasforbiddenbetweenus.Herbody,hesaid,wassoftandsmallasachild’s.Shehadcometohiscellatnightwithhismotherandlainbesidehimonthebed.Hehadfearedhewouldhurther;ithadbeenswift,andneitherspoke.Heflounderedashetriedtodescribetheheavy,thicksmell,thewetnessbetweenherlegs.“Greasy,”hesaid,“likeoil.”WhenIpressedhimfurther,heshookhishead.“Icannotremember,really.Itwasdark,andIcouldnotsee.Iwantedittobeover.”Hestrokedmycheek.“Imissedyou.”
Thedoorclosedbehindus,andwewerealoneinamodestroom.Thewallswerehungwithtapestries,andthefloorwasthickwithsheepskinrugs.Therewasabed,pushedagainstthewindow,tocatchthehintofbreeze.
Shepulledherdressoverherhead,anddroppeditonthefloor.
“DoyouthinkIambeautiful?”sheaskedme.
Iwasgratefulforasimpleanswer.“Yes,”Isaid.Herbodywassmallanddelicatelymade,withjustthebarestriseofbellywherethechildgrew.MyeyesweredrawndowntowhatIhadneverseenbefore,asmallfurredarea,thedarkhairsspreadinglightlyupwards.Shesawmelooking.Reachingformyhandsheguidedmetothatplace,whichradiatedheatliketheembersofafire.
Theskinthatslippedagainstmyfingerswaswarmanddelicate,sofragileIwasalmostafraidIwouldtearitwithmytouch.Myotherhandreacheduptostrokehercheek,totracethesoftnessbeneathhereyes.Thelookinthemwasterribletosee:therewasnohopeorpleasure,onlydetermination.
Almost,Ifled.ButIcouldnotbeartoseeherfacebrokenopenwithmoresorrow,moredisappointment—anotherboywhocouldnotgiveherwhatshewanted.SoIallowedherhands,fumblingalittle,todrawmetothebed,toguidemebetweenherthighs,wheretenderskinparted,weepingslowwarmdrops.Ifeltresistanceandwouldhavedrawnback,butsheshookherheadsharply.Hersmallfacewastightwithconcentration,herjawsetasifagainstpain.Itwasareliefforusbothwhenatlasttheskineased,gaveway.WhenIslippedintothatsheathingwarmthwithinher.
IwillnotsayIwasnotaroused.Aslowclimbingtensionmovedthroughme.Itwasastrange,drowsyfeeling,sodifferentfrommysharp,suredesiresforAchilles.Sheseemedhurtbythis,myheavy-liddedrepose.Moreindifference.AndsoIletmyselfmove,madesoundsofpleasure,pressedmychestagainsthersasifinpassion,flatteninghersoft,smallbreastsbeneathme.
Shewaspleasedthen,suddenlyfierce,pullingandpushingmeharderandfaster,hereyeslightingintriumphatthechangesinmybreath.Andthen,attheslowrisingoftideinsideme,herlegs,lightbutfirm,wrappedaroundmyback,buckingmeintoher,drawingoutthespasmofmypleasure.
Afterwardswelaybreathless,sidebysidebutnottouching.Herfacewasshadowedanddistant,herposturestrangelystiff.Mymindwasstillmuddiedfromclimax,butIreachedtoholdher.Icouldofferherthis,atleast.
Butshedrewawayfrommeandstood,hereyeswary;theskinbeneaththemwasdarkasbruises.Sheturnedtodress,andherroundheart-shapedbuttocksstaredatmelikeareproach.Ididnotunderstandwhatshehadwanted;IonlyknewIhadnotgivenit.Istoodandpulledonmytunic.Iwouldhavetouchedher,strokedherface,buthereyeswarnedmeaway,sharpandfull.Sheheldopenthedoor.Hopelessly,Isteppedoverthethreshold.
“Wait.”Hervoicesoundedraw.Iturned.“Tellhimgood-bye,”shesaid.Andthenclosedthedoor,darkandthickbetweenus.
WHENIFOUNDACHILLESagain,Ipressedmyselftohiminreliefatthejoybetweenus,atbeingreleasedfromhersadnessandhurt.
Later,Ialmostconvincedmyselfithadnothappened,thatithadbeenavividdream,drawnfromhisdescriptionsandtoomuchimagination.Butthatisnotthetruth.
ChapterFourteen
DEIDAMEIALEFTTHENEXTMORNING,ASSHEHADSAIDshewould.“Sheisvisitinganaunt,”Lycomedestoldthecourtatbreakfast,hisvoiceflat.Iftherewerequestions,noonedaredtoaskthem.Shewouldbegoneuntilthechildwasborn,andAchillescouldbenamedasfather.
Theweeksthatpassednowfeltcuriouslysuspended.AchillesandIspentasmuchtimeaspossibleawayfromthepalace,andourjoy,soexplosiveatourreunion,hadbeenreplacedwithimpatience.Wewantedtoleave,toreturntoourlivesonPelion,orinPhthia.Wefeltfurtiveandguiltywiththeprincessgone;thecourt’seyesonushadsharpened,grownuncomfortable.Lycomedesfrownedwheneverhesawus.
Andthentherewasthewar.Evenhere,infar-off,forgottenScyros,newscameofit.Helen’sformersuitorshadhonoredtheirvow,andAgamemnon’sarmywasrichwithprincelyblood.Itwassaidthathehaddonewhatnomanbeforehimcould:unitedourfractiouskingdomswithcommoncause.Irememberedhim—agrim-facedshadow,shaggyasabear.Tomynine-year-oldself,hisbrotherMenelaushadbeenmuchthemorememorableofthetwo,withhisredhairandmerryvoice.ButAgamemnonwasolder,andhisarmiesthelarger;hewouldleadtheexpeditiontoTroy.
Itwasmorning,andlatewinter,thoughitdidnotseemit.Sofarsouth,theleavesdidnotfallandnofrostpinchedthemorningair.Welingeredinarockcleftthatlookedoverthespanofhorizon,watchingidlyforshipsorthegrayflashofdolphinback.Wehurledpebblesfromthecliff,leaningovertowatchthemskitterdowntherock-face.
“IwishIhadyourmother’slyre,”hesaid.
“Metoo.”ButitwasinPhthia,leftbehindwitheverythingelse.Weweresilentamoment,rememberingthesweetnessofitsstrings.
Heleanedforward.“Whatisthat?”
Isquinted.Thesunsatdifferentlyonthehorizonnowthatitwaswinter,seemingtoslantintomyeyesfromeveryangle.
“Icannottell.”Istaredatthehazewheretheseavanishedintothesky.Therewasadistantsmudgethatmighthavebeenaship,oratrickofthesunonthewater.“Ifit’saship,therewillbenews,”Isaid,withafamiliarclutchinmystomach.EachtimeIfearedwordwouldcomeofasearchforthelastofHelen’ssuitors,theoath-breaker.Iwasyoungthen;itdidnotoccurtomethatnoleaderwouldwishitknownthatsomehadnotobeyedhissummons.
“Itisaship,forcertain,”Achillessaid.Thesmudgewasclosernow;theshipmustbemovingveryquickly.Thebrightcolorsofthesailresolvedthemselvesmomentbymomentoutofthesea’sblue-gray.
“Notatrader,”Achillescommented.Tradingshipsusedwhitesailsonly,practicalandcheap;amanneededtoberichindeedtowastehisdyeonsailcloth.Agamemnon’smessengershadcrimsonandpurplesails,symbolsstolenfromeasternroyalty.Thisship’ssailswereyellow,whorledwithpatternsofblack.
“Doyouknowthedesign?”Iasked.
Achillesshookhishead.
WewatchedtheshipskirtthenarrowmouthofScyros’bayandbeachitselfonthesandyshore.Arough-cutstoneanchorwasheavedoverboard,thegangwaylowered.Weweretoofartoseemuchofthemenonitsdeck,beyonddarkheads.
Wehadstayedlongerthanweshouldhave.Achillesstoodandtuckedhiswind-loosenedhairbackbeneathitskerchief.Myhandsbusiedthemselveswiththefoldsofhisdress,settlingthemmoregracefullyacrosshisshoulders,fasteningthebeltsandlaces;itwasbarelystrangeanymoretoseehiminit.Whenwewerefinished,Achillesbenttowards
Thehairlinecracksofaheadachewerebeginningbehindmyeyes;Iwenttomybedroom,coolanddark,itsshuttersbarringthemiddaysun,andslept.
Aknockwokeme.Aservantperhaps,orLycomedes.Myeyesstillclosed,Icalled,“Comein.”
“It’srathertoolateforthat,”avoiceanswered.Thetonewasamused,dryasdriftwood.Iopenedmyeyesandsatup.Amanstoodinsidetheopendoor.Hewassturdyandmuscular,withaclose-croppedphilosopher’sbeard,darkbrowntingedwithfaintestred.Hesmiledatme,andIsawthelineswhereothersmileshadbeen.Itwasaneasymotionforhim,swiftandpracticed.Somethingaboutittuggedatmymemory.
“I’msorryifIdisturbedyou.”Hisvoicewaspleasant,wellmodulated.
“It’sallright,”Isaid,carefully.“IwashopingImighthaveawordwithyou.DoyoumindifIsit?”Hegesturedtowardsachairwithawidepalm.Therequestwaspolitelymade;despitemyunease,Icouldfindnoreasontorefusehim.
Inodded,andhedrewthechairtohim.Hishandswerecallusedandrough;theywouldnothavelookedoutofplaceholdingaplow,yethismannerbespokenobility.TostallIstoodandopenedtheshutters,hopingmybrainwouldshakeoffitssleepyfog.Icouldthinkofnoreasonthatanymanwouldwantamomentofmytime.Unlesshehadcometoclaimmeformyoath.Iturnedtofacehim.
“Whoareyou?”Iasked.
Themanlaughed.“Agoodquestion.I’vebeenterriblyrude,bargingintoyourroomlikethis.IamoneofthegreatkingAgamemnon’scaptains.Itraveltheislandsandspeaktopromisingyoungmen,suchasyourself”—heinclinedhisheadtowardsme—“aboutjoiningourarmyagainstTroy.Haveyouheardofthewar?”
“Ihaveheardofit,”Isaid.
“Good.”Hesmiledandstretchedhisfeetinfrontofhim.Thefadinglightfellonhislegs,revealingapinkscarthatseamedthebrownfleshofhisrightcalffromankletoknee.Apinkscar.MystomachdroppedasifIleanedoverScyros’highestcliff,withnothingbeneathmebutthelongfalltothesea.Hewasoldernow,andlarger,comeintothefullflushofhisstrength.Odysseus
Hesaidsomething,butIdidnothearit.IwasbackinTyndareus’hall,rememberinghiscleverdarkeyesthatmissednothing.Didheknowme?Istaredathisface,butsawonlyaslightlypuzzledexpectation.Heiswaitingforananswer.Iforceddownmyfear.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.“Ididnothearyou.What?”
“Areyouinterested?Injoiningustofight?”
“Idon’tthinkyou’dwantme.I’mnotaverygoodsoldier.”
Hismouthtwistedwryly.“It’sfunny—nooneseemstobe,whenIcomecalling.”Histonewaslight;itwasasharedjoke,notareproach.“What’syourname?”
Itriedtosoundascasualashe.“Chironides.”
“Chironides,”herepeated.Iwatchedhimfordisbelief,butsawnone.Thetensioninmymusclesebbedalittle.Ofcoursehedidnotrecognizeme.IhadchangedmuchsinceIwasnine.
“Well,Chironides,Agamemnonpromisesgoldandhonorforallwhofightforhim.Thecampaignlookstobeshort;wewillhaveyoubackhomebynextfall.Iwillbehereforafewdays,andIhopeyouwillconsiderit.”Hedroppedhishandstohiskneeswithfinality,andstood.
“That’sit?”Ihadexpectedpersuasionandpressure,alongeveningofit
Helaughed,almostaffectionately.“Yes,that’sit.IassumeIwillseeyouatdinner?”
Inodded.Hemadeasiftogo,thenstopped.“Youknow,it’sfunny;IkeepthinkingI’veseenyoubefore.”
“Idoubtit,”Isaidquickly.“Idon’trecognizeyou.”
Hestudiedmeamoment,thenshrugged,givingup.“Imustbeconfusingyouwithanotheryoungman.Youknowwhattheysay.Theolderyouget,thelessyouremember.”Hescratchedhisbeardthoughtfully.“Who’syourfather?Perhapsit’shimIknow.”
“Iamanexile.”
Hemadeasympatheticface.“I’msorrytohearit.Wherewereyoufrom?”
“Thecoast.”
“Northorsouth?”
“South.”
Heshookhisheadruefully.“Iwouldhaveswornyouwerefromthenorth.SomewherenearThessaly,say.OrPhthia.Youhavethesameroundnesstoyourvowelsthattheydo.”
Iswallowed.InPhthia,theconsonantswereharderthanelsewhere,andthevowelswider.Ithadsoundeduglytome,untilIheardAchillesspeak.IhadnotrealizedhowmuchofitIhadadopted
“I—didnotknowthat,”Imumbled.Myheartwasbeatingveryfast.Ifonlyhewouldleave.
“Uselessinformationismycurse,I’mafraid.”Hewasamusedagain,thatslightsmile.“Nowdon’tforgettocomefindmeifyoudecideyouwanttojoinus.OrifyouhappentoknowofanyotherlikelyyoungmenIshouldspeakto.”Thedoorsnickedshutbehindhim.
THEDINNERBELLhadrungandthecorridorswerebusywithservantscarryingplattersandchairs.WhenIsteppedintothehall,myvisitorwasalreadythere,standingwithLycomedesandanotherman.
“Chironides,”Lycomedesacknowledgedmyarrival.“ThisisOdysseus,rulerofIthaca.”
“Thankgoodnessforhosts,”Odysseussaid.“IrealizedafterIleftthatInevertoldyoumyname.”
AndIdidnotaskbecauseIknew.Ithadbeenamistakebutwasnotirreparable.Iwidenedmyeyes.“You’reaking?”Idroppedtoaknee,inmybeststartledobeisance.
“Actually,he’sonlyaprince,”avoicedrawled.“I’mtheonewho’saking.”Ilookeduptomeetthethirdman’seyes;theywereabrownsolightitwasalmostyellow,andkeen.Hisbeardwasshortandblack,anditemphasizedtheslantingplanesofhisface.
“ThisisLordDiomedes,KingofArgos,”Lycomedessaid.“AcomradeofOdysseus.”AndanothersuitorofHelen’s,thoughIrememberednomorethanhisname.
“Lord.”Ibowedtohim.Ididnothavetimetofearrecognition—hehadalreadyturnedaway.
“Well.”Lycomedesgesturedtothetable.“Shallweeat?”
FordinnerwewerejoinedbyseveralofLycomedes’counselors,andIwasgladtovanishamongthem.OdysseusandDiomedeslargelyignoredus,absorbedintalkwiththeking.
“AndhowisIthaca?”Lycomedesaskedpolitely.
“Ithacaiswell,thankyou,”Odysseusanswered.“Ileftmywifeandsonthere,bothingoodhealth.”
“Askhimabouthiswife,”Diomedessaid.“Helovestotalkabouther.Haveyouheardhowhemether?It’shisfavoritestory.”Therewasagoadingedgetohisvoice,barelysheathed.Themenaroundmestoppedeating,towatch.
Lycomedeslookedbetweenthetwomen,thenventured,“Andhowdidyoumeetyourwife,PrinceofIthaca?”
IfOdysseusfeltthetension,hedidnotshowit.“Youarekindtoask.WhenTyndareussoughtahusbandforHelen,suitorscamefromeverykingdom.I’msureyouremember.”
“Iwasmarriedalready,”Lycomedessaid.“Ididnotgo.”
“Ofcourse.Andtheseweretooyoung,I’mafraid.”Hetossedasmileatme,thenturnedbacktotheking.
“Ofallthesemen,Iwasfortunatetoarrivefirst.Thekinginvitedmetodinewiththefamily:Helen;hersister,Clytemnestra;andtheircousinPenelope.”
“Invited,”Diomedesscoffed.“Isthatwhattheycallcrawlingthroughthebrackentospyuponthem?”
“I’msuretheprinceofIthacawouldnotdosuchathing.”Lycomedesfrowned.
“UnfortunatelyIdidjustthat,thoughIappreciateyourfaithinme.”HeofferedLycomedesagenialsmile.“ItwasPenelopewhocaughtme,actually.SaidshehadbeenwatchingmeforoveranhourandthoughtsheshouldstepinbeforeIhitthethornbush.Naturally,therewassomeawkwardnessaboutit,butTyndareuseventuallycamearoundandaskedmetostay.Inthecourseofdinner,IcametoseethatPenelopewastwiceascleverashercousinsandjustasbeautiful.So—”
“AsbeautifulasHelen?”Diomedesinterrupted.“Isthatwhyshewastwentyandunmarried?”
Odysseus’voicewasmild.“I’msureyouwouldnotaskamantocomparehiswifeunfavorablytoanotherwoman,”hesaid.
Diomedesrolledhiseyesandsettledbacktopickhisteethwiththepointofhisknife.
OdysseusreturnedtoLycomedes.“So,inthecourseofourconversation,whenitbecameclearthattheLadyPenelopefavoredme—”
“Notforyourlooks,certainly,”Diomedescommented.
“Certainlynot,”Odysseusagreed.“SheaskedmewhatweddingpresentIwouldmaketomybride.Aweddingbed,Isaid,rathergallantly,offinestholm-oak.Butthisanswerdidnotpleaseher.‘Aweddingbedshouldnotbemadeofdead,drywood,butsomethinggreenandliving,’shetoldme.‘AndwhatifIcanmakesuchabed?’Isaid.‘Willyouhaveme?’Andshesaid—”
ThekingofArgosmadeanoiseofdisgust.“I’msicktodeathofthistaleaboutyourmarriagebed.”
“Thenperhapsyoushouldn’thavesuggestedItellit.”
“Andperhapsyoushouldgetsomenewstories,soIdon’tfuckingkillmyselfofboredom.”
Lycomedeslookedshocked;obscenitywasforbackroomsandpracticefields,notstatedinners.ButOdysseusonlyshookhisheadsadly.“Truly,themenofArgosgetmoreandmorebarbaricwitheachpassingyear.Lycomedes,letusshowthekingofArgosabitofcivilization.Iwashopingforaglimpseofthefamousdancersofyourisle.”
Lycomedesswallowed.“Yes,”hesaid.“Ihadnotthought—”Hestoppedhimself,thenbeganagain,withthemostkinglyvoicehecouldsummon.“Ifyouwish.”
“Wedo.”ThiswasDiomedes.
“Well.”Lycomedes’eyesdartedbetweenthetwomen.Thetishadorderedhimtokeepthewomenawayfromvisitors,buttorefusewouldbesuspicious.Heclearedhisthroat,decided.“Well,letuscallthem,then.”Hegesturedsharplyataservant,whoturnedandranfromthehall.Ikeptmyeyesonmyplate,sotheywouldnotseethefearinmyface.
Thewomenhadbeensurprisedbythesummonsandwerestillmakingsmalladjustmentsofclothesandhairastheyenteredthehall.Achilleswasamongthem,hisheadcarefullycovered,hisgazemodestlydown.MyeyeswentanxiouslytoOdysseusandDiomedes,butneitherevenglancedathim.
Thegirlstooktheirplaces,andthemusicwasstruck.Wewatchedastheybeganthecomplicatedseriesofsteps.Itwasbeautiful,thoughlessenedbyDeidameia’sabsence;shehadbeenthebestofthem.
“Whichoneisyourdaughter?”Diomedesasked.
“Sheisnothere,KingofArgos.Sheisvisitingfamily.”
“Toobad,”Diomedessaid.“Ihopeditwasthatone.”Hepointedtoagirlontheend,smallanddark;shedidlooksomethinglikeDeidameia,andherankleswereparticularlylovely,flashingbeneaththewhirlinghemofherdress
Lycomedesclearedhisthroat.“Areyoumarried,mylord?”
Diomedeshalf-smiled.“Fornow.”Hiseyesneverleftthewomen.
Whenthedancehadfinished,Odysseusstood,hisvoiceraisedforalltohear.“Wearetrulyhonoredbyyourperformance;noteveryonecansaythattheyhaveseenthedancersofScyros.Astokensofouradmirationwehavebroughtgiftsforyouandyourking.”
Amurmurofexcitement.LuxuriesdidnotcomeoftentoScyros;nooneherehadthemoneytobuythem.
“Youaretookind.”Lycomedes’facewasflushedwithgenuinepleasure;hehadnotexpectedthisgenerosity.TheservantsbroughttrunksforthatOdysseus’signalandbeganunloadingthemonthelongtables.Isawtheglitterofsilver,theshineofglassandgems.Allofus,menandwomenboth,leanedtowardsthem,eagertosee.
“Please,takewhatyouwouldlike,”Odysseussaid.Thegirlsmovedswiftlytothetables,andIwatchedthemfingeringthebrighttrinkets:perfumesindelicateglassbottlesstopperedwithabitofwax;mirrorswithcarvedivoryforhandles;braceletsoftwistedgold;ribbonsdyeddeepinpurplesandreds.AmongthesewereafewthingsIassumedweremeantforLycomedesandhiscounselors:leather-boundshields,carvedspearhafts,andsilveredswordswithsupplekidskinsheaths.Lycomedes’eyeshadcaughtononeofthese,likeafishsnaggedbyaline.Odysseusstoodnear,presidingbenevolently.
Achilleskepttotheback,driftingslowlyalongthetables.Hepausedtodabsomeperfumeonhisslenderwrists,strokethesmoothhandleofamirror.Helingeredamomentoverapairofearrings,bluestonessetinsilverwire.
Amovementatthefarendofthehallcaughtmyeye.Diomedeshadcrossedthechamberandwasspeakingwithoneofhisservants,whonoddedandleftthroughthelargedoubledoors.Whateveritwascouldnotbeimportant;Diomedesseemedhalf-asleep,hiseyesheavy-liddedandbored.
IlookedbacktoAchilles.Hewasholdingtheearringsuptohisearsnow,turningthemthiswayandthat,pursinghislips,playingatgirlishness.Itamusedhim,andthecornerofhismouthcurvedup.Hiseyesflickedaroundthehall,catchingforamomentonmyface.Icouldnothelpmyself.Ismiled.
Atrumpetblew,loudandpanicked.Itcamefromoutside,asustainednote,followedbythreeshortblasts:oursignalforutmost,impendingdisaster.Lycomedeslurchedtohisfeet,theguards’headsjerkedtowardsthedoor.Girlsscreamedandclungtoeachother,droppingtheirtreasurestothegroundintinklesofbreakingglass.
Allthegirlsbutone.Beforethefinalblastwasfinished,Achilleshadsweptuponeofthesilveredswordsandflungoffitskidskinsheath.Thetableblockedhispathtothedoor;heleaptitinablur,hisotherhandgrabbingaspearfromitashepassed.Helanded,andtheweaponswerealreadylifted,heldwithadeadlypoisethatwaslikenoThegreatestwarriorofhisgeneration.
IyankedmygazetoOdysseusandDiomedesandwashorrifiedtoseethemsmiling.“Greetings,PrinceAchilles,”Odysseussaid.“We’vebeenlookingforyou.”
IstoodhelplessasthefacesofLycomedes’courtregisteredOdysseus’words,turnedtowardsAchilles,stared.ForamomentAchillesdidnotmove.Then,slowly,heloweredtheweapons.
“LordOdysseus,”hesaid.Hisvoicewasremarkablycalm.“LordDiomedes.”Heinclinedhisheadpolitely,oneprincetoanother.“Iamhonoredtobethesubjectofsomucheffort.”Itwasagoodanswer,fullofdignityandtheslightesttwistofmockery.Itwouldbeharderforthemtohumiliatehimnow.
“Iassumeyouwishtospeakwithme?Justamoment,andIwilljoinyou.”Heplacedtheswordandspearcarefullyonthetable.Withsteadyfingersheuntiedthekerchief,drewitoff.Hishair,revealed,gleamedlikepolishedbronze.ThemenandwomenofLycomedes’courtwhisperedtooneanotherinmutedscandal;theireyesclungtohisfigure
“Perhapsthiswillhelp?”Odysseushadclaimedatunicfromsomebagorbox.HetossedittoAchilles,whocaughtit.
“Thankyou,”Achillessaid.Thecourtwatched,hypnotized,asheunfoldedit,strippedtothewaist,anddrewitoverhimself.
Odysseusturnedtothefrontoftheroom.“Lycomedes,mayweborrowaroomofstate,please?WehavemuchtodiscusswiththeprinceofPhthia.”
Lycomedes’facewasafrozenmask.IknewhewasthinkingofThetis,andpunishment.Hedidnotanswer.
“Lycomedes.”Diomedes’voicewassharp,crackinglikeablow.
“Yes,”Lycomedescroaked.Ipitiedhim.Ipitiedallofus.“Yes.Justthroughthere.”Hepointed.
Odysseusnodded.“Thankyou.”Hemovedtowardsthedoor,confidently,asifneverdoubtingbutthatAchilleswouldfollow.
“Afteryou,”Diomedessmirked.Achilleshesitated,andhiseyeswenttome,justthebarestglance.
“Ohyes,”Odysseuscalledoverhisshoulder.“You’rewelcometobringPatroclusalong,ifyoulike.Wehavebusinesswithhim,aswell.”
ChapterFifteen
THEROOMHADAFEWTHREADBARETAPESTRIESANDfourchairs.Iforcedmyselftositstraightagainstthestiffwoodback,asaprinceshould.Achilles’facewastightwithemotion,andhisneckflushed.
“Itwasatrick,”heaccused.
Odysseuswasunperturbed.“Youwerecleverinhidingyourself;wehadtobeclevererstillinfindingyou.”
Achillesliftedaneyebrowinprincelyhauteur.“Well?You’vefoundme.Whatdoyouwant?”
“WewantyoutocometoTroy,”Odysseussaid.
“AndifIdonotwanttocome?”
“Thenwemakethisknown.”DiomedesliftedAchilles’discardeddress.
Achillesflushedasifhe’dbeenstruck.Itwasonethingtowearadressoutofnecessity,anotherthingfortheworldtoknowofit.Ourpeoplereservedtheirugliestnamesformenwhoactedlikewomen;liveswerelostoversuchinsults.
Odysseushelduparestraininghand.“Weareallnoblemenhereanditshouldnothavetocometosuchmeasures.Ihopewecanofferyouhappierreasonstoagree.Fame,forinstance.Youwillwinmuchofit,ifyoufightforus.”
“Therewillbeotherwars.”
“Notlikethisone,”saidDiomedes.“Thiswillbethegreatestwarofourpeople,rememberedinlegendandsongforgenerations.Youareafoolnottoseeit.”
“IseenothingbutacuckoldedhusbandandAgamemnon’sgreed.”
“Thenyouareblind.Whatismoreheroicthantofightforthehonorofthemostbeautifulwomanintheworld,againstthemightiestcityoftheEast?Perseuscannotsayhedidsomuch,norJason.Heracleswouldkillhiswifeagainforachancetocomealong.WewillmasterAnatoliaallthewaytoAraby.Wewillcarveourselvesintostoriesforagestocome.”
“Ithoughtyousaiditwouldbeaneasycampaign,homebynextfall,”Imanaged.Ihadtodosomethingtostoptherelentlessrolloftheirwords.
“Ilied.”Odysseusshrugged.“Ihavenoideahowlongitwillbe.Fasterifwehaveyou.”HelookedatAchilles.Hisdarkeyespulledlikethetide,howeveryouswamagainstit.“ThesonsofTroyareknownfortheirskillinbattle,andtheirdeathswillliftyournametothestars.Ifyoumissit,youwillmissyourchanceatimmortality.Youwillstaybehind,unknown.Youwillgrowold,andolderinobscurity.”
Achillesfrowned.“Youcannotknowthat.”
“Actually,Ican.”Heleanedbackinhischair.“Iamfortunatetohavesomeknowledgeofthegods.”Hesmiledasifatamemoryofsomedivinemischief.“Andthegodshaveseenfittosharewithmeaprophecyaboutyou.”
IshouldhaveknownthatOdysseuswouldnotcomewithtawdryblackmailashisonlycoin.Thestoriesnamedhimpolutropos,themanofmanyturnings.Fearstirredinmelikeash.
“Whatprophecy?”Achillesasked,slowly.
“ThatifyoudonotcometoTroy,yourgodheadwillwitherinyou,unused.Yourstrengthwilldiminish.Atbest,youwillbelikeLycomedeshere,molderingonaforgottenislandwithonlydaughterstosucceedhim.Scyroswillbeconqueredsoonbyanearbystate;youknowthisaswellasI.Theywillnotkillhim;whyshouldthey?Hecanliveouthisyearsinsomecornereatingthebreadtheysoftenforhim,senileandalone.Whenhedies,peoplewillsay,who?”
Thewordsfilledtheroom,thinningtheairuntilwecouldnotbreathe.Suchalifewasahorror.
ButOdysseus’voicewasrelentless.“Heisknownnowonlybecauseofhowhisstorytouchesyours.IfyougotoTroy,yourfamewillbesogreatthatamanwillbewrittenintoeternallegendjustforhavingpassedacuptoyou.Youwillbe—”
Thedoorsblewopeninafuryofflyingsplinters.Thetisstoodinthedoorway,hotaslivingflame.Herdivinitysweptoverusall,singeingoureyes,blackeningthebrokenedgesofthedoor.Icouldfeelitpullingatmybones,suckingatthebloodinmyveinsasifitwoulddrinkme.Icowered,asmenweremadetodo.
Odysseus’darkbeardwasdustedwithfinedebrisfromthedoor’sruin.Hestood.“Greetings,Thetis.”
Hergazewenttohimasasnake’stoherprey,andherskinglowed.TheairaroundOdysseusseemedtotrembleslightly,asifwithheatorabreeze.Diomedes,ontheground,edgedaway.Iclosedmyeyes,soIwouldnothavetoseetheexplosion.
Asilence,intowhichatlastIopenedmyeyes.Odysseusstoodunharmed.Thetis’fistswerestranglingthemselveswhite.Itnolongerburnedtolookather.
“Thegray-eyedmaidenhaseverbeenkindtome,”Odysseussaid,almostapologetically.“SheknowswhyIamhere;sheblessesandguardsmypurpose.”
ItwasasifIhadmissedastepoftheirconversation.Istrugglednowtofollow.Thegray-eyedmaiden—goddessofwaranditsarts.Shewassaidtoprizeclevernessaboveall.
“Athenahasnochildtolose.”ThewordsgratedfromThetis’throat,hungintheair.
Odysseusdidnottrytoanswer,onlyturnedtoAchilles.“Askher,”hesaid.“Askyourmotherwhatsheknows.”
Achillesswallowed,loudinthesilentchamber.Hemethismother’sblackeyes.“Isittrue,whathesays?”
Thelastofherfirewasgone;onlymarbleremained.“Itistrue.Butthereismore,andworsethathehasnotsaid.”Thewordscametonelessly,asastatuewouldspeakthem.“IfyougotoTroy,youwillneverreturn.Youwilldieayoungmanthere.”
Achilles’facewentpale.“Itiscertain?”
Thisiswhatallmortalsaskfirst,indisbelief,shock,fear.Istherenoexceptionforme?
“Itiscertain.”
Ifhehadlookedatmethen,Iwouldhavebroken.Iwouldhavebeguntoweepandneverstopped.Buthiseyeswerefixedonhismother.“WhatshouldIdo?”hewhispered.
Theslightesttremor,overthestillwaterofherface.“Donotaskmetochoose,”shesaid.Andvanished.
ICANNOTREMEMBERwhatwesaidtothetwomen,howweleftthem,orhowwecametoourroom.Irememberhisface,skindrawntightlyoverhischeeks,thedulledpallorofhisbrow.Hisshoulders,usuallysostraightandfine,seemedfallen.Griefswelledinsideme,chokingme.Hisdeath.IfeltasifIwasdyingjusttothinkofit,plummetingthroughablind,blacksky.
Youmustnotgo.Ialmostsaidit,athousandtimes.InsteadIheldhishandsfastbetweenmine;theywerecold,andverystill.
“IdonotthinkIcouldbearit,”hesaid,atlast.Hiseyeswereclosed,asifagainsthorrors.Iknewhespokenotofhisdeath,butofthenightmareOdysseushadspun,thelossofhisbrilliance,thewitheringofhisgrace.Ihadseenthejoyhetookinhisownskill,theroaringvitalitythatwasalwaysjustbeneaththesurface.Whowasheifnotmiraculousandradiant?Whowasheifnotdestinedforfame?
“Iwouldnotcare,”Isaid.Thewordsscrabbledfrommymouth.“Whateveryoubecame.Itwouldnotmattertome.Wewouldbetogether.”
“Iknow,”hesaidquietly,butdidnotlookatme.
Heknew,butitwasnotenough.Thesorrowwassolargeitthreatenedtotearthroughmyskin.Whenhedied,allthingsswiftandbeautifulandbrightwouldbeburiedwithhim.Iopenedmymouth,butitwastoolate.
“Iwillgo,”hesaid.“IwillgotoTroy.”
Therosygleamofhislip,thefeveredgreenofhiseyes.Therewasnotalineanywhereonhisface,nothingcreasedorgraying;allcrisp.Hewasspring,goldenandbright.EnviousDeathwoulddrinkhisblood,andgrowyoungagain.
Hewaswatchingme,hiseyesasdeepasearth.
“Willyoucomewithme?”heasked.
Thenever-endingacheofloveandsorrow.PerhapsinsomeotherlifeIcouldhaverefused,couldhavetornmyhairandscreamed,andmadehimfacehischoicealone.Butnotinthisone.HewouldsailtoTroyandIwouldfollow,evenintodeath.“Yes,”Iwhispered.“Yes.”
Reliefbrokeinhisface,andhereachedforme.Ilethimholdme,lethimpressuslengthtolengthsoclosethatnothingmightfitbetweenus.
Tearscame,andfell.Aboveus,theconstellationsspunandthemoonpacedherwearycourse.Welaystrickenandsleeplessasthehourspassed.
WHENDAWNCAME,herosestiffly.“Imustgotellmymother,”hesaid.Hewaspale,andhiseyeswereshadowed.Helookedolderalready.Panicroseinme.Don’tgo,Iwantedtosay.Buthedrewonatunicandwasgone.
Ilaybackandtriednottothinkoftheminutespassing.Justyesterdaywehadhadawealthofthem.Noweachwasadropofheartsbloodlost.
Theroomturnedgray,thenwhite.Thebedfeltcoldwithouthim,andtoolarge.Iheardnosounds,andthestillnessfrightenedme.Itislikeatomb.Iroseandrubbedmylimbs,slappedthemawake,tryingtowardoffarisinghysteria.Thisiswhatitwillbe,everyday,withouthim.Ifeltawild-eyedtightnessinmychest,likeascream.Everyday,withouthim.
Ileftthepalace,desperatetoshutoutthought.Icametothecliffs,Scyros’greatrocksthatbeetledoverthesea,andbegantoclimb.Thewindstuggedatme,andthestoneswereslimywithspray,butthestrainanddangersteadiedme.Iarrowedupwards,towardsthemosttreacherouspeak,wherebeforeIwouldhavebeentoofearfultogo.Myhandswerecutalmosttobloodbyjaggedshardsofrock.Myfeetleftstainswheretheystepped.Thepainwaswelcome,ordinaryandclean.Soeasytobearitwaslaughable.
Ireachedthesummit,acarelessheapofbouldersatthecliff’sedge,andstood.AnideahadcometomeasIclimbed,fierceandrecklessasIfelt.
“Thetis!”Iscreameditintothesnatchingwind,myfacetowardsthesea.“Thetis!”Thesunwashighnow;theirmeetinghadendedlongago.Idrewathirdbreath.
“Donotspeakmynameagain.”
Iwhirledtofaceherandlostmybalance.Therocksjumbledundermyfeet,andthewindtoreatme.Igrabbedatanoutcrop,steadiedmyself.Ilookedup
Herskinwaspalereventhanusual,thefirstwinter’sice.Herlipsweredrawnback,toshowherteeth.
“Youareafool,”shesaid.“Getdown.Yourhalfwitdeathwillnotsavehim.”
IwasnotsofearlessasIthought;Iflinchedfromthemaliceinherface.ButIforcedmyselftospeak,toaskthethingIhadtoknowofher.“Howmuchlongerwillhelive?”
Shemadeanoiseinherthroat,likethebarkofaseal.Ittookmeamomenttounderstandthatitwaslaughter.“Why?Wouldyouprepareyourselfforit?Trytostopit?”Contemptspilledacrossherface.
“Yes,”Ianswered.“IfIcan.”
Thesoundagain.“Please.”Iknelt.“Pleasetellme.”
PerhapsitwasbecauseIknelt.Thesoundceased,andsheconsideredmeamoment.“Hector’sdeathwillbefirst,”shesaid.“ThisisallIamgiventoknow.”
Hector.“Thankyou,”Isaid.
Hereyesnarrowed,andhervoicehissedlikewaterpouredoncoals.“Donotpresumetothankme.Ihavecomeforanotherreason.”
Iwaited.Herfacewaswhiteassplinteredbone.
“Itwillnotbesoeasyashethinks.TheFatespromisefame,buthowmuch?Hewillneedtoguardhishonorcarefully.Heistootrusting.ThemenofGreece”—shespatthewords—“aredogsoverabone.Theywillnotsimplygiveuppreeminencetoanother.IwilldowhatIcan.Andyou.”Hereyesflickeredovermylongarmsandskinnyknees.“Youwillnotdisgracehim.Doyouunderstand?”
Doyouunderstand?
“Yes,”Isaid.AndIdid.Hisfamemustbeworththelifehepaidforit.Thefaintestbreathofairtouchedherdress’shem,andIknewshewasabouttoleave,tovanishbacktothecavesofthesea.Somethingmademebold.
“IsHectoraskilledsoldier?”
“Heisthebest,”sheanswered.“Butformyson.”
Hergazeflickeredtotheright,wherethecliffdroppedaway.“Heiscoming,”shesaid.
ACHILLESCRESTEDTHERISEandcametowhereIsat.Helookedatmyfaceandmybloodiedskin.“Iheardyoutalking,”hesaid.
“Itwasyourmother,”Isaid.
Hekneltandtookmyfootinhislap.Gently,hepickedthefragmentsofrockfromthewounds,brushingoffdirtandchalkydust.Hetoreastripfromhistunic’shemandpressedittighttostanchtheblood.
Myhandclosedoverhis.“YoumustnotkillHector,”Isaid.
Helookedup,hisbeautifulfaceframedbythegoldofhishair.“Mymothertoldyoutherestoftheprophecy.”
“Shedid.”
“AndyouthinkthatnoonebutmecankillHector.”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“AndyouthinktostealtimefromtheFates?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.”Aslysmilespreadacrosshisface;hehadalwaysloveddefiance.“Well,whyshouldIkillhim?He’sdonenothingtome.”
Forthefirsttimethen,Ifeltakindofhope.
WELEFTTHATAFTERNOON;therewasnoreasontolinger.Everdutifultocustom,Lycomedescametobidusfarewell.Thethreeofusstoodtogetherstiffly;OdysseusandDiomedeshadgoneaheadtotheship.TheywouldescortusbacktoPhthia,whereAchilleswouldmusterhisowntroops.
Therewasonemorethingtobedonehere,andIknewAchillesdidnotwishtodoit.
“Lycomedes,mymotherhasaskedmetoconveyherdesirestoyou.”
Thefaintesttremorcrossedtheoldman’sface,buthemethisson-in-law’sgaze.“Itisaboutthechild,”hesaid.
“Itis.”
“Andwhatdoesshewish?”thekingasked,wearily.
“Shewishestoraisehimherself.She—”Achillesfalteredbeforethelookontheoldman’sface.“Thechildwillbeaboy,shesays.Whenheisweaned,shewillclaimhim.”
Silence.ThenLycomedesclosedhiseyes.Iknewhewasthinkingofhisdaughter,armsemptyofbothhusbandandchild.“Iwishyouhadnevercome,”hesaid.
“I’msorry,”Achillessaid.
“Leaveme,”theoldkingwhispered.Weobeyed.
THESHIPWESAILEDONwasyare,tightlymadeandwellmanned.Thecrewmovedwithacompetentfleetness,theropesgleamedwithnewfibers,andthemastsseemedfreshaslivingtrees.Theprowpiecewasabeauty,thefinestIhadeverseen:awoman,tall,withdarkhairandeyes,herhandsclaspedinfrontofherasifincontemplation.Shewasbeautiful,butquietlyso—anelegantjaw,andupswepthairshowingaslenderneck.Shehadbeenlovinglypainted,eachdarknessorlightnessperfectlyrendered.
“Youareadmiringmywife,Isee.”Odysseusjoinedusattherailing,leaningonmuscularforearms.“Sherefusedatfirst,wouldn’tlettheartistnearher.Ihadtohavehimfollowherinsecret.Ithinkitturnedoutratherwell,actually.”
Amarriageforlove,rareascedarsfromtheEast.Italmostmademewanttolikehim.ButIhadseenhissmilestoooftennow.
Politely,Achillesasked,“Whatishername?”
“Penelope,”hesaid.
“Istheshipnew?”Iasked.Ifhewantedtospeakofhiswife,Iwantedtospeakofsomethingelse.
“Very.Everylasttimberofit,fromthebestwoodthatIthacahas.”Heslappedtherailingwithhislargepalm,asonemighttheflankofahorse.
“Braggingaboutyournewshipagain?”Diomedeshadjoinedus.Hishairwaslashedbackwithastripofleather,anditmadehisfacelooksharpereventhanusual.
“Iam.”
Diomedesspatintothewater.
“ThekingofArgosisunusuallyeloquenttoday,”Odysseuscommented.
Achilleshadnotseentheirgamebefore,asIhad.Hiseyeswentbackandforthbetweenthetwomen.Asmallsmilecurledatthecornerofhismouth.
“Tellme,”Odysseuscontinued.“Doyouthinksuchquickwitcomesfromyourfatherhavingeatenthatman’sbrains?”
“What?”Achilles’mouthhungopen.
“Youdon’tknowthetaleofMightyTydeus,kingofArgos,eaterofbrains?”
“I’veheardofhim.Butnotaboutthe—brains.”
“Iwasthinkingofhavingthescenepaintedonourplates,”Diomedessaid.
Inthehall,IhadtakenDiomedesforOdysseus’dog.Buttherewasakeennessthathummedbetweenthetwomen,apleasureintheirsparringthatcouldcomeonlyfromequals.IrememberedthatDiomedeswasrumoredtobeafavoriteofAthenaaswell.
Odysseusmadeaface.“RemindmenottodineinArgosanytimesoon.”
Diomedeslaughed.Itwasnotapleasantsound.
Thekingswereinclinedtotalkandlingeredbytherailwithus.Theypassedstoriesbackandforth:ofotherseavoyages,ofwars,ofcontestswoningameslongpast.Achilleswasaneageraudience,withquestionafterquestion.
“Wheredidyougetthis?”HewaspointingtothescaronOdysseus’leg.
“Ah,”Odysseusrubbedhishandstogether.“Thatisataleworthtelling.ThoughIshouldspeaktothecaptainfirst.”Hegesturedtothesun,hangingripeandlowoverthehorizon.“We’llneedtostopsoonforcamp.”
“I’llgo.”Diomedesstoodfromwhereheleanedagainsttherail.“I’veheardthisonealmostasmanytimesasthatsickeningbedstory.”
“Yourloss,”Odysseuscalledafterhim.“Don’tmindhim.Hiswife’sahellhoundbitch,andthatwouldsouranyone’stemper.Now,mywife—”
“Iswear.”Diomedes’voicecarriedbackupthelengthoftheship.“Ifyoufinishthatsentence,IwillthrowyouoverthesideandyoucanswimtoTroy.”
“See?”Odysseusshookhishead.“Sour.”Achilleslaughed,delightedbythemboth.Heseemedtohaveforgiventheirpartinhisunmasking,andallthatcameafter.
“NowwhatwasIsaying?”
“Thescar,”Achillessaid,eagerly.
“Yes,thescar.WhenIwasthirteen—”
Iwatchedhimhangontheotherman’swords.Heistootrusting.ButIwouldnotbetheravenonhisshoulderallthetime,predictinggloom.
Thesunslidlowerinthesky,andwedrewclosetothedarkshadowoflandwherewewouldmakecamp.Theshipfoundtheharbor,andthesailorsdrewherupontheshoreforthenight.Supplieswereunloaded—foodandbeddingandtentsfortheprinces.
Westoodbythecampsitethathadbeenlaidforus,asmallfireandpavilion.“Isallwellhere?”Odysseushadcometostandwithus.
“Verywell,”Achillessaid.Hesmiled,hiseasysmile,hishonestone.“Thankyou.”
Odysseussmiledinreturn,teethwhiteagainsthisdarkbeard.“Excellent.Onetent’senough,Ihope?I’veheardthatyouprefertoshare.Roomsandbedrollsboth,theysay.”
Heatandshockrushedthroughmyface.Besideme,IheardAchilles’breathstop.
“Comenow,there’snoneedforshame—it’sacommonenoughthingamongboys.”Hescratchedhisjaw,contemplated.“Thoughyou’renotreallyboysanylonger.Howoldareyou?”
“It’snottrue,”Isaid.Thebloodinmyfacefiredmyvoice.Itrangloudlydownthebeach.
Odysseusraisedaneyebrow.“Trueiswhatmenbelieve,andtheybelievethisofyou.Butperhapstheyaremistaken.Iftherumorconcernsyou,thenleaveitbehindwhenyousailtowar.”
Achilles’voicewastightandangry.“Itisnobusinessofyours,PrinceofIthaca.”
Odysseushelduphishands.“MyapologiesifIhaveoffended.Imerelycametowishyoubothgoodnightandensurethatallwassatisfactory.PrinceAchilles.Patroclus.”Heinclinedhisheadandturnedbacktohisowntent.
Insidethetenttherewasquietnessbetweenus.Ihadwonderedwhenthiswouldcome.AsOdysseussaid,manyboystookeachotherforlovers.Butsuchthingsweregivenupastheygrewolder,unlessitwaswithslavesorhiredboys.Ourmenlikedconquest;theydidnottrustamanwhowasconqueredhimself.
Donotdisgracehim,thegoddesshadsaid.Andthisissomeofwhatshehadmeant.
“Perhapsheisright,”Isaid.
Achilles’headcameup,frowning.“Youdonotthinkthat.”
“Idonotmean—”Itwistedmyfingers.“Iwouldstillbewithyou.ButIcouldsleepoutside,soitwouldnotbesoobvious.Idonotneedtoattendyourcouncils.I—”
“No.ThePhthianswillnotcare.Andtheotherscantalkalltheylike.IwillstillbeAristosAchaion.”BestoftheGreeks
“Yourhonorcouldbedarkenedbyit.”
“Thenitisdarkened.”Hisjawshotforward,stubborn.“Theyarefoolsiftheyletmygloryriseorfallonthis.”
“ButOdysseus—”
Hiseyes,greenasspringleaves,metmine.“Patroclus.Ihavegivenenoughtothem.Iwillnotgivethemthis.”
Afterthat,therewasnothingmoretosay.
THENEXTDAY,withthesouthernwindcaughtinoursail,wefoundOdysseusbytheprow.
“PrinceofIthaca,”Achillessaid.Hisvoicewasformal;therewerenoneoftheboyishsmilesfromthedaybefore.“IwishtohearyouspeakofAgamemnonandtheotherkings.IwouldknowthemenIamtojoin,andtheprincesIamtofight.”
“Verywise,PrinceAchilles.”IfOdysseusnoticedachange,hedidnotcommentonit.Heledustothebenchesatthebaseofthemast,belowthebig-belliedsail.“Now,wheretobegin?”Almostabsently,herubbedthescaronhisleg.Itwasstarkerindaylight,hairlessandpuckered.“ThereisMenelaus,whosewifewegotoretrieve.AfterHelenpickedhimforherhusband—Patrocluscantellyouaboutthat—hebecamekingofSparta.Heisknownasagoodman,fearlessinbattleandwelllikedintheworld.Manykingshaveralliedtohiscause,andnotjustthosewhoareboundtotheiroaths.”
“Suchas?”Achillesasked.
Odysseuscountedthemoffonhislargefarmer’shands.“Meriones,Idomeneus,Philoctetes,Ajax.BothAjaxes,largerandlesser.”OnewasthemanIrememberedfromTyndareus’hall,ahugemanwithashield;theotherIdidnotknow.
“OldKingNestorofPyloswillbethereaswell.”I’dheardthename—hehadsailedwithJasoninhisyouth,tofindtheGoldenFleece.Hewaslongpasthisfightingdaysnow,butbroughthissonstowar,andhiscounsel,too.
Achilles’facewasintent,hiseyesdark.“AndtheTrojans?”
“Priam,ofcourse.KingofTroy.Themanissaidtohavefiftysons,allraisedwithaswordintheirhands.”
“Fiftysons?”
“Andfiftydaughters.He’sknowntobepiousandmuchlovedbythegods.Hissonsarefamousintheirownright—Paris,ofcourse,belovedofthegoddessAphrodite,andmuchnotedforhisbeauty.Eventheyoungest,who’sbarelyten,issupposedtobeferocious.Troilus,Ithink.Theyhaveagod-borncousinwhofightsforthem,too.Aeneas,hisnameis,achildofAphroditeherself.”
“WhataboutHector?”Achilles’eyesneverleftOdysseus.
“Priam’soldestsonandheir,favoriteofthegodApollo.Troy’smightiestdefender.”
“Whatdoeshelooklike?”
Odysseusshrugged.“Idon’tknow.Theysayheislarge,butthatissaidofmostheroes.You’llmeethimbeforeIdo,soyou’llhavetotellme.”
Achillesnarrowedhiseyes.“Whydoyousaythat?”
Odysseusmadeawryface.“AsI’msureDiomedeswillagree,Iamacompetentsoldierbutnomore;mytalentslieelsewhere.IfIweretomeetHectorinbattle,Iwouldnotbebringingbacknewsofhim.You,ofcourse,areadifferentmatter.Youwillwinthegreatestfamefromhisdeath.”
Myskinwentcold.
“PerhapsIwould,butIseenoreasontokillhim.”Achillesansweredcoolly.“He’sdonenothingtome.”
Odysseuschuckled,asifajokehadbeenmade.“Ifeverysoldierkilledonlythosewho’dpersonallyoffendedhim,Pelides,we’dhavenowarsatall.”Heliftedaneyebrow.“Thoughmaybeit’snotsuchabadidea.Inthatworld,perhapsI’dbeAristosAchaion,insteadofyou.”
Achillesdidnotanswer.Hehadturnedtolookovertheship’ssideatthewavesbeyond.Thelightfelluponhischeek,litittoglowing.“YouhavetoldmenothingofAgamemnon,”hesaid.
“Yes,ourmightykingofMycenae.”Odysseusleanedbackagain.“ProudscionofthehouseofAtreus.Hisgreat-grandfatherTantaluswasasonofZeus.Surelyyou’veheardhisstory.”
AllknewofTantalus’eternaltorment.Topunishhiscontemptfortheirpowers,thegodshadthrownhimintothedeepestpitoftheunderworld.Theretheyafflictedthekingwithperpetualthirstandhunger,whilefoodanddrinksatjustoutofhisreach.
“I’veheardofhim.ButIneverknewwhathiscrimewas,”Achillessaid.
“Well.InthedaysofKingTantalus,allourkingdomswerethesamesize,andthekingswereatpeace.ButTantalusgrewdissatisfiedwithhisportion,andbegantotakehisneighbors’landsbyforce.Hisholdingsdoubled,thendoubledagain,butstillTantaluswasnotsatisfied.Hissuccesshadmadehimproud,andhavingbestedallmenwhocamebeforehim,hesoughtnexttobestthegodsthemselves.Notwithweapons,fornomanmaymatchthegodsinbattle.Butintrickery.Hewishedtoprovethatthegodsdonotknowall,astheysaytheydo.
“Sohecalledhissontohim,Pelops,andaskedhimifhewantedtohelphisfather.‘Ofcourse,’Pelopssaid.Hisfathersmiledanddrewhissword.Withasingleblowheslithisson’sthroatcleanacross.Hecarvedthebodyintocarefulpiecesandspittedthemoverthefire.”
Mystomachheavedatthethoughtoftheironskewerthroughtheboy’sdeadflesh.
“Whentheboywascooked,TantaluscalledtohisfatherZeusonOlympus.‘Father!’hesaid.‘Ihavepreparedafeasttohonoryouandallyourkin.Hurry,forthemeatistenderstill,andfresh.’ThegodslovesuchfeastingandcamequicklytoTantalus’hall.Butwhentheyarrived,thesmellofthecookingmeat,normallysodear,seemedtochokethem.AtonceZeusknewwhathadbeendone.HeseizedTantalusbythelegsandthrewhimintoTartarus,tosufferhiseternalpunishment.”
Theskywasbright,andthewindbrisk,butinthespellofOdysseus’storyIfeltthatwewerebyafireside,withnightpressingallaround.
“Zeusthendrewthepiecesoftheboybacktogetherandbreathedasecondlifeintohim.Pelops,thoughonlyaboy,becamekingofMycenae.Hewasagoodking,distinguishedinpietyandwisdom,yetmanymiseriesafflictedhisreign.SomesaidthatthegodshadcursedTantalus’line,condemningthemalltoviolenceanddisaster.Pelops’sons,AtreusandThyestes,werebornwiththeirgrandfather’sambition,andtheircrimesweredarkandbloody,ashishadbeen.Adaughterrapedbyherfather,asoncookedandeaten,allintheirbitterrivalryforthethrone.
“Itisonlynow,bythevirtueofAgamemnonandMenelaus,thattheirfamilyfortunehasbeguntochange.Thedaysofcivilwararegone,andMycenaeprospersunderAgamemnon’suprightrule.Hehaswonjustrenownforhisskillwithaspearandthefirmnessofhisleadership.Wearefortunatetohavehimasourgeneral.”
IhadthoughtAchilleswasnolongerlistening.Butheturnednow,frowning.“Weareeachgenerals.”
“Ofcourse,”Odysseusagreed.“Butweareallgoingtofightthesameenemy,arewenot?Twodozengeneralsononebattlefieldwillbechaosanddefeat.”Heofferedagrin.“Youknowhowwellweallgetalong—we’dprobablyendupkillingeachotherinsteadoftheTrojans.Successinsuchawarasthiscomesonlythroughmensewntoasinglepurpose,funneledtoasinglespearthrustratherthanathousandneedle-pricks.YouleadthePhthians,andItheIthacans,buttheremustbesomeonewhousesuseachtoourabilities”—hetippedagracioushandtowardsAchilles—“howevergreattheymaybe.”
Achillesignoredthecompliment.Thesettingsuncutshadowsintohisface;hiseyeswereflatandhard.“Icomeofmyfreewill,PrinceofIthaca.IwilltakeAgamemnon’scounsel,butnothisorders.Iwouldhaveyouunderstandthis.”
Odysseusshookhishead.“Godssaveusfromourselves.Noteveninbattleyet,andalreadyworryingoverhonors.”
“Iamnot—”
Odysseuswavedahand.“Believeme,Agamemnonunderstandsyourgreatworthtohiscause.Itwashewhofirstwishedyoutocome.Youwillbewelcomedtoourarmywithallthepompyoucoulddesire.”
ItwasnotwhatAchilleshadmeant,exactly,butitwascloseenough.Iwasgladwhenthelookoutshoutedlandfallupahead.
THATEVENING,whenwehadsetasideourdinners,Achilleslaybackonthebed.“Whatdoyouthinkofthesemenwewillmeet?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“IamgladDiomedesisgone,atleast.”
“Metoo.”WehadletthekingoffatEuboia’snortherntip,towaitforhisarmyfromArgos.“Idonottrustthem.”
“Isupposewewillknowsoonenoughwhattheyarelike,”hesaid.
Weweresilentamoment,thinkingofthat.Outside,wecouldhearthebeginningsofrain,soft,barelysoundingonthetentroof.
“Odysseussaiditwouldstormtonight.”
AnAegeanstorm,quicklyhereandquicklygone.Ourboatwassafelybeached,andtomorrowwouldbeclearagain.
Achilleswaslookingatme.“Yourhairneverquiteliesflathere.”Hetouchedmyhead,justbehindmyear.“Idon’tthinkI’veevertoldyouhowIlikeit.”
Myscalpprickledwherehisfingershadbeen.“Youhaven’t,”Isaid.
“Ishouldhave.”Hishanddrifteddowntotheveeatthebaseofmythroat,drewsoftlyacrossthepulse.“Whataboutthis?HaveItoldyouwhatIthinkofthis,justhere?”
“No,”Isaid.
“Thissurely,then.”Hishandmovedacrossthemusclesofmychest;myskinwarmedbeneathit.“HaveItoldyouofthis?”
“Thatyouhavetoldme.”MybreathcaughtalittleasIspoke.
“Andwhatofthis?”Hishandlingeredovermyhips,drewdownthelineofmythigh.“HaveIspokenofit?”
“Youhave.”
“Andthis?Surely,Iwouldnothaveforgottenthis.”Hiscat’ssmile.“TellmeIdidnot.”
“Youdidnot.”
“Thereisthis,too.”Hishandwasceaselessnow.“IknowIhavetoldyouofthis.”
Iclosedmyeyes.“Tellmeagain,”Isaid.
LATER,ACHILLESSLEEPSnexttome.Odysseus’stormhascome,andthecoarsefabricofthetentwalltrembleswithitsforce.Ihearthestingingslap,overandover,ofwavesreproachingtheshore.Hestirsandtheairstirswithhim,bearingthemusk-sweetsmellofhisbody.Ithink:ThisiswhatIwillmiss.Ithink:Iwillkillmyselfratherthanmissit.Ithink:Howlongdowehave?
ChapterSixteen
WEARRIVEDINPHTHIATHENEXTDAY.THESUNWASjustoverthemeridian,andAchillesandIstoodlookingattherail.
“Doyouseethat?”
“What?”Asalways,hiseyesweresharperthanmine.
“Theshore.Itlooksstrange.”
Aswedrewcloserwesawwhy.Itwasthickwithpeople,jostlingimpatiently,craningtheirneckstowardsus.Andthesound:atfirstitseemedtocomefromthewaves,ortheshipasitcutthem,arushingroar.Butitgrewlouderwitheachstrokeofouroars,untilweunderstoodthatitwasvoices,thenwords.Overandover,itcame.PrinceAchilles!AristosAchaion!
Asourshiptouchedthebeach,hundredsofhandsthrewthemselvesintotheair,andhundredsofthroatsopenedinacheer.Allothernoises,thewoodofthegangplankbangingdownonrock,thesailors’commands,werelosttoit.Westared,inshock.
Itwasthatmoment,perhaps,thatourliveschanged.NotbeforeinScyros,norbeforethatstill,onPelion.Buthere,aswebegantounderstandthegrandness,nowandalways,thatwouldfollowhimwhereverhewent.Hehadchosentobecomealegend,andthiswasthebeginning.Hehesitated,andItouchedmyhandtohis,wherethecrowdcouldnotseeit.“Go,”Iurgedhim.“Theyarewaitingforyou.”
Achillessteppedforwardontothegangplank,hisarmliftedingreeting,andthecrowdscreameditselfhoarse.Ihalf-fearedtheywouldswarmontotheship,butsoldierspushedforwardandlinedthegangway,makingapathstraightthroughthecrush.
Achillesturnedbacktome,saidsomething.Icouldnothearit,butIunderstood.Comewithme.Inodded,andwebegantowalk.Oneithersideofus,thecrowdsurgedagainstthesoldiers’barrier.Attheaisle’sendwasPeleus,waitingforus.Hisfacewaswet,andhemadenoattempttowipeasidethetears.HedrewAchillestohim,heldhimlongbeforehelethimgo.
“Ourprincehasreturned!”HisvoicewasdeeperthanIremembered,resonantandcarryingfar,overthenoiseofthecrowd.Theyquieted,tohearthewordsoftheirking.
“BeforeyouallIofferwelcometomymostbelovedson,soleheirtomykingdom.HewillleadyoutoTroyinglory;hewillreturnhomeintriumph.”
Eventherebeneaththebrightsun,Ifeltmyskingocold.Hewillnotcomehomeatall.ButPeleusdidnotknowthis,yet.
“Heisamangrown,andgodborn.AristosAchaion!”
Therewasnotimetothinkofitnow.Thesoldierswerebeatingontheirshieldswiththeirspears;thewomenscreamed;themenhowled.IcaughtsightofAchilles’face;thelookonitwasstunned,butnotdispleased.Hewasstandingdifferently,Inoticed,shouldersbackandlegsbraced.Helookedolder,somehow,tallereven.Heleanedovertosaysomethinginhisfather’sear,butIcouldnothearwhathesaid.Achariotwaswaiting;westeppedintoitandwatchedthecrowdstreambehindusupthebeach.
Insidethepalace,attendantsandservantsbuzzedaroundus.Weweregivenamomenttoeatanddrinkwhatwaspressedintoourhands.Thenwewereledtothepalacecourtyard,wheretwenty-fivehundredmenwaitedforus.Atourapproachtheyliftedtheirsquareshields,shininglikecarapace,insalutetotheirnewgeneral.This,outofallofit,Henolongerbelongstomealone.
Ifhewasnervous,evenIcouldnottell.Iwatchedashegreetedthem,spokeringingwordsthatmadethemstandupstraighter.Theygrinned,lovingeveryinchoftheirmiraculousprince:hisgleaminghair,hisdeadlyhands,hisnimblefeet.Theyleanedtowardshim,likeflowerstothesun,drinkinginhisluster.ItwasasOdysseushadsaid:hehadlightenoughtomakeheroesofthemall.
WEWERENEVERALONE.Achilleswasalwaysneededforsomething—hiseyeondraftsheetsandfigures,hisadviceonfoodsuppliesandlevylists.Phoinix,hisfather’soldcounselor,wouldbeaccompanyingus,buttherewerestillathousandquestionsforAchillestoanswer—howmany?howmuch?whowillbeyourcaptains?Hedidwhathecould,thenannounced,“IdeferalltherestofsuchmatterstotheexperienceofPhoinix.”Iheardaservantgirlsighbehindme.Handsomeandgracious,both.
HeknewthatIhadlittletodohere.Hisface,whenheturnedtome,wasincreasinglyapologetic.HewasalwayssuretoplacethetabletswhereIcouldseethemtoo,toaskmyopinion.ButIdidnotmakeiteasyforhim,standingintheback,listlessandsilent.
Eventhere,Icouldnotescape.Througheverywindowcametheconstantclatterofsoldiers,bragginganddrillingandsharpeningtheirspears.TheMyrmidons,theyhadbeguncallingthemselves,ant-men,anoldnicknameofhonor.AnotherthingAchilleshadhadtoexplaintome:thelegendofZeuscreatingthefirstPhthiansfromants.Iwatchedthemmarching,rankoncheerfulrank.Isawthemdreamingoftheplundertheywouldbringhome,andthetriumph.Therewasnosuchdreamforus.
Ibegantoslipaway.Iwouldfindareasontolingerbehindastheattendantsusheredhimforward:anitch,oraloosestrapofmyshoe.Oblivious,theyhurriedon,turnedacorner,andleftmesuddenly,blessedly,alone.ItookthetwistingcorridorsIhadlearnedsomanyyearsagoandcamegratefullytoouremptyroom.ThereIlayonthecoolstoneofthefloorandclosedmyeyes.Icouldnotstopimagininghowitwouldend—spear-tiporswordpoint,orsmashedbyachariot.Therushing,unendingbloodofhisheart.
Onenightinthesecondweek,aswelayhalf-drowsing,Iaskedhim:“Howwillyoutellyourfather?Abouttheprophecy?”
Thewordswereloudinthesilenceofmidnight.Foramomenthewasstill.Thenhesaid,“IdonotthinkIwill.”
“Never?”
Heshookhishead,justthebarestshadow.“Thereisnothinghecando.Itwouldonlybringhimgrief.”
“Whataboutyourmother?Won’tshetellhim?”
“No,”hesaid.“ItwasoneofthethingsIaskedhertopromiseme,thatlastdayonScyros.”
Ifrowned.Hehadnottoldmethisbefore.“Whatweretheotherthings?”
Isawhimhesitate.Butwedidnotlietoeachother;weneverhad.“Iaskedhertoprotectyou,”hesaid.“After.”
Istaredathim,dry-mouthed.“Whatdidshesay?”
Anothersilence.Then,soquietlyIcouldimaginethedullredshameofhischeeks,heanswered,“Shesaidno.”
Later,whenheslept,andIlaywakefulandwatchingunderthestars,Ithoughtofthis.Knowingthathehadaskedwarmedme—itchasedawaysomeofthecoldnessofthedayshereinthepalace,whenhewaswantedeverymomentandIwasnot.
Asforthegoddess’sanswer,Ididnotcare.Iwouldhavenoneedofher.Ididnotplantoliveafterhewasgone
SIXWEEKSPASSED—thesixweeksthatittooktoorganizesoldiers,toequipafleet,topackupfoodandclothingtolastthelengthofthewar—ayearperhaps,ortwo.Siegeswerealwayslong.
PeleusinsistedthatAchillestakeonlythebest.Hepaidforasmallfortuneinarmor,morethansixmenwouldneed.Therewerehammered-bronzebreastplates,gravenwithlionsandarisingphoenix,stiffleathergreaveswithgoldbands,horsehairplumedhelms,asilver-forgedsword,dozensofspearheads,andtwolight-wheeledchariots.Withthiscameafour-horseteam,includingthepairgiventoPeleusbythegodsathiswedding.XanthosandBalios,theywerecalled:GoldenandDapple,andtheireyesrolledwhitewithimpatiencewhenevertheywerenotfreetorun.Hegaveusalsoacharioteer,aboyyoungerthanwewere,butsturdilybuiltandsaidtobeskilledwithheadstronghorses.Automedon,hisnamewas.
Finally,lastofall:alongspear,ashsaplingpeeledofbarkandpolisheduntilitglowedlikegrayflame.FromChiron,Peleussaid,handingittohisson.Webentoverit,ourfingerstrailingitssurfaceasiftocatchthecentaur’slingeringpresence.SuchafinegiftwouldhavetakenweeksofChiron’sdeftshaping;hemusthavebegunitalmostthedaythatweleft.Didheknow,oronlyguessatAchilles’destiny?Ashelayaloneinhisrose-coloredcave,hadsomeglimmerofprophecycometohim?Perhapshesimplyassumed:abitternessofhabit,ofboyafterboytrainedformusicandmedicine,andunleashedformurder.
Yetthisbeautifulspearhadbeenfashionednotinbitterness,butlove.Itsshapewouldfitnoone’shandbutAchilles’,anditsheftcouldsuitnoone’sstrengthbuthis.Andthoughthepointwaskeenanddeadly,thewooditselfslippedunderourfingersliketheslenderoiledstrutofalyre.
ATLASTTHEDAYforourdeparturecame.Ourshipwasabeauty,finereventhanOdysseus’—sleekandslimasaknifepoint,meanttocutthesea.Itrodelowinthewater,heavywithstoresoffoodandsupplies.
Andthatwasonlytheflagship.Besideit,forty-nineothers,acityofwood,rolledgentlyinthewatersofPhthia’sharbor.Theirbrightprow-pieceswereabestiaryofanimalsandnymphsandcreatureshalfinbetween,andtheirmastsstoodastallasthetreestheyhadbeen.Atthefrontofeachoftheseships,oneofournew-mintedcaptainsstoodatattention,salutingaswewalkeduptheramptoourvessel.
Achilleswentfirst,hispurplecloakstirringinthebreezefromthesea,thenPhoinix,andmewithanewcloakofmyown,holdingtheoldman’sarmtosteadyhissteps.Thepeoplecheeredforusandforoursoldiers,filingontotheirownships.Allaroundusfinalpromiseswereshouted:ofglory,ofthegoldthatwouldbestrippedandbroughthomefromPriam’srichcity.
Peleusstoodattheshore’sedge,onehandraisedinfarewell.Truetohisword,Achilleshadnottoldhimoftheprophecy,merelyhuggedhimtightly,asiftosoaktheoldmanintohisskin.Ihadembracedhimtoo,thosethin,wirylimbs.Ithought,ThisiswhatAchilleswillfeellikewhenheisold.AndthenIremembered:hewillneverbeold.
Theship’sboardswerestillstickywithnewresin.Weleanedovertherailingtowaveourlastfarewell,thesun-warmwoodpressedagainstourbellies.Thesailorsheaveduptheanchor,squareandchalkywithbarnacles,andloosenedthesails.Thentheytooktheirseatsattheoarsthatfringedtheboatlikeeyelashes,waitingforthecount.Thedrumsbegantobeat,andtheoarsliftedandfell,takingustoTroy.
ChapterSeventeen
BUTFIRST,TOAULIS.AULIS,AJUTTINGFINGEROFLANDwithenoughshorelinetobeachallourshipsatonce.Agamemnonhadwantedhismightyforceassembledinasingleplacebeforeitsailed.Asymbolperhaps:thevisiblepowerofGreeceOffended.
AfterfivedayschurningthroughtheroughwatersoftheEuboeancoast,wecamearoundthelasthitchofthewindingstraight,andAuliswasthere.Itappearedallatonce,asifaveilhadbeenyankedoff:shorelinethickwithvesselsineverysizeandcolorandshape,itsbeachcoveredinashiftingcarpetofthousandsuponthousandsofmen.Beyondthemthecanvastopsoftentsstretchedouttothehorizon,brightpennantsmarkingthekings’pavilions.Ourmenstroveattheiroars,guidingustowardsthelastemptyplaceonthecrowdedshore—bigenoughforourwholefleet.Anchorsdroppedfromfiftysterns.
Hornsblew.TheMyrmidonsfromtheothershipswerealreadywadingashore.Theystoodnowatthewater’sedge,surroundingus,whitetunicsbillowing.Atasignalwecouldnotseetheybegantochanttheirprince’sname,twenty-fivehundredmenspeakingasone.A-chil-les!Allalongtheshore,headsturned—Spartans,Argives,Mycenaeans,andalltherest.Thenewswentripplingthroughthem,passingonetoanother.Achillesishere
Asthesailorsloweredthegangwaywewatchedthemgather,kingsandconscriptsboth.Icouldnotseetheprincelyfacesfromthedistance,butIrecognizedthepennantsthattheirsquirescarriedbeforethem:theyellowbannerofOdysseus,theblueofDiomedes,andthenthebrightest,thebiggest—aliononpurple,thesymbolofAgamemnonandMycenae.
Achilleslookedtome,drewinabreath;thescreamingcrowdatPhthiawasnothingcomparedtothis.Buthewasready.Isawitinthewayheliftedhischest,inthefiercegreenofhiseyes.Hewalkedtothegangwayandstoodatitstop.TheMyrmidonskeptuptheirshouts,andtheywerenotalonenow;othersinthecrowdhadjoinedthem.Abroad-chestedMyrmidoncaptaincuppedhishandsaroundhismouth.“PrinceAchilles,sonofKingPeleusandthegoddessThetis.AristosAchaion!”
Asifinanswer,theairchanged.BrightsunlightbrokeandpouredoverAchilles,wentrollingdownhishairandbackandskin,turninghimtogold.Heseemedsuddenlylarger,andhistunic,wrinkledfromtravel,straighteneduntilitshonewhiteandcleanasasail.Hishaircaughtthelightlikebuoyantflame.
Gaspsamongstthemen;newcheersburstforth.Thetis,Ithought.Itcouldbenooneelse.Shewaspullinghisdivinityforth,mantlingitlikecreamoneveryinchofhisskin.Helpinghersonmakethemostofhisdearlyboughtfame.
Icouldseethetugofasmileatthecornerofhismouth.Hewasenjoyingit,lickingthecrowd’sworshipoffhislips.Hedidnotknow,hetoldmelater,whatwashappening.Buthedidnotquestionit;itdidnotseemstrangetohim.
Apathwayhadbeenleftopenforhim,straightthroughthecrowd’shearttowherethekingsgathered.Eacharrivingprincewastopresenthimselfbeforehispeersandnewcommander;nowitwasAchilles’turn.Hestrodedowntheplankandpastthejostlingranksofmen,stoppingperhapstenfeetfromthekings.Iwasafewpacesfartherbehind.
Agamemnonwaswaitingforus.Hisnosewascurvedandsharplikeaneagle’sbeak,andhiseyesglitteredwithagreedyintelligence.Hewassolidandbroadacrosshischest,firmlyplantedinhisfeet.Helookedseasoned,butalsoworn—olderthanthefortyyearsweknewhimtobe.Athisrightside,aplaceofhonor,stoodOdysseusandDiomedes.Onhisleftwashisbrother,Menelaus—kingofSparta,causeofwar.ThevividredhairthatIrememberedfromTyndareus’hallwastouchednowwiththreadinggray.Likehisbrotherhewastallandsquare,hisshouldersstrongasayoke-ox.Hisfamily’sdarkeyesandcurvingnoseseemedsofteronhim,moretemperate.Hisfacewassmile-linedandhandsomewherehisbrother’swasnot.
TheonlyotherkingthatIcouldidentifywithanysuretywasNestor—theoldman,chinbarelycoveredbyasparsewhitebeard,eyessharpinhisage-whittledface.Hewastheoldestmanliving,itwasrumored,thecannysurvivorofathousandscandalsandbattlesandcoups.HeruledthesandystripofPylos,whosethronehestillclutchedstubbornly,disappointingdozensofsonswhogrewoldandthenolder,evenashebrednewonesfromhisfamedandwell-wornloins.Itwastwoofthesesonswhoheldhisarmssteadynow,shoulderingotherkingsasideforaplaceatthefront.Ashewatchedushismouthhungopen,breathpuffinghisthreadbarebeardwithexcitement.Helovedacommotion.
Agamemnonsteppedforward.Heopenedhishandsinagestureofwelcomeandstoodregallyexpectant,waitingforthebows,obeisance,andoathsofloyaltyhewasowed.ItwasAchilles’placetokneelandofferthem.
Hedidnotkneel.Hedidnotcalloutagreetingtothegreatking,orinclinehisheadorofferagift.Hedidnothingbutstandstraight,chinproudlylifted,beforethemall.
Agamemnon’sjawtightened;helookedsillylikethat,withhisarmsout,andheknewit.MygazecaughtonOdysseusandDiomedes;theireyesweresendingsharpmessages.Aroundustheuneasysilencespread.Menexchangedglances.
MyhandsclutchedeachotherbehindmybackasIwatchedAchillesandthegameheplayed.HisfaceseemedcutfromstoneashestaredhiswarningatthekingofMycenae—Youdonotcommandme.Thesilencewentonandon,painfulandbreathless,likeasingeroverreachingtofinishaphrase.
Then,justasOdysseusmovedforwardtointervene,Achillesspoke.“IamAchilles,sonofPeleus,god-born,bestoftheGreeks,”hesaid.“Ihavecometobringyouvictory.”Asecondofstartledsilence,thenthemenroaredtheirapproval.Pridebecameus—heroeswerenevermodest.
Agamemnon’seyeswentflat.AndthenOdysseuswasthere,hishandhardonAchilles’shoulder,wrinklingthefabricashisvoicesmoothedtheair.
“Agamemnon,LordofMen,wehavebroughttheprinceAchillestopledgehisallegiancetoyou.”HislookwarnedAchilles—itisnottoolate.ButAchillessimplysmiledandsteppedforwardsothatOdysseus’handfelloffhim.
“Icomefreelytooffermyaidtoyourcause,”hesaidloudly.Thenturningtothecrowdaroundhim,“Iamhonoredtofightwithsomanynoblewarriorsofourkingdoms.”
Anothercheer,loudandlong,takingwhatfeltlikeminutestodie.Finally,fromthedeepcragofhisface,Agamemnonspoke,withpatiencethathadbeenhardwon,hardpracticed.
“Indeed,Ihavethefinestarmyintheworld.AndIwelcomeyoutoit,youngprinceofPhthia.”Hissmilecutsharply.“Itisapityyouweresoslowtocome.”
Therewasimplicationhere,butAchilleshadnochancetoanswer.Agamemnonwasalreadyspeakingagain,hisvoiceliftedoverusall:“MenofGreece,wehavedelayedlongenough.WeleaveforTroytomorrow.Repairtoyourcampsandmakeyourselvesready.”Thenheturnedwithfinalityandstrodeupthebeach
ThekingsofAgamemnon’sinnermostcirclefollowedhim,dispersingbacktotheirships—Odysseus,Diomedes,Nestor,Menelaus,more.Butotherslingeredtomeetthenewhero:ThessalianEurypylusandAntilochusofPylos,MerionesofCreteandthephysicianPodalerius.Mendrawnhereforgloryorboundbytheiroath,fromeveryfar-flungcragofourcountries.Manyhadbeenhereformonths,waitingastherestofthearmystraggledtogether.Aftersuchtedium,theysaid,lookingslylyatAchilles,theywelcomedanyharmlessentertainment.Particularlyattheexpenseof—
“PrinceAchilles,”interruptedPhoinix.“Pleaseexcusemyintrusion.Ithoughtyouwouldwishtoknowthatyourcampisbeingprepared.”Hisvoicewasstiffwithdisapproval;buthere,infrontoftheothers,hewouldnotchide.
“Thankyou,worthyPhoinix,”Achillessaid.“Ifyou’llpardonus—?”
Yes,yes,ofcoursetheywould.They’dcomebylater,ortomorrow.They’dbringtheirbestwineandwe’dbroachittogether.Achillesclaspedhandswiththem,promiseditwouldbeso.
INCAMP,Myrmidonsstreamedaroundusheftingbaggageandfood,polesandcanvas.Amaninliveryapproachedandbowed—oneofMenelaus’heralds.Hiskingcouldnotcomeinperson,heregretted,buthadsenttheheraldhereinhisplacetowelcomeus.AchillesandIexchangedaglance.Thiswascleverdiplomacy—wehadnotmadeafriendinhisbrother,soMenelausdidnotcomehimself.Yet,somewelcomewasduetothebestoftheGreeks.“Amanwhoplaysbothsidesofthefence,”IwhisperedtoAchilles.
“Amanwhocannotaffordtooffendmeifhewantshiswifereturned,”hewhisperedback.
Wouldweacceptatour?theheraldasked.Yes,wesaid,inourbestprincelymanner.Wewould.
Themainencampmentwasadizzyingchaos,abedlamofmotion—theconstantflutteringofpennants,laundryonlines,tentwalls,thehurryingbodiesofthousandsandthousandsofmen.Beyondthiswastheriver,withitsoldwatermarkfromwhenthearmieshadfirstarrived,afoothigheronthebank.Thenthemarketplacecenter,theagora,withitsaltarandmakeshiftpodium.Last,thelatrines—long,openditches,busywithmen.
Whereverwewent,wewereobserved.IwatchedAchillesclosely,waitingtoseeifThetiswouldagainmakehishairbrighterorhismusclesbigger.Ifshedid,Ididnotnotice;allthegraceIsawthenwashisown:simple,unadorned,glorious.Hewavedtothemenwhostaredathim;hesmiledandgreetedthemashepassed.Iheardthewords,whisperedfrombehindbeardsandbrokenteethandcallusedhands:AristosAchaion.WasheasOdysseusandDiomedeshadpromised?DidtheybelievethoseslenderlimbscouldholdagainstanarmyofTrojans?Couldaboyofsixteenreallybeourgreatestwarrior?Andeverywhere,asIwatchedthequestions,Isawalsotheanswers.Yes,theynoddedtoeachother,yes,yes.
ChapterEighteen
IWOKETHATNIGHTGASPING.IWASSWEAT-SOAKED,ANDTHEtentfeltoppressivelywarm.BesidemeAchillesslept,hisskinasdampasmine.
Isteppedoutside,eagerforabreezeoffthewater.Buthere,too,theairwasheavyandhumid.Itwasquiet,strangelyso.Iheardnoflappingofcanvas,nojingleofanunsecuredharness.Eventheseawassilent,asifthewaveshadceasedtofallagainsttheshore.Outbeyondthebreakersitwasflatasapolishedbronzemirror.
Therewasnowind,Irealized.Thatwasthestrangeness.Theairthathungaroundmedidnotstir,evenwiththefaintestwhisperofcurrent.Irememberthinking:ifitkeepsuplikethiswewon’tbeabletosailtomorrow.
Iwashedmyface,gladofthewater’scoolness,thenreturnedtoAchillesandrestless,turningsleep.
THENEXTMORNINGisthesame.Iwakeinapoolofsweat,myskinpuckeredandparched.GratefullyIgulpthewaterthatAutomedonbringsus.Achilleswakes,drawsahandoverhissoakedforehead.Hefrowns,goesoutside,returns.
“Thereisnowind.”
Inod.
“Wewillnotleavetoday.”Ourmenarestrongoarsmen,buteventheycannotpowerafullday’sjourney.WeneedthewindtotakeustoTroy.
Itdoesnotcome.Notthatday,orthatnight,orthenextdayeither.Agamemnonisforcedtostandinthemarketplaceandannouncefurtherdelay.Assoonasthewindreturns,wewillleave,hepromisesus.
Butthewinddoesnotreturn.Wearehotallthetime,andtheairfeelsliketheblastsoffafire,scorchingourlungs.Wehadnevernoticedhowscaldingthesandcouldbe,howscratchyourblankets.Tempersfray,andfightsbreakout.AchillesandIspendallourtimeinthesea,seekingthemeagercomfortitoffers.
Thedayspassandourforeheadscreasewithworry.Twoweekswithnowindisunnatural,yetAgamemnondoesnothing.AtlastAchillessays,“Iwillspeaktomymother.”Isitinthetentsweatingandwaitingwhilehesummonsher.Whenhereturns,hesays,“Itisthegods.”Buthismotherwillnot—cannot—saywho.
WegotoAgamemnon.Theking’sskinisredwithheat-rash,andheisangryallthetime—atthewind,athisrestlessarmy,atanyonewhowillgivehimanexcuseforit.Achillessays,“Youknowmymotherisagoddess.”
Agamemnonalmostsnarlshisanswer.Odysseuslaysarestraininghandonhisshoulder.
“Shesaystheweatherisnotnatural.Thatitisamessagefromthegods.”
Agamemnonisnotpleasedtohearit;heglowersanddismissesus.
Amonthpasses,awearymonthoffeverishsleepandswelteringdays.Men’sfacesareheavywithanger,buttherearenomorefights—itistoohot.Theylieinthedarkandhateeachother.
Anothermonth.Weareall,Ithink,goingtogomad,suffocatedbytheweightofthemotionlessair.Howmuchlongercanthisgoon?Itisterrible:theglaringskythatpinsdownourhost,thechokingheatwesuckinwitheverybreath.EvenAchillesandI,aloneinourtentwiththehundredgameswemakeforeachother,feelwinnowedandbare.Whenwillitend?
Finally,wordcomes.Agamemnonhasspokenwiththechiefpriest,Calchas.Weknowhim—heissmall,withapatchybrownbeard.Anuglyman,withafacesharplikeaweaselandahabitofrunningaflickeringtongueoverhislipsbeforehespeaks.Butmostuglyofallarehiseyes:blue,brightblue.Whenpeopleseethem,theyflinch.Suchthingsarefreakish.Heisluckyhewasnotkilledatbirth.
CalchasbelievesitisthegoddessArtemiswehaveoffended,thoughhedoesnotsaywhy.Hegivestheusualprescription:anenormoussacrifice.Dutifully,thecattlearegathered,andthehoney-winemixed.Atournextcampmeeting,Agamemnonannouncesthathehasinvitedhisdaughtertohelppresideovertherites.SheisapriestessofArtemis,andtheyoungestwomanevertohavebeensoanointed;perhapsshecansoothetheraginggoddess.
Thenwehearmore—thisdaughterisbeingbroughtfromMycenaenotjustfortheceremony,butformarriagetooneofthekings.Weddingsarealwayspropitious,pleasingtothegods;perhapsthistoowillhelp.
AgamemnonsummonsAchillesandmetohistent.Hisfacelooksrumpledandswollen,theskinofamanwhohasnotbeensleeping.Hisnoseisstillredwithrash.BesidehimsitsOdysseus,coolasever.
Agamemnonclearshisthroat.“PrinceAchilles.Ihavecalledyouherewithaproposition.Perhapsyouhaveheardthat—”Hestops,clearshisthroatagain.“Ihaveadaughter,Iphigenia.Iwouldwishhertobeyourwife.”
Westare.Achilles’mouthopens,closes.
Odysseussays,“Agamemnonoffersyouagreathonor,PrinceofPhthia.”
Achillesstutters,arareclumsiness.“Yes,andIthankhim.”HiseyesgotoOdysseus,andIknowthatheisthinking:WhatofDeidameia?Achillesisalreadymarried,asOdysseuswellknows.
ButthekingofIthacanods,slightsothatAgamemnonwillnotsee.WearetopretendthattheprincessofScyrosdoesnotexist.
“Iamhonoredthatyouwouldthinkofme,”Achillessays,hesitatingstill.Hiseyesflickertome,inaquestion
Odysseussees,asheseeseverything.“Sadly,youwillonlyhaveanighttogetherbeforeshemustleaveagain.Thoughofcourse,muchmayhappeninanight.”Hesmiles.Nooneelsedoes.
“Itwillbegood,Ibelieve,awedding,”Agamemnon’swordscomeslowly.“Goodforourfamilies,goodforthemen.”Hedoesnotmeetourgaze.
Achillesiswatchingformyanswer;hewillsaynoifIwishit.Jealousypricks,butfaintly.Itwillonlybeanight,IthinkItwillwinhimstatusandsway,andmakepeacewithAgamemnon.Itwillmeannothing.Inod,slight,asOdysseushad.
Achillesoffershishand.“Iaccept,Agamemnon.Iwillbeproudtonameyoufather-in-law.”
Agamemnontakestheyoungerman’shand.Iwatchhiseyesashedoes—theyarecoldandalmostsad.Later,Iwillrememberthis.
Heclearshisthroat,athirdtime.“Iphigenia,”hesays,“isagoodgirl.”
“Iamsuresheis,”Achillessays.“Iwillbehonoredtohaveherasmywife.”
Agamemnonnods,adismissal,andweturntogo.Iphigenia.Atrippingname,thesoundofgoathoovesonrock,quick,lively,lovely.
AFEWDAYSLATER,shearrivedwithaguardofsternMycenaeans—oldermen,theonesnotfitforwar.Asherchariotrattledoverthestonyroadtoourcamp,soldierscameouttostare.Ithadbeenlongnow,sincemanyofthemhadseenawoman.Theyfeastedonthecurveofherneck,aflashofankle,herhandsprettilysmoothingtheskirtofherbridalgown.Herbrowneyeswerelitwithexcitement;shewascomingtomarrythebestoftheGreeks.
Theweddingwouldtakeplaceinourmakeshiftmarketplace,thesquarewoodenplatformwitharaisedaltarbehindit.Thechariotdrewcloser,pastthethronging,gatheredmen.Agamemnonstoodonthedais,flankedbyOdysseusandDiomedes;Calchastoowasnear.Achilleswaited,asgroomsdo,atthedais’sside.
Iphigeniasteppeddelicatelyoutofherchariotandontotheraisedwoodfloor.Shewasveryyoung,notyetfourteen,caughtbetweenpriestesspoiseandchildlikeeagerness.Shethrewherarmsaroundherfather’sneck,lacedherhandsthroughhishair.Shewhisperedsomethingtohimandlaughed.Icouldnotseehisface,buthishandsonherslendershouldersseemedtotighten.
OdysseusandDiomedesmovedforwardallsmilesandbows,offeringtheirgreetings.Herresponsesweregracious,butimpatient.Hereyeswerealreadysearchingforthehusbandshehadbeenpromised.Shefoundhimeasily,hergazecatchingonhisgoldenhair.Shesmiledatwhatshesaw.
Atherlook,Achillessteppedforwardtomeether,standingnowjustattheplatform’sedge.Hecouldhavetouchedherthen,andIsawhimstartto,reachtowardshertaperedfingers,fineassea-smoothedshells.
Thenthegirlstumbled.IrememberAchillesfrowning.Irememberhimshift,tocatchher.
Butshewasn’tfalling.Shewasbeingdraggedbackwards,tothealtarbehindher.NoonehadseenDiomedesmove,buthishandwasonhernow,hugeagainstherslendercollarbone,bearingherdowntothestonesurface.Shewastooshockedtostruggle,toknowevenwhatwashappening.Agamemnonyankedsomethingfromhisbelt.Itflashedinthesunasheswungit.
Theknife’sedgefellontoherthroat,andbloodspurtedoverthealtar,spilleddownherdress.Shechoked,triedtospeak,couldnot.Herbodythrashedandwrithed,butthehandsofthekingpinnedherdown.Atlastherstrugglesgrewweaker,herkickingless;atlastshelaystill.
BloodslickedAgamemnon’shands.Hespokeintothesilence:“Thegoddessisappeased.”
Whoknowswhatmighthavehappenedthen?Theairwasclosewiththeiron-saltsmellofherdeath.Humansacrificewasanabomination,drivenfromourlandslongago.Andhisowndaughter.Wewerehorrifiedandangry,andtherewasviolenceinus.
Then,beforewecouldmove:somethingonourcheeks.Wepaused,unsure,anditcameagain.Softandcoolandsmellingofthesea.Amurmurwentthroughthemen.WindThewindhascome.Jawsunclenched,andmusclesloosened.Thegoddessisappeased.
Achillesseemedfrozen,fixedtohisspotbesidethedais.Itookhisarmandpulledhimthroughthecrowdtowardsourtent.Hiseyeswerewild,andhisfacewasspatteredwithherblood.Iwetaclothandtriedtocleanitaway,buthecaughtmyhand.“Icouldhavestoppedthem,”hesaid.Theskinofhisfacewasverypale;hisvoicewashoarse.“Iwascloseenough.Icouldhavesavedher.”
Ishookmyhead.“Youcouldnothaveknown.”
Heburiedhisfaceinhishandsanddidnotspeak.IheldhimandwhisperedallthebitsofbrokencomfortIcouldfind.
AFTERHEHADWASHEDhisstainedhandsandchangedhisbloodiedclothes,Agamemnoncalledusallbacktothemarketplace.Artemis,hesaid,hadbeendispleasedwiththebloodshedthishugearmyintended.Shedemandedpaymentforit,inadvance,inkind.Cowswerenotenough.Avirginpriestesswasrequired,humanbloodforhumanblood;theleader’seldestdaughterwouldbebest.
Iphigeniahadknown,hesaid,hadagreedtodoit.Mostmenhadnotbeencloseenoughtoseethestartledpanicinhereyes.Gratefully,theybelievedtheirgeneral’slie.
Theyburnedherthatnightoncypresswood,thetreeofourdarkestgods.Agamemnonbroachedahundredcasksofwineforcelebration;wewereleavingforTroyonthemorning’stide.InsideourtentAchillesfellintoexhaustedsleep,hisheadinmylap.Istrokedhisforehead,watchingthetremblesofhisdreamingface.Inthecornerlayhisbloodiedgroom’stunic.Lookingatit,athim,mychestfelthotandtight.Itwasthefirstdeathhehadeverwitnessed.Ieasedhisheadoffmylapandstood
Outside,mensangandshouted,drunkandgettingdrunker.Onthebeachthepyreburnedhigh,fedbythebreeze.Istrodepastcampfires,pastlurchingsoldiers.IknewwhereIwasgoing.
Therewereguardsoutsidehistent,buttheywereslumping,half-asleep.“Whoareyou?”oneasked,startingup.Isteppedpasthimandthrewopenthetent’sdoor.
Odysseusturned.Hehadbeenstandingatasmalltable,hisfingertoamap.Therewasahalf-finisheddinnerplatebesideit.
“Welcome,Patroclus.It’sallright,Iknowhim,”headdedtotheguardstutteringapologiesbehindme.Hewaiteduntilthemanwasgone.“Ithoughtyoumightcome.”
Imadeanoiseofcontempt.“Youwouldsaythatwhateveryouthought.”
Hehalf-smiled.“Sit,ifyoulike.I’mjustfinishingmydinner.”
“Youletthemmurderher.”Ispatthewordsathim.
Hedrewachairtothetable.“WhatmakesyouthinkIcouldhavestoppedthem?”
“Youwouldhave,ifithadbeenyourdaughter.”Ifeltlikemyeyeswerethrowingoffsparks.Iwantedhimburnt.
“Idon’thaveadaughter.”Hetoreapieceofbread,soppeditintogravy.Ate.
“Yourwifethen.Whatifithadbeenyourwife?”
Helookedupatme.“Whatdoyouwishmetosay?ThatIwouldnothavedoneit?”
“Yes.”
“Iwouldnothave.ButperhapsthatiswhyAgamemnoniskingofMycenae,andIruleonlyIthaca.”
Tooeasilyhisanswerscametohim.Hispatienceenragedme.
“Herdeathisonyourhead.”
Awrytwistofhismouth.“Yougivemetoomuchcredit.Iamacounseloronly,Patroclus.Notageneral.”
“Youliedtous.”
“Aboutthewedding?Yes.ItwastheonlywayClytemnestrawouldletthegirlcome.”Themother,backinArgos.Questionsroseinme,butIknewthistrickofhis.Iwouldnotlethimdivertmefrommyanger.Myfingerstabbedtheair.
“Youdishonoredhim.”Achilleshadnotthoughtofthisyet—hewastoogrievedwiththegirl’sdeath.ButIhad.Theyhadtaintedhimwiththeirdeceit.
Odysseuswavedahand.“Themenhavealreadyforgottenhewaspartofit.Theyforgotitwhenthegirl’sbloodspilled.”
“Itisconvenientforyoutothinkso.”
Hepouredhimselfacupofwine,drank.“Youareangry,andnotwithoutreason.Butwhycometome?Ididnotholdtheknife,orthegirl.”
“Therewasblood,”Isnarled.“Alloverhim,hisface.Inhismouth.Doyouknowwhatitdidtohim?”
“Hegrievesthathedidnotpreventit.”
“Ofcourse,”Isnapped.“Hecouldbarelyspeak.”
Odysseusshrugged.“Hehasatenderheart.Anadmirablequality,surely.Ifithelpshisconscience,tellhimIplacedDiomedeswherehewasonpurpose.SoAchilleswouldseetoolate.”
IhatedhimsomuchIcouldnotspeak
Heleanedforwardinhischair.“MayIgiveyousomeadvice?Ifyouaretrulyhisfriend,youwillhelphimleavethissoftheartbehind.He’sgoingtoTroytokillmen,notrescuethem.”Hisdarkeyesheldmelikeswift-runningcurrent.“Heisaweapon,akiller.Donotforgetit.Youcanuseaspearasawalkingstick,butthatwillnotchangeitsnature.”
Thewordsdrovebreathfromme,leftmestuttering.“Heisnot—”
“Butheis.Thebestthegodshaveevermade.Anditistimeheknewit,andyoudidtoo.IfyouhearnothingelseIsay,hearthat.Idonotsayitinmalice.”
Iwasnomatchforhimandhiswordsthatlodgedlikequillsandwouldnotbeshakenloose.
“Youarewrong,”Isaid.Hedidnotanswerme,onlywatchedmeturnandfleefromhiminsilence.
ChapterNineteen
WELEFTTHENEXTDAY,EARLY,WITHTHERESTOFthefleet.Fromthesternofourship,Aulis’sbeachlookedstrangelybare.Onlythegougesofthelatrinesandtheash-whiteruinsofthegirl’spyrewerelefttomarkourpassage.IhadwokenhimthismorningwithOdysseus’news—thathecouldnothaveseenDiomedesintime.Heheardmeoutdully,hiseyesbruiseddespitehowlonghehadslept.Thenhesaid,“Sheisdead,allthesame.”
Nowhepacedthedeckbehindme.Itriedtopointthingsouttohim—thedolphinsthatranbesideus,therain-swelledcloudsonthehorizon—buthewaslistlessandonlyhalf-listening.LaterIcaughthimstandingalone,practicingdrill-stepsandsword-swingsandfrowningtohimself.
Eachnightweputinatadifferentport;ourboatswerenotbuiltforlongjourneys,fordayafterdayofsubmersion.TheonlymenwesawwereourownPhthians,andDiomedes’Argives.Thefleetsplitsothateachislandwouldnotbeforcedtogivelandfalltotheentirearmy.IwassureitwasnocoincidencethatthekingofArgoswaspairedwithus.Dotheythinkwewillrunaway?Ididmybesttoignorehim,andheseemedcontenttoleaveusinpeace.
Theislandslookedallthesametome—highcliffsbleachedwhite,pebbledbeachesthatscratchedtheundersideofourshipswiththeirchalkyfingernails.Theywerefrequentlyscrubby,brushstrugglingupbesideolivesandcypresses.Achillesbarelynoticedanyofit.Hebentoverhisarmor,polishingittillitshonebrightasflame.
OntheseventhdaywecametoLemnos,justacrossfromtheHellespont’snarrowmouth.Itwaslowerthanmostofourislands,fullofswampsandstagnantpondschokingwithwaterlilies.Wefoundapoolsomedistancefromthecampandsatbyit.Bugsshiveredonitssurface,andbulbouseyespeeredfromamidsttheweeds.WewereonlytwodaysfromTroy.
“Whatwasitlikewhenyoukilledthatboy?”
Ilookedup.Hisfacewasinshadow,thehairfallingaroundhiseyes.
“Like?”Iasked.
Henodded,staringatthewater,asiftoreaditsdepths.
“Whatdiditlooklike?”
“It’shardtodescribe.”Hehadtakenmebysurprise.Iclosedmyeyestoconjureit.“Thebloodcamequickly,Irememberthat.AndIcouldn’tbelievehowmuchtherewas.Hisheadwassplit,andhisbrainsshowedalittle.”Ifoughtdownthenauseathatgrippedme,evennow.“Irememberthesoundhisheadmadeagainsttherock.”
“Didhetwitch?Likeanimalsdo?”
“Ididnotstaylongenoughtowatch.”
Hewassilentamoment.“Myfathertoldmeoncetothinkofthemlikeanimals.ThemenIkill.”
Iopenedmymouthtospeak,thencloseditagain.Hedidnotlookupfromhisvigiloverthewater’ssurface.
“IdonotthinkIcandoit,”hesaid.Simply,aswashisway.
Odysseus’wordspressedinonme,weigheddownmytongue.Good,Iwantedtosay.ButwhatdidIknow?Ididnothavetowinmyimmortalitywithwar.Iheldmypeace.
“Icannotstopseeingit,”hesaidsoftly.“Herdeath.”Icouldnoteither;thegaudysprayofblood,theshockandpaininhereyes.
“Itwillnotalwaysbelikethat,”Iheardmyselfsay.“Shewasagirlandinnocent.Thesewillbementhatyoufight,warriorswhowillkillyouifyoudonotstrikefirst.”
Heturnedtolookatme,hisgazeintent.
“Butyouwillnotfight,eveniftheystrikeatyou.Youhateit.”Ifithadbeenanyotherman,thewordswouldhavebeenaninsult.
“BecauseIdon’thavetheskill,”Isaid.
“Idon’tthinkthatistheonlyreason,”hesaid.
Hiseyesweregreenandbrownasforest,andeveninthedimlightIcouldseethegold.
“Perhapsnot,”Isaid,atlast.
“Butyouwillforgiveme?”
Ireachedforhishandandtookit.“Ihavenoneedtoforgiveyou.Youcannotoffendme.”Theywererashwords,butIsaidthemwithalltheconvictionofmyheart.
Helookeddownamomentatwhereourhandssatjoined.ThenhishandrippeditselffrommineandblurredpastmesoswiftlyIcouldnotfollowit.Hestood,somethinglimpandlongasapieceofwetropedanglingfromhisfingers.Myeyesstaredatit,uncomprehending.
“Hydros,”Achillessaid.Water-snake.Itwasdungray,anditsflatheadhungbrokenlytotheside.Itsbodystilltrembledalittle,dying.
Weaknesssluicedthroughme.Chironhadmadeusmemorizetheirhomesandcolors.Brown-gray,bywater.Quicktoanger.Deadlybite.
“Ididnotevenseeit,”Imanaged.Hethrewthethingaside,tolieblunt-nosedandbrownamongtheweeds.Hehadbrokenitsneck.
“Youdidnothaveto,”hesaid.“Isawit.”
HEWASEASIERAFTERTHAT,nolongerpacingthedeckandstaring.ButIknewthatIphigeniastillweighedonhim.Onbothofus.Hetooktocarryingoneofhisspearswithhimalways.Hewouldtossitintotheairandcatchit,overandoveragain.
Slowly,thefleetstraggledbacktogether.Somehadgonethelongwayaround,southbytheislandofLesbos.Others,takingthemostdirectroute,alreadywaitednearSigeum,northwestofTroy.Stillothershadcomeaswedid,alongtheThraciancoast.Unitedagain,wemassedbyTenedos,theislandjustoffofTroy’swidebeach.Shoutingfromshiptoship,wepassedwordofAgamemnon’splan:thekingswouldtakethefrontline,theirmenfannedoutbehindthem.Maneuveringintoplacewaschaos;therewerethreecollisions,andeveryonechippedoarsonsomeoneelse’shull.
Atlastwewereset,withDiomedesonourleftandMerionesonourright.Thedrumsbegantobeatandthelineofshipsthrustforward,strokebystroke.Agamemnonhadgiventheordertogoslowly,toholdthelineandkeeppaceasone.Butourkingsweregreenstillatfollowinganotherman’sorders,andeachwantedthehonorofbeingfirsttoTroy.Sweatstreamedfromthefacesoftherowersastheirleaderslashedthemon.
WestoodattheprowwithPhoinixandAutomedon,watchingtheshoredrawcloser.Idly,Achillestossedandcaughthisspear.Theoarsmenhadbeguntosettheirstrokesbyit,thesteady,repetitiveslapofwoodagainsthispalm.
Closer,westartedtoseedistinctionontheshore:talltreesandmountainsresolvingoutoftheblurringgreen-brownland.WehadedgedaheadofDiomedesandwereawholeshiplengthinfrontofMeriones.
“Therearemenonthebeach,”Achillessaid.Hesquinted.“Withweapons.”
BeforeIcouldrespond,ahornblewfromsomewhereinthefleet,andothersansweredit.Thealarm.Onthewindcamethefaintechoofshouts.WehadthoughtwewouldsurprisetheTrojans,buttheyknewwewerecoming.Theywerewaitingforus.
Allalongtheline,rowersjammedtheiroarsintothewatertoslowourapproach.Themenonthebeachwereundoubtedlysoldiers,alldressedinthedarkcrimsonofthehouseofPriam.Achariotflewalongtheirranks,churningupsand.Themaninitworeahorsehairhelmet,andevenfromadistancewecouldseethestronglinesofhisbody.Hewaslarge,yes,butnotaslargeasAjaxorMenelaus.Hispowercamefromhiscarriage,hisperfectlysquaredshoulders,thestraightlineofhisbackarrowinguptoheaven.Thiswasnoslouchyprinceofwinehallsanddebauchery,asEasternersweresaidtobe.Thiswasamanwhomovedlikethegodswerewatching;everygesturehemadewasuprightandcorrect.TherewasnooneelseitcouldbebutHector.
Heleaptfromthechariot,shoutingtohismen.Wesawspearshoistedandarrowsnocked.Wewerestilltoofarawayfortheirbows,butthetidewasdraggingusindespiteouroars,andtheanchorswerenotcatching.Shoutscamedowntheline,inconfusion.Agamemnonhadnoorders;holdposition;donotmakelandfall.
“Wearealmostinrangeoftheirarrows,”Achillescommented.Hedidnotseemalarmedbyit,thougharoundustherewaspanicandthesoundoffeetpoundingthedeck.
Istaredattheshorecomingcloser.Hectorwasgonenow,backupthebeachtoadifferentpartofhisarmy.Buttherewasanothermanbeforeus,acaptain,inleatherarmorandafullhelmetthatcoveredallbuthisbeard.Hepulledbackthestringofhisbowasthelineofshipsdrewcloser.ItwasnotasbigaweaponasPhiloctetes’,butitwasnotfaroff.HesightedalongtheshaftandpreparedtokillhisfirstGreek
Heneverhadthechance.IdidnotseeAchillesmove,butIheardit:thewhistleofair,andhissoftexhalation.Thespearwasoutofhishandandflyingacrossthewaterthatseparatedourdeckfromthebeach.Itwasagestureonly.Nospearmancouldthrowhalfsofarasanarrowcouldfly.Itwouldfallwellshort.
Itdidnot.Itsblackheadpiercedthebowman’schest,drovehimbackwardsandover.Hisarrowtwangedharmlesslyintotheair,shotwildfromnervelessfingers.Hefelltothesandanddidnotrise.
Fromtheshipsbesideus,thosewhohadseen,therewereshoutsandtriumphanthorns.ThenewsflaredalongthelineofGreekships,ineitherdirection:firstbloodwasours,spiltbythegod-likeprinceofPhthia.
Achilles’facewasstill,almostpeaceful.Hedidnotlooklikeamanwhohadperformedamiracle.Ontheshore,theTrojansshooktheirweaponsandshoutedstrange,harshwords.Therewasagroupofthemkneelingaroundthefallenman.BehindmeIheardPhoinixwhispersomethingtoAutomedon,whoranoff.Amomentlaterhereappearedwithahandfulofspears.Achillestookonewithoutlooking,heftedit,andthrew.Iwatchedhimthistime,thegracefulcurveofhisarm,theliftofhischin.Hedidnotpause,asmostmendid,toaimorsight.Heknewwhereitwouldgo.Ontheshoreanothermanfell.
Wewereclosenow,andarrowsbegantoflyonbothsides.Manyhitthewater,othersstuckinmastsandhulls.Afewmencriedoutalongourline;afewmenfellalongtheirs.AchillescalmlytookashieldfromAutomedon.“Standbehindme,”hesaid.Idid.Whenanarrowcameclose,hebrusheditasidewiththeshield.Hetookanotherspear.
Thesoldiersgrewwilder—theirovereagerarrowsandspearslitteredthewater.SomewheredownthelineProtesilaus,PrinceofPhylace,leaptlaughingfromthebowofhisshipandbegantoswimtoshore.Perhapshewasdrunk;perhapshisbloodwasfiredwithhopesofglory;perhapshewishedtooutdotheprinceofPhthia.Aspinningspear,fromHectorhimself,hithim,andthesurfaroundhimflushedred.HewasthefirstoftheGreekstodie.
Ourmensliddownropes,liftedhugeshieldstocoverthemselvesfromarrows,andbegantostreamtoshore.TheTrojanswerewellmarshaled,butthebeachofferednonaturaldefenseandweoutnumberedthem.AtacommandfromHectortheyseizedtheirfallencomradesandrelinquishedthebeach.Theirpointhadbeenmade:theywouldnotbesoeasyto
ChapterTwenty
WEGAINEDTHEBEACH,ANDPULLEDTHEFIRSTSHIPSontothesand.ScoutsweresentaheadtowatchforfurtherTrojanambush,andguardswereposted.Hotthoughitwas,noonetookoffhisarmor.
Quickly,whileshipsstillcloggedtheharborbehindus,lotsweredrawnfortheplacementofeachkingdom’scamp.ThespotassignedtothePhthianswasatthefarthestendofthebeach,awayfromwherethemarketplacewouldbe,awayfromTroyandalltheotherkings.IsparedaquickglanceatOdysseus;itwashewhohadchosenthelots.Hisfacewasmildandinscrutableasalways.
“Howdoweknowhowfartogo?”Achillesasked.Hewasshadinghiseyesandlookingnorth.Thebeachseemedtostretchonforever.
“Whenthesandends,”Odysseussaid
Achillesgesturedourshipsupthebeach,andtheMyrmidoncaptainsbeganunsnarlingthemselvesfromtheotherfleetlinestofollow.Thesunbeatdownonus—itseemedbrighterhere,butperhapsthatwasonlythewhitenessofthesand.Wewalkeduntilwecametoagrassyrisespringingfromthebeach.Itwascrescent-shaped,cradlingourfuturecampatthesideandback.Atitstopwasaforestthatspreadeasttowardsaglintingriver.Tothesouth,Troywasasmudgeonthehorizon.IfthepickhadbeenOdysseus’design,weowedhimourthanks—itwasthebestofthecampsbyfar,offeringgreenandshadeandquiet.
WelefttheMyrmidonsunderPhoinix’sdirectionandmadeourwaybacktothemaincamp.Everyplacewewalkedbuzzedwiththesameactivities:draggingshipsontotheshore,settingtents,unloadingsupplies.Therewasahecticenergytothemen,amanicpurpose.Wewerehere,atlast.
AlongthewaywepassedthecampofAchilles’famouscousin,toweringAjax,kingoftheisleofSalamis.WehadseenhimfromafaratAulisandheardtherumors:hecrackedthedeckoftheshipwhenhewalked,hehadborneabullamileonhisback.Wefoundhimliftinghugebagsoutofhisship’shold.Hismuscleslookedlargeasboulders.
“SonofTelamon,”Achillessaid.
Thehugemanturned.Slowly,heregisteredtheunmistakableboybeforehim.Hiseyesnarrowed,andthenstiffpolitenesstookover.“Pelides,”hesaidthickly.Heputdownhisburdenandofferedahandknobbedwithcallusesbigasolives.IpitiedAjax,alittle.HewouldbeAristosAchaion,ifAchilleswerenot.
Backinthemaincamp,westoodonthehillthatmarkedtheboundarybetweensandandgrass,andregardedthethingwehadcomefor.Troy.Itwasseparatedfromusbyaflatexpanseofgrassandframedbytwowide,lazyrivers.Evensofaraway,itsstonewallscaughtthesharpsunandgleamed.WefanciedwecouldseethemetallicglintofthefamousScaeangate,itsbrazenhingessaidtobetallasaman.
Later,Iwouldseethosewallsupclose,theirsharpsquaredstonesperfectlycutandfittedagainsteachother,theworkofthegodApollo,itwassaid.AndIwouldwonderatthem—athow,ever,thecitycouldbetaken.Fortheyweretoohighforsiegetowers,andtoostrongforcatapults,andnosanepersonwouldevertrytoclimbtheirsheer,divinelysmoothedface.
WHENTHESUNHUNGLOWinthesky,Agamemnoncalledthefirstcouncilmeeting.Alargetenthadbeensetupandfilledwithafewrowsofchairsinaraggedsemicircle.AtthefrontoftheroomsatAgamemnonandMenelaus,flankedbyOdysseusandDiomedes.Thekingscameinandtooktheirseatsonebyone.Trainedfrombirthinhierarchy,thelesserkingstookthelesserplaces,leavingthefrontrowsfortheirmorefamouspeers.Achilles,withnohesitation,tookaseatinthefirstrowandmotionedmetositbesidehim.Ididso,waitingforsomeonetoobject,toaskformyremoval.ButthenAjaxarrivedwithhisbastardhalf-brotherTeucer,andIdomeneusbroughthissquireandcharioteer.Apparentlythebestwereallowedtheirindulgences.
UnlikethosemeetingswehadheardcomplaintsofatAulis(pompous,pointless,endless),thiswasallbusiness—latrines,foodsupplies,andstrategy.Thekingsweredividedbetweenattackanddiplomacy—shouldwenotperhapstrytobecivilizedfirst?Surprisingly,Menelauswastheloudestvoiceinfavorofaparley.“Iwillgladlygomyselftotreatwiththem,”hesaid.“Itismyoffice.”
“Whathavewecomeallthiswayfor,ifyouintendtotalkthemintosurrender?”Diomedescomplained.“Icouldhavestayedathome.”
“Wearenotsavages,”Menelaussaidstubbornly.“Perhapstheywillhearreason.”
“Butlikelynot.Whywastethetime?”
“Because,dearKingofArgos,ifwarcomesaftersomediplomacyordelay,wedonotseemsomuchthevillains.”ThiswasOdysseus.“WhichmeansthecitiesofAnatoliawillnotfeelsomuchdutytocometoTroy’said.”
“Youareforitthen,Ithaca?”Agamemnonasked.
Odysseusshrugged.“Therearemanywaystostartawar.Ialwaysthinkraidingmakesagoodbeginning.Itaccomplishesalmostthesamethingasdiplomacy,butwithgreaterprofit.”
“Yes!Raiding!”brayedNestor.“Wemusthaveashowofstrengthbeforeanythingelse!”
Agamemnonrubbedhischinandswunghisgazeovertheroomofkings.“IthinkNestorandOdysseusarecorrect.Raidsfirst.Thenperhapswewillsendanembassy.Webegintomorrow.”
Heneededtogivenofurtherinstructions.Raidingwastypicalsiegewarfare—youwouldnotattackthecity,butthelandsthatsurroundeditthatsupplieditwithgrainandmeat.Youwouldkillthosewhoresisted,makeserfsofthosewhodidnot.Alltheirfoodwentnowtoyou,andyouheldtheirdaughtersandwivesashostagestotheirloyalty.Thosewhoescapedwouldfleetothecityforsanctuary.Quarterswouldquicklygrowcrowdedandmutinous;diseasewouldarise.Eventually,thegateswouldhavetoopen—outofdesperation,ifnothonor.
IhopedthatAchillesmightobject,declarethattherewasnogloryinkillingfarmers.Butheonlynodded,asifthiswerehishundredthsiege,asifhehaddonenothingbutleadraidshiswholelife.
“Onefinalthing—ifthereisanattack,Idonotwantchaos.Wemusthavelines,andcompanies.”Agamemnonshiftedinhischair,seemedalmostnervous.Wellhemightbe;ourkingswereprickly,andthiswasthefirstdistributionofhonor:theplaceintheline.Iftherewasarebellionagainsthisauthority,nowwouldbethetime.Theverythoughtofitseemedtoangerhim,andhisvoicegrewrougher.Thiswasafrequentfaultofhis:themoreprecarioushisposition,themoreunlikablehebecame
“MenelausandIwilltakethecenter,ofcourse.”Therewasafaintrippleofdiscontentatthat,butOdysseusspokeoverit.
“Verywise,KingofMycenae.Messengerswillbeabletofindyoueasily.”
“Exactlyso.”Agamemnonnoddedbriskly,asifthathadindeedbeenthereason.“Tomybrother’sleftwillbetheprinceofPhthia.Andtomyright,Odysseus.ThewingswillbeDiomedesandAjax.”Allofthesewerethemostdangerouspositions,theplaceswheretheenemywouldseektoflankorpunchthrough.Theywerethereforethemostimportanttoholdatallcosts,andthemostprestigious.
“Therestshallbedeterminedbylot.”Whenthemurmurhaddied,Agamemnonstood.“Itissettled.Webegintomorrow.Raids,atsun-up.”
Thesunwasjustsettingaswewalkedbackupthebeachtoourcamp.Achilleswaswellpleased.Oneofthegreatestplacesofprimacywashis,andwithoutafight.Itwastoosoonfordinner,soweclimbedthegrassyhillthatlayjustbeyondourcamp,athinthrustoflandemergingfromthewoods.Westoppedthereamoment,surveyingthenewcamp
Aquestionhadburnedinmesincethebattleontheships,buttherehadbeennotimebeforenowtoaskit.
“Didyouthinkofthemasanimals?Asyourfathersaid?”
Heshookhishead.“Ididnotthinkatall.”
Overourheadsthegullsscreamedandwheeled.Itriedtoimaginehimbloodiedandmurderousafterhisfirstraidtomorrow.
“Areyoufrightened?”Iasked.Thefirstcallofanightingaleinthetreesatourbacks.
“No,”heanswered.“ThisiswhatIwasbornfor.”
IWOKENEXTMORNINGtothesoundofTrojanwavesagainsttheTrojanshore.Achillesstilldrowsedbesideme,soIleftthetenttolethimsleep.Outsidetheskywasascloudlessasthedaybefore:thesunbrightandpiercing,theseathrowingoffgreatsheetsoflight.Isatandfeltthedropsofsweatprickandpoolagainstmyskin.
Inlessthananhourtheraidwouldbegin.Ihadfallenasleepthinkingofit;Ihadwokenwithit.Wehaddiscussed,already,thatIwouldnotgo.Mostofthemenwouldnot.Thiswasaking’sraid,pickedtograntfirsthonorstothebestwarriors.Itwouldbehisfirstrealkill.
Yes,therehadbeenthemenontheshore,thepreviousday.Butthathadbeenadistantthing,withnobloodthatwecouldsee.Theyhadfallenalmostcomically,fromtoofarawaytoseetheirfacesorpain.
Achillesemergedfromthetent,alreadydressed.Hesatbesidemeandatethebreakfastthatwaswaitingforhim.Wesaidlittle.
TherewerenowordstospeaktohimofhowIfelt.Ourworldwasoneofblood,andthehonoritwon;onlycowardsdidnotfight.Foraprincetherewasnochoice.Youwarredandwon,orwarredanddied.EvenChironhadsenthimaspear.
PhoinixwasalreadyupandmarshalingtheMyrmidonswhowouldaccompanyhimdownbythewater’sedge.Itwastheirfirstfight,andtheywantedtheirmaster’svoice.Achillesstood,andIwatchedashestrodetowardsthem—thewaythebronzebucklesonhistunicthrewofffireflashes,thewayhisdarkpurplecapebrightenedhishairtosun’sgold.Heseemedsomuchthehero,Icouldbarelyrememberthatonlythenightbeforewehadspitolivepitsateachother,acrosstheplateofcheesesthatPhoinixhadleftforus.Thatwehadhowledwithdelightwhenhehadlandedone,wetandwithbitsoffruitstillhangingfromit,inmyear.
Hehelduphisspearashespoke,andshookitsgraytip,darkasstoneorstormywater.Ifeltsorryforotherkingswhohadtofightfortheirauthorityorworeitpoorly,theirgesturesjaggedandrough.WithAchillesitwasgracefulasablessing,andthemenliftedtheirfacestoit,astheywouldtoapriest.
After,hecametobidmefarewell.Hewaslife-sizeagainandheldhisspearloosely,almostlazily.
“Willyouhelpmeputtherestofmyarmoron?”
Inoddedandfollowedhimintothecoolofthetent,pasttheheavyclothdoorthatfellclosedlikealampblownout.Ihandedhimbitsofleatherandmetalashegesturedforthem,coveringsforhisupperthighs,hisarms,hisbelly.Iwatchedhimstrapthesethingson,onebyone,sawthestiffleatherdigintohissoftflesh,skinthatonlylastnightIhadtracedwithmyfinger.Myhandtwitchedtowardshim,longingtopullopenthetightbuckles,toreleasehim.ButIdidnot.Themenwerewaiting.
Ihandedhimthelastpiece,hishelmet,bristlingwithhorsehair,andwatchedashefitteditoverhisears,leavingonlyathinstripofhisfaceopen.Heleanedtowardsme,framedbybronze,smellingofsweatandleatherandmetal.Iclosedmyeyes,felthislipsonmine,theonlypartofhimstillsoft.Thenhewasgone.
Withouthimthetentseemedsuddenlymuchsmaller,closeandsmellingofthehidesthathungonthewalls.Ilayonourbedandlistenedtohisshoutedorders,thenthestampsandsnortsofhorses.Lastofall,thecreakingofhischariotwheelsastheyborehimoff.AtleastIhadnofearsforhissafety.AslongasHectorlivedhecouldnotdie.
IWOKETOHISNOSEonmine,pressinginsistentlyagainstmeasIstruggledfromthewebbingofmydreams.Hesmelledsharpandstrange,andforamomentIwasalmostrevoltedatthiscreaturethatclungtomeandshoveditsfaceagainstmine.ButthenhesatbackonhisheelsandwasAchillesagain,hishairdampanddarkened,asifallthemorning’ssunhadbeenpouredoutofit.Itstucktohisfaceandears,flattenedandwetfromthehelmet.
Hewascoveredinblood,vividsplashesnotyetdriedtorust.Myfirstthoughtwasterror—thathewaswounded,bleedingtodeath.“Whereareyouhurt?”Iasked.Myeyesrakedhimforthesourceoftheblood.Butthespattersseemedtocomefromnowhere.Slowly,mysleep-stupidbrainunderstood.Itwasnothis.
“Theycouldnotgetcloseenoughtotouchme,”hesaid.Therewasasortofwonderingtriumphinhisvoice.“Ididnotknowhoweasyitwouldbe.Likenothing.Youshouldhaveseenit.Themencheeredmeafterwards.”Hiswordswerealmostdreamy.“Icannotmiss.Iwishyouhadseen.”
“Howmany?”Iasked.
“Twelve.”
TwelvemenwithnothingatalltodowithParisorHelenoranyofus.
“Farmers?”Therewasabitternesstomyvoicethatseemedtobringhimbacktohimself.
“Theywerearmed,”hesaid,quickly.“Iwouldnotkillanunarmedman.”
“Howmanywillyoukilltomorrow,doyouthink?”Iasked.
Heheardtheedgeinmyvoiceandlookedaway.Thepainonhisfacestruckme,andIwasashamed.WherewasmypromisethatIwouldforgivehim?Iknewwhathisdestinywas,andIhadchosentocometoTroyanyway.Itwastoolateformetoobjectsimplybecausemyconsciencehadbeguntochafe.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.Iaskedhimtotellmewhatitwaslike,allofit,aswehadalwaysspokentoeachother.Andhedid,everything,howhisfirstspearhadpiercedthehollowofaman’scheek,carryingfleshwithitasitcameouttheotherside.Howthesecondmanhadfallenstruckthroughthechest,howthespearhadcaughtagainsthisribcagewhenAchillestriedtoretrieveit.Thevillagehadsmelledterriblewhentheyleftit,muddyandmetallic,withthefliesalreadylanding.
Ilistenedtoeveryword,imaginingitwasastoryonly.Asifitweredarkfiguresonanurnhespokeofinsteadofmen.
AGAMEMNONPOSTEDGUARDStowatchTroyeveryhourofeveryday.Wewereallwaitingforsomething—anattack,oranembassy,orademonstrationofpower.ButTroykepthergatesshut,andsotheraidscontinued.IlearnedtosleepthroughthedaysothatIwouldnotbetiredwhenhereturned;healwaysneededtotalkthen,totellmedowntothelastdetailaboutthefacesandthewoundsandthemovementsofmen.AndIwantedtobeabletolisten,todigestthebloodyimages,topaintthemflatandunremarkableontothevaseofposterity.ToreleasehimfromitandmakehimAchillesagain.
ChapterTwenty-One
WITHTHERAIDSCAMETHEDISTRIBUTION.THISWASacustomofours,theawardingofprizes,theclaimingofwarspoils.Eachmanwasallowedtokeepwhathepersonallywon—armorthathestrippedfromadeadsoldier,ajewelhetorefromthewidow’sneck.Buttherest,ewersandrugsandvases,werecarriedtothedaisandpiledhighfordistribution.
Itwasnotsomuchabouttheworthofanyobjectasabouthonor.Theportionyouweregivenwasequaltoyourstandinginthearmy.Firstallotmentwentusuallytothearmy’sbestsoldier,butAgamemnonnamedhimselffirstandAchillessecond.IwassurprisedthatAchillesonlyshrugged.“EveryoneknowsIambetter.ThisonlymakesAgamemnonlookgreedy.”Hewasright,ofcourse.Anditmadeitallthesweeterwhenthemencheeredforus,totteringbeneathourpileoftreasure,andnotforAgamemnon.OnlyhisownMycenaeansapplaudedhim.
AfterAchillescameAjax,thenDiomedesandMenelaus,andthenOdysseusandonandawayuntilCebrioneswasleftwithonlywoodenhelmetsandchippedgoblets.Sometimes,though,ifamanhaddoneparticularlywellthatday,thegeneralmightawardhimsomethingparticularlyfine,beforeeventhefirstman’sturn.Thus,evenCebrioneswasnotwithouthope.
INTHETHIRDWEEK,agirlstoodonthedaisamidsttheswordsandwovenrugsandgold.Shewasbeautiful,herskinadeepbrown,herhairblackandgleaming.Highonhercheekbonewasaspreadingbruisewhereaknucklehadconnected.Inthetwilight,hereyesseemedbruisedaswell,shadowedasifwithEgyptiankohl.Herdresswastornattheshoulderandstainedwithblood.Herhandswerebound.
Themengatheredeagerly.Theyknewwhatherpresencemeant—Agamemnonwasgivinguspermissionforcampfollowers,forspear-wivesandbedslaves.Untilnow,thewomenhadsimplybeenforcedinthefieldsandleft.Inyourowntentwasamuchmoreconvenientarrangement
Agamemnonmountedthedais,andIsawhiseyesslideoverthegirl,aslightsmileonhislips.Hewasknown—allthehouseofAtreuswas—forhisappetites.Idonotknowwhatcameovermethen.ButIseizedAchilles’armandspokeintohisear.
“Takeher.”
Heturnedtome,hiseyeswidewithsurprise.
“Takeherasyourprize.BeforeAgamemnondoes.Please.”
Hehesitated,butonlyasecond.
“MenofGreece.”Hesteppedforward,stillintheday’sarmor,stillsmearedwithblood.“GreatKingofMycenae.”
Agamemnonturnedtofacehim,frowning.“Pelides?”
“Iwouldhavethisgirlasmywar-prize.”
AtthebackofthedaisOdysseusraisedaneyebrow.Themenaroundusmurmured.Hisrequestwasunusual,butnotunreasonable;inanyotherarmy,firstchoicewouldhavebeenhisanyway.IrritationflashedinAgamemnon’seyes.Isawthethoughtsturnacrosshisface:hedidnotlikeAchilles,yetitwasnotworthit,here,already,tobechurlish
“Igrantyourwish,PrinceofPhthia.Sheisyours.”
Thecrowdshouteditsapproval—theylikedtheircommandersgenerous,theirheroesboldandlusty.
Hereyeshadfollowedtheexchangewithbrightintelligence.Whensheunderstoodthatshewastocomewithus,Isawherswallow,hergazedartingoverAchilles.
“Iwillleavemymenhere,fortherestofmybelongings.Thegirlwillcomewithmenow.”
Appreciativelaughterandwhistlesfromthemen.Thegirltrembledallover,veryslightly,likearabbitcheckedbyahawkoverhead.“Come,”Achillescommanded.Weturnedtogo.Headdown,shefollowed.
BACKINOURCAMP,Achillesdrewhisknife,andherheadjerkedalittlewithfear.Hewasstillbloodyfromtheday’sbattle;ithadbeenhervillagehehadplundered.
“Letme,”Isaid.Hehandedmetheknifeandbackedaway,almostembarrassed.
“Iamgoingtofreeyou,”Isaid.
UpcloseIsawhowdarkhereyeswere,brownasrichestearth,andlargeinheralmond-shapedface.Hergazeflickeredfromthebladetome.IthoughtoffrighteneddogsIhadseen,backedsmallandsharpintocorners.
“No,no,”Isaidquickly.“Wewillnothurtyou.Iamgoingtofreeyou.”
Shelookedatusinhorror.ThegodsknewwhatshethoughtIwassaying.ShewasanAnatolianfarm-girl,withnoreasontohaveeverheardGreekbefore.Isteppedforwardtoputahandherarm,toreassure.Sheflinchedasifexpectingablow.Isawthefearinhereyes,ofrapeandworse.
Icouldnotbearit.TherewasonlyonethingIcouldthinkof.IturnedtoAchillesandseizedthefrontofhistunic.Ikissedhim.
WhenIletgoagain,shewasstaringatus.Staringandstaring.
Igesturedtoherbondsandbacktotheknife.“Allright?”
Shehesitatedamoment.Thenslowlyofferedherhands.
ACHILLESLEFTTOSPEAKtoPhoinixaboutprocuringanothertent.Itookhertothegrass-sidedhillandhadhersitwhileImadeacompressforherbruisedface.Gingerly,eyesdowncast,shetookit.Ipointedtoherleg—itwastornopen,alongcutalonghershin.
“MayIsee?”Iasked,gesturing.Shemadenoresponse,butreluctantlyletmetakeherleg,dressthewound,andtieitclosedwithbandages.Shefollowedeverymovementofmyhandsandnevermetmygaze.
After,Itookhertohernew-pitchedtent.Sheseemedstartledbyit,almostafraidtoenter.Ithrewopentheflapandgestured—food,blankets,anewerofwater,andsomecleancast-offclothes.Hesitating,shesteppedinside,andIleftherthere,eyeswide,staringatitall.
THENEXTDAYAchilleswentraidingagain.Itrailedaroundthecamp,collectingdriftwood,coolingmyfeetinthesurf.AllthetimeIwasawareofthenewtentinthecamp’scorner.Wehadseennothingofheryet;theflapwasshuttightasTroy.AdozentimesIalmostwenttocallthroughthefabric.
Atlast,atmidday,Isawherinthedoorway.Shewaswatchingme,half-hiddenbehindthefolds.WhenshesawthatIhadnoticedher,sheturnedquicklyandwenttoleave.
“Wait!”Isaid.
Shefroze.Thetunicshewore—oneofmine—hungpastherkneesandmadeherlookveryyoung.Howoldwasshe?Ididnotevenknow.
Iwalkeduptoher.“Hello.”Shestaredatmewiththosewideeyes.Herhairhadbeendrawnback,revealingthedelicatebonesofhercheeks.Shewasverypretty.
“Didyousleepwell?”IdonotknowwhyIkepttalkingtoher.Ithoughtitmightcomforther.IhadonceheardChironsaythatyoutalkedtobabiestosoothethem.
“Patroclus,”Isaid,pointingatmyself.Hereyesflickeredtome,thenaway.
“Pa-tro-clus.”Irepeatedslowly.Shedidnotanswer,didnotmove;herfingersclutchedtheclothofthetentflap.Ifeltashamedthen.Iwasfrighteningher.
“Iwillleaveyou,”Isaid.Iinclinedmyheadandmadetogo.
Shespokesomething,solowIcouldnothearit.Istopped.
“What?”
“Briseis,”sherepeated.Shewaspointingtoherself.
“Briseis?”Isaid.Shenodded,shyly.
Thatwasthebeginning.
ITTURNEDOUTthatshedidknowalittleGreek.Afewwordsthatherfatherhadpickedupandtaughtherwhenheheardthearmywascoming.Mercywasone.Yesandpleaseandwhatdoyouwant?Afather,teachinghisdaughterhowtobeaslave.
Duringthedays,thecampwasnearlyemptybutforus.Wewouldsitonthebeachandhaltthroughsentenceswitheachother.Igrewtounderstandherexpressionsfirst,thethoughtfulquietofhereyes,theflickeringsmilesshewouldhidebehindherhand.Wecouldnottalkofmuch,inthoseearlydays,butIdidnotmind.Therewasapeaceinsittingbesideher,thewavesrollingcompanionablyoverourfeet.Almost,itremindedmeofmymother,butBriseis’eyeswerebrightwithobservationashershadneverbeen.
Sometimesintheafternoonswewouldwalktogetheraroundthecamp,pointingtoeachthingshedidnotknowthenameofyet.Wordspiledoneachothersoquicklythatsoonweneededelaboratepantomimes.Cookdinner,haveabaddream.Evenwhenmysketcheswereclumsy,BriseisunderstoodandtranslateditintoaseriesofgesturessoprecisethatIcouldsmellthemeatcooking.Ilaughedoftenatheringenuity,andshewouldgrantmehersecretsmile.
THERAIDINGCONTINUED.EverydayAgamemnonwouldclimbthedaisamidsttheday’splunderandsay,“Nonews.”Nonewsmeantnosoldiers,nosignals,nosoundsfromthecity.Itsatstubbornlyonthehorizonandmadeuswait.
Themenconsoledthemselvesinotherways.AfterBriseistherewasagirlortwoonthedaisnearlyeveryday.Theywereallfarmgirlswithcallusedhandsandburntnoses,usedtohardworkinthesun.Agamemnontookhisshare,andtheotherkingsaswell.Yousawthemeverywherenow,weavingbetweentents,sloppingbucketsofwaterontotheirlongwrinkleddresses—whattheyhadhappenedtobewearingthedaytheyweretaken.Theyservedfruitandcheeseandolives,carvedmeat,andfilledwine-cups.Theypolishedarmor,wedgingthecarapacesbetweentheirlegsastheysatonthesand.Someofthemevenwove,spinningthreadsfromtangledclotsofsheepswool,animalswehadstoleninourraids.
Atnighttheyservedinotherways,andIcringedatthecriesthatreachedevenourcornerofthecamp.Itriednottothinkoftheirburntvillagesanddeadfathers,butitwasdifficulttobanish.Theraidswerestampedoneveryoneofthegirls’faces,largesmearsofgriefthatkepttheireyesaswobblingandsloppyasthebucketsthatswungintotheirlegs.Andbruisestoo,fromfistsorelbows,andsometimesperfectcircles—spearbutts,totheforeheadortemple.
Icouldbarelywatchthesegirlsastheystumbledintocamptobeparceledoff.IsentAchillesouttoaskforthem,toseekasmanyashecould,andthementeasedhimabouthisvoraciousness,hisendlesspriapism.“Didn’tevenknowyoulikedgirls,”Diomedesjoked.
EachnewgirlwentfirsttoBriseis,whowouldspeakcomforttoherinsoftAnatolian.Shewouldbeallowedtobatheandbegivennewclothes,andthenwouldjointheothersinthetent.Weputupanewone,larger,tofitthemall:eight,ten,elevengirls.MostlyitwasPhoinixandIwhospoketothem;Achillesstayedaway.Heknewthattheyhad
Slowly,theygrewlessfrightened.Theyspun,andtalkedintheirownlanguage,sharingthewordstheypickedupfromus—helpfulwords,likecheese,orwater,orwool.TheywerenotasquickasBriseiswas,buttheypatchedtogetherenoughthattheycouldspeaktous.
ItwasBriseis’ideaformetospendafewhourswiththemeachday,teachingthem.ButthelessonsweremoredifficultthanIthought:thegirlswerewary,theireyesdartingtoeachother;theywerenotsurewhattomakeofmysuddenappearanceintheirlives.ItwasBriseisagainwhoeasedtheirfearsandletourlessonsgrowmoreelaborate,steppinginwithawordofexplanationoraclarifyinggesture.HerGreekwasquitegoodnow,andmoreandmoreIsimplydeferredtoher.ShewasabetterteacherthanI,andfunniertoo.Hermimesbroughtusalltolaughter:asleepy-eyedlizard,twodogsfighting.Itwaseasytostaywiththemlongandlate,untilIheardthecreakingofthechariot,andthedistantbangingofbronze,andreturnedtogreetmyAchilles.
Itwaseasy,inthosemoments,toforgetthatthewarhadnotyetreallybegun.
ChapterTwenty-Two
ASTRIUMPHANTASTHERAIDSWERE,THEYWEREONLYraids.Themenwhodiedwerefarmers,tradesmen,fromthevastnetworkofvillagesthatsupportedthemightycity—notsoldiers.IncouncilsAgamemnon’sjawgrewincreasinglytight,andthemenwererestive:wherewasthefightwewerepromised?
Close,Odysseussaid.HepointedoutthesteadyfloodofrefugeesintoTroy.Thecitymustbeneartoburstingnow.Hungryfamilieswouldbespillingintothepalace,makeshifttentswouldclogthecity’sstreets.Itwasonlyamatteroftime,hetoldus.
Asifconjuredbyhisprophecy,aflagofparleyflewaboveTroy’swallstheverynextmorning.ThesoldieronwatchraceddownthebeachtotellAgamemnon:KingPriamwaswillingtoreceiveanembassy.
Thecampwasafirewiththenews.Onewayoranothernow,somethingwouldhappen.TheywouldreturnHelen,orwewouldgettofightforherproperly,inthefield.
ThecouncilofkingssentMenelausandOdysseus,theobviouschoices.Thetwomenleftatfirstlightontheirhigh-steppinghorses,brushedtoashineandjinglingwithornament.WewatchedthemcrossthegrassofTroy’swideplain,thenvanishintotheblurofthedarkgraywalls.
AchillesandIwaitedinourtents,wondering.WouldtheyseeHelen?Pariscouldhardlydaretokeepherfromherhusband,andhecouldhardlydaretoshowhereither.Menelaushadgoneconspicuouslyunarmed;perhapshedidnottrusthimself.
“Doyouknowwhyshechosehim?”Achillesaskedme.
“Menelaus?No.”Irememberedtheking’sfaceinTyndareus’hall,glowingwithhealthandgoodhumor.Hehadbeenhandsome,butnotthehandsomestmanthere.Hehadbeenpowerful,butthereweremanymenwithmorewealthandgreaterdeedstotheirname.“Hebroughtagenerousgift.Andhersisterwasalreadymarriedtohisbrother,maybethatwaspartofit.”
Achillesconsideredthis,armfoldedbehindhishead.“DoyouthinkshewentwithPariswillingly?”
“Ithinkifshedid,shewillnotadmitittoMenelaus.”
“Mmm.”Hetappedafingeragainsthischest,thinking.“Shemusthavebeenwilling,though.Menelaus’palaceislikeafortress.Ifshehadstruggledorcriedout,someonewouldhaveheard.Sheknewhemustcomeafterher,forhishonorifnothingelse.AndthatAgamemnonwouldseizethisopportunityandinvoketheoath.”
“Iwouldnothaveknownthat.”
“YouarenotmarriedtoMenelaus.”
“Soyouthinkshediditonpurpose?Tocausethewar?”Thisshockedme.
“Maybe.Sheusedtobeknownasthemostbeautifulwomaninourkingdoms.Nowtheysayshe’sthemostbeautifulwomanintheworld.”Heputonhisbestsinger’sfalsetto.“Athousandshipshavesailedforher.”
AthousandwasthenumberAgamemnon’sbardshadstartedusing;onethousand,onehundredandeighty-sixdidn’tfitwellinalineofverse.
“MaybeshereallyfellinlovewithParis.”
“Maybeshewasbored.AftertenyearsshutupinSparta,I’dwanttoleavetoo.”
“MaybeAphroditemadeher.”
“Maybethey’llbringherbackwiththem.”
Weconsideredthis.
“IthinkAgamemnonwouldattackanyway.”
“Ithinksotoo.Theyneverevenmentionheranymore.”
“Exceptinspeechestothemen.”
Weweresilentamoment.
“Sowhichofthesuitorswouldyouhavepicked?”
Ishovedhim,andhelaughed.
THEYRETURNEDATNIGHTFALL,alone.Odysseusreportedtothecouncil,whileMenelaussatsilent.KingPriamhadwelcomedthemwarmly,feastedtheminhishall.Thenhehadstoodbeforethem,flankedbyParisandHector,withhisotherforty-eightsonsarrayedbehind.“Weknowwhyyouhavecome,”hesaid.“Buttheladyherselfdoesnotwishtoreturn,andhasputherselfunderourprotection.Ihaveneverrefusedawoman’sdefense,andIwillnotbeginnow.”
“Clever,”saidDiomedes.“Theyhavefoundawayaroundtheirguilt.”
Odysseuscontinued,“Itoldthemthatiftheyweresoresolved,therewasnomoretosay.”
Agamemnonrose,hisvoiceringinggrandly.“Indeedthereisnot.Wehavetrieddiplomacyandbeenrebuffed.Ouronlyhonorablecourseiswar.Tomorrowyougotowinthegloryyoudeserve,everylastmanofyou.”
Therewasmore,butIdidnothearitEverylastman.Fearsluicedthroughme.HowcouldInothavethoughtofthis?OfcourseIwouldbeexpectedtofight.Wewereatwarnow,andallhadtoserve.EspeciallytheclosestcompanionofAristosAchaion
ThatnightIbarelyslept.Thespearsthatleanedagainstthewallsofourtentseemedimpossiblytall,andmymindscrambledtorememberafewlessons—howtoheftthem,howtoduck.TheFateshadsaidnothingaboutme—nothingabouthowlongIwouldlive.IwokeAchilles,inpanic.
“Iwillbethere,”hepromisedme.
INTHEDARKjustbeforedawn,Achilleshelpedmearm.Greaves,gauntlets,aleathercuirassandbronzebreastplateoverit.Itallseemedmoreofahindrancethanprotection,knockingagainstmychinwhenIwalked,confiningmyarms,weighingmedown.HeassuredmethatIwouldgetusedtoit.Ididnotbelievehim.Walkingoutofthetentintothemorning’ssunIfeltfoolish,likesomeonetryingonanolderbrother’sclothing.TheMyrmidonswerewaiting,jostlingeachotherwithexcitement.Togetherwebeganthelongtripdownthebeachtotheenormous,massingarmy.Alreadymybreathswereshallowandswift.
Wecouldhearthearmybeforewesawit;boasting,clatteringweapons,blowinghorns.Thenthebeachunkinkedandrevealedabristlingseaofmenlaidoutinneatsquares.Eachwasmarkedwithapennantthatdeclareditsking.Onlyonesquarewasemptystill:aplaceofprimacy,reservedforAchillesandhisMyrmidons.Wemarchedforwardandarrayedourselves,Achillesoutinfront,thenalineofcaptainstoeithersideofme.Behindus,rankupongleamingrankofproudPhthians.
BeforeuswasthewideflatplainofTroy,endinginthemassivegatesandtowersofthecity.Atitsbasearoilingmorasswasrangedupagainstus,ablurofdarkheadsandpolishedshieldsthatcaughtthesunandflashed.“Staybehindme,”Achillesturnedtosay.Inodded,andthehelmetshookaroundmyears.Fearwastwistinginsideofme,awobblingcupofpanicthatthreatenedeachmomenttospill.Thegreavesdugintothebonesofmyfeet;myspearweigheddownmyarm.Atrumpetblewandmychestheaved.Now.Itwasnow.
Inaclanking,clatteringmass,welurchedintoarun.Thisishowwefought—adead-runchargethatmettheenemyinthemiddle.Withenoughmomentumyoucouldshattertheirranksallatonce.
Ourlineswentquicklyraggedassomeoutstrippedothersintheirspeed,glory-hungry,eagertobethefirsttokillarealTrojan.Byhalfwayacrosstheplainwewerenolongerinranks,orevenkingdoms.TheMyrmidonshadlargelypassedme,driftinginacloudofftotheleft,andImingledamongMenelaus’long-hairedSpartans,alloiledandcombedforbattle.
Iran,armorbanging.Mybreathcamethickly,andthegroundshookwiththepoundingoffeet,arumblingroargrowinglouder.Thedustkickedupbythechargewasalmostblinding.IcouldnotseeAchilles.Icouldnotseethemanbesideme.Icoulddonothingbutgripmyshieldandrun.
Thefrontlinescollidedinanexplosionofsound,aburstofsprayingsplintersandbronzeandblood.Awrithingmassofmenandscreams,suckinguprankafterranklikeCharybdis.Isawthemouthsofmenmovingbutcouldnothearthem.Therewasonlythecrashofshieldsagainstshields,ofbronzeagainstshatteringwood.
ASpartanbesidemedroppedsuddenly,transfixedthroughthechestbyaspear.Myheadjerkedaround,lookingforthemanwhohadthrownit,butsawnothingbutajumbleofbodies.IkneltbytheSpartantoclosehiseyes,tosayaquickprayer,thenalmostvomitedwhenIsawthathewasstillalive,wheezingatmeinbeseechingterror.
Acrashnexttome—IstartledandsawAjaxusinghisgiantshieldlikeaclub,smashingitintofacesandbodies.Inhiswake,thewheelsofaTrojanchariotcreakedby,andaboypeeredovertheside,showinghisteethlikeadog.Odysseuspoundedpast,runningtocaptureitshorses.TheSpartanclutchedatme,hisbloodpouringovermyhands.Thewoundwastoodeep;therewasnothingtobedone.Adullreliefwhenthelightfadedfromhiseyesatlast.Iclosedthemwithgritty,tremblingfingers.
Istaggereddizzilytomyfeet;theplainseemedtoslewandpoundlikesurfbeforeme.Myeyeswouldnotfocus;therewastoomuchmovement,flashesofsunandarmorandskin.
Achillesappearedfromsomewhere.Hewasblood-splatteredandbreathless,hisfaceflushed,hisspearsmearedreduptothegrip.Hegrinnedatme,thenturnedandleaptintoaclumpofTrojans.Thegroundwasstrewnwithbodiesandbitsofarmor,withspear-shaftsandchariotwheels,butheneverstumbled,notonce.Hewastheonlythingonthebattlefieldthatdidn’tpitchfeverishly,likethesalt-slickeddeckofaship,untilIwassickwithit.
Ididnotkillanyone,orevenattemptto.Attheendofthemorning,hoursandhoursofnauseatingchaos,myeyesweresunblind,andmyhandachedwithgrippingmyspear—thoughIhaduseditmoreoftentoleanonthanthreaten.Myhelmetwasabouldercrushingmyearsslowlyintomyskull.
ItfeltlikeIhadrunformiles,thoughwhenIlookeddownIsawthatmyfeethadbeatenthesamecircleoverandoveragain,flatteningthesamedrygrassasifpreparingadancingfield.Constantterrorhadsiphonedanddrainedme,eventhoughsomehowIalwaysseemedtobeinalull,astrangepocketofemptinessintowhichnomencame,andIwasneverthreatened.
Itwasameasureofmydullness,mydizziness,thatittookmeuntilmidafternoontoseethatthiswasAchilles’doing.Hisgazewasonmealways,preternaturallysensingthemomentwhenasoldier’seyeswidenedattheeasytargetIpresented.Beforethemandrewanotherbreath,hewouldcuthimdown.
Hewasamarvel,shaftaftershaftflyingfromhim,spearsthathewrenchedeasilyfrombrokenbodiesonthegroundtotossatnewtargets.AgainandagainIsawhiswristtwist,exposingitspaleunderside,thoseflute-likebonesthrustingelegantlyforward.MyspearsaggedforgottentothegroundasIwatched.Icouldnotevenseetheuglinessofthedeathsanymore,thebrains,theshatteredbonesthatlaterIwouldwashfrommyskinandhair.AllIsawwashisbeauty,hissinginglimbs,thequickflickeringofhisfeet.
DUSKCAMEATLASTandreleasedus,limpingandexhausted,backtoourtents,draggingthewoundedanddead.Agoodday,ourkingssaid,clappingeachotherontheback.Anauspiciousbeginning.Tomorrowwewilldoitagain.
Wediditagain,andagain.Adayoffightingbecameaweek,thenamonth.Thentwo.
Itwasastrangewar.Noterritorywasgained,noprisonersweretaken.Itwasforhonoronly,managainstman.Withtime,amutualrhythmemerged:wefoughtacivilizedsevendaysoutoften,withtimeoffforfestivalsandfunerals.Noraids,nosurpriseattacks.Theleaders,oncebuoyantwithhopesofswiftvictory,grewresignedtoalengthyengagement.Thearmieswereremarkablywellmatched,couldtussleonthefielddayafterdaywithnosidediscerniblystronger.ThiswasdueinparttothesoldierswhopouredinfromalloverAnatoliatohelptheTrojansandmaketheirnames.Ourpeoplewerenottheonlyonesgreedyforglory.
Achillesflourished.Hewenttobattlegiddily,grinningashefought.Itwasnotthekillingthatpleasedhim—helearnedquicklythatnosinglemanwasamatchforhim.Noranytwomen,northree.Hetooknojoyinsucheasybutchery,andlessthanhalfasmanyfelltohimasmighthave.Whathelivedforwerethecharges,acohortofmenthunderingtowardshim.There,amidsttwentystabbingswordshecouldfinally,trulyfight.Hegloriedinhisownstrength,likearacehorsetoolongpenned,allowedatlasttorun.Withafeveredimpossiblegracehefoughtofften,fifteen,twenty-fivemen.This,atlast,iswhatIcanreallydo
IdidnothavetogowithhimasoftenasIhadfeared.Thelongerthewardraggedon,thelessitseemedimportanttorousteveryGreekfromhistent.Iwasnotaprince,withhonoratstake.Iwasnotasoldier,boundtoobedience,oraherowhoseskillwouldbemissed.Iwasanexile,amanwithnostatusorrank.IfAchillessawfittoleavemebehind,thatwashisbusinessalone.
Myvisitstothefieldfadedtofivedays,thenthree,thenonceeveryweek.ThenonlywhenAchillesaskedme.Thiswasnotoften.Mostdayshewascontenttogoalone,towadeoutandperformonlyforhimself.Butfromtimetotimehewouldgrowsickofthesolitudeandbegmetojoinhim,tostrapontheleatherstiffenedwithsweatandbloodandclamberoverbodieswithhim.Tobearwitnesstohismiracles.
Sometimes,asIwatchedhim,Iwouldcatchsightofasquareofgroundwheresoldiersdidnotgo.ItwouldbeneartoAchilles,andifIstaredatit,itwouldgrowlight,thenlighter.Atlastitmightreluctantlyyielditssecret:awoman,whiteasdeath,tallerthanthemenwhotoiledaroundher.Nomatterhowthebloodsprayed,itdidnotfall
Exceptforthetimesheturnedandsawme.Herfacetwistedindisgust,andherlipspulledbackfromherteeth.Shehissedlikeasnake,andvanished.
Inthefieldbesidehim,Isteadied,gotmysealegs.Iwasabletodiscernothersoldierswhole,notjustbodyparts,piercedflesh,bronze.Icouldevendrift,shelteredintheharborofAchilles’protection,alongthebattlelines,seekingouttheotherkings.ClosesttouswasAgamemnonskilled-at-the-spear,alwaysbehindthebulkofhiswell-rankedMycenaeans.Fromsuchsafetyhewouldshoutordersandhurlspears.Itwastrueenoughthathewasskilledatit:hehadtobetocleartheheadsoftwentymen.
Diomedes,unlikehiscommander,wasfearless.Hefoughtlikeaferal,savageanimal,leapingforward,teethbared,inquickstrikesthatdidnotsomuchpuncturefleshastearit.After,hewouldleanwolfishlyoverthebodytostripit,tossingthebitsofgoldandbronzeontohischariotbeforemovingon.
Odysseuscarriedalightshieldandfacedhisfoescrouchedlikeabear,spearheldlowinhissun-brownedhand.Hewouldwatchtheothermanwithglitteringeyes,trackingtheflickerofhismusclesforwhereandhowthespearwouldcome.Whenithadpassedharmlesslyby,hewouldrunforwardandspithimatclosequarters,likeamanspearingfish.Hisarmorwasalwayssoakedwithbloodbytheday’send.
IbegantoknowtheTrojans,too:Paris,loosingcarelessarrowsfromaspeedingchariot.Hisface,evenstrappedandcompressedbythehelmet,wascruellybeautiful—bonesfineasAchilles’fingers.Hisslimhipsloungedagainstthesidesofhischariotinhabitualhauteur,andhisredcloakfellaroundhiminrichfolds.NowonderhewasAphrodite’sfavorite:heseemedasvainasshe.
Fromfaroff,glimpsedonlyquicklythroughthecorridorsofshiftingmen,IsawHector.Hewasalwaysalone,strangelysolitaryinthespacetheothermengavehim.Hewascapableandsteadyandthoughtful,everymovementconsidered.Hishandswerelargeandwork-roughened,andsometimes,asourarmywithdrew,wewouldseehimwashingthebloodfromthem,sohecouldpraywithoutpollution.Amanwhostilllovedthegods,evenashisbrothersandcousinsfellbecauseofthem;whofoughtfiercelyforhisfamilyratherthanthefragileice-crustoffame.Thentherankswouldclose,andhewouldbegone.
Inevertriedtogetclosertohim,andneitherdidAchilles,whocarefullyturnedfromhisglimpsedfiguretofaceotherTrojans,towadeofftoothershoals.Afterwards,whenAgamemnonwouldaskhimwhenhewouldconfronttheprinceofTroy,hewouldsmilehismostguileless,maddeningsmile.“WhathasHectoreverdonetome?”
ChapterTwenty-Three
ONEFESTIVALDAY,SOONAFTEROURLANDINGATTroy,Achillesroseatdawn.“Whereareyougoing?”Iaskedhim.
“Mymother,”hesaid,thenslippedthroughthetentflapbeforeIcouldspeakagain.
Hismother.Somepartofmehadhoped,foolishly,thatshewouldnotfollowushere.Thathergriefwouldkeepheraway,orthedistance.Butofcoursetheydidnot.TheshoreofAnatoliawasnomoreinconvenientthantheshoreofGreece.Andhergriefonlymadehervisitslonger.Hewouldleaveatdawn,andthesunwouldbenearlyatitspeakbeforehewouldreturn.Iwouldwait,pacingandunsettled.Whatcouldshepossiblyhavetosaytohimforsolong?Somedivinedisaster,Ifeared.Somecelestialdictatethatwouldtakehimfromme
Briseiscameoftentowaitwithme.“Doyouwanttowalkuptothewoods?”shewouldsay.Justthelowsweetnessofhervoice,thefactthatshewishedtocomfortme,helpedtakemeoutofmyself.Andatripwithhertothewoodsalwayssoothedme.Sheseemedtoknowallitssecrets,justasChironhad—wherethemushroomshid,andtherabbitshadtheirburrows.Shehadevenbeguntoteachmethenativenamesoftheplantsandtrees.
Whenwewerefinished,wewouldsitontheridge,lookingoverthecamp,soIcouldwatchforhisreturn.Onthisday,shehadpickedasmallbasketofcoriander;thefreshgreen-leafsmellwasallaroundus.
“Iamsurehewillbebacksoon,”shesaid.Herwordswerelikenewleather,stillstiffandprecise,notyetruntogetherwithuse.WhenIdidnotanswer,sheasked,“Wheredoeshestaysolong?”
Whyshouldn’tsheknow?Itwasn’tasecret.
“Hismotherisagoddess,”Isaid.“Asea-nymph.Hegoestoseeher.”
Ihadexpectedhertobestartledorfrightened,butsheonlynodded.“Ithoughtthathewas—something.Hedoesnot—”Shepaused.“Hedoesnotmovelikeahuman.”
Ismiledthen.“Whatdoesahumanmovelike?”
“Likeyou,”shesaid.
“Clumsy,then.”
Shedidnotknowtheword.Idemonstrated,thinkingtomakeherlaugh.Butsheshookherhead,vehemently.“No.Youarenotlikethat.ThatisnotwhatImeant.”
Ineverheardwhatshemeant,foratthatmomentAchillescrestedthehill.
“IthoughtI’dfindyouhere,”hesaid.Briseisexcusedherself,andreturnedtohertent.Achillesthrewhimselfdownontheground,handbehindhishead.
“I’mstarving,”hesaid.
“Here.”Igavehimtherestofthecheesewehadbroughtforlunch.Heateit,gratefully.
“Whatdidyoutalkaboutwithyourmother?”Iwasalmostnervoustoask.Thosehourswithherwerenotforbiddentome,buttheywerealwaysseparate.
Hisbreathblewout,notquiteasigh.“Sheisworriedaboutme,”hesaid.
“Why?”Ibristledatthethoughtofherfrettingoverhim;thatwasminetodo.
“Shesaysthatthereisstrangenessamongthegods,thattheyarefightingwitheachother,takingsidesinthewar.Shefearsthatthegodshavepromisedmefame,butnothowmuch.”
ThiswasanewworryIhadnotconsidered.Butofcourse:ourstorieshadmanycharacters.GreatPerseusormodestPeleus.Heraclesoralmost-forgottenHylas.Somehadawholeepic,othersjustaverse.
Hesatup,wrappinghisarmsaroundhisknees.“IthinksheisafraidthatsomeoneelseisgoingtokillHector.Beforeme.”
Anothernewfear.Achilles’lifesuddenlycutshorterthanitalreadywas.“Whodoesshemean?”
“Idon’tknow.Ajaxhastriedandfailed.Diomedes,too.Theyarethebestafterme.ThereisnooneelseIcanthinkof.”
“WhataboutMenelaus?”
Achillesshookhishead.“Never.Heisbraveandstrong,butthatisall.HewouldbreakagainstHectorlikewateronarock.So.Itisme,ornoone.”
“Youwillnotdoit.”Itriednottoletitsoundlikebegging.
“No.”Hewasquietamoment.“ButIcanseeit.That’sthestrangething.Likeinadream.Icanseemyselfthrowingthespear,seehimfall.Iwalkuptothebodyandstandoverit.”
Dreadroseinmychest.Itookabreath,forceditaway.“Andthenwhat?”
“That’sthestrangestofall.Ilookdownathisbloodandknowmydeathiscoming.ButinthedreamIdonotmind.WhatIfeel,mostofall,isrelief.”
“Doyouthinkitcanbeprophecy?”
Thequestionseemedtomakehimself-conscious.Heshookhishead.“No.Ithinkitisnothingatall.Adaydream.”
Iforcedmyvoicetomatchhisinlightness.“I’msureyou’reright.Afterall,Hectorhasn’tdoneanythingtoyou.”
Hesmiledthen,asIhadhopedhewould.“Yes,”hesaid.“I’veheardthat.”
DURINGTHELONGHOURSofAchilles’absence,Ibegantostrayfromourcamp,seekingcompany,somethingtooccupymyself.Thetis’newshaddisturbedme;quarrelsamongthegods,Achilles’mightyfameendangered.Ididnotknowwhattomakeofit,andmyquestionschasedthemselvesaroundmyheaduntilIwashalf-crazy.Ineededadistraction,somethingsensibleandreal.Oneofthemenpointedmetowardsthewhitephysicians’tent.“Ifyou’relookingforsomethingtodo,theyalwaysneedhelp,”hesaid.IrememberedChiron’spatienthands,theinstrumentshungonrose-quartzwalls.Iwent.
Thetent’sinteriorwasdim,theairdarkandsweetandmusky,heavywiththemetallicscentofblood.InonecornerwasthephysicianMachaon,bearded,square-jawed,pragmaticallybare-chested,anoldtunictiedcarelesslyaroundhiswaist.HewasdarkerthanmostGreeks,despitethetimehespentinside,andhishairwascroppedshort,practicalagain,tokeepitfromhiseyes.Hebentnowoverawoundedman’sleg,hisfingergentlyprobinganembeddedarrowpoint.OntheothersideofthetenthisbrotherPodaleriusfinishedstrappingonhisarmor.HetossedanoffhandwordtoMachaonbeforeshoulderingpastmeoutthedoor.Itwaswellknownthathepreferredthebattlefieldtothesurgeon’stent,thoughheservedinboth.
Machaondidnotlookupashespoke:“Youcan’tbeverywoundedifyoucanstandforsolong.”
“No,”Isaid.“I’mhere—”IpausedasthearrowheadcamefreeinMachaon’sfingers,andthesoldiergroanedinrelief.
“Well?”Hisvoicewasbusiness-likebutnotunkind.
“Doyouneedhelp?”
HemadeanoiseIguessedwasassent.“Sitdownandholdthesalvesforme,”hesaid,withoutlooking.Iobeyed,gatheringupthesmallbottlesstrewnonthefloor,somerattlingwithherbs,someheavywithointment.Isniffedthemandremembered:garlicandhoneysalveagainstinfection,poppyforsedation,andyarrowtomakethebloodclot.Dozensofherbsthatbroughtthecentaur’spatientfingersbacktome,thesweetgreensmelloftherose-coloredcave.
Iheldouttheonesheneededandwatchedhisdeftapplication—apinchofsedativeontheman’supperlipforhimtonoseandnibbleat,aswipeofsalvetowardoffinfection,thendressingstopackandbindandcover.Machaonsmoothedthelastlayerofcreamy,scentedbeeswaxovertheman’slegandlookedupwearily.“Patroclus,yes?AndyoustudiedwithChiron?Youarewelcomehere.”
Aclamoroutsidethetent,raisedvoicesandcriesofpain.Henoddedtowardsit.“They’vebroughtusanother—youtakehim.”
Thesoldiers,Nestor’smen,hoistedtheircomradeontotheemptypalletinthetent’scorner.Hehadbeenshotwithanarrow,barbedatthetip,throughtherightshoulder.Hisfacewasfoamywithsweat-scum,andhe’dbittenhislipalmostinhalfwithtryingnottoscream.Hisbreathcamenowinmuffled,explosivepants,andhispanickedeyesrolledandtrembled.IresistedtheurgetocallforMachaon—busywithanothermanwhohadstartedtowail—andreachedforaclothtowipehisface.
Thearrowhadpiercedthroughthethickestpartofhisshoulderandwasthreadedhalfinandhalfout,likeaterribleneedle.Iwouldhavetobreakoffthefletchingandpulltheendthroughhim,withoutfurthertearingthefleshorleavingsplintersthatmightfester.
Quickly,IgavehimthedraughtthatChironhadtaughtme:amixofpoppyandwillowbarkthatmadethepatientlight-headedandbluntedtopain.Hecouldnotholdthecup,soIhelditforhim,liftingandcradlinghisheadsohewouldnotchoke,feelinghissweatandfoamandbloodseepintomytunic.
Itriedtolookreassuring,triednottoshowthepanicIwasfeeling.Hewas,Isaw,onlyayearorsoolderthanI.OneofNestor’ssons,Antilochus,asweet-facedyoungmanwhodotedonhisfather.“Itwillbeallright,”Isaid,overandover,tomyselforhimIdidnotknow.
Theproblemwasthearrowshaft;normallyadoctorwouldsnapoffoneend,beforepullingitthrough.Buttherewasnotenoughofitstickingoutofhischesttodoitwithouttearingthefleshfurther.Icouldnotleaveit,nordragthefletchingthroughthewound.Whatthen?
Behindmeoneofthesoldierswhohadbroughthimstoodfidgetinginthedoorway.Igesturedtohimovermyshoulder.
“Aknife,quickly.Sharpasyoucanfind.”Isurprisedmyselfwiththebriskauthorityinmyvoice,theinstantobedienceitprovoked.Hereturnedwithashort,finelyhonedblademeantforcuttingmeat,stillrustywithdriedblood.Hecleaneditonhistunicbeforehandingittome.
Theboy’sfacewasslacknow,histonguefloppinglooseinhismouth.Ileanedoverhimandheldthearrowshaft,crushingthefletchingintomydamppalm.Withmyotherhand,Ibegansawing,cuttingthroughthewoodaflakeatatime,aslightlyaspossible,soasnottojartheboy’sshoulder.Hesnuffledandmuttered,lostinthefogofthedraught.
Isawedandbracedandsawed.Mybackached,andIberatedmyselfforleavinghisheadonmyknees,fornotchoosingabetterposition.Finallythefeatheredendsnappedoff,leavingonlyonelongsplinterthattheknifequicklycutthrough.Atlast.
Then,justasdifficult:todrawtheshaftouttheothersideofhisshoulder.Inamomentofinspiration,Igrabbedasalveforinfectionandcarefullycoatedthewood,hopingitwouldeasethejourneyandwardoffcorruption.Then,alittleatatime,Ibegantoworkthearrowthrough.Afterwhatfeltlikehours,thesplinteredendemerged,soakedwithblood.Withthelastofmywits,Iwrappedandpackedthewound,bindingitinasortofslingacrosshischest.
LaterPodaleriuswouldtellmethatIwasinsanetohavedonewhatIdid,tohavecutsoslowly,atsuchanangle—agoodwrench,hesaid,andtheendwouldhavebroken.Jarredwoundandsplintersinsidebedamned,therewereothermenwhoneededtending.ButMachaonsawhowwelltheshoulderhealed,withnoinfectionandlittlepain,andnexttimetherewasanarrowwoundhecalledmeoverandpassedmeasharpblade,lookingatmeexpectantly.
ITWASASTRANGETIME.Overus,everysecond,hungtheterrorofAchilles’destiny,whilethemurmursofwaramongthegodsgrewlouder.ButevenIcouldnotfilleachminutewithfear.Ihaveheardthatmenwholivebyawaterfallceasetohearit—insuchawaydidIlearntolivebesidetherushingtorrentofhisdoom.Thedayspassed,andhelived.Themonthspassed,andIcouldgoawholedaywithoutlookingovertheprecipiceofhisdeath.Themiracleofayear,thentwo.
Theothersseemedtofeelasimilarsoftening.Ourcampbegantoformasortoffamily,drawntogetheraroundtheflamesofthedinnerfire.Whenthemoonroseandthestarsprickedthroughthesky’sdarkness,wewouldallfindourwaythere:AchillesandI,andoldPhoinix,andthenthewomen—originallyonlyBriseis,butnowasmallclumpofbobbingfaces,reassuredbythewelcomeshehadreceived.Andstillonemore—Automedon,theyoungestofus,justseventeen.Hewasaquietyoungman,andAchillesandIhadwatchedhisstrengthanddeftnessgrowashelearnedtodriveAchilles’difficulthorses,towheelaroundthebattlefieldwiththenecessaryflourish.
ItwasapleasureforAchillesandmetohostourownhearth,playingtheadultswedidnotquitefeellike,aswepassedthemeatandpouredthewine.Asthefiredieddown,wewouldwipethejuiceofthemealfromourfacesandclamorforstoriesfromPhoinix.Hewouldleanforwardinhischairtooblige.Thefirelightmadethebonesofhisface
Briseistoldstoriestoo,strangeanddreamlike—talesofenchantment,ofgodsspellboundbymagicandmortalswhoblundereduponthemunawares;thegodswerestrange,halfmanandhalfanimal:ruraldeities,notthehighgodsthatthecityworshipped.Theywerebeautiful,thesetales,toldinherlowsingsongvoice.Sometimestheywerefunnytoo—herimitationsofaCyclops,orthesnufflingofalionseekingoutahiddenman.
Later,whenwewerealone,Achilleswouldrepeatlittlesnatchesofthem,liftinghisvoice,playingafewnotesonthelyre.Itwaseasytoseehowsuchlovelythingsmightbecomesongs.AndIwaspleased,becauseIfeltthathehadseenher,hadunderstoodwhyIspentmydayswithherwhenhewasgone.Shewasoneofusnow,Ithought.Amemberofourcircle,forlife.
ITWASONONEOFTHESENIGHTSthatAchillesaskedherwhatsheknewofHector.
Shehadbeenleaningbackonherhands,theinnerflushofherelbowswarmedbythefire.Butathisvoice,shestartledalittleandsatup.Hedidnotspeakdirectlytoheroften,norshetohim.Aremnant,perhaps,ofwhathadhappenedinhervillage.
“Idonotknowmuch,”shesaid.“Ihaveneverseenhim,noranyofPriam’sfamily.”
“Butyouhaveheardthings.”Achilleswassittingforwardnowhimself.
“Alittle.Iknowmoreofhiswife.”
“Anything,”Achillessaid.
Shenodded,clearedherthroatsoftlyassheoftendidbeforeastory.“HernameisAndromache,andsheistheonlydaughterofKingEetionofCilicia.Hectorissaidtoloveheraboveallthings.
“Hefirstsawherwhenhecametoherfather’skingdomfortribute.Shewelcomedhim,andentertainedhimatthefeastthatevening.Atthenight’send,Hectoraskedherfatherforherhand.”
“Shemusthavebeenverybeautiful.”
“Peoplesaysheisfair,butnotthefairestgirlHectormighthavefound.Sheisknownforasweettemperandgentlespirit.Thecountrypeopleloveherbecausesheoftenbringsthemfoodandclothes.Shewaspregnant,butIhavenotheardwhatbecameofthechild.”
“WhereisCilicia?”Iasked.
“Itistothesouth,alongthecoast,notfarfromherebyhorse.”
“NearLesbos,”Achillessaid.Briseisnodded.
Later,whenalltheresthadgone,hesaid,“WeraidedCilicia.Didyouknow?”
“No.”
Henodded.“Irememberthatman,Eetion.Hehadeightsons.Theytriedtoholdusoff.”
Icouldtellbythequietnessofhisvoice.
“Youkilledthem.”Anentirefamily,slaughtered.
HecaughtthelookonmyfacethoughItriedtohideit.Buthedidnotlietome,ever.
“Yes.”
Iknewhekilledmeneveryday;hecamehomewetwiththeirblood,stainshescrubbedfromhisskinbeforedinner.Butthereweremoments,likenow,whenthatknowledgeoverwhelmedme.WhenIwouldthinkofallthetearsthathehadmadefall,inalltheyearsthathadpassed.AndnowAndromache,too,andHectorgrievedbecauseofhim.Heseemedtositacrosstheworldfrommethen,thoughhewassocloseIcouldfeelthewarmthrisingfromhisskin.Hishandswereinhislap,spear-callusedbutbeautifulstill.Nohandshadeverbeensogentle,orsodeadly.
Overhead,thestarswereveiled.Icouldfeeltheair’sheaviness.Therewouldbeastormtonight.Therainwouldbesoaking,fillinguptheearthtillsheburstherseams.Itwouldgushdownfromthemountaintops,gatheringstrengthtosweepawaywhatstoodinitspath:animalsandhousesandmen.
Heissuchaflood,Ithought.
Hisvoicebrokethesilenceofmythoughts.“Ileftonesonalive,”hesaid.“Theeighthson.Sothattheirlinewouldnotdie.”
Strangethatsuchasmallkindnessfeltlikegrace.Andyet,whatotherwarriorwouldhavedoneasmuch?Killingawholefamilywassomethingtoboastof,agloriousdeedthatprovedyoupowerfulenoughtowipeanamefromtheearth.Thissurvivingsonwouldhavechildren;hewouldgivethemhisfamily’snameandtelltheirstory.Theywouldbepreserved,inmemoryifnotinlife.
“Iamglad,”Isaid,myheartfull.
Thelogsinthefiregrewwhitewithash.“Itisstrange,”hesaid.“IhavealwayssaidthatHector’sdonenothingtooffendme.Buthecannotsaythesame,now.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
YEARSPASSEDANDASOLDIER,ONEOFAJAX’S,BEGANTOcomplainaboutthewar’slength.Atfirsthewasignored;themanwashideouslyuglyandknowntobeascoundrel.Buthegreweloquent.Fouryears,hesaid,andnothingtoshowforit.Whereisthetreasure?Whereisthewoman?Whenwillweleave?Ajaxcloutedhimonthehead,butthemanwouldnotbesilenced.Seehowtheytreatus?
Slowly,hisdiscontentspreadfromonecamptothenext.Ithadbeenabadseason,particularlywet,andmiserableforfighting.Injuriesabounded,rashesandmud-turnedanklesandinfections.Thebitingflieshadsettledsothicklyoverpartsofthecamptheylookedlikecloudsofsmoke.
Sullenandscratching,menbegantoloiteraroundtheagora.Atfirsttheydidnothingbutcollectinsmallgroups,whispering.Thenthesoldierwhohadbegunitjoinedthem,andtheirvoicesgrewlouder.
Fouryears!
Howdoweknowshe’seveninthere?Hasanyoneseenher?
Troywillneversubmittous.
Weshouldalljuststopfighting.
WhenAgamemnonheard,heorderedthemwhipped.Thenextdaythereweretwiceasmany;notafewwereMycenaeans.
Agamemnonsentanarmedforcetodispersethem.Themenslunkoff,thenreturnedwhentheforcewasgone.Inanswer,Agamemnonorderedaphalanxtoguardtheagoraallday.Butthiswasfrustratingduty—infullsun,wherethefliesweremostnumerous.Bytheendoftheday,thephalanxwasraggedfromdesertionandthenumberofmutineershadswollen.
Agamemnonusedspiestoreportonthosewhocomplained;thesemenwerethenseizedandwhipped.Thenextmorning,severalhundredmenrefusedtofight.Somegaveillnessasanexcuse,somegavenoexcuseatall.Wordspread,andmorementooksuddenlyill.Theythrewtheirswordsandshieldsontothedaisinaheapandblockedtheagora.WhenAgamemnontriedtoforcehiswaythrough,theyfoldedtheirarmsandwouldnotbudge.
Deniedinhisownagora,Agamemnongrewredintheface,thenredder.Hisfingerswentwhiteonthescepterheheld,stoutwoodbandedwithiron.Whenthemaninfrontofhimspatathisfeet,Agamemnonliftedthescepterandbroughtitdownsharplyonhishead.Weallheardthecrackofbreakingbone.Themandropped.
IdonotthinkAgamemnonmeanttohithimsohard.Heseemedfrozen,staringatthebodyathisfeet,unabletomove.Anothermanknelttorollthebodyover;halftheskullwascavedinfromtheforceoftheblow.Thenewshissedthroughthemenwithasoundlikeafirelighting.Manydrewtheirknives.IheardAchillesmurmursomething;thenhewasgonefrommyside.
Agamemnon’sfacewasfilledwiththegrowingrealizationofhismistake.Hehadrecklesslylefthisloyalguardsbehind.Hewassurroundednow;helpcouldnotreachhimevenifitwantedto.Iheldmybreath,sureIwasabouttoseehimdie.
“MenofGreece!”
Startledfacesturnedtotheshout.Achillesstoodatopapileofshieldsonthedais.Helookedeveryinchthechampion,beautifulandstrong,hisfaceserious.
“Youareangry,”hesaid.
Thiscaughttheirattention.Theywereangry.Itwasunusualforageneraltoadmitthathistroopsmightfeelsuchathing.
“Speakyourgrievance,”hesaid.
“Wewanttoleave!”Thevoicecamefromthebackofthecrowd.“Thewarishopeless!”
“Thegeneralliedtous!”
Asurgingmurmurofagreement.
“Ithasbeenfouryears!”Thislastwastheangriestofall.Icouldnotblamethem.Formethesefouryearshadbeenanabundance,timethathadbeenwrestedfromthehandsofmiserlyfates.Butforthemitwasalifestolen:fromchildrenandwives,fromfamilyandhome.
“Itisyourrighttoquestionsuchthings,”Achillessaid.“Youfeelmisled;youwerepromisedvictory.”
“Yes!”
IcaughtaglimpseofAgamemnon’sface,curdledwithanger.Buthewasstuckinthecrowd,unabletofreehimselforspeakwithoutcausingascene.
“Tellme,”Achillessaid.“DoyouthinkAristosAchaionfightsinhopelesswars?”
Themendidnotanswer.
“Well?”
“No,”someonesaid.
Achillesnodded,gravely.“No.Idonot,andIwillswearsoonanyoath.IamherebecauseIbelievethatwewillwin.Iamstayinguntiltheend.”
“Thatisfineforyou.”Adifferentvoice.“Butwhatofthosewhowishtogo?”
Agamemnonopenedhismouthtoanswer.Icouldimaginewhathemighthavesaid.Nooneleaves!Deserterswillbeexecuted!ButhewasluckythatAchilleswasswifter.
“You’rewelcometoleavewheneveryoulike.”
“Weare?”Thevoicewasdubious.
“Ofcourse.”Hepaused,andofferedhismostguileless,friendlysmile.“ButIgetyourshareofthetreasurewhenwetakeTroy.”
Ifeltthetensionintheairease,heardafewhuffsofappreciativelaughter.TheprinceAchillesspokeoftreasuretobewon,andwheretherewasgreedtherewashope.
Achillessawthechangeinthem.Hesaid,“Itispasttimetotakethefield.TheTrojanswillstarttothinkweareafraid.”Hedrewhisflashingswordandhelditintheair.“Whodarestoshowthemotherwise?”
Therewereshoutsofagreement,followedbyageneralclangingasmenreclaimedtheirarmor,seizedtheirspears.Theyhoistedthedeadmanandcarriedhimoff;everyoneagreedthathehadalwaysbeentroublesome.AchillesleaptdownfromthedaisandpassedAgamemnonwithaformalnod.ThekingofMycenaesaidnothing.ButIwatchedhiseyesfollowAchillesforalongtimeafterthat.
INTHEAFTERMATHofthealmost-rebellion,Odysseusdevisedaprojecttokeepthementoobusyforfurtherunrest:agiantpalisade,builtaroundtheentirecamp.Tenmiles,hewantedittorun,protectingourtentsandourshipsfromtheplainbeyond.Atitsbasewouldbeaditch,bristlingwithspikes.
WhenAgamemnonannouncedtheproject,Iwassurethemenwouldknowitfortheployitwas.Inalltheyearsofthewar,thecampandshipshadneverbeenindanger,whateverreinforcementscame.Afterall,whocouldgetpastAchilles?
ButthenDiomedessteppedforward,praisingtheplanandfrighteningthemenwithvisionsofnightraidsandburningships.Thislastwasparticularlyeffective—withouttheships,wecouldnotgethomeagain.Bytheendofit,themen’seyeswerebrightandeager.Astheywentcheerfullyofftothewoodswiththeirhatchetsandlevels,Odysseusfoundtheoriginaltrouble-causingsoldier—Thersites,hisnamewas—andhadhimbeatenquietlyintounconsciousness.
ThatwastheendofmutiniesatTroy.
THINGSCHANGEDAFTERTHAT,whetherbecauseofthejointventureofthewallorthereliefofviolenceaverted.Allofus,fromthelowestfootsoldiertothegeneralhimself,begantothinkofTroyasasortofhome.Ourinvasionbecameanoccupation.Beforenowwehadlivedasscavengersoffthelandandthevillagesthatweraided.Nowwebegantobuild,notjustthewall,butthethingsofatown:aforge,andapenforthecattlethatwestolefromtheneighboringfarms,evenapotter’sshed.Inthislast,amateurartisanslaboredtoreplacethecrackingceramicswehadbroughtwithus,mostofthemleakingorbrokenfromhardcampuse.Everythingweownednowwasmakeshift,scrounged,havinglivedatleasttwolivesbeforeassomethingelse.Onlythekings’personalarmorsremaineduntouched,insigniaspolishedandpure.
Thementoobecamelesslikedozensofdifferentarmies,andmorelikecountrymen.Thesemen,whohadleftAulisasCretansandCypriotsandArgives,nowweresimplyGreeks—castintothesamepotbytheothernessoftheTrojans,sharingfoodandwomenandclothingandbattlestories,theirdistinctionsblurredaway.Agamemnon’sboastofunitingGreecewasnotsoidleafterall.Evenyearslaterthiscamaraderiewouldremain,afellow-feelingsouncharacteristicofourfiercelywarringkingdoms.Forageneration,therewouldbenowarsamongthoseofuswhohadfoughtatTroy
EVENIWASNOTEXEMPT.Duringthistime—six,sevenyearsinwhichIspentmoreandmorehoursinMachaon’stentandfewerwithAchillesinthefield—Igottoknowtheothermenwell.Everyoneeventuallymadetheirwaythere,ifonlyforsmashedtoesoringrownnails.EvenAutomedoncame,coveringthebleedingremnantsofasavagedboilwithhishand.Mendotedontheirslavewomenandbroughtthemtouswithswollenbellies.Wedeliveredtheirchildreninasteady,squallingstream,thenfixedtheirhurtsastheygrewolder.
Anditwasnotjustthecommonsoldiery:intime,Icametoknowthekingsaswell.Nestorwithhisthroatsyrup,honeyedandwarmed,thathewantedattheendofaday;Menelausandtheopiatehetookforhisheadaches;Ajax’sacidstomach.Itmovedmetoseehowmuchtheytrustedme,turnedhopefulfacestowardsmeforcomfort;Igrewtolikethem,nomatterhowdifficulttheywereincouncil.
Idevelopedareputation,astandinginthecamp.Iwasaskedfor,knownformyquickhandsandhowlittlepainIcaused.LessandlessoftenPodaleriustookhisturninthetent—IwastheonewhowastherewhenMachaonwasnot.
IbegantosurpriseAchilles,callingouttothesemenaswewalkedthroughthecamp.Iwasalwaysgratifiedathowtheywouldraiseahandinreturn,pointtoascarthathadhealedoverwell.
Aftertheyweregone,Achilleswouldshakehishead.“Idon’tknowhowyourememberthemall.Isweartheylookthesametome.”
Iwouldlaughandpointthemoutagain.“That’sSthenelus,Diomedes’charioteer.Andthat’sPodarces,whosebrotherwasthefirsttodie,remember?”
“Therearetoomanyofthem,”hesaid.“It’ssimpleriftheyjustrememberme.”
THEFACESAROUNDOURHEARTHbegantodwindle,asonewomanafteranotherquietlytookaMyrmidonforherlover,andthenhusband.Theynolongerneededourfire;theyhadtheirown.Wewereglad.Laughterinthecamp,andvoicesraisedinpleasureatnight,andeventheswellingofbellies—Myrmidonsgrinningwithsatisfaction—werethingsthatwewelcomed,thegoldenstitchoftheirhappinesslikeafrettedborderaroundourown.
Afteratime,onlyBriseiswasleft.Shenevertookalover,despiteherbeautyandthemanyMyrmidonswhopursuedher.Insteadshegrewintoakindofaunt—awomanwithsweetsandlovepotionsandsoftfabricsforthedryingofeyes.ThisishowIthinkofus,whenIrememberournightsatTroy:AchillesandIbesideeachother,andPhoinixsmiling,andAutomedonstutteringthroughthepunchlinesofjokes,andBriseiswithhersecreteyesandquick,spillinglaughter.
IWOKEBEFOREDAWNandfeltthefirsttwingingcoldoffallintheair.Itwasafestivalday,theharvestoffirst-fruitstothegodApollo.Achilleswaswarmbesideme,hisnakedbodyheavywithsleep.Thetentwasverydark,butIcouldjustseethefeaturesofhisface,thestrongjawandgentlecurvesofhiseyes.Iwantedtowakehimandseethoseeyesopen.AthousandthousandtimesIhadseenit,butInevertiredofit.
Myhandslidlightlyoverhischest,strokingthemusclesbeneath.Wewerebothofusstrongnow,fromdaysinthewhitetentandinthefield;itshockedmesometimestocatchsightofmyself.Ilookedlikeaman,broadasmyfatherhadbeen,thoughmuchleaner.
Heshiveredbeneathmyhand,andIfeltdesireriseinme.IdrewbackthecoverssothatImightseeallofhim.Ibentandpressedmymouthtohim,insoftkissesthattraileddownhisstomach.
Dawnstolethroughthetentflap.Theroomlightened.Isawthemomenthewokeandknewme.Ourlimbsslidagainstoneanother,onpathsthatwehadtracedsomanytimesbefore,yetstillwerenotold.
Sometimelater,weroseandtookourbreakfast.Wehadthrownopenthetentflaptoletintheair;itruffledpleasantlyoverourdampskin.ThroughthedoorwaywewatchedthecrisscrossingofMyrmidonsabouttheirchores.WesawAutomedonracedowntotheseaforaswim.Wesawtheseaitself,invitingandwarmfromasummerofsun.Myhandsat
Shedidnotcomethroughthedoor.Shewassimplythere,inthetent’scenter,whereamomentbeforetherehadbeenemptyspace.Igasped,andyankedmyhandfromwhereitrestedonhim.Iknewitwasfoolish,evenasIdidit.Shewasagoddess;shecouldseeuswhenevershewished.
“Mother,”hesaid,ingreeting.
“Ihavereceivedawarning.”Thewordsweresnappedoff,likeanowlbitingthroughabone.Thetentwasdim,butThetis’skinburnedcoldandbright.Icouldseeeachslicinglineofherface,eachfoldofhershimmeringrobe.IthadbeenalongtimesinceIhadseenhersoclose,sinceScyros.Ihadchangedsincethen.Ihadgainedstrengthandsize,andabeardthatgrewifIdidnotshaveitaway.Butshewasthesame.Ofcourseshewas.
“ApolloisangryandlooksforwaystomoveagainsttheGreeks.Youwillsacrificetohimtoday?”
“Iwill,”Achillessaid.Wealwaysobservedthefestivals,dutifullyslittingthethroatsandroastingthefat.
“Youmust,”shesaid.HereyeswerefixedonAchilles;theydidnotseemtoseemeatall.“Ahecatomb.”Ourgrandestoffering,ahundredheadofsheeporcattle.Onlytherichestandmostpowerfulmencouldaffordsuchanextravaganceofpiety.“Whatevertheothersdo,dothis.Thegodshavechosensides,andyoumustnotdrawtheiranger.”
Itwouldtakeusmostofthedaytoslaughterthemall,andthecampwouldsmelllikeacharnelhouseforaweek.ButAchillesnodded.“Wewilldoit,”hepromised.
Herlipswerepressedtogether,tworedslashesliketheedgeofawound.
“Thereismore,”shesaid.
Evenwithouthergazeuponme,shefrightenedme.Shebroughtthewholeurgentuniversewherevershewent,portentsandangrydeitiesandathousandloomingperils.
“Whatisit?”
Shehesitated,andfearknottedmythroat.Whatcouldmakeagoddesspausewasterrifyingindeed.
“Aprophecy,”shesaid.“ThatthebestoftheMyrmidonswilldiebeforetwomoreyearshavepassed.”
Achilles’facewasstill;utterlystill.“Wehaveknownitwascoming,”hesaid.
Acurtshakeofherhead.“No.Theprophecysaysyouwillstillbealivewhenithappens.”
Achillesfrowned.“Whatdoyouthinkitmeans?”
“Idonotknow,”shesaid.Hereyeswereverylarge;theblackpoolsopenedasiftheywoulddrinkhim,pullhimbackintoher.“Ifearatrick.”TheFateswerewellknownforsuchriddles,unclearuntilthefinalpiecehadfallen.Then,bitterlyclear.
“Bewatchful,”shesaid.“Youmusttakecare.”
“Iwill,”hesaid.
ShehadnotseemedtoknowIwasthere,butnowhereyesfoundme,andhernosewrinkled,asifatarisingstench.Shelookedbacktohim.“Heisnotworthyofyou,”shesaid.“Hehasneverbeen.”
“Wedisagreeonthis,”Achillesanswered.Hesaiditasifhehadsaiditmanytimesbefore.Probablyhehad.
Shemadealownoiseofcontempt,thenvanished.Achillesturnedtome.“Sheisafraid.”
“Iknow,”Isaid.Iclearedmythroat,tryingtoreleasetheclotofdreadthathadformedthere.
“WhoisthebestoftheMyrmidons,doyouthink?IfIamexcluded.”
Icastmymindthroughourcaptains.IthoughtofAutomedon,whohadbecomeAchilles’valuablesecondonthebattlefield.ButIwouldnotcallhimbest.
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid.
“Doyouthinkitmeansmyfather?”heasked.
Peleus,homeinPhthia,whohadfoughtwithHeraclesandPerseus.Alegendinhisowntimeforpietyandcourage,evenifnotintimestocome.“Maybe,”Iadmitted.
Weweresilentamoment.Thenhesaid,“Isupposewewillknowsoonenough.”
“Itisnotyou,”Isaid.“Atleastthereisthat.”
Thatafternoonweperformedthesacrificehismotherhadcommanded.TheMyrmidonsbuiltthealtarfireshigh,andIheldbowlsforthebloodwhileAchillescutthroatafterthroat.Weburnedtherichthigh-pieceswithbarleyandpomegranate,pouredourbestwineoverthecoals.Apolloisangry,shehadsaid.Oneofourmostpowerfulgods,withhisarrowsthatcouldstopaman’sheart,swiftasraysofsun.Iwasnotknownformypiety,butthatdayIpraisedApollowithanintensitythatcouldhaverivaledPeleushimself.AndwhoeverthebestoftheMyrmidonswas,Isentthegodsaprayerforhimaswell.
BRISEISASKEDMEtoteachhermedicineandpromisedinreturnaknowledgeofthearea’sherbs,indispensabletoMachaon’sdwindlingsupply.Iagreed,andpassedmanycontenteddayswithherintheforest,partinglow-hangingbranches,reachingunderneathrottinglogsformushroomsasdelicateandsoftastheearofababy.
Sometimesonthosedaysherhandwouldaccidentallybrushmine,andshewouldlookupandsmile,waterdropshangingfromherearsandhairlikepearls.Herlongskirtwastiedpracticallyaroundherknees,revealingfeetthatweresturdyandsure.
Oneofthesedayswehadstoppedforlunch.Wefeastedoncloth-wrappedbreadandcheese,stripsofdriedmeat,andwaterscoopedwithourhandsfromthestream.Itwasspring,andweweresurroundedbytheprofusionofAnatolianfertility.Forthreeweekstheearthwouldpaintherselfineverycolor,bursteverybud,unfurleachriotingpetal.Then,thewildflushofherexcitementspent,shewouldsettledowntothesteadyworkofsummer.Itwasmyfavoritetimeofyear.
Ishouldhaveseenitcoming.PerhapsyouwillthinkmestupidthatIdidnot.Iwastellingherastory—somethingaboutChiron,Ithink—andshewaslistening,hereyesdarkliketheearthonwhichwesat.Ifinished,andshewasquiet.Thiswasnothingunusual;shewasoftenquiet.Weweresittingclosetoeachother,headstogetherasifinconspiracy.Icouldsmellthefruitshehadeaten;Icouldsmelltheroseoilsshepressedfortheothergirls,stillstainingherfingers.Shewassodeartome,Ithought.Herseriousfaceandclevereyes.Iimaginedherasagirl,scrapedwithtree-climbing,skinnylimbsflyingassheran.IwishedthatIhadknownherthen,thatshehadbeenwithmeatmyfather’shouse,hadskippedstoneswithmymother.Almost,Icouldimagineherthere,hoveringjustattheedgeofmyremembrance.
Herlipstouchedmine.IwassosurprisedIdidnotmove.Hermouthwassoftandalittlehesitant.Hereyesweresweetlyclosed.Ofhabit,ofitsownaccord,mymouthparted.Amomentpassedlikethis,thegroundbeneathus,thebreezesiftingflowerscents.Thenshedrewback,eyesdown,waitingforjudgment.Mypulsesoundedinmyears,butitwasnotasAchillesmadeitsound.Itwassomethingmorelikesurprise,andfearthatIwouldhurther.Iputmyhandtohers.
Sheknew,then.ShefeltitinthewayItookherhand,thewaymygazerestedonher.“I’msorry,”shewhispered.
Ishookmyhead,butcouldnotthinkofwhatmoretosay.
Hershoulderscreptup,likefoldedwings.“Iknowthatyoulovehim,”shesaid,hesitatingalittlebeforeeachword.“Iknow.ButIthoughtthat—somemenhavewivesandloversboth.”
Herfacelookedverysmall,andsosadthatIcouldnotbesilent.
“Briseis,”Isaid.“IfIeverwishedtotakeawife,itwouldbeyou.”
“Butyoudonotwishtotakeawife.”
“No,”Isaid,asgentlyasIcould.
Shenodded,andhereyesdroppedagain.Icouldhearherslowbreaths,thefainttremorinherchest.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.
“Doyounoteverwantchildren?”sheasked.
Thequestionsurprisedme.Istillfelthalfachildmyself,thoughmostmyagewereparentsseveraltimesover.
“Idon’tthinkIwouldbemuchofaparent,”Isaid.
“Idonotbelievethat,”shesaid.
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid.“Doyou?”
Iaskeditcasually,butitseemedtostrikedeep,andshehesitated.“Maybe,”shesaid.AndthenIunderstood,toolate,whatshehadreallybeenaskingme.Iflushed,embarrassedatmythoughtlessness.Andhumbled,too.Iopenedmymouthtosaysomething.Tothankher,perhaps.
Butshewasalreadystanding,brushingoffherdress.“Shallwego?”
Therewasnothingtodobutriseandjoinher.
THATNIGHTIcouldnotstopthinkingofit:Briseis’andmychild.Isawstumblinglegs,anddarkhairandthemother’sbigeyes.Isawusbythefire,BriseisandI,andthebaby,playingwithsomebitofwoodIhadcarved.Yettherewasanemptinesstothescene,anacheofabsence.WherewasAchilles?Dead?Orhadheneverexisted?Icouldnotliveinsuchalife.ButBriseishadnotaskedmeto.Shehadofferedmeallofit,herselfandthechildandAchilles,too.
IshiftedtofaceAchilles.“Didyoueverthinkofhavingchildren?”Iasked.
Hiseyeswereclosed,buthewasnotsleeping.“Ihaveachild,”heanswered.
ItshockedmeaneweachtimeIrememberedit.HischildwithDeidameia.Aboy,Thetishadtoldhim,calledNeoptolemus.NewWar.NicknamedPyrrhus,forhisfieryredhair.Itdisturbedmetothinkofhim—apieceofAchilleswanderingthroughtheworld.“Doeshelooklikeyou?”IhadaskedAchillesonce.Achilleshadshrugged.“Ididn’task.”
“Doyouwishyoucouldseehim?”
Achillesshookhishead.“Itisbestthatmymotherraisehim.Hewillbebetterwithher.”
Ididnotagree,butthiswasnotthetimetosayso.Iwaitedamoment,forhimtoaskmeifIwishedtohaveachild.Buthedidnot,andhisbreathinggrewmoreeven.HealwaysfellasleepbeforeIdid.
“Achilles?”
“Mmm?”
“DoyoulikeBriseis?”
Hefrowned,hiseyesstillclosed.“Likeher?”
“Enjoyher,”Isaid.“Youknow.”
Hiseyesopened,morealertthanIhadexpected.“Whatdoesthishavetodowithchildren?”
“Nothing.”ButIwasobviouslylying.
“Doesshewishtohaveachild?”
“Maybe,”Isaid.
“Withme?”hesaid.
“No,”Isaid.
“Thatisgood,”hesaid,eyelidsdroopingoncemore.Momentspassed,andIwassurehewasasleep.Butthenhesaid,“Withyou.Shewantstohaveachildwithyou.”
Mysilencewashisanswer.Hesatup,theblanketfallingfromhischest.“Isshepregnant?”heasked.
TherewasatautnesstohisvoiceIhadnotheardbefore.
“No,”Isaid.
Hiseyesdugintomine,siftingthemforanswers.
“Doyouwantto?”heasked.Isawthestruggleonhisface.Jealousywasstrangetohim,aforeignthing.Hewashurt,butdidnotknowhowtospeakofit.Ifeltcruel,suddenly,forbringingitup.
“No,”Isaid.“Idon’tthinkso.No.”
“Ifyouwantedit,itwouldbeallright.”Eachwordwascarefullyplaced;hewastryingtobefair.
Ithoughtofthedark-hairedchildagain.IthoughtofAchilles.
“Itisallrightnow,”Isaid.
Thereliefonhisfacefilledmewithsweetness.
THINGSWERESTRANGEforsometimeafterthat.Briseiswouldhaveavoidedme,butIcalledonherasIusedto,andwewentforourwalksaswealwayshad.Wetalkedofcampgossipandmedicine.Shedidnotmentionwives,andIwascarefulnottomentionchildren.Istillsawthesoftnessinhereyeswhenshelookedatme.IdidmybesttoreturnitasIcould.
ChapterTwenty-Five
ONEDAYINTHENINTHYEAR,AGIRLMOUNTEDTHEdais.Therewasabruiseonhercheek,spreadinglikespilledwinedownthesideofherface.Ribbonsflutteredfromherhair—ceremonialfilletsthatmarkedherasservanttoagod.Apriest’sdaughter,Iheardsomeonesay.AchillesandIexchangedaglance.
Shewasbeautiful,despiteherterror:largehazeleyessetinaroundface,softchestnuthairloosearoundherears,aslendergirlishframe.Aswewatched,hereyesfilled,darkpoolsthatbrimmedtheirbanks,spillingdownhercheeks,fallingfromherchintotheground.Shedidnotwipethemaway.Herhandsweretiedbehindherback.
Asthemengathered,hereyeslifted,seekingtheskyinmuteprayer.InudgedAchilles,andhenodded;butbeforehecouldclaimher,Agamemnonsteppedforward.Herestedonehandonherslight,bowedshoulder.“ThisisChryseis,”hesaid.“AndItakeherformyself.”Thenhepulledherfromthedais,leadingherroughlytohistent.IsawthepriestCalchasfrowning,hismouthhalf-openasifhemightobject.Butthenheclosedit,andOdysseusfinishedthedistribution.
ITWASBARELYAMONTHafterthatthegirl’sfathercame,walkingdownthebeachwithastaffofgold-studdedwood,threadedwithgarlands.HeworehisbeardlonginthestyleofAnatolianpriests,hishairunboundbutdecoratedwithbitsofribbontomatchhisstaff.Hisrobewasbandedwithredandgold,loosewithfabricthatbillowedandflappedaroundhislegs.Behindhim,silentunderpriestsstrainedtohefttheweightofhugewoodenchests.Hedidnotslowfortheirfalteringstepsbutstroderelentlesslyonwards.
ThesmallprocessionmovedpastthetentsofAjax,andDiomedes,andNestor—closesttotheagora—andthenontothedaisitself.BythetimeAchillesandIhadheard,andrun,weavingaroundslowersoldiers,hehadplantedhimselfthere,staffstrong.WhenAgamemnonandMenelausmountedthedaistoapproachhim,hedidnotacknowledgethem,onlystoodthereproudbeforehistreasureandtheheavingchestsofhisunderlings.Agamemnongloweredatthepresumption,butheldhistongue.
Finally,whenenoughsoldiershadgathered,drawnfromeverycornerbybreathlessrumor,heturnedtosurveythemall,hiseyesmovingacrossthecrowd,takinginkingsandcommon.Landing,atlast,onthetwinsonsofAtreuswhostoodbeforehim.
Hespokeinavoiceresonantandgrave,madeforleadingprayers.Hegavehisname,Chryses,andidentifiedhimself,staffraised,asahighpriestofApollo.Thenhepointedtothechests,opennowtoshowgoldandgemsandbronzecatchingthesun.
“Noneofthistellsuswhyyouhavecome,PriestChryses.”Menelaus’voicewaseven,butwithanedgeofimpatience.TrojansdidnotclimbthedaisoftheGreekkingsandmakespeeches.
“Ihavecometoransommydaughter,Chryseis,”hesaid.“TakenunlawfullybytheGreekarmyfromourtemple.Aslightgirl,andyoung,withfilletsinherhair.”
TheGreeksmuttered.Suppliantsseekingransomkneltandbegged,theydidnotspeaklikekingsgivingsentenceincourt.Yethewasahighpriest,notusedtobendingtoanyonebuthisgod,andallowancescouldbemade.Thegoldheofferedwasgenerous,twicewhatthegirlwasworth,andapriest’sfavorwasneversomethingtoscorn.Thatword,unlawful,hadbeensharpasadrawnsword,butwecouldnotsaythathewaswrongtouseit.EvenDiomedesandOdysseuswerenodding,andMenelausdrewabreathasiftospeak.
ButAgamemnonsteppedforward,broadasabear,hisneckmusclestwistinginanger.
“Isthishowamanbegs?YouareluckyIdonotkillyouwhereyoustand.Iamthisarmy’scommander,”hespat.“Andyouhavenoleavetospeakbeforemymen.Hereisyouranswer:no.Therewillbenoransom.Sheismyprize,andIwillnotgiveherupnoworever.Notforthistrash,oranyotheryoucanbring.”Hisfingersclenched,onlyinchesfromthepriest’sthroat.“Youwilldepartnow,andletmenotevercatchyouinmycampsagain,priest,orevenyourgarlandswillnotsaveyou.”
Chryses’jawwasclampeddownonitself,thoughwhetherfromfearorbitingbackareplywecouldnottell.Hiseyesburnedwithbitterness.Sharply,withoutaword,heturnedandsteppedfromthedaisandstrodebackupthebeach.Behindhimtrailedhisunderpriestswiththeirclinkingboxesoftreasure.
EvenafterAgamemnonleftandthemenhadexplodedintogossiparoundme,Iwatchedtheshamedpriest’sdistant,retreatingfigure.Thoseattheendofthebeachsaidthathewascryingoutandshakinghisstaffatthesky.
Thatnight,slippingamonguslikeasnake,quickandsilentandflickering,theplaguebegan.
WHENWEWOKEthenextmorning,wesawthemulesdroopingagainsttheirfences,breathsshallowandbubblingwithyellowmucus,eyesrolling.Thenbymiddayitwasthedogs—whiningandsnappingattheair,tonguesfoamingared-tingedscum.Bythelateafternoon,everyoneofthesebeastswasdead,ordying,shudderingonthegroundinpoolsofbloodyvomit.
MachaonandI,andAchillestoo,burnedthemasfastastheyfell,riddingthecampoftheirbile-soakedbodies,theirbonesthatrattledaswetossedthemontothepyres.Whenwewentbacktothecampthatnight,AchillesandIscrubbedourselvesintheharshsaltofthesea,andthenwithcleanwaterfromthestreamintheforest.Wedidnotuse
Inbed,later,wespeculatedinhushedwhispers,unabletohelpbutlistenforthehitchinourownbreath,thegatheringofmucusinourthroats.ButweheardnothingexceptourvoicesrepeatingtheremediesChironhadtaughtuslikemurmuredprayers.
THENEXTMORNINGitwasthemen.Dozenspiercedwithillness,crumplingwheretheystood,theireyesbulgingandwet,lipscrackingopenandbleedingfineredthreadsdowntheirchins.MachaonandAchillesandPodaleriusandI,andeven,eventually,Briseis,rantodragawayeachnewlydroppedman—downedassuddenlyasifbyaspearorarrow.
Attheedgeofthecampafieldofsickmenbloomed.Tenandtwentyandthenfiftyofthem,shuddering,callingforwater,tearingofftheirclothesforrespitefromthefiretheyclaimedragedinthem.Finally,inthelaterhours,theirskinbrokeapart,maceratinglikeholesinawornblanket,shreddingtopusandpulpyblood.Atlasttheirviolenttremblingceased,andtheylaypuddlingintheswampoftheirfinaltorrent:thedarkemptyingoftheirbowels,clottedwithblood.
AchillesandIbuiltpyreafterpyre,burningeveryscrapofwoodwecouldfind.Finallyweabandoneddignityandritualfornecessity,throwingontoeachfirenotone,butaheapofbodies.Wedidnotevenhavetimetostandwatchoverthemastheirfleshandbonemingledandmeltedtogether.
Eventuallymostofthekingsjoinedus—Menelausfirst,thenAjax,whosplitwholetreeswithasinglestroke,fuelforfireafterfire.Asweworked,Diomedeswentamongthemenanddiscoveredthefewwhostilllayconcealedintheirtents,shakingwithfeverandvomit,hiddenbytheirfriendswhodidnotwant,yet,tosendthemtothedeathgrounds.Agamemnondidnotleavehistent.
Anotherdaythen,andanother,andeverycompany,everyking,hadlostdozensofsoldiers.Althoughstrangely,AchillesandInoted,ourhandspullingclosedeyelidaftereyelid,noneofthemwerekings.Onlyminornoblesandfootsoldiers.Noneofthemwerewomen;thistoowenoticed.Oureyesfoundeachother’s,fullofsuspicionsthatgrewasmendroppedsuddenlywithacry,handsclutchingtheirchestswheretheplaguehadstruckthemlikethequickshaftofanarrow.
ITWASTHENINTHNIGHTofthis—ofcorpses,andburning,andourfacesstreakedwithpus.Westoodinourtentgaspingwithexhaustion,strippingoffthetunicswehadworn,throwingthemasideforthefire.Oursuspicionstumbledout,confirmedinathousandways,thatthiswasnotanaturalplague,notthecreepingspreadofhaphazarddisease.Itwassomethingelse,suddenandcataclysmicasthesnuffingofAulis’winds.Agod’sdispleasure.
WerememberedChrysesandhisrighteousoutrageatAgamemnon’sblasphemy,hisdisregardforthecodesofwarandfairransom.Andweremembered,too,whichgodheserved.Thedivinityoflightandmedicineandplague.
Achillesslippedoutofthetentwhenthemoonwashigh.Hecamebacksometimelater,smellingofthesea.
“Whatdoesshesay?”Iasked,sittingupinbed.
“Shesaysweareright.”
ONTHETENTHDAYoftheplague,withtheMyrmidonsatourbacks,westrodeupthebeachtotheagora.Achillesmountedthedaisandcuppedhishandstohelphisvoicecarry.Shoutingovertheroarofpyresandtheweepingofwomenandthegroansofthedying,hecalledforeverymanincamptogather.
Slowly,fearfully,menstaggeredforward,blinkinginthesun.Theylookedpaleandhunted,fearfuloftheplaguearrowsthatsankinchestslikestonesintowater,spreadingtheirrotasripplesinapond.Achilleswatchedthemcome,armorbuckledaroundhim,swordstrappedtohisside,hishairgleaminglikewaterpouredoverbrightbronze.Itwasnotforbiddenforsomeoneotherthanthegeneraltocallameeting,butithadneverbeendoneinourtenyearsatTroy.
AgamemnonshoulderedthroughthecrowdwithhisMycenaeanstomountthedais.“Whatisthis?”hedemanded.
Achillesgreetedhimpolitely.“Ihavegatheredthementospeakoftheplague.DoIhaveyourleavetoaddressthem?”
Agamemnon’sshoulderswerehunchedforwardwithshame-sprungrage;heshouldhavecalledthismeetinghimselflongago,andheknewit.HecouldhardlyrebukeAchillesfordoingitnow,especiallynotwiththemenwatching.Thecontrastbetweenthetwohadneverseemedmoresharp:Achillesrelaxedandincontrol,withaneasethatdeniedthefuneralpyresandsunkencheeks;Agamemnonwithhisfacetightasamiser’sfist,louringoverusall.
Achilleswaiteduntilthemenhadassembled,kingsandcommonboth.Thenhesteppedforwardandsmiled.“Kings,”hesaid,“Lords,MenoftheGreekKingdoms,howcanwefightawarwhenwearedyingofplague?It’stime—pasttime—thatwelearnwhatwehavedonetodeserveagod’sanger.”
Swiftwhispersandmurmurs;menhadsuspectedthegods.Wasnotallgreatevilandgoodsentfromtheirhands?ButtohearAchillessaysoopenlywasarelief.Hismotherwasagoddess,andhewouldknow.
Agamemnon’slipswerepulledbacktoshowhisteeth.HestoodtooclosetoAchilles,asifhewouldcrowdhimoffthedais.Achillesdidnotseemtonotice.“Wehaveapriesthere,amongus,amanclosetothegods.Shouldwenotaskhimtospeak?”
Ahopefulrippleofassentwentthroughthemen.Icouldhearthecreakingofmetal,Agamemnon’sgriponhisownwrist,theslowstrangleofhisbuckledgauntlet.
Achillesturnedtotheking.“Isthisnotwhatyourecommendedtome,Agamemnon?”
Agamemnon’seyesnarrowed.Hedidnottrustgenerosity;hedidnottrustanything.HestaredatAchillesamoment,waitingforthetrap.Atlast,ungratefully,hesaid,“Yes.Idid.”HegesturedroughlytohisMycenaeans.“BringmeCalchas.”
Theytowedthepriestforward,outofthecrowd.Hewasuglierthanever,withhisbeardthatneverquitefilledin,hishairscragglyandrankwithsoursweat.Hehadahabitofdartinghistongueacrosscrackedlipsbeforehespoke.
“HighKingandPrinceAchilles,youcatchmeunprepared.Ididnotthinkthat—”Thosefreakishblueeyesflickeredbetweenthetwomen.“Thatis,IdidnotexpectIwouldbeaskedtospeakherebeforesomany.”Hisvoicewheedledandducked,likeaweaselescapingthenest.
“Speak,”Agamemnoncommanded.
Calchasseemedataloss;histongueswipedhislipsagainandagain.
Achilles’clearvoicepromptedhim.“Youhavedonesacrificessurely?Youhaveprayed?”
“I—have,ofcourseIhave.But…”Thepriest’svoicetrembled.“IamafraidthatwhatIsaymightangersomeonehere.Someonewhoispowerfulanddoesnotforgetinsulteasily.”
Achillessquattedtoreachahandouttothegrimedshoulderoftheflinchingpriest,claspingitgenially.“Calchas,wearedying.Thisisnotthetimeforsuchfears.Whatmanamonguswouldholdyourwordsagainstyou?Iwouldnot,evenifyounamedmeasthecause.Wouldanyofyou?”Helookedatthemenbeforehim.Theyshooktheirheads.
“Yousee?Nosanemanwouldeverharmapriest.”
Agamemnon’sneckwenttautasshipropes.Iwassuddenlyawareofhowstrangeitwastoseehimstandingalone.AlwayshisbrotherorOdysseusorDiomedeswasnearhim.Butthosemenwaitedontheside,withtherestoftheprinces
Calchasclearedhisthroat.“TheaugurieshaveshownthatitisthegodApollowhoisangry.”Apollo.Thenamewentthroughthehostlikewindinsummerwheat.
Calchas’eyesflickeredtoAgamemnon,thenbacktoAchilles.Heswallowed.“Heisoffended,itseems,sotheomenssay,atthetreatmentofhisdedicatedservant.Chryses.”
Agamemnon’sshoulderswererigid.
Calchasstumbledon.“Toappeasehim,thegirlChryseismustbereturnedwithoutransom,andHighKingAgamemnonmustofferprayersandsacrifices.”Hestopped,hislastwordgulpeddownsuddenly,asifhehadrunoutofair.
Agamemnon’sfacehadbrokenintodarkredblotchesofshock.Itseemedlikethegreatestarroganceorstupiditynottohaveguessedhemightbeatfault,buthehadnot.ThesilencewassoprofoundIfeltIcouldhearthegrainsofsandfallingagainsteachotheratourfeet.
“Thankyou,Calchas,”Agamemnonsaid,hisvoicesplinteringtheair.“Thankyouforalwaysbringinggoodnews.Lasttimeitwasmydaughter.Killher,yousaid,becauseyouhaveangeredthegoddess.Nowyouseektohumiliatemebeforemyarmy.”
Hewheeledonthemen,hisfacetwistedinrage.“AmInotyourgeneral?AnddoInotseeyoufedandclothedandhonored?AndaremyMycenaeansnotthelargestpartofthisarmy?Thegirlismine,giventomeasaprize,andIwillnotgiveherup.HaveyouforgottenwhoIam?”
Hepaused,asifhehopedthemenmightshoutNo!No!Butnonedid.
“KingAgamemnon.”Achillessteppedforward.Hisvoicewaseasy,almostamused.“Idon’tthinkanyonehasforgottenthatyouareleaderofthishost.Butyoudonotseemtorememberthatwearekingsinourownright,orprinces,orheadsofourfamilies.Weareallies,notslaves.”Afewmennodded;morewouldhavelikedto.
“Now,whilewedie,youcomplainaboutthelossofagirlyoushouldhaveransomedlongago.Yousaynothingofthelivesyouhavetaken,ortheplagueyouhavestarted.”
Agamemnonmadeaninarticulatenoise,hisfacepurplewithrage.Achillesheldupahand.
“Idonotmeantodishonoryou.Ionlywishtoendtheplague.Sendthegirltoherfatherandbedone.”
Agamemnon’scheekswerecreasedwithfury.“Iunderstandyou,Achilles.Youthinkbecauseyou’rethesonofasea-nymphyouhavetherighttoplayhighprincewhereveryougo.Youhaveneverlearnedyourplaceamongmen.”
Achillesopenedhismouthtoanswer.
“Youwillbesilent,”Agamemnonsaid,wordslashinglikeawhip.“Youwillnotspeakanotherwordoryouwillbesorry.”
“OrIwillbesorry?”Achilles’facewasverystill.Thewordswerequiet,butdistinctlyaudible.“Idonotthink,HighKing,thatyoucanaffordtosaysuchthingstome.”
“Doyouthreatenme?”Agamemnonshouted.“Didyounothearhimthreatenme?”
“Itisnotathreat.Whatisyourarmywithoutme?”
Agamemnon’sfacewasclottedwithmalice.“Youhavealwaysthoughttoomuchofyourself,”hesneered.“Weshouldhaveleftyouwherewefoundyou,hidingbehindyourmother’sskirts.Inaskirtyourself.”
Themenfrownedinconfusion,whisperedtoeachother.
Achilles’handswerefistedathissides;hehungontohiscomposure,barely.“Yousaythistoturnattentionawayfromyourself.IfIhadnotcalledthiscouncil,howlongwouldyouhaveletyourmendie?Canyouanswerthat?”
Agamemnonwasalreadyroaringoverhim.“WhenallofthesebravemencametoAulis,theyknelttooffermetheirloyalty.Allofthembutyou.Ithinkwehaveindulgedyourarrogancelongenough.Itistime,pasttime”—hemimickedAchilles—“thatyousworetheoath.”
“Idonotneedtoprovemyselftoyou.Toanyofyou.”Achilles’voicewascold,hischinliftedindisdain.“Iamhereofmyownfreewill,andyouareluckythatitisso.Iamnottheonewhoshouldkneel.”
Itwastoofar.Ifeltthemenshiftaroundme.Agamemnonseizeduponit,likeabirdboltingafish.“Doyouhearhispride?”HeturnedtoAchilles.“Youwillnotkneel?”
Achilles’facewaslikestone.“Iwillnot.”
“Thenyouareatraitortothisarmy,andwillbepunishedlikeone.Yourwarprizesarehostage,placedinmycareuntilyouofferyourobedienceandsubmission.Letusstartwiththatgirl.Briseis,ishername?Shewilldoaspenanceforthegirlyouhaveforcedmetoreturn.”
Theairdiedinmylungs.
“Sheismine,”Achillessaid.Eachwordfellsharp,likeabutchercuttingmeat.“GiventomebyalltheGreeks.Youcannottakeher.Ifyoutry,yourlifeisforfeit.Thinkonthat,King,beforeyoubringharmtoyourself.”
Agamemnon’sanswercamequickly.Hecouldneverbackdowninfrontofacrowd.Never.
“Idonotfearyou.Iwillhaveher.”HeturnedtohisMycenaeans.“Bringthegirl.”
Aroundmeweretheshockedfacesofkings.Briseiswasawarprize,alivingembodimentofAchilles’honor.Intakingher,AgamemnondeniedAchillesthefullmeasureofhisworth.Themenmuttered,andIhopedtheymightobject.Butnoonespoke.
Becausehewasturned,AgamemnondidnotseeAchilles’handgotohissword.Mybreathcaught.Iknewthathewascapableofthis,asinglethrustthroughAgamemnon’scowardlyheart.Isawthestruggleonhisface.Istilldonotknowwhyhestoppedhimself;perhapshewantedgreaterpunishmentforthekingthandeath.
“Agamemnon,”hesaid.Iflinchedfromtheroughnessofhisvoice.Thekingturned,andAchillesdroveafingerintohischest.Thehighkingcouldnotstopthehuffofsurprise.“Yourwordstodayhavecausedyourowndeath,andthedeathofyourmen.Iwillfightforyounolonger.Withoutme,yourarmywillfall.Hectorwillgrindyoutobonesandbloodydust,andIwillwatchitandlaugh.Youwillcome,cryingformercy,butIwillgivenone.Theywillalldie,Agamemnon,forwhatyouhavedonehere.”
Hespat,ahugewetsmackbetweenAgamemnon’sfeet.Andthenhewasbeforeme,andpastme,andIwasdizziedasIturnedtofollowhim,feelingtheMyrmidonsbehindme—hundredsofmenshoulderingtheirwaythroughthecrowd,stormingofftotheirtents.
POWERFULSTRIDESTOOKHIMswiftlyupthebeach.Hisangerwasincandescent,afireunderhisskin.HismuscleswerepulledsotautIwasafraidtotouchhim,fearingtheywouldsnaplikebowstrings.Hedidnotstoponcewereachedthecamp.Hedidnotturnandspeaktothemen.Heseizedtheextratentflapcoveringourdoorandrippeditfreeashepassed.
Hismouthwastwisted,uglyandtightasIhadeverseenit.Hiseyeswerewild.“Iwillkillhim,”heswore.“Iwillkillhim.”Hegrabbedaspearandbrokeitinhalfwithanexplosionofwood.Thepiecesfelltothefloor.
“Ialmostdiditthere,”hesaid.“Ishouldhavedoneit.Howdarehe?”Heflungaeweraside,anditshatteredagainstachair.“Thecowards!Yousawhowtheybittheirlipsanddidnotdaretospeak.Ihopehetakesalltheirprizes.Ihopeheswallowsthemonebyone.”
Avoice,tentative,outside.“Achilles?”
“Comein,”Achillessnarled.
Automedonwasbreathlessandstuttering.“Iamsorrytodisturbyou.Phoinixtoldmetostay,soIcouldlistenandtellyouwhathappened.”
“And?”Achillesdemanded.
Automedonflinched.“AgamemnonaskedwhyHectorstilllived.Hesaidthattheydonotneedyou.Thatperhapsyouarenot—whatyousayyouare.”AnotherspearshaftshatteredinAchilles’fingers.Automedonswallowed.“Theyarecoming,now,forBriseis.”
Achilleshadhisbacktome;Icouldnotseehisface.“Leaveus,”hetoldhischarioteer.Automedonbackedaway,andwewerealone.
TheywerecomingforBriseis.Istood,myhandsballed.Ifeltstrong,unbending,likemyfeetpiercedthroughtheearthtotheothersideoftheworld.
“Wemustdosomething,”Isaid.“Wecanhideher.Inthewoodsor—”
“Hewillpay,now,”Achillessaid.Therewasfiercetriumphinhisvoice.“Lethimcomeforher.Hehasdoomedhimself.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imustspeaktomymother.”Hestartedfromthetent.
Iseizedhisarm.“Wedon’thavetime.Theywillhavetakenherbythetimeyouareback.Wemustdosomethingnow!”
Heturned.Hiseyeslookedstrange,thepupilshugeanddark,swallowinghisface.Heseemedtobelookingalongwayoff.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Istaredathim.“Briseis.”
Hestaredback.Icouldnotfollowtheflickerofemotioninhiseyes.“Icandonothingforher,”hesaidatlast.“IfAgamemnonchoosesthispath,hemustbeartheconsequences.”
Afeeling,asifIwerefallingintooceandepths,weightedwithstones.
“Youarenotgoingtolethimtakeher.”
Heturnedaway;hewouldnotlookatme.“Itishischoice.Itoldhimwhatwouldhappenifhedid.”
“Youknowwhathewilldotoher.”
“Itishischoice,”herepeated.“Hewoulddeprivemeofmyhonor?Hewouldpunishme?Iwilllethim.”Hiseyeswerelitwithaninnerfire.
“Youwillnothelpher?”
“ThereisnothingIcando,”hesaidwithfinality.
Atiltingvertigo,asifIweredrunk.Icouldnotspeak,orthink.Ihadneverbeenangrywithhimbefore;Ididnotknowhow.
“Sheisoneofus.Howcanyoujustlethimtakeher?Whereisyourhonor?Howcanyoulethimdefileher?”
Andthen,suddenly,Iunderstood.Nauseaseizedme.Iturnedtothedoor.
“Whereareyougoing?”heasked.
Myvoicewasscrapedandsavage.“Ihavetowarnher.Shehasarighttoknowwhatyouhavechosen.”
ISTANDOUTSIDEhertent.Itissmall,brownwithhides,setback.“Briseis,”Ihearmyselfsay.
“Comein!”Hervoiceiswarmandpleased.Wehavehadnotimetospeakduringtheplague,beyondnecessities.
Inside,sheisseatedonastool,mortarandpestleinherlap.Theairsmellssharplyofnutmeg.Sheissmiling.
Ifeelwrungdrywithgrief.HowcanItellherwhatIknow?
“I—”Itrytospeak,stop.Sheseesmyface,andhersmilevanishes.Swiftly,sheisonherfeetandbymyside.
“Whatisit?”Shepressesthecoolskinofherwristtomyforehead.“Areyouill?IsAchillesallright?”Iamsickwithshame.Butthereisnospaceformyself-pity.Theyarecoming.
“Somethinghashappened,”Isay.Mytonguethickensinmymouth;mywordsdonotcomeoutstraight.“Achilleswenttodaytospeaktothemen.TheplagueisApollo’s.”
“Wethoughtso.”Shenods,herhandrestinggentlyonmine,incomfort.Ialmostcannotgoon.
“Agamemnondidnot—hewasangry.HeandAchillesquarreled.Agamemnonwantstopunishhim.”
“Punishhim?How?”
Nowsheseessomethinginmyeyes.Herfacegoesquiet,pullingintoitself.Bracing.“Whatisit?”
“Heissendingmen.Foryou.”
Iseetheflareofpanic,thoughshetriestohideit.Herfingerstightenonmine.“Whatwillhappen?”
Myshameiscaustic,searingeverynerve.Itislikeanightmare;Iexpect,eachmoment,towaketorelief.Butthereisnowaking.Itistrue.Hewillnothelp.
“He—”Icannotsaymore.
Itisenough.Sheknows.Herrighthandclutchesatherdress,chappedandrawfromtheroughworkofthepastninedays.Iforceoutstutteringwordsmeanttobeacomfort,ofhowwewillgetherback,andhowitwillbeallright.Lies,allofit.WebothknowwhatwillhappentoherinAgamemnon’stent.Achillesknows,too,andsendsheranyway.
Mymindisfilledwithcataclysmandapocalypse:Iwishforearthquakes,eruptions,flood.Onlythatseemslargeenoughtoholdallofmyrageandgrief.Iwanttheworldoverturnedlikeabowlofeggs,smashedatmyfeet.
Atrumpetblowsoutside.Herhandgoestohercheek,swipesawaytears.“Go,”shewhispers.“Please.”
ChapterTwenty-Six
INTHEDISTANCETWOMENAREWALKINGTOWARDSUSUPthelongstretchofbeach,wearingthebrightpurpleofAgamemnon’scamp,stampedwiththesymbolofheralds.Iknowthem—TalthybiusandEurybates,Agamemnon’schiefmessengers,honoredasmenofdiscretionclosetothehighking’sear.Hateknotsmythroat.Iwantthemdead.
Theyareclosenow,passingtheglaringMyrmidonguards,whorattletheirarmorthreateningly.Theystoptenpacesfromus—enough,perhapstheythink,tobeabletoescapeAchillesifheweretolosehistemper.Iindulgemyselfinviciousimages:Achillesleapinguptosnaptheirnecks,leavingthemlimpasdeadrabbitsinahunter’shand.
Theystutteroutagreeting,feetshifting,eyesdown.Then:“Wehavecometotakecustodyofthegirl.”
Achillesanswersthem—coldandbitter,butwrylyso,hisangerbankedandshielded.Heisgivingashow,Iknow,ofgrace,oftolerance,andmyteethclenchatthecalmnessinhistone.Helikesthisimageofhimself,thewrongedyoungman,stoicallyacceptingthetheftofhisprize,amartyrdomforthewholecamptosee.Ihearmynameandseethemlookingatme.IamtogetBriseis.
Sheiswaitingforme.Herhandsareempty;sheistakingnothingwithher.“I’msorry,”Iwhisper.Shedoesnotsayitisallright;itisnot.Sheleansforward,andIcansmellthewarmsweetnessofherbreath.Herlipsgrazemine.Thenshestepspastmeandisgone.
Talthybiustakesonesideofher,Eurybatestheother.Theirfingerspress,notgently,intotheskinofherarm.Theytowherforward,eagertobeawayfromus.Sheisforcedtomove,orfall.Herheadturnsbacktolookatus,andIwanttobreakatthedesperatehopeinhereyes.Istareathim,willhimtolookup,tochangehismind.Hedoesnot.
Theyareoutofourcampnow,movingquickly.AfteramomentIcanbarelydistinguishthemfromtheotherdarkfiguresthatmoveagainstthesand—eatingandwalkingandgossipingintentlyabouttheirfeudingkings.Angersweepsthroughmelikebrushfire.
“Howcanyoulethergo?”Iask,myteethhardagainstoneanother.
Hisfaceisblankandbarren,likeanotherlanguage,impenetrable.Hesays,“Imustspeakwithmymother.”
“Gothen,”Isnarl.
Iwatchhimleave.Mystomachfeelsburnedtocinders;mypalmsachewheremynailshavecutintothem.Idonotknowthisman,Ithink.HeisnooneIhaveeverseenbefore.Myragetowardshimishotasblood.Iwillneverforgivehim.Iimaginetearingdownourtent,smashingthelyre,stabbingmyselfinthestomachandbleedingtodeath.Iwanttoseehisfacebrokenwithgriefandregret.IwanttoshatterthecoldmaskofstonethathasslippeddownovertheboyIknew.HehasgivenhertoAgamemnonknowingwhatwillhappen.
NowheexpectsthatIwillwaithere,impotentandobedient.IhavenothingtoofferAgamemnonforhersafety.Icannotbribehim,andIcannotbeghim.ThekingofMycenaehaswaitedtoolongforthistriumph.Hewillnotlethergo.Ithinkofawolf,guardingitsbone.ThereweresuchwolvesonPelion,whowouldhuntmeniftheywerehungryenough.“Ifoneofthemisstalkingyou,”Chironsaid,“youmustgiveitsomethingitwantsmorethanyou.”
ThereisonlyonethingthatAgamemnonwantsmorethanBriseis.Iyanktheknifefrommybelt.Ihaveneverlikedblood,butthereisnohelpforthat,now.
THEGUARDSSEEmebelatedlyandaretoosurprisedtolifttheirweapons.Onehasthepresenceofmindtoseizeme,butIdigmynailsintohisarm,andheletsgo.Theirfacesareslowandstupidwithshock.AmInotjustAchilles’petrabbit?IfIwereawarrior,theywouldfightme,butIamnot.Bythetimetheythinktheyshouldrestrainme,Iaminsidethetent.
ThefirstthingIseeisBriseis.Herhandshavebeentied,andsheisshrinkinginacorner.Agamemnonstandswithhisbacktotheentrance,speakingtoher.
Heturns,scowlingattheinterruption.Butwhenheseesme,hisfacegoesslickwithtriumph.Ihavecometobeg,hethinks.Iamheretopleadformercy,asAchilles’ambassador.OrperhapsIwillrageimpotently,forhisentertainment.
Ilifttheknife,andAgamemnon’seyeswiden.Hishandgoestotheknifeathisownbelt,andhismouthopenstocalltheguards.Hedoesnothavetimetospeak.Islashtheknifedownatmyleftwrist.Itscorestheskinbutdoesnotbitedeepenough.Islashagain,andthistimeIfindthevein.Bloodspurtsintheenclosedspace.IhearBriseis’noiseofhorror.Agamemnon’sfaceisspatteredwithdrops.
“IswearthatthenewsIbringistruth,”Isay.“Iswearitonmyblood.”
Agamemnonistakenaback.Thebloodandtheoathstayhishand;hehasalwaysbeensuperstitious.
“Well,”hesayscurtly,tryingfordignity,“speakyournewsthen.”
Icanfeeltheblooddrainingdownmywrist,butIdonotmovetostanchit.
“Youareinthegravestdanger,”Isay.
Hesneers.“Areyouthreateningme?Isthiswhyhehassentyou?”
“No.Hehasnotsentmeatall.”
Hiseyesnarrow,andIseehismindworking,fittingtilesintothepicture.“Surelyyoucomewithhisblessing.”
“No,”Isay.
Heislistening,now.
“Heknowswhatyouintendtowardsthegirl,”Isay.
OutofthecornerofmyeyeIcanseeBriseisfollowingourconversation,butIdonotdaretolookatherdirectly.Mywristthrobsdully,andIcanfeelthewarmbloodfillingmyhand,thenemptyingagain.Idroptheknifeandpressmythumbontotheveintoslowthesteadydrainingofmyheart.
“And?”
“Doyounotwonderwhyhedidnotpreventyoufromtakingher?”Myvoiceisdisdainful.“Hecouldhavekilledyourmen,andallyourarmy.Doyounotthinkhecouldhaveheldyouoff?”
Agamemnon’sfaceisred.ButIdonotallowhimtospeak.
“Heletyoutakeher.Heknowsyouwillnotresistbeddingher,andthiswillbeyourdownfall.Sheishis,wonthroughfairservice.Themenwillturnonyouifyouviolateher,andthegodsaswell.”
Ispeakslowly,deliberately,andthewordslandlikearrows,eachinitstarget.ItistruewhatIsay,thoughhehasbeentooblindedbyprideandlusttoseeit.SheisinAgamemnon’scustody,butsheisAchilles’prizestill.ToviolateherisaviolationofAchilleshimself,thegravestinsulttohishonor.Achillescouldkillhimforit,andevenMenelauswouldcallitfair.
“Youareatyourpower’slimitevenintakingher.Themenalloweditbecausehewastooproud,buttheywillnotallowmore.”Weobeyourkings,butonlywithinreason.IfAristosAchaion’sprizeisnotsafe,noneofoursare.Suchakingwillnotbeallowedtoruleforlong.
Agamemnonhasnotthoughtofanyofthis.Therealizationscomelikewaves,drowninghim.Desperate,hesays,“Mycounselorshavesaidnothingofthis.”
“Perhapstheydonotknowwhatyouintend.Orperhapsitservestheirownpurposes.”Ipausetolethimconsiderthis.“Whowillruleifyoufall?”
Heknowstheanswer.Odysseus,andDiomedes,together,withMenelausasfigurehead.Hebeginstounderstand,atlast,thesizeofthegiftIhavebroughthim.Hehasnotcomesofarbybeingafool.
“Youbetrayhimbywarningme.”
Itistrue.AchilleshasgivenAgamemnonaswordtofallupon,andIhavestayedhishand.Thewordsarethickandbitter.“Ido.”
“Why?”heasks.
“Becauseheiswrong,”Isay.Mythroatfeelsrawandbroken,asthoughIhavedrunksandandsalt.
Agamemnonconsidersme.Iamknownformyhonesty,formykindheartedness.Thereisnoreasontodisbelieveme.Hesmiles.“Youhavedonewell,”hesays.“Youshowyourselfloyaltoyourtruemaster.”Hepauses,savoringthis,storingitup.“Doesheknowwhatyouhavedone?”
“Notyet,”Isay.
“Ah.”Hiseyeshalf-close,imaginingit.Iwatchtheboltofhistriumphslidinghome.Heisaconnoisseurofpain.ThereisnothingthatcouldcauseAchillesgreateranguishthanthis:beingbetrayedtohisworstenemybythemanheholdsclosesttohisheart.
“Ifhewillcomeandkneelforpardon,IswearIwillreleaseher.Itisonlyhisownpridethatkeepshishonorfromhim,notI.Tellhim.”
Idonotanswer.Istand,andwalktoBriseis.Icuttheropethatbindsher.Hereyesarefull;sheknowswhatthishascostme.“Yourwrist,”shewhispers.Icannotanswerher.Myheadisaconfusionoftriumphanddespair.Thesandofthetentisredwithmyblood.
“Treatherwell,”Isay.
Iturnandleave.Shewillbeallrightnow,Itellmyself.HeisfeastingfatonthegiftIhavegivenhim.Itearastripfrommytunictobindmywrist.Iamdizzy,thoughIdonotknowifitiswithlossofbloodorwhatIhavedone.Slowly,Ibeginthelongwalkbackupthebeach.
HEISSTANDINGOUTSIDEthetentwhenIreturn.Histunicisdampfromwherehekneltinthesea.Hisfaceiswrappedclosed,butthereisawearinesstoitsedges,likefrayingcloth;itmatchesmine.
“Wherehaveyoubeen?”
“Inthecamp.”Iamnotreadyyet,totellhim.“Howisyourmother?”
“Sheiswell.Youarebleeding.”
Thebandagehassoakedthrough.
“Iknow,”Isay.
“Letmelookatit.”Ifollowhimobedientlyintothetent.Hetakesmyarmandunwrapsthecloth.Hebringswatertorinsethewoundcleanandpacksitwithcrushedyarrowandhoney.
“Aknife?”heasks.
“Yes.”
Weknowthestormiscoming;wearewaitingaslongaswecan.Hebindsthewoundwithcleanbandages.Hebringsmewateredwine,andfoodaswell.IcantellbyhisfacethatIlookillandpale.
“Willyoutellmewhohurtyou?”
Iimaginesaying,You.Butthatisnothingmorethanchildishness.
“Ididittomyself.”
“Why?”
“Foranoath.”Thereisnowaitinganylonger.Ilookathim,fullintheface.“IwenttoAgamemnon.Itoldhimofyourplan.”
“Myplan?”Hiswordsareflat,almostdetached.
“TolethimrapeBriseis,sothatyoumightrevengeyourselfonhim.”SayingitoutloudismoreshockingthanIthoughtitwouldbe.
Herises,half-turningsoIcannotseehisface.Ireadhisshouldersinstead,theirset,thetensionofhisneck.
“Soyouwarnedhim?”
“Idid.”
“Youknowifhehaddoneit,Icouldhavekilledhim.”Thatsameflattone.“Orexiledhim.Forcedhimfromthethrone.Themenwouldhavehonoredmelikeagod.”
“Iknow,”Isay.
Thereisasilence,adangerousone.Ikeepwaitingforhimtoturnonme.Toscream,orstrikeout.Andhedoesturn,tofaceme,atlast.
“Hersafetyformyhonor.Areyouhappywithyourtrade?”
“Thereisnohonorinbetrayingyourfriends.”
“Itisstrange,”hesays,“thatyouwouldspeakagainstbetrayal.”
Thereismorepaininthosewords,almost,thanIcanbear.IforcemyselftothinkofBriseis.“Itwastheonlyway.”
“Youchoseher,”hesays.“Overme.”
“Overyourpride.”ThewordIuseishubris.Ourwordforarrogancethatscrapesthestars,forviolenceandtoweringrageasuglyasthegods.
Hisfiststighten.Now,perhaps,theattackwillcome.
“Mylifeismyreputation,”hesays.Hisbreathsoundsragged.“ItisallIhave.Iwillnotlivemuchlonger.MemoryisallIcanhopefor.”Heswallows,thickly.“Youknowthis.AndwouldyouletAgamemnondestroyit?Wouldyouhelphimtakeitfromme?”
“Iwouldnot,”Isay.“ButIwouldhavethememorybeworthyoftheman.Iwouldhaveyoubeyourself,notsometyrantrememberedforhiscruelty.ThereareotherwaystomakeAgamemnonpay.Wewilldoit.Iwillhelpyou,Iswear.Butnotlikethis.Nofameisworthwhatyoudidtoday.”
Heturnsawayagainandissilent.Istareathisunspeakingback.Imemorizeeachfoldinhistunic,eachbitofdryingsaltandsandstucktohisskin.
Whenhespeaksatlast,hisvoiceisweary,anddefeated.Hedoesn’tknowhowtobeangrywithme,either.Wearelikedampwoodthatwon’tlight.
“Itisdonethen?Sheissafe?Shemustbe.Youwouldnothavecomeback,otherwise.”
“Yes.Sheissafe.”
Atiredbreath.“YouareabettermanthanI.”
Thebeginningofhope.Wehavegiveneachotherwounds,buttheyarenotmortal.BriseiswillnotbeharmedandAchilleswillrememberhimselfandmywristwillheal.Therewillbeamomentafterthis,andanotherafterthat.
“No,”Isay.Istandandwalktohim.Iputmyhandtothewarmthofhisskin.“Itisnottrue.Youleftyourselftoday.Andnowyouarereturned.”
Hisshouldersriseandfallonalongbreath.“Donotsaythat,”hesays,“untilyouhaveheardtherestofwhatIhavedone.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
THEREARETHREESMALLSTONESONTHERUGSOFOURtent,kickedinbyourfeetorcreptinontheirown.Ipickthemup.Theyaresomethingtoholdonto.
Hiswearinesshasfadedashespeaks.“…Iwillfightforhimnolonger.Ateveryturnheseekstorobmeofmyrightfulglory.Tocastmeintoshadowanddoubt.Hecannotbearanothermantobehonoredoverhim.Buthewilllearn.IwillshowhimtheworthofhisarmywithoutAristosAchaion.”
Idonotspeak.Icanseethetemperrisinginhim.Itislikewatchingastormcome,whenthereisnoshelter.
“TheGreekswillfallwithoutmetodefendthem.Hewillbeforcedtobeg,ordie.”
Irememberhowhelookedwhenhewenttoseehismother.Wild,fevered,hardasgranite.Iimaginehimkneelingbeforeher,weepingwithrage,beatinghisfistsonthejaggedsearocks.Theyhaveinsultedhim,hesaystoher.Theyhavedishonoredhim.Theyhaveruinedhisimmortalreputation.
Shelistens,herfingerspullingabsentlyonherlongwhitethroat,suppleasaseal,andbeginstonod.Shehasanidea,agod’sidea,fullofvengeanceandwrath.Shetellshim,andhisweepingstops.
“Hewilldoit?”Achillesasks,inwonder.HemeansZeus,kingofthegods,whoseheadiswreathedinclouds,whosehandscanholdthethunderboltitself.
“Hewilldoit,”Thetissays.“Heisinmydebt.”
Zeus,thegreatbalancer,willletgohisscales.HewillmaketheGreeksloseandloseandlose,untiltheyarecrushedagainstthesea,anchorsandropestanglingtheirfeet,mastsandprowssplinteringontheirbacks.Andthentheywillseewhotheymustbegfor.
Thetisleansforwardandkissesherson,abrightstarfishofred,highonhischeek.Thensheturnsandisgone,slippedintothewaterlikeastone,sinkingtothebottom.
Iletthepebblestumbletothegroundfrommyfingers,wheretheylie,haphazardorpurposeful,anauguryoranaccident.IfChironwerehere,hecouldreadthem,tellusourfortunes.Butheisnothere.
“Whatifhewillnotbeg?”Iask.
“Thenhewilldie.Theywillalldie.Iwillnotfightuntilhedoes.”Hischinjuts,bracingforreproach.
Iamwornout.MyarmhurtswhereIcutit,andmyskinfeelscoatedwithunwholesomesweat.Idonotanswer.
“DidyouhearwhatIsaid?”
“Iheard,”Isay.“Greekswilldie.”
Chironhadsaidoncethatnationswerethemostfoolishofmortalinventions.“Nomanisworthmorethananother,whereverheisfrom.”
“Butwhatifheisyourfriend?”Achilleshadaskedhim,feetkickeduponthewalloftherose-quartzcave.“Oryourbrother?Shouldyoutreathimthesameasastranger?”
“Youaskaquestionthatphilosophersargueover,”Chironhadsaid.“Heisworthmoretoyou,perhaps.Butthestrangerissomeoneelse’sfriendandbrother.Sowhichlifeismoreimportant?”
Wehadbeensilent.Wewerefourteen,andthesethingsweretoohardforus.Nowthatwearetwenty-seven,theystillfeeltoohard.
Heishalfofmysoul,asthepoetssay.Hewillbedeadsoon,andhishonorisallthatwillremain.Itishischild,hisdearestself.ShouldIreproachhimforit?IhavesavedBriseis.Icannotsavethemall.
Iknow,now,howIwouldanswerChiron.Iwouldsay:thereisnoanswer.Whicheveryouchoose,youarewrong.
LATERTHATEVENINGIgobacktoAgamemnon’scamp.AsIwalk,Ifeeltheeyesonme,curiousandpitying.Theylookbehindme,toseeifAchillesisfollowing.Heisnot.
WhenItoldhimwhereIwasgoing,itseemedtocasthimbackintotheshadows.“TellherIamsorry,”hesaid,hiseyesdown.Ididnotanswer.Ishesorrybecausehehasabettervengeancenow?OnethatwillstrikedownnotjustAgamemnon,buthiswholeungratefularmy?Idonotletmyselfdwellonthisthought.Heissorry.Itisenough.
“Comein,”shesays,hervoicestrange.Sheiswearingagold-threadeddressandanecklaceoflapislazuli.Onherwristsarebraceletsofengravedsilver.Sheclinkswhenshestands,asthoughshe’swearingarmor.
She’sembarrassed,Icanseethat.Butwedonothavetimetospeak,becauseAgamemnonhimselfisbulgingthroughthenarrowslitbehindme.
“DoyouseehowwellIkeepher?”hesays.“ThewholecampwillseeinwhatesteemIholdAchilles.Heonlyhastoapologize,andIwillheapthehonorsonhimthathedeserves.Trulyitisunfortunatethatonesoyounghassomuchpride.”
Thesmuglookonhisfacemakesmeangry.ButwhatdidIexpect?Ihavedonethis.Hersafetyforhishonor.“Thisisacredittoyou,mightyking,”Isay.
“TellAchilles,”Agamemnoncontinues.“TellhimhowwellItreather.Youmaycomeanytimeyoulike,toseeher.”Heoffersanunpleasantsmile,thenstands,watchingus.Hehasnointentionofleaving.
IturntoBriseis.Ihavelearnedafewpiecesofherlanguage,andIusethemnow.
“Youareallrighttruly?”
“Iam,”shereplies,inthesharpsingsongofAnatolian.“Howlongwillitbe?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isay.AndIdon’t.Howmuchheatdoesittakeforirontogrowsoftenoughtobend?Ileanforwardandgentlykisshercheek.“Iwillbebackagainsoon,”IsayinGreek.
Shenods.
AgamemnoneyesmeasIleave.Ihearhimsay,“Whatdidhesaytoyou?”
Ihearheranswer,“Headmiredmydress.”
THENEXTMORNING,alltheotherkingsmarchoffwiththeirarmiestofighttheTrojans;thearmyofPhthiadoesnotfollow.AchillesandIlingerlongoverbreakfast.Whyshouldwenot?Thereisnothingelseforustodo.Wemayswim,ifwelike,orplayatdraughtsorspendalldayracing.WehavenotbeenatsuchutterleisuresincePelion.
Yetitdoesnotfeellikeleisure.Itfeelslikeaheldbreath,likeaneaglepoisedbeforethedive.Myshouldershunch,andIcannotstopmyselffromlookingdowntheemptybeach.Wearewaitingtoseewhatthegodswilldo.
Wedonothavetowaitlong.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
THATNIGHT,PHOINIXCOMESLIMPINGUPTHESHOREwithnewsofaduel.Asthearmiesralliedinthemorning,ParishadstruttedalongtheTrojanline,goldenarmorflashing.Heofferedachallenge:singlecombat,winnertakesHelen.TheGreeksbellowedtheirapproval.Whichofthemdidnotwanttoleavethatday?TowagerHelenonasinglefightandsettleitonceandforall?AndParislookedaneasytarget,shiningandslight,slim-hippedasanunwedgirl.ButitwasMenelaus,Phoinixsaid,whocameforward,roaringacceptanceatthechancetoregainhishonorandhisbeautifulwifeinone.
Theduelbeginswithspearsandmovesquicklytoswords.ParisisswifterthanMenelaushadanticipated,nofighterbutfastonhisfeet.AtlasttheTrojanprincemissteps,andMenelausseizeshimbyhislonghorsehaircrestanddragshimdowntotheearth.Paris’feetkickhelplessly,hisfingersscrabbleatthechokingchin-strap.Then,suddenly,thehelmetcomesfreeinMenelaus’handandParisisgone.WheretheTrojanprincesprawledthereisonlydustyground.Thearmiessquintandwhisper:Whereishe?Menelaussquintswiththem,andsodoesnotseethearrow,loosedfromaibex-hornbowalongtheTrojanline,flyingtowardshim.Itpunchesthroughhisleatherarmorandburiesitselfinhisstomach.
Bloodpoursdownhislegsandpuddlesathisfeet.Itismostlyasurfacewound,buttheGreeksdonotknowthatyet.TheyscreamandrushtheTrojanranks,enragedatthebetrayal.Abloodymeleebegins.
“ButwhathappenedtoParis?”Iask
Phoinixshakeshishead.“Idonotknow.”
THETWOSIDESFOUGHTonthroughtheafternoonuntilanothertrumpetblew.ItwasHector,offeringasecondtruce,aseconddueltomakerightthedishonorofParis’disappearanceandtheshootingofthearrow.Hepresentedhimselfinhisbrother’splace,toanymanwhodaredanswer.Menelaus,Phoinixsays,wouldhavesteppedforwardagain,butAgamemnonpreventedhim.
TheGreeksdrewlotsforwhowouldfightwithHector.Iimaginetheirtension,thesilencebeforethehelmetisshakenandthelotjumpsout.Odysseusbendstothedustyearthtoretrieveit.Ajax.Thereiscollectiverelief:heistheonlymanwhohasachanceagainsttheTrojanprince.Theonlyman,thatis,whofightstoday.
SoAjaxandHectorfight,heavingstonesateachother,andspearsthatshattershields,untilnightfallsandtheheraldscallanend.Itisstrangelycivilized:thetwoarmiespartinpeace,HectorandAjaxshakinghandsasequals.Thesoldierswhisper—itwouldnothaveendedsoifAchilleswerehere.
Dischargedofhisnews,PhoinixgetswearilytohisfeetandlimpsonthearmofAutomedonbacktohistent.Achillesturnstome.Heisbreathingquickly,thetipsofhisearspinkingwithexcitement.Heseizesmyhandandcrowstomeoftheday’sevents,ofhowhisnamewasoneveryone’slips,ofthepowerofhisabsence,bigasaCyclops,walkingheavilyamongstthesoldiers.Theexcitementofthedayhasflaredthroughhim,likeflameindrygrass.Forthefirsttime,hedreamsofkilling:thestrokeofglory,hisinevitablespearthroughHector’sheart.Myskinpricklestohearhimsayso.
“Doyousee?”hesays.“Itisthebeginning!”
Icannotescapethefeelingthat,belowthesurface,somethingisbreaking.
THEREISATRUMPETthenextmorningatdawn.Werise,andclimbthehilltoseeanarmyofhorsemenridingforTroyfromtheEast.Theirhorsesarelargeandmovewithunnaturalspeed,drawinglight-wheeledchariotsbehindthem.Attheirheadsitsahugeman,largereventhanAjax.Hewearshisblackhairlong,liketheSpartansdo,oiledandswingingdownhisback.Hecarriesastandardintheshapeofahorse’shead.
Phoinixhasjoinedus.“TheLycians,”hesays.TheyareAnatolians,longalliesofTroy.Ithasbeenasourceofmuchwonderthattheyhavenotyetcometojointhewar.Butnow,asifsummonedbyZeushimself,theyarehere.
“Whoisthat?”Achillespointstothegiant,theirleader.
“Sarpedon.AsonofZeus.”Thesungleamsofftheman’sshoulders,sweat-slickfromtheride;hisskinisdarkgold.
Thegatesopen,andtheTrojanspourouttomeettheirallies.HectorandSarpedonclasphands,thenleadtheirtroopsintothefield.TheLycianweaponsarestrange:saw-toothedjavelinsandthingsthatlooklikegiantfishhooks,forrippingintoflesh.Allthatdayweheartheirbattlecriesandthepoundinghoovesoftheircavalry.ThereisasteadystreamofGreekwoundedintoMachaon’stent.
Phoinixgoestotheevening’scouncil,theonlymemberofourcampnotindisgrace.Whenhereturns,helookssharplyatAchilles.“Idomeneusiswounded,andtheLyciansbroketheleftflank.SarpedonandHectorwillcrushusbetweenthem.”
AchillesdoesnotnoticePhoinix’sdisapproval.Heturnstomeintriumph.“Doyouhearthat?”
“Ihearit,”Isay.
Adaypasses,andanother.Rumorscomethickasbitingflies:talesoftheTrojanarmydrivingforward,unstoppableandboldinAchilles’absence.Offranticcouncils,whereourkingsargueoverdesperatestrategy:nightraids,spies,ambushes.Andthenmore,Hectorablazeinbattle,burningthroughGreekslikeabrushfire,andeverydaymoredeadthanthedaybefore.Finally:panickedrunners,bringingnewsofretreatsandwoundsamongthekings.
Achillesfingersthisgossip,turningitthiswayandthat.“Itwillnotbelongnow,”hesays.
Thefuneralpyresburnthroughthenight,theirgreasysmokesmearedacrossthemoon.ItrynottothinkhoweveryoneisamanIknow.Knew.
ACHILLESISPLAYINGthelyrewhentheyarrive.Therearethreeofthem—Phoinixfirst,andbehindhimOdysseusandAjax.
IamsittingbesideAchillesastheycome;fartheroffisAutomedon,carvingthemeatforsupper.Achilles’headisliftedashesings,hisvoiceclearandsweet.Istraighten,andmyhandleaveshisfootwhereithasbeenresting.
Thetrioapproachusandstandontheothersideofthefire,waitingforAchillestofinish.Heputsdownhislyreandrises.
“Welcome.Youwillstayfordinner,Ihope?”Heclaspstheirhandswarmly,smilingthroughtheirstiffness.
Iknowwhytheyhavecome.“Imustseetothemeal,”Imumble.IfeelOdysseus’eyesonmybackasIgo.
Thestripsoflambdripandsearonthebrazier’sgrill.ThroughthehazeofsmokeIwatchthem,seatedaroundthefireasiftheyarefriends.Icannotheartheirwords,butAchillesissmilingstill,pushingpasttheirgrimness,pretendinghedoesnotseeit.Thenhecallsforme,andIcannotstallanylonger.DutifullyIbringtheplattersandtakemyseatbesidehim.
Heismakingdesultoryconversationofbattlesandhelmets.Whilehetalksheservesthemeal,afussinghostwhogivessecondstoeveryoneandthirdstoAjax.Theyeatandlethimtalk.Whentheyarefinished,theywipetheirmouthsandputasidetheirplates.Everyoneseemstoknowitistime.ItisOdysseus,ofcourse,whobegins.
Hetalksfirstofthings,casualwordsthathedropsintoourlaps,oneatatime.Alistreally.Twelveswifthorses,andsevenbronzetripods,andsevenprettygirls,tenbarsofgold,twentycauldrons,andmore—bowls,andgoblets,andarmor,andatlast,thefinalgemheldbeforeus:Briseis’return.HesmilesandspreadshishandswithaguilelessshrugIrecognizefromScyros,fromAulis,andnowfromTroy
Thenasecondlist,almostaslongasthefirst:theendlessnamesofGreekdead.Achilles’jawgrowshardasOdysseusdrawsforthtabletaftertablet,crammedtothemarginwithmarks.Ajaxlooksdownathishands,scabbedfromthesplinteringofshieldsandspears.
ThenOdysseustellsusnewsthatwedonotknowyet,thattheTrojansarelessthanathousandpacesfromourwall,encampedonnewlywonplainwecouldnottakebackbeforedusk.Wouldwelikeproof?Wecanprobablyseetheirwatch-firesfromthehilljustbeyondourcamp.Theywillattackatdawn.
Thereissilence,alongmomentofit,beforeAchillesspeaks.“No,”hesays,shovingbacktreasureandguilt.Hishonorisnotsuchatriflethatitcanbereturnedinanightembassy,inahandfulhuddledaroundacampfire.Itwastakenbeforetheentirehost,witnessedbyeverylastman.
ThekingofIthacapokesthefirethatsitsbetweenthem.
“Shehasnotbeenharmed,youknow.Briseis.GodknowswhereAgamemnonfoundtherestraint,butsheiswellkeptandwhole.She,andyourhonor,waitonlyforyoutoreclaimthem.”
“YoumakeitsoundasifIhaveabandonedmyhonor,”Achillessays,hisvoicetartasrawwine.“Isthatwhatyouspin?AreyouAgamemnon’sspider,catchingflieswiththattale?”
“Verypoetic,”Odysseussays.“Buttomorrowwillnotbeabard’ssong.Tomorrow,theTrojanswillbreakthroughthewallandburntheships.Willyoustandbyanddonothing?”
“ThatdependsonAgamemnon.Ifhemakesrightthewronghehasdoneme,IwillchasetheTrojanstoPersia,ifyoulike.”
“Tellme,”Odysseusasks,“whyisHectornotdead?”Heholdsupahand.“Idonotseekananswer,Imerelyrepeatwhatallthemenwishtoknow.Inthelasttenyears,youcouldhavekilledhimathousandtimesover.Yetyouhavenot.Itmakesamanwonder.”
Histonetellsusthathedoesnotwonder.Thatheknowsoftheprophecy.IamgladthatthereisonlyAjaxwithhim,whowillnotunderstandtheexchange
“Youhaveekedouttenmoreyearsoflife,andIamgladforyou.Buttherestofus—”Hismouthtwists.“Therestofusareforcedtowaitforyourleisure.Youareholdingushere,Achilles.Youweregivenachoiceandyouchose.Youmustlivebyitnow.”
Westareathim.Butheisnotfinishedyet.
“Youhavemadeafairrunofblockingfate’spath.Butyoucannotdoitforever.Thegodswillnotletyou.”Hepauses,toletusheareachwordofwhathesays.“Thethreadwillrunsmooth,whetheryouchooseitornot.Itellyouasafriend,itisbettertoseekitonyourownterms,tomakeitgoatyourpace,thantheirs.”
“ThatiswhatIamdoing.”
“Verywell,”Odysseussays.“IhavesaidwhatIcametosay.”
Achillesstands.“Thenitistimeforyoutoleave.”
“Notyet.”ItisPhoinix.“I,too,havesomethingIwishtosay.”
Slowly,caughtbetweenhisprideandhisrespectfortheoldman,Achillessits.Phoenixbegins.
“Whenyouwereaboy,Achilles,yourfathergaveyoutometoraise.Yourmotherwaslonggone,andIwastheonlynurseyouwouldhave,cuttingyourmeatandteachingyoumyself.Nowyouareaman,andstillIstrivetowatchoveryou,tokeepyousafe,fromspear,andsword,andfolly.”
MyeyeslifttoAchilles,andIseethatheistensed,wary.Iunderstandwhathefears—beingplayeduponbythegentlenessofthisoldman,beingconvincedbyhiswordstogivesomethingup.Worse,asuddendoubt—thatperhaps,ifPhoinixagreeswiththesemen,heiswrong.
Theoldmanholdsupahand,asiftostopthespinofsuchthoughts.“Whateveryoudo,Iwillstandwithyou,asIalwayshave.Butbeforeyoudecideyourcourse,thereisastoryyoushouldhear.”
HedoesnotgiveAchillestimetoobject.“Inthedaysofyourfather’sfather,therewasayoungheroMeleager,whosetownofCalydonwasbesiegedbyafiercepeoplecalledtheCuretes.”
Iknowthisstory,Ithink.IheardPeleustellit,longago,whileAchillesgrinnedatmefromtheshadows.Therewasnobloodonhishandsthen,andnodeathsentenceonhishead.Anotherlife.
“InthebeginningtheCureteswerelosing,worndownbyMeleager’sskillinwar,”Phoinixcontinues.“Thenonedaytherewasaninsult,aslighttohishonorbyhisownpeople,andMeleagerrefusedtofightanyfurtheronhiscity’sbehalf.Thepeopleofferedhimgiftsandapologies,buthewouldnothearthem.Hestormedofftohisroomtoliewithhiswife,Cleopatra,andbecomforted.”
Whenhespeakshername,Phoinix’seyesflickertome.
“Atlast,whenhercitywasfallingandherfriendsdying,Cleopatracouldbearitnolonger.Shewenttobegherhusbandtofightagain.Helovedheraboveallthingsandsoagreed,andwonamightyvictoryforhispeople.Butthoughhehadsavedthem,hecametoolate.Toomanyliveshadbeenlosttohispride.Andsotheygavehimnogratitude,nogifts.Onlytheirhatredfornothavingsparedthemsooner.”
Inthesilence,IcanhearPhoinix’sbreaths,laboredwiththeexertionofspeakingsolong.Idonotdaretospeakormove;Iamafraidthatsomeonewillseethethoughtthatisplainonmyface.ItwasnothonorthatmadeMeleagerfight,orhisfriends,orvictory,orrevenge,orevenhisownlife.ItwasCleopatra,onherkneesbeforehim,herfacestreakedwithtears.HereisPhoinix’scraft:Cleopatra,Patroclus.Hernamebuiltfromthesamepiecesasmine,onlyreversed.
IfAchillesnoticed,hedoesnotshowit.Hisvoiceisgentlefortheoldman’ssake,butstillherefuses.NotuntilAgamemnongivesbackthehonorhehastakenfromme.EveninthedarknessIcanseethatOdysseusisnotsurprised.Icanalmosthearhisreporttotheothers,hishandsspreadinregret:Itried.IfAchilleshadagreed,alltothegood.Ifhedidnot,hisrefusalinthefaceofprizesandapologieswouldonlyseemlikemadness,likefuryorunreasonablepride.Theywillhatehim,justastheyhatedMeleager.
Mychesttightensinpanic,inaquickdesiretokneelbeforehimandbeg.ButIdonot.ForlikePhoinixIamdeclaredalready,decided.Iamnolongertoguidethecourse,merelytobecarried,intodarknessandbeyond,withonlyAchilles’handsatthehelm.
AjaxdoesnothaveOdysseus’equanimity—heglares,hisfacecarvedwithanger.Ithascosthimmuchtobehere,tobegforhisowndemotion.WithAchillesnotfighting,heisAristosAchaion
Whentheyaregone,IstandandgivemyarmtoPhoinix.Heistiredtonight,Icansee,andhisstepsareslow.BythetimeIleavehim—oldbonessighingontohispallet—andreturntoourtent,Achillesisalreadyasleep.
Iamdisappointed.Ihadhoped,perhaps,forconversation,fortwobodiesinonebed,forreassurancethattheAchillesIsawatdinnerwasnottheonlyone.ButIdonotrousehim;Islipfromthetentandleavehimtodream.
ICROUCHINLOOSESAND,intheshadowofasmalltent.
“Briseis?”Icallsoftly.
Thereisasilence,thenIhear:“Patroclus?”
“Yes.”
Shetugsupthesideofthetentandpullsmequicklyinside.Herfaceispinchedwithfear.“Itistoodangerousforyoutobehere.Agamemnonisinarage.Hewillkillyou.”Herwordsarearushingwhisper.
“BecauseAchillesrefusedtheembassy?”Iwhisperback.
Shenods,andinaswiftmotionsnuffsoutthetent’ssmalllamp.“Agamemnoncomesoftentolookinonme.Youarenotsafehere.”InthedarknessIcannotseetheworryonherface,buthervoiceisfilledwithit.“Youmustgo.”
“Iwillbequick.Ihavetospeakwithyou.”
“Thenwemusthideyou.Hecomeswithoutwarning.”
“Where?”Thetentissmall,bareofeverythingbutpallet,pillowsandblankets,andafewclothes.
“Thebed.”
Shepilescushionsaroundmeandheapsblankets.Sheliesdownbesideme,pullingthecoveroverusboth.Iamsurroundedbyherscent,familiarandwarm.Ipressmymouthtoherear,speakingbarelylouderthanabreath.“OdysseussaysthattomorrowtheTrojanswillbreakthewallandstormthecamp.Wemustfindaplacetohideyou.AmongtheMyrmidonsorintheforest.”
Ifeelhercheekmovingagainstmineassheshakesherhead.“Icannot.Thatisthefirstplacehewilllook.Itwillonlymakemoretrouble.Iwillbeallrighthere.”
“Butwhatiftheytakethecamp?”
“IwillsurrendertoAeneas,Hector’scousin,ifIcan.Heisknowntobeapiousman,andhisfatherlivedasashepherdforatimenearmyvillage.IfIcannot,IwillfindHectororanyofthesonsofPriam.”
Iamshakingmyhead.“Itistoodangerous.Youmustnotexposeyourself.”
“Idonotthinktheywillhurtme.Iamoneofthem,afterall.”
Ifeelsuddenlyfoolish.TheTrojansareliberatorstoher,notinvaders.“Ofcourse,”Isayquickly.“Youwillbefree,then.Youwillwanttobewithyour—”
“Briseis!”Thetentflapisdrawnbackwards,andAgamemnonstandsinthedoorway.
“Yes?”Shesitsup,carefultokeeptheblanketoverme.
“Wereyouspeaking?”
“Praying,mylord.”
“Lyingdown?”
ThroughthethickweaveofwoolIcanseetheglowoftorchlight.Hisvoiceisloud,asifheisstandingbesideus.Iwillmyselfnottomove.ShewillbepunishedifIamcaughthere.
“Itishowmymothertaughtme,mylord.Isitnotright?”
“Youshouldhavebeentaughtbetterbynow.Didnotthegodlingcorrectyou?”
“No,mylord.”
“Iofferedyoubacktohimtonight,buthedidnotwantyou.”Icanheartheuglytwistinhiswords.“Ifhekeepssayingno,perhapsIwillclaimyouformyself.”
Myfistsclench.ButBriseisonlysays,“Yes,mylord.”
Ihearthefallofcloth,andthelightdisappears.Idonotmove,norbreatheuntilBriseisreturnsbeneaththecovers.
“Youcannotstayhere,”Isay.
“Itisallright.Heonlythreatens.Helikestoseemeafraid.”
Thematter-of-factnessinhertonehorrifiesme.HowcanIleavehertothis,theleering,andlonelytent,andbraceletsthickasmanacles?ButifIstay,sheisingreaterdanger.
“Imustgo,”Isay.
“Wait.”Shetouchesmyarm.“Themen—”Shehesitates.“TheyareangrywithAchilles.Theyblamehimfortheirlosses.Agamemnonsendshispeopleamongthemtostiruptalk.Theyhavealmostforgottenabouttheplague.Thelongerhedoesnotfight,themoretheywillhatehim.”Itismyworstfear,Phoinix’sstorycometolife.“Willhenotfight?”
“NotuntilAgamemnonapologizes.”
Shebitesherlip.“TheTrojans,too.Thereisnoonethattheyfearmore,orhatemore.Theywillkillhimiftheycantomorrow,andallwhoaredeartohim.Youmustbecareful.”
“Hewillprotectme.”
“Iknowhewill,”shesays,“aslongashelives.ButevenAchillesmaynotbeabletofightHectorandSarpedonboth.”Shehesitatesagain.“Ifthecampfalls,Iwillclaimyouasmyhusband.Itmayhelpsome.Youmustnotspeakofwhatyouweretohim,though.Itwillbeadeathsentence.”Herhandhastightenedonmyarm.“Promiseme.”
“Briseis,”Isay,“ifheisdead,Iwillnotbefarbehind.”
Shepressesmyhandtohercheek.“Thenpromisemesomethingelse,”shesays.“Promisemethatwhateverhappens,youwillnotleaveTroywithoutme.Iknowthatyoucannot—”Shebreaksoff.“Iwouldratherliveasyoursisterthanremainhere.”
“Thatisnothingthatyouhavetobindmeto,”Isay.“Iwouldnotleaveyou,ifyouwishedtocome.Itgrievedmebeyondmeasuretothinkofthewarendingtomorrow,andneverseeingyouagain.”
Thesmileisthickinherthroat.“Iamglad.”IdonotsaythatIdonotthinkIwilleverleaveTroy.
Idrawhertome,fillmyarmswithher.Shelaysherheaduponmychest.ForamomentwedonotthinkofAgamemnonanddangeranddyingGreeks.Thereisonlyhersmallhandonmystomach,andthesoftnessofhercheekasIstrokeit.Itisstrangehowwellshefitsthere.HoweasilyItouchmylipstoherhair,softandsmellingoflavender.Shesighsalittle,nestlescloser.Almost,Icanimaginethatthisismylife,heldinthesweetcircleofherarms.Iwouldmarryher,andwewouldhaveachild.
PerhapsifIhadneverknownAchilles
“Ishouldgo,”Isay.
Shedrawsdowntheblanket,releasingmeintotheair.Shecupsmyfaceinherhands.“Becarefultomorrow,”shesays.“Bestofmen.BestoftheMyrmidons.”Sheplacesherfingerstomylips,stoppingmyobjection.“Itistruth,”shesays.“Letitstand,foronce.”Thensheleadsmetothesideofhertent,helpsmeslipbeneaththecanvas.ThelastthingIfeelisherhand,squeezingmineinfarewell.
THATNIGHTILIEINBEDbesideAchilles.Hisfaceisinnocent,sleep-smoothedandsweetlyboyish.Ilovetoseeit.Thisishistruestself,earnestandguileless,fullofmischiefbutwithoutmalice.HeislostinAgamemnonandOdysseus’wilydoublemeanings,theirliesandgamesofpower.Theyhaveconfoundedhim,tiedhimtoastakeandbaitedhim.Istrokethesoftskinofhisforehead.IwoulduntiehimifIcould.Ifhewouldletme.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
WEWAKETOSHOUTSANDTHUNDER,ASTORMTHAThasburstfromtheblueofthesky.Thereisnorain,onlythegrayair,cracklinganddry,andjaggedstreaksthatstrikeliketheclapofgianthands.Wehurrytothetentdoortolookout.Smoke,acridanddark,isdriftingupthebeachtowardsus,carryingthesmelloflightning-detonatedearth.Theattackhasbegun,andZeusiskeepinghisbargain,punctuatingtheTrojans’advancewithcelestialencouragement.Wefeelapounding,deepintheground—achargeofchariots,perhaps,ledbyhugeSarpedon.
Achilles’handgripsmine,hisfacestilled.ThisisthefirsttimeintenyearsthattheTrojanshaveeverthreatenedthegate,haveeverpushedsofaracrosstheplain.Iftheybreakthroughthewall,theywillburntheships—ouronlywayofgettinghome,theonlythingthatmakesusanarmyinsteadofrefugees.ThisisthemomentthatAchillesandhismotherhavesummoned:theGreeks,routedanddesperate,withouthim.Thesudden,incontrovertibleproofofhisworth.Butwhenwillitbeenough?Whenwillheintervene?
“Never,”hesays,whenIaskhim.“NeveruntilAgamemnonbegsmyforgivenessorHectorhimselfwalksintomycampandthreatenswhatisdeartome.IhaveswornIwillnot.”
“WhatifAgamemnonisdead?”
“Bringmehisbody,andIwillfight.”Hisfaceiscarvedandunmovable,likethestatueofasterngod.
“Doyounotfearthatthemenwillhateyou?”
“TheyshouldhateAgamemnon.Itishispridethatkillsthem.”
Andyours.ButIknowthelookonhisface,thedarkrecklessnessofhiseyes.Hewillnotyield.Hedoesnotknowhow.Ihavelivedeighteenyearswithhim,andhehasneverbackeddown,neverlost.Whatwillhappenifheisforcedto?Iamafraidforhim,andforme,andforallofus.
Wedressandeat,andAchillesspeaksbravelyofthefuture.Hetalksoftomorrow,whenperhapswewillswim,orscrambleupthebaretrunksofstickycypresses,orwatchforthehatchingofthesea-turtleeggs,evennowincubatingbeneaththesun-warmedsand.Butmymindkeepsslippingfromhiswords,draggeddownwardsbytheseepinggrayofthesky,bythesandchilledandpallidasacorpse,andthedistant,dyingshrieksofmenwhomIknow.Howmanymorebyday’send?
Iwatchhimstaringovertheocean.Itisunnaturallystill,asifThetisisholdingherbreath.Hiseyesaredarkanddilatedbythedimovercastofthemorning.Theflameofhishairlicksagainsthisforehead.
“Whoisthat?”heasks,suddenly.Downthebeach,adistantfigureisbeingcarriedonastretchertothewhitetent.Someoneimportant;thereisacrowdaroundhim.
Iseizeontheexcuseformotion,distraction.“Iwillgosee.”
Outsidetheremoveofourcamp,thesoundsofbattlegrowlouder:piercingscreamsofhorsesimpaledonthestakesofthetrench,thedesperateshoutsofthecommanders,theclangorofmetalonmetal.
Podaleriusshoulderspastmeintothewhitetent.Theairisthickwiththesmellofherbsandblood,fearandsweat.Nestorloomsupatmefrommyright,hishandclampingaroundmyshoulder,chillingthroughmytunic.Hescreeches,“Wearelost!Thewallisbreaking!”
BehindhimMachaonliespantingonapallet,hislegaspreadingpoolofbloodfromtheraggedprickofanarrow.Podaleriusisbentoverhim,alreadyworking.
Machaonseesme.“Patroclus,”hesays,gaspingalittle.
Igotohim.“Willyoubeallright?”
“Cannottellyet.Ithink—”Hebreaksoff,hiseyessqueezedshut.
“Donottalktohim,”Podaleriussays,sharply.Hishandsarecoveredinhisbrother’sblood.
Nestor’svoicerushesonward,listingwoeafterwoe:thewallsplintering,andtheshipsindanger,andsomanywoundedkings—Diomedes,Agamemnon,Odysseus,strewnaboutthecamplikecrumpledtunics.
Machaon’seyesopen.“CanyounotspeaktoAchilles?”hesays,hoarsely.“Please.Forallofus.”
“Yes!Phthiamustcometoouraid,orwearelost!”Nestor’sfingersdigintomyflesh,andmyfaceisdampwiththepanickedsprayofhislips.
Myeyesclose.IamrememberingPhoinix’sstory,theimageoftheCalydonianskneelingbeforeCleopatra,coveringherhandsandfeetwiththeirtears.Inmyimaginationshedoesnotlookatthem,onlylendsthemherhandsasifperhapstheywereclothstowipetheirstreamingeyes.SheiswatchingherhusbandMeleagerforhisanswer,thesetofhismouththattellsherwhatshemustsay:“No.”
Iyankmyselffromtheoldman’sclingingfingers.Iamdesperatetoescapethesoursmelloffearthathassettledlikeashovereverything.IturnfromMachaon’spain-twistedfaceandtheoldman’soutstretchedhandsandfleefromthetent.
AsIstepoutsidethereisaterriblecracking,likeaship’shulltearingapart,likeagianttreesmashingtoearth.Thewall.Screamsfollow,oftriumphandterror
Allaroundmearemencarryingfallencomrades,limpingonmakeshiftcrutches,orcrawlingthroughthesand,draggingbrokenlimbsbehindthem.Iknowthem—theirtorsosfullofscarsmyointmentshavepackedandsealed.Theirfleshthatmyfingershavecleanedofironandbronzeandblood.Theirfacesthathavejoked,thanked,grimacedasIworkedoverthem.Nowthesemenareruinedagain,pulpywithbloodandsplitbone.Becauseofhim.Becauseofme.
Aheadofme,ayoungmanstrugglestostandonanarrow-piercedleg.Eurypylus,princeofThessaly.
Idonotstoptothink.Iwindmyarmunderhisshoulderandcarryhimtohistent.Heishalf-deliriouswithpain,butheknowsme.“Patroclus,”hemanages.
Ikneelbeforehim,hisleginmyhands.“Eurypylus,”Isay.“Canyouspeak?”
“FuckingParis,”hesays.“Myleg.”Thefleshisswollenandtorn.Iseizemydaggerandbegintowork.
Hegritshisteeth.“Idon’tknowwhoIhatemore,theTrojansorAchilles.Sarpedontorethewallapartwithhisbarehands.Ajaxheldthemoffaslongashecould.They’reherenow,”hesays,panting.“Inthecamp.”
Mychestclutchesinpanicathiswords,andIfighttheurgetobolt.Itrytofocusonwhatisbeforeme:easingthearrowpointfromhisleg,bindingthewound.
“Hurry,”hesays,thewordslurring.“Ihavetogoback.They’llburntheships.”
“Youcannotgooutagain,”Isay.“Youhavelosttoomuchblood.”
“No,”hesays.Buthisheadslumpsbackwards;heisontheedgeofunconsciousness.Hewilllive,ornot,bythewillofthegods.IhavedoneallIcan.Itakeabreathandstepoutside.
Twoshipsareonfire,thelongfingersoftheirmastslitbyTrojantorches.Pressedagainstthehullsisacrushofmen,screaming,desperate,leapingtothedeckstobeatattheflames.TheonlyoneIcanrecognizeisAjax,legswidespreadonAgamemnon’sprow,amassiveshadowoutlinedagainstthesky.Heignoresthefire,hisspearstabbingdownwardsattheTrojanhandsthatswarmlikefeedingfish.
AsIstandthere,frozenandstaring,Iseeasuddenhand,reachingabovethemeleetogripthesharpnoseofaship.Andthenthearmbeneathit,sureandstronganddark,andthehead,andthewide-shoulderedtorsobreakstoairlikedolphin-backfromtheboilingmenbeneath.AndnowHector’swholebrownbodytwistsalonebeforetheblanknessofseaandsky,hungbetweenairandearth.Hisfaceissmoothed,atpeace,hiseyeslifted—amaninprayer,amanseekinggod.Hehangsthereamoment,themusclesinhisarmknottedandflexed,hisarmorliftingonhisshoulders,showinghipboneslikethecarvedcorniceofatemple.Thenhisotherhandswingsabrighttorchtowardstheship’swoodendeck.
Itiswellthrown,landingamidold,rottingropesandfallensail.Theflamescatchimmediately,skitteringalongtherope,thenkindlingthewoodbeneath.Hectorsmiles.Andwhyshouldhenot?Heiswinning.
Ajaxscreamsinfrustration—atanothershipinflames,atthementhatleapinpanicfromthecharringdecks,atHectorslitheringoutofreach,vanishingbackintothecrowdbelow.Hisstrengthisallthatkeepsthemenfromutterlybreaking.
Andthenaspearpointflashesupfrombeneath,silverasfish-scaleinsunlight.Itflickers,almosttoofasttosee,andsuddenlyAjax’sthighbloomsbright-red.IhaveworkedlongenoughinMachaon’stenttoknowthatithasslicedthroughmuscle.Hiskneeswaveramoment,bucklingslowly.Hefalls.
ChapterThirty
ACHILLESWATCHEDMEAPPROACH,RUNNINGSOHARDmybreathscarriedthetasteofbloodontomytongue.Iwept,mychestshaking,mythroatrubbedraw.Hewouldbehatednow.Noonewouldrememberhisglory,orhishonesty,orhisbeauty;allhisgoldwouldbeturnedtoashesandruin.
“Whathashappened?”heasked.Hisbrowwasdrawndeepinconcern.Didhetrulynotknow?
“Theyaredying,”Ichokedout.“Allofthem.TheTrojansareinthecamp;theyareburningtheships.Ajaxiswounded,thereisnooneleftbutyoutosavethem.”
HisfacehadgonecoldasIspoke.“Iftheyaredying,itisAgamemnon’sfault.Itoldhimwhatwouldhappenifhetookmyhonor.”
“Lastnightheoffered—”
Hemadeanoiseinhisthroat.“Heofferednothing.Sometripods,somearmor.Nothingtomakerighthisinsult,ortoadmithiswrong.Ihavesavedhimtimeandagain,hisarmy,hislife.”Hisvoicewasthickwithbarelyrestrainedanger.“Odysseusmaylickhisboots,andDiomedes,andalltherest,butIwillnot.”
“Heisadisgrace.”Iclutchedathim,likeachild.“Iknowit,andallthemenknowittoo.Youmustforgethim.Itisasyousaid;hewilldoomhimself.Butdonotblamethemforhisfault.Donotletthemdie,becauseofhismadness.Theyhavelovedyou,andhonoredyou.”
“Honoredme?NotoneofthemstoodwithmeagainstAgamemnon.Notoneofthemspokeforme.”Thebitternessinhistoneshockedme.“Theystoodbyandlethiminsultme.Asifhewereright!Itoiledforthemfortenyears,andtheirrepaymentistodiscardme.”Hiseyeshadgonedarkanddistant.“Theyhavemadetheirchoice.Ishednotearsforthem.”
Fromdownthebeachthecrackofamastfalling.Thesmokewasthickernow.Moreshipsonfire.Moremendead.Theywouldbecursinghim,damninghimtothedarkestchainsofourunderworld.
“Theywerefoolish,yes,buttheyarestillourpeople!”
“TheMyrmidonsareourpeople.Therestcansavethemselves.”Hewouldhavewalkedaway,butIheldhimtome.
“Youaredestroyingyourself.Youwillnotbelovedforthis,youwillbehated,andcursed.Please,ifyou—”
“Patroclus.”Thewordwassharp,ashehadneverspokenit.Hiseyesboredownonme,hisvoicelikethejudge’ssentence.“Iwillnotdothis.Donotaskagain.”
Istaredathim,straightasaspearstabbingthesky.Icouldnotfindthewordsthatwouldreachhim.Perhapstherewerenone.Thegraysand,thegraysky,andmymouth,parchedandbare.Itfeltliketheendofallthings.Hewouldnotfight.Themenwoulddie,andhishonorwithit.Nomitigation,nomercy.Yet,still,mymindscrabbledinits
Iknelt,andpressedhishandstomyface.Mycheeksflowedwithtearsunending,likewateroverdarkrock.“Formethen,”Isaid.“Savethemforme.IknowwhatIamaskingofyou.ButIaskit.Forme.”
Helookeddownatme,andIsawthepullmywordshadonhim,thestruggleinhiseyes.Heswallowed.
“Anythingelse,”hesaid.“Anything.Butnotthis.Icannot.”
Ilookedatthestoneofhisbeautifulface,anddespaired.“Ifyouloveme—”
“No!”Hisfacewasstiffwithtension.“Icannot!IfIyield,Agamemnoncandishonormewheneverhewishes.Thekingswillnotrespectme,northemen!”Hewasbreathless,asthoughhehadrunfar.“DoyouthinkIwishthemalltodie?ButIcannot.Icannot!Iwillnotlethimtakethisfromme!”
“Thendosomethingelse.SendtheMyrmidonsatleast.Sendmeinyourplace.Putmeinyourarmor,andIwillleadtheMyrmidons.Theywillthinkitisyou.”Thewordsshockedusboth.Theyseemedtocomethroughme,notfromme,asthoughspokenstraightfromagod’smouth.YetIseizedonthem,asadrowningman.“Doyousee?Youwillnothavetobreakyouroath,yettheGreekswillbesaved.”
Hestaredatme.“Butyoucannotfight,”hesaid.
“Iwillnothaveto!Theyaresofrightenedofyou,ifIshowmyself,theywillrun.”
“No,”hesaid.“Itistoodangerous.”
“Please.”Igrippedhim.“Itisn’t.Iwillbeallright.Iwon’tgonearthem.Automedonwillbewithme,andtherestoftheMyrmidons.Ifyoucannotfight,youcannot.Butsavethemthisway.Letmedothis.Yousaidyouwouldgrantmeanythingelse.”
“But—”
Ididnotlethimanswer.“Think!Agamemnonwillknowyoudefyhimstill,butthemenwillloveyou.Thereisnofamegreaterthanthis—youwillprovetothemallthatyourphantomismorepowerfulthanAgamemnon’swholearmy.”
Hewaslistening.
“Itwillbeyourmightynamethatsavesthem,notyourspeararm.TheywilllaughatAgamemnon’sweakness,then.Doyousee?”
Iwatchedhiseyes,sawthereluctancegivingway,inchbyinch.Hewasimaginingit,theTrojansfleeingfromhisarmor,outflankingAgamemnon.Themen,fallingathisfeetingratitude.
Hehelduphishand.“Sweartome,”hesaid.“Sweartomethatifyougo,youwillnotfightthem.YouwillstaywithAutomedoninthechariotandlettheMyrmidonsgoinfrontofyou.”
“Yes.”Ipressedmyhandtohis.“Ofcourse.Iamnotmad.Tofrightenthem,thatisall.”Iwasdrenchedandgiddy.Ihadfoundawaythroughtheendlesscorridorsofhisprideandfury.Iwouldsavethemen;Iwouldsavehimfromhimself.“Youwillletme?”
Hehesitatedanothermoment,hisgreeneyessearchingmine.Then,slowly,henodded.
ACHILLESKNELT,bucklingmein,hisfingerssoswiftthatIcouldnotfollowthem,onlyfeelthequick,pullingcinchesoftighteningbelts.Bitbybit,heassembledme:thebronzebreastplateandgreaves,tightagainstmyskin,theleatherunderskirt.Asheworked,heinstructedmeinavoicethatwaslowandquickandconstant.Imustnotfight,ImustnotleaveAutomedon,northeotherMyrmidons.Iwastostayinthechariotandfleeatthefirstsignofdanger;IcouldchasetheTrojansbacktoTroybutnottrytofightthemthere.Andmostofall,mostofall,Imuststayawayfromthewallsofthecityandthearchersthatperchedthere,readytopickoffGreekswhocametooclose.
“Itwillnotbelikebefore,”hesaid.“WhenIamthere.”
“Iknow.”Ishiftedmyshoulders.Thearmorwasstiffandheavyandunyielding.“IfeellikeDaphne,”Itoldhim,barkedupinhernewlaurelskin.Hedidnotlaugh,onlyhandedmetwospears,pointspolishedandgleaming.Itookthem,thebloodbeginningtorushinmyears.Hewasspeakingagain,moreadvice,butIdidnothearit.Iwaslisteningtothedrumbeatofmyownimpatientheart.“Hurry,”Iremembersaying.
Last,thehelmettocovermydarkhair.Heturnedapolishedbronzemirrortowardsme.IstaredatmyselfinarmorIknewaswellasmyownhands,thecrestonthehelmet,thesilveredswordhangingfromthewaist,thebaldricofhammeredgold.Allofitunmistakable,andinstantlyrecognizable.Onlymyeyesfeltlikemyown,largeranddarkerthanhis.Hekissedme,catchingmeupinasoft,openedwarmththatbreathedsweetnessintomythroat.ThenhetookmyhandandwewentoutsidetotheMyrmidons.
Theywerelinedup,armoredandsuddenlyfearsome,theirlayersofmetalflashinglikethebrightwingsofcicadas.Achillesledmetothechariotalreadyyokedtoitsthree-horseteam—don’tleavethechariot,don’tthrowyourspears—andIunderstoodthathewasafraidthatIwouldgivemyselfawayifIactuallyfought.“Iwillbeallright,”Itoldhim.Andturnedmyback,tofitmyselfintothechariot,tosettlemyspearsandsetmyfeet.
Behindme,hespokeamomenttotheMyrmidons,wavingahandoverhisshoulderatthesmokingdecksofships,theblackashthatswarmedupwardstothesky,andtheroilingmassofbodiesthattussledattheirhulls.“Bringhimbacktome,”hetoldthem.Theynoddedandclatteredtheirspearsontheirshieldsinapproval.Automedonsteppedinfrontofme,takingthereins.Weallknewwhythechariotwasnecessary.IfIrandownthebeach,mystepswouldneverbemistakenforhis.
Thehorsessnortedandblew,feelingtheircharioteerbehindthem.Thewheelsgavealittlelurch,andIstaggered,myspearsrattling.“Balancethem,”hetoldme.“Itwillbeeasier.”EveryonewaitedasIawkwardlytransferredonespeartomylefthand,swipingmyhelmetaskewasIdidso.Ireacheduptofixit.
“Iwillbefine,”Itoldhim.Myself.
“Areyouready?”Automedonasked.
ItookalastlookatAchilles,standingbythesideofthechariot,almostforlorn.Ireachedforhishand,andhegrippedit.“Becareful,”hesaid.
“Iwill.”
Therewasmoretosay,butforoncewedidnotsayit.Therewouldbeothertimesforspeaking,tonightandtomorrowandallthedaysafterthat.Heletgoofmyhand.
IturnedbacktoAutomedon.“I’mready,”Itoldhim.Thechariotbegantoroll,Automedonguidingittowardsthepackedsandnearerthesurf.Ifeltwhenwereachedit,thewheelscatching,thecarsmoothingout.Weturnedtowardstheships,pickingupspeed.Ifeltthewindsnatchatmycrest,andIknewthatthehorsehairwasstreamingbehindme.Iliftedmyspears.
AutomedoncroucheddownlowsothatIwouldbeseenfirst.Sandflewfromourchurningwheels,andtheMyrmidonsclatteredbehindus.Mybreathshadbeguntocomeingasps,andIgrippedthespear-shaftstillmyfingershurt.WeflewpasttheemptytentsofIdomeneusandDiomedes,aroundthebeach’scurve.And,finally,thefirstclumpsofmen.Theirfacesblurredby,butIheardtheirshoutsofrecognitionandsuddenjoy.“Achilles!ItisAchilles!”Ifeltafierceandfloodingrelief.Itisworking.
Now,twohundredpacesaway,rushingtowardsme,weretheshipsandthearmies,headsturningatthenoiseofourwheelsandtheMyrmidonfeetbeatinginunisonagainstthesand.Itookabreathandsquaredmyshouldersinsidethegripofmy—his—armor.Andthen,headtiltedback,spearraised,feetbracedagainstthesidesofthechariot,prayingthatwewouldnothitabumpthatwouldthrowme,Iscreamed,awildfrenziedsoundthatshookmywholebody.Athousandfaces,TrojanandGreek,turnedtomeinfrozenshockandjoy.Withacrash,wewereamongthem.
Iscreamedagain,hisnameboilingupoutofmythroat,andheardanansweringcryfromtheembattledGreeks,ananimalhowlofhope.TheTrojansbegantobreakapartbeforeme,scramblingbackwardswithgratifyingterror.Ibaredmyteethintriumph,bloodfloodingmyveins,thefiercenessofmypleasureasIsawthemrun.ButtheTrojanswerebravemen,andnotallofthemran.Myhandlifted,heftingmyspearinthreat.
Perhapsitwasthearmor,moldingme.Perhapsitwastheyearsofwatchinghim.Butthepositionmyshoulderfoundwasnottheoldwobblingawkwardness.Itwashigher,stronger,aperfectbalance.Andthen,beforeIcouldthinkaboutwhatIdid,Ithrew—alongstraightspiralintothebreastofaTrojan.ThetorchthathehadbeenwavingatIdomeneus’shipslippedandgutteredinthesandashisbodypitchedbackwards.Ifhebled,ifhisskullsplittoshowhisbrain,Ididnotseeit.Dead,Ithought.
Automedon’smouthwasmoving,hiseyeswide.Achillesdoesnotwantyoutofight,Iguessedhewassaying.Butalreadymyotherspearhefteditselfintomyhand.Icandothis.Thehorsesveeredagain,andmenscatteredfromourpath.Thatfeelingagain,ofpurebalance,oftheworldpoisedandwaiting.MyeyecaughtonaTrojan,andIthrew,feelingtheswipeofwoodagainstmythumb.Hefell,piercedthroughthethighinablowIknewhadshatteredbone.Two.AllaroundmemenscreamedAchilles’name.
IgrippedAutomedon’sshoulder.“Anotherspear.”Hehesitatedamoment,thenpulledonthereins,slowingsoIcouldleanoverthesideoftherattlingchariottoclaimonestuckinabody.Theshaftseemedtoleapintomyhand.Myeyeswerealreadysearchingforthenextface.
TheGreeksbegantorally—Menelauskillingamanbesideme,oneofNestor’ssonsbanginghisspearagainstmychariotasifforluckbeforehethrewataTrojanprince’shead.Desperately,theTrojansscrambledfortheirchariots,infullretreat.Hectorranamongthem,cryingoutfororder.Hegainedhischariot,begantoleadthementothegate,andthenoverthenarrowcausewaythatbridgedthetrench,andontotheplainbeyond.
“Go!Followthem!”
Automedon’sfacewasfullofreluctance,butheobeyed,turningthehorsesinpursuit.Igrabbedmorespearsfrombodies—half-draggingafewcorpsesbehindmebeforeIcouldjerkthepointsfree—andchasedtheTrojanchariotsnowchokingthedoor.Isawtheirdriverslookingbackfearfully,frantically,atAchillesrebornphoenix-likefromhissulkingrage.
NotallthehorseswereasnimbleasHector’s,andmanypanickedchariotsskiddedoffthecausewaytofounderinthetrench,leavingtheirdriverstofleeonfoot.Wefollowed,Achilles’godlikehorsesracingwiththeirlegsoutflungintothepalmoftheair.Imighthavestoppedthen,withtheTrojansscatteringbacktotheircity.ButtherewasalineofralliedGreeksbehindmescreamingmyname.Hisname.Ididnotstop.
Ipointed,andAutomedonsweptthehorsesoutinanarc,lashingthemonward.WepassedthefleeingTrojansandcurvedaroundtomeetthemastheyran.Myspearsaimed,andaimedagain,splittingopenbelliesandthroats,lungsandhearts.Iamrelentless,unerring,skirtingbucklesandbronzetotearfleshthatspillsredlikethejaggedpuncture
Fromtheroilingmeleeburstsachariot.Thedriverishuge,hislonghairflyingbehindashelasheshishorsestofoamandfroth.Hisdarkeyesarefixedonme,hismouthtwistedinrage.Hisarmorfitshimliketheskinfitstheseal.ItisSarpedon.
Hisarmlifts,toaimhisspearatmyheart.Automedonscreamssomething,yanksatthereins.Thereisabreathofwindovermyshoulder.Thespear’ssharppointburiesitselfinthegroundbehindme.
Sarpedonshouts,curseorchallengeIdonotknow.Iheftmyspear,asifinadream.ThisisthemanwhohaskilledsomanyGreeks.Itwashishandsthattoreopenthegate.
“No!”Automedoncatchesatmyarm.Withhisotherhandhelashesthehorses,andwetearupthefield.Sarpedonturnshischariot,anglingitaway,andforamomentIthinkhehasgivenup.Thenheanglesinagainandliftshisspear.
Theworldexplodes.Thechariotbucksintotheair,andthehorsesscream.Iamthrownontothegrass,andmyheadsmackstheground.Myhelmetfallsforwardintomyeyes,andIshoveitback.Iseeourhorses,tangledineachother;onehasfallen,piercedwithaspear.IdonotseeAutomedon.
FromafarSarpedoncomes,hischariotdrivingrelentlesslytowardsme.Thereisnotimetoflee;Istandtomeethim.Iliftmyspear,grippingitasthoughitisasnakeIwillstrangle.IimaginehowAchilleswoulddoit,feetplantedtoearth,backmusclestwisting.Hewouldseeagapinthatimpenetrablearmor,orhewouldmakeone.ButIamnotAchilles.WhatIseeissomethingelse,myonlychance.Theyarealmostuponme.Icastthespear.
Ithitshisbelly,wherethearmorplateisthick.Butthegroundisuneven,andIhavethrownitwithallofmystrength.Itdoesnotpiercehim,butitknockshimbackasinglestep.Itisenough.Hisweighttiltsthechariot,andhetumblesfromit.Thehorsesplungepastmeandleavehimbehind,motionlessontheground.Iclutchmysword-hilt,terrifiedthathewillriseandkillme;thenIseetheunnatural,brokenangleofhisneck.
IhavekilledasonofZeus,butitisnotenough.TheymustthinkitisAchilleswhohasdoneit.ThedusthasalreadysettledonSarpedon’slonghair,likepollenontheundersideofabee.Iretrievemyspearandstabitdownwithallmystrengthintohischest.Thebloodspurts,butweakly.Thereisnoheartbeattopushitforward.WhenIpullthespearout,itdislodgesslowly,likeabulbfromcrackingearth.Thatiswhattheywillthinkhaskilledhim.
Iheartheshouts,menswarmingtowardsme,inchariotsandonfoot.Lycians,whoseethebloodoftheirkingonmyspear.Automedon’shandseizesmyshoulder,andhedragsmeontothechariot.Hehascutthedeadhorsefree,rightedthewheels.Heisgasping,whitewithfear.“Wemustgo.”
Automedongivestheeagerhorsestheirhead,andweraceacrossthefieldsfromthepursuingLycians.Thereisawild,irontasteinmymouth.IdonotevennoticehowcloseIhavecometodeath.Myheadbuzzeswitharedsavagery,bloominglikethebloodfromSarpedon’schest.
Inourescape,AutomedonhasdrivenusclosetoTroy.Thewallsloomupatme,hugecutstones,supposedlysettledbythehandsofgods,andthegates,giantandblackwitholdbronze.Achilleshadwarnedmetobewareofarchersonthetowers,butthechargeandrouthashappenedsoquickly,noonehasreturnedyet.Troyisutterlyunguarded.Achildcouldtakeitnow.
ThethoughtofTroy’sfallpiercesmewithviciouspleasure.Theydeservetolosetheircity.Itistheirfault,allofit.Wehavelosttenyears,andsomanymen,andAchilleswilldie,becauseofthem.Nomore
Ileapfromthechariotandruntothewalls.Myfingersfindslighthollowsinthestone,likeblindeye-sockets.Climb.Myfeetseekinfinitesimalchipsinthegod-cutrocks.Iamnotgraceful,butscrabbling,myhandsclawingagainstthestonebeforetheycling.YetIamclimbing.Iwillcracktheiruncrackablecity,andcaptureHelen,thepreciousgoldyolkwithin.Iimaginedraggingheroutundermyarm,dumpingherbeforeMenelaus.Done.Nomoremenwillhavetodieforhervanity.
Patroclus.Avoicelikemusic,aboveme.Ilookuptoseeamanleaningonthewallsasifsunning,darkhairtohisshoulders,aquiverandbowslungcasuallyaroundhistorso.Startled,Islipalittle,mykneesscrapingtherock.Heispiercinglybeautiful,smoothskinandafinelycutfacethatglowswithsomethingmorethanhuman.Blackeyes.Apollo
Hesmiles,asifthiswasallhehadwanted,myrecognition.Thenhereachesdown,hisarmimpossiblyspanningthelongdistancebetweenmyclingingformandhisfeet.Iclosemyeyesandfeelonlythis:afinger,hookingthebackofmyarmor,pluckingmeoffanddroppingmebelow.
Ilandheavily,myarmorclattering.Mymindblursalittlefromtheimpact,fromthefrustrationoffindingthegroundsosuddenlybeneathme.IthoughtIwasclimbing.Butthereisthewallbeforeme,stubbornlyunclimbed.Isetmyjawandbeginagain;Iwillnotletitdefeatme.Iamdelirious,feveredwithmydreamofHelencaptiveinmyarms
MYHEADCRACKSthegroundagain,leavingmestunnedandbreathless.Aroundmeablurringcrowdoffacesgathers.Havetheycometohelpme?AndthenIfeel:thepricklingchillofairagainstmysweat-dampenedforehead,thelooseningofmydarkhair,freedatlast.Myhelmet.Iseeitbesideme,overturnedlikeanemptysnailshell.Myarmor,too,hasbeenshakenloose,allthosestrapsthatAchilleshadtied,undonebythegod.Itfallsfromme,scatteringtheearth,theremnantsofmysplit,spiltshell.
Thefrozensilenceisbrokenbythehoarse,angryscreamsofTrojans.Mymindstartlestolife:Iamunarmedandalone,andtheyknowIamonlyPatroclus.
Run.Ilungetomyfeet.Aspearflashesout,justabreathtooslow.Itgrazestheskinofmycalf,marksitwithalineofred.Itwistawayfromareachinghand,paniclooseandbanginginmychest.ThroughthehazeofterrorIseeamanlevelingaspearatmyface.SomehowIamquickenough,anditpassesoverme,rufflingmyhairlikealover’sbreath.Aspearstabstowardsmyknees,meanttotripme.Ileapit,shockedIamnotdeadalready.Ihaveneverbeensofastinallmylife.
ThespearthatIdonotseecomesfrombehind.Itpiercestheskinofmyback,breaksagaintoairbeneathmyribs.Istumble,drivenforwardbytheblow’sforce,bytheshockoftearingpainandtheburningnumbnessinmybelly.Ifeelatug,andthespearpointisgone.Thebloodgusheshotonmychilledskin.IthinkIscream.
TheTrojanfaceswaver,andIfall.Mybloodrunsthroughmyfingersandontothegrass.Thecrowdparts,andIseeamanwalkingtowardsme.Heseemstocomefromagreatdistance,todescend,somehow,asifIlayinthebottomofadeepravine.Iknowhim.Hipboneslikethecorniceofatemple,hisbrowfurrowedandstern.Hedoesnotlookatthemenwhosurroundhim;hewalksasifhewerealoneonthebattlefield.Heiscomingtokillme.Hector
Mybreathsareshallowgaspsthatfeellikenewwoundstearing.Remembrancedrumsinme,likethepulse-beatofbloodinmyears.Hecannotkillme.Hemustnot.Achilleswillnotlethimliveifhedoes.AndHectormustlive,always;hemustneverdie,notevenwhenheisold,notevenwhenheissowitheredthathisbonesslidebeneathhisskinlikelooserocksinastream.Hemustlive,becausehislife,IthinkasIscrapebackwardsoverthegrass,isthefinaldambeforeAchilles’ownbloodwillflow.
Desperately,Iturntothemenaroundmeandscrabbleattheirknees.Please,Icroak.Please.
Buttheywillnotlook;theyarewatchingtheirprince,Priam’seldestson,andhisinexorablestepstowardsme.Myheadjerksback,andIseethatheisclosenow,hisspearraised.TheonlysoundIhearismyownheavinglungs,airpumpedintomychestandpushedfromit.Hector’sspearliftsoverme,tippinglikeapitcher.Andthenitfalls,aspillofbrightsilver,towardsme.
No.Myhandsflurryintheairlikestartledbirds,tryingtohaltthespear’srelentlessmovementtowardsmybelly.ButIamweakasababyagainstHector’sstrength,andmypalmsgiveway,unspoolinginribbonsofred.Thespearheadsubmergesinasearofpainsogreatthatmybreathstops,aboilofagonythatburstsovermywholestomach.Myheaddropsbackagainsttheground,andthelastimageIseeisofHector,leaningseriouslyoverme,twistinghisspearinsidemeasifheisstirringapot.ThelastthingIthinkis:Achilles
ChapterThirty-One
ACHILLESSTANDSONTHERIDGEWATCHINGTHEDARKshapesofbattlemovingacrossthefieldofTroy.Hecannotmakeoutfacesorindividualforms.ThechargetowardsTroylookslikethetidecomingin;theglintofswordsandarmorisfish-scalebeneaththesun.TheGreeksareroutingtheTrojans,asPatroclushadsaid.Soonhewillreturn,andAgamemnonwillkneel.Theywillbehappyagain.
Buthecannotfeelit.Thereisanumbnessinhim.Thewrithingfieldislikeagorgon’sface,turninghimslowlytostone.Thesnakestwistandtwistbeforehim,gatheringintoadarkknotatthebaseofTroy.Akinghasfallen,oraprince,andtheyarefightingforthebody.Who?Heshieldshiseyes,butnomoreisrevealed.Patrocluswillbeabletotellhim.
HESEESTHETHINGINPIECES.Men,comingdownthebeachtowardsthecamp.Odysseus,limpingbesidetheotherkings.Menelaushassomethinginhisarms.Agrass-stainedfoothangsloose.Locksoftousledhairhaveslippedfromthemakeshiftshroud.Thenumbnessnowismerciful.Alastfewmomentsofit.Then,thefall.
Hesnatchesforhisswordtoslashhisthroat.Itisonlywhenhishandcomesupemptythatheremembers:hegavetheswordtome.ThenAntilochusisseizinghiswrists,andthemenarealltalking.Allhecanseeisthebloodstainedcloth.WitharoarhethrowsAntilochusfromhim,knocksdownMenelaus.Hefallsonthebody.Theknowledgerushesupinhim,chokingoffbreath.Ascreamcomes,tearingitswayout.Andthenanother,andanother.Heseizeshishairinhishandsandyanksitfromhishead.Goldenstrandsfallontothebloodycorpse.Patroclus,hesays,Patroclus.Patroclus.Overandoveruntilitissoundonly.SomewhereOdysseusiskneeling,urgingfoodanddrink.Afierceredragecomes,andhealmostkillshimthere.Buthewouldhavetoletgoofme.Hecannot.HeholdsmesotightlyIcanfeelthefaintbeatofhischest,likethewingsofamoth.Anecho,thelastbitofspiritstilltetheredtomybody.Atorment.
BRISEISRUNSTOWARDSUS,facecontorted.Shebendsoverthebody,herlovelydarkeyesspillingwaterwarmassummerrain.Shecoversherfacewithherhandsandwails.Achillesdoesnotlookather.Hedoesnotevenseeher.Hestands.
“Whodidthis?”Hisvoiceisaterriblething,crackedandbroken.
“Hector,”Menelaussays.Achillesseizeshisgiantashspear,andtriestotearfreefromthearmsthatholdhim.
Odysseusgrabshisshoulders.“Tomorrow,”hesays.“Hehasgoneinsidethecity.Tomorrow.Listentome,Pelides.Tomorrowyoucankillhim.Iswearit.Nowyoumusteat,andrest.”
ACHILLESWEEPS.Hecradlesme,andwillnoteat,norspeakawordotherthanmyname.Iseehisfaceasifthroughwater,asafishseesthesun.Histearsfall,butIcannotwipethemaway.Thisismyelementnow,thehalf-lifeoftheunburiedspirit.
Hismothercomes.Ihearher,thesoundofwavesbreakingonshore.IfIdisgustedherwhenIwasalive,itisworsetofindmycorpseinherson’sarms.
“Heisdead,”shesays,inherflatvoice.
“Hectorisdead,”hesays.“Tomorrow.”
“Youhavenoarmor.”
“Idonotneedany.”Histeethshow;itisanefforttospeak.
Shereaches,paleandcool,totakehishandsfromme.“Hedidittohimself,”shesays.
“Donottouchme!”
Shedrawsback,watchinghimcradlemeinhisarms.
“Iwillbringyouarmor,”shesays.
ITGOESLIKETHIS,onandon,thetentflapopening,thetentativeface.Phoinix,orAutomedon,orMachaon.AtlastOdysseus.“Agamemnonhascometoseeyou,andreturnthegirl.”Achillesdoesnotsay,Shehasalreadyreturned.Perhapshedoesnotknow.
Thetwomenfaceeachotherintheflickeringfirelight.Agamemnonclearshisthroat.“Itistimetoforgetthedivisionbetweenus.Icometobringyouthegirl,Achilles,unharmedandwell.”Hepauses,asifexpectingarushofgratitude.Thereisonlysilence.“Truly,agodmusthavesnatchedourwitsfromustosetussoatodds.Butthatisovernow,andwearealliesoncemore.”Thislastissaidloudly,forthebenefitofthewatchingmen.Achillesdoesnotrespond.HeisimaginingkillingHector.Itisallthatkeepshimstanding.
Agamemnonhesitates.“PrinceAchilles,Ihearyouwillfighttomorrow?”
“Yes.”Thesuddennessofhisanswerstartlesthem.
“Verygood,thatisverygood.”Agamemnonwaitsanothermoment.“Andyouwillfightafterthat,also?”
“Ifyouwish,”Achillesanswers.“Idonotcare.Iwillbedeadsoon.”
Thewatchingmenexchangeglances.Agamemnonrecovers.
“Well.Wearesettledthen.”Heturnstogo,stops.“IwassorrytohearofPatroclus’death.Hefoughtbravelytoday.DidyouhearhekilledSarpedon?”
Achilles’eyeslift.Theyarebloodshotanddead.“Iwishhehadletyoualldie.”
Agamemnonistooshockedtoanswer.Odysseusstepsintothesilence.“Wewillleaveyoutomourn,PrinceAchilles.”
BRISEISISKNEELINGbymybody.Shehasbroughtwaterandcloth,andwashesthebloodanddirtfrommyskin.Herhandsaregentle,asthoughshewashesababy,notadeadthing.Achillesopensthetent,andtheireyesmeetovermybody.
“Getawayfromhim,”hesays.
“Iamalmostfinished.Hedoesnotdeservetolieinfilth.”
“Iwouldnothaveyourhandsonhim.”
Hereyesaresharpwithtears.“Doyouthinkyouaretheonlyonewholovedhim?”
“Getout.Getout!”
“Youcaremoreforhimindeaththaninlife.”Hervoiceisbitterwithgrief.“Howcouldyouhavelethimgo?Youknewhecouldnotfight!”
Achillesscreams,andshattersaservingbowl.“Getout!”
Briseisdoesnotflinch.“Killme.Itwillnotbringhimback.Hewasworthtenofyou.Ten!Andyousenthimtohisdeath!”
Thesoundthatcomesfromhimishardlyhuman.“Itriedtostophim!Itoldhimnottoleavethebeach!”
“Youaretheonewhomadehimgo.”Briseisstepstowardshim.“Hefoughttosaveyou,andyourdarlingreputation.Becausehecouldnotbeartoseeyousuffer!”
Achillesburieshisfaceinhishands.Butshedoesnotrelent.“Youhaveneverdeservedhim.Idonotknowwhyheeverlovedyou.Youcareonlyforyourself!”
Achilles’gazeliftstomeethers.Sheisafraid,butdoesnotdrawback.“IhopethatHectorkillsyou.”
Thebreathraspsinhisthroat.“DoyouthinkIdonothopethesame?”heasks.
HEWEEPSasheliftsmeontoourbed.Mycorpsesags;itiswarminthetent,andthesmellwillcomesoon.Hedoesnotseemtocare.Heholdsmeallnightlong,pressingmycoldhandstohismouth.
Atdawn,hismotherreturnswithashieldandswordandbreastplate,newlymintedfromstill-warmbronze.Shewatcheshimarmanddoesnottrytospeaktohim.
HEDOESNOTWAITfortheMyrmidons,orAutomedon.Herunsupthebeach,pasttheGreekswhohavecomeouttosee.Theygrabtheirarmsandfollow.Theydonotwanttomissit.
“Hector!”hescreams.“Hector!”HetearsthroughtheadvancingTrojanranks,shatteringchestsandfaces,markingthemwiththemeteorofhisfury.Heisgonebeforetheirbodieshittheground.Thegrass,thinnedfromtenyearsofwarfare,drinkstherichbloodofprincesandkings.
YetHectoreludeshim,weavingthroughthechariotsandmenwiththeluckofthegods.Noonecallsitcowardicethatheruns.Hewillnotliveifheiscaught.HeiswearingAchilles’ownarmor,theunmistakablephoenixbreastplatetakenfrombesidemycorpse.Themenstareasthetwopass:itlooks,almost,asifAchillesischasinghimself.
Chestheaving,HectorracestowardsTroy’swideriver,theScamander.Itswaterglintsacreamygold,dyedbythestonesinitsriverbed,theyellowrockforwhichTroyisknown.
Thewatersarenotgoldennow,butamuddied,churningred,chokedwithcorpsesandarmor.Hectorlungesintothewavesandswims,armscuttingthroughthehelmetsandrollingbodies.Hegainstheothershore;Achillesleapstofollow.
Afigurerisesfromtherivertobarhisway.Filthywatersluicesoffthemusclesofhisshoulders,poursfromhisblackbeard.Heistallerthanthetallestmortal,andswollenwithstrengthlikecreeksinspring.HelovesTroyanditspeople.Insummer,theypourwineforhimasasacrifice,anddropgarlandstofloatuponhiswaters.MostpiousofallisHector,princeofTroy.
Achilles’faceisspatteredwithblood.“Youwillnotkeepmefromhim.”
TherivergodScamanderliftsathickstaff,largeasasmalltree-trunk.Hedoesnotneedablade;onestrikewiththiswouldbreakbones,snapaneck.Achilleshasonlyasword.Hisspearsaregone,buriedinbodies.
“Isitworthyourlife?”thegodsays.
NoPlease.ButIhavenovoicetospeak.Achillesstepsintotheriverandliftshissword.
Withhandsaslargeasaman’storso,therivergodswingshisstaff.Achillesducksandthenrollsforwardoverthereturningwhistleofasecondswing.Hegainshisfeetandstrikes,whippingtowardsthegod’sunprotectedchest.Easily,almostcasually,thegodtwistsaway.Thesword’spointpassesharmlessly,asithasneverdonebefore.
Thegodattacks.HisswingsforceAchillesbackwardsoverthedebrisliningtheriver.Heuseshisstafflikeahammer;widearcsofsprayleapfromwhereitsmashesagainsttheriver’ssurface.Achillesmustspringawayeachtime.Thewatersdonotseemtodragathimastheymightatanotherman.
Achilles’swordflashesfasterthanthought,buthecannottouchthegod.Scamandercatcheseveryblowwithhismightystaff,forcinghimtobefasterandthenfasterstill.Thegodisold,oldasthefirstmeltingoficefromthemountains,andheiswily.Hehasknowneveryfightthatwaseverfoughtontheseplains,andthereisnothingnewtohim.Achillesbeginstoslow,wornoutfromthestrainofholdingbackthegod’sstrengthwithonlyathinedgeofmetal.Chipsofwoodflyastheweaponsmeet,butthestaffisthickasoneofScamander’slegs;thereisnohopethatitwillbreak.Thegodhasbeguntosmileathowoftennowthemanseekstoduckratherthanmeethisblows.Inexorably,hebearsdown.Achilles’faceiscontortedwitheffortandfocus.Heisfightingattheedge,theveryedgeofhispower.Heisnot,afterall,agod.
Iseehimgatheringhimself,preparingonefinal,desperateattack.Hebeginsthepass,swordblurringtowardsthegod’shead.Forafractionofasecond,Scamandermustleanbacktoavoidit.ThatisthemomentAchillesneeds.Iseehismusclestenseforthatlast,singlethrust;heleaps.
Forthefirsttimeinallhislife,heisnotfastenough.Thegodcatchestheblow,andthrowsitviolentlyaside.Achillesstumbles.Itissoslight,justthesmallestlurchoff-balance,thatIalmostdonotseeit.Butthegoddoes.Helungesforward,viciousandvictorious,inthepause,thesmallhitchoftimethatthestumblehasmade.Thewoodswingsdowninakillingarc.
Heshouldhaveknownbetter;Ishouldhaveknown.Thosefeetneverstumbled,notonce,inallthetimeIknewthem.Ifamistakehadcome,itwouldnotbethere,fromthedelicatebonesandcurvingarches.Achilleshasbaitedhishookwithhumanfailure,andthegodhasleaptforit.
AsScamanderlunges,thereistheopening,andAchilles’swordstreakstowardsit.Agashflowersinthegod’sside,andtheriverrunsgoldoncemore,stainedwiththeichorthatspillsfromitsmaster.
Scamanderwillnotdie.Buthemustlimpawaynow,weakenedandweary,tothemountainsandthesourceofhiswaters,tostanchthewoundandregainhisstrength.Hesinksintohisriverandisgone.
Achilles’faceissweat-streaked,hisbreathsharsh.Buthedoesnotpause.“Hector!”hescreams.Andthehuntbeginsagain.
Somewhere,thegodswhisper:
Hehasbeatenoneofus.
Whatwillhappenifheattacksthecity?
Troyisnotmeanttofallyet.
AndIthink:donotfearforTroy.ItisonlyHectorthathewants.Hector,andHectoralone.WhenHectorisdead,hewillstop.
THEREISAGROVEatthebaseofTroy’shighwalls,hometoasacred,twistinglaurel.ItistherethatHector,atlast,stopsrunning.Beneathitsbranches,thetwomenfaceeachother.Oneofthemisdark,hisfeetlikerootsdrivingdeepintosoil.Hewearsagoldenbreastplateandhelmet,burnishedgreaves.Itfitmewellenough,butheisbiggerthanI,broader.Athisthroatthemetalgapesawayfromhisskin.
Theotherman’sfaceistwistedalmostbeyondrecognition.Hisclothesarestilldampfromhisfightintheriver.Heliftshisashenspear.
No,Ibeghim.Itishisowndeathheholds,hisownbloodthatwillspill.Hedoesnothearme.
Hector’seyesarewide,buthewillrunnolonger.Hesays,“Grantmethis.Givemybodytomyfamily,whenyouhavekilledme.”
Achillesmakesasoundlikechoking.“Therearenobargainsbetweenlionsandmen.Iwillkillyouandeatyouraw.”Hisspearpointfliesinadarkwhirlwind,brightastheevening-star,tocatchthehollowatHector’sthroat.
ACHILLESRETURNStothetent,wheremybodywaits.Heisredandredandrust-red,uptohiselbows,hisknees,hisneck,asifhehasswuminthevastdarkchambersofaheartandemerged,justnow,stilldripping.HeisdraggingHector’sbodybehindhim,piercedthroughitsheelswithaleatherthong.Theneatbeardismattedwithdirt,thefaceblackwithbloodydust.Hehasbeenpullingitbehindhischariotasthehorsesrun.
ThekingsofGreecearewaitingforhim.
“Youhavetriumphedtoday,Achilles,”Agamemnonsays.“Batheandrestyourself,andthenweshallfeastinyourhonor.”
“Iwillhavenofeast.”Hepushesthroughthem,draggingHectorafter.
“HOKUMOROS,”HISMOTHERCALLShiminhersoftestvoice.Swift-fated.“Willyounoteat?”
“YouknowIwillnot.”
Shetouchesherhandtohischeek,asiftowipeawayblood.
Heflinches.“Stop,”hesays.
Herfacegoesblankforasecond,soquicklyhedoesnotsee.Whenshespeaks,hervoiceishard.
“ItistimetoreturnHector’sbodytohisfamilyforburial.Youhavekilledhimandtakenyourvengeance.Itisenough.”
“Itwillneverbeenough,”hesays.
FORTHEFIRSTTIMEsincemydeath,hefallsintoafitful,tremblingsleep.
Achilles.Icannotbeartoseeyougrieving
Hislimbstwitchandshudder.
Giveusbothpeace.Burnmeandburyme.Iwillwaitforyouamongtheshades.Iwill—
Butalreadyheiswaking.“Patroclus!Wait!Iamhere!”
Heshakesthebodybesidehim.WhenIdonotanswer,heweepsagain.
HERISESATDAWNtodragHector’sbodyaroundthewallsofthecityforallofTroytosee.Hedoesitagainatmidday,andagainatevening.HedoesnotseetheGreeksbegintoaverttheireyesfromhim.Hedoesnotseethelipsthinningindisapprovalashepasses.Howlongcanthisgoon?
Thetisiswaitingforhiminthetent,tallandstraightasaflame.
“Whatdoyouwant?”HedropsHector’sbodybythedoor.
Hercheekshavespotsofcolor,likebloodspilledonmarble.“Youmuststopthis.Apolloisangry.Heseeksvengeanceuponyou.”
“Lethim.”Hekneels,smoothsbackthehaironmyforehead.Iamwrappedinblankets,tomufflethesmell.
“Achilles.”Shestridestohim,seizeshischin.“Listentome.Yougotoofarinthis.Iwillnotbeabletoprotectyoufromhim.”
Hejerkshisheadfromherandbareshisteeth.“Idonotneedyouto.”
HerskiniswhiterthanIhaveeverseenit.“Donotbeafool.Itisonlymypowerthat—”
“Whatdoesitmatter?”Hecutsheroff,snarling.“Heisdead.Canyourpowerbringhimback?”
“No,”shesays.“Nothingcan.”
Hestands.“DoyouthinkIcannotseeyourrejoicing?Iknowhowyouhatedhim.Youhavealwayshatedhim!IfyouhadnotgonetoZeus,hewouldbealive!”
“Heisamortal,”shesays.“Andmortalsdie.”
“Iamamortal!”hescreams.“Whatgoodisgodhead,ifitcannotdothis?Whatgoodareyou?”
“Iknowyouaremortal,”shesays.Sheplaceseachcoldwordasatileinamosaic.“Iknowitbetterthananyone.IleftyoutoolongonPelion.Ithasruinedyou.”Shegestures,aflick,athistornclothing,histear-stainedface.“Thisisnotmyson.”
Hischestheaves.“Thenwhoisit,Mother?AmInotfamousenough?IkilledHector.Andwhoelse?Sendthembeforeme.Iwillkillthemall!”
Herfacetwists.“Youactlikeachild.AttwelvePyrrhusismoreofamanthanyou.”
“Pyrrhus.”Thewordisagasp.
“Hewillcome,andTroywillfall.Thecitycannotbetakenwithouthim,theFatessay.”Herfaceglows.
Achillesstares.“Youwouldbringhimhere?”
“HeisthenextAristosAchaion.”
“Iamnotdeadyet.”
“Youmayaswellbe.”Thewordsarealash.“DoyouknowwhatIhavebornetomakeyougreat?Andnowyouwoulddestroyitforthis?”Shepointsatmyfesteringbody,herfacetightwithdisgust.“Iamdone.ThereisnomoreIcandotosaveyou.”
Herblackeyesseemtocontract,likedyingstars.“Iamgladthatheisdead,”shesays.
Itisthelastthingshewilleversaytohim.
ChapterThirty-Two
INTHEDEEPESTREACHESOFNIGHT,WHENEVENTHEWILDdogsdrowseandtheowlsarequiet,anoldmancomestoourtent.Heisfilthy,hisclothingtorn,hishairsmearedwithashesanddirt.Hisrobesarewetfromswimmingtheriver.Yethiseyes,whenhespeaks,areclear.“Ihavecomeformyson,”hesays.
ThekingofTroymovesacrosstheroomtokneelatAchilles’feet.Hebowshiswhitehead.“Willyouhearafather’sprayer,mightyPrinceofPhthia,BestoftheGreeks?”
Achillesstaresdownattheman’sshouldersasifinatrance.Theyaretremblingwithage,stoopedwiththeburdensofgrief.Thismanborefiftysonsandhaslostallbutahandful.
“Iwillhearyou,”hesays.
“Theblessingsofthegodsuponyourkindness,”Priamsays.HishandsarecoolonAchilles’burningskin.“Ihavecomefarthisnightinhope.”Ashudder,involuntary,passesthroughhim;thenight’schillandthewetclothes.“Iamsorrytoappearsomeanlybeforeyou.”
ThewordsseemtowakeAchillesalittle.“Donotkneel,”hesays.“Letmebringyoufoodanddrink.”Heoffershishand,andhelpstheoldkingtohisfeet.HegiveshimadrycloakandthesoftcushionsthatPhoinixlikesbest,andpourswine.BesidePriam’sfurrowedskinandslowstepsheseemssuddenlyveryyoung.
“Thankyouforyourhospitality,”Priamsays.Hisaccentisstrong,andhespeaksslowly,buthisGreekisgood.“Ihaveheardyouareanobleman,anditisonyournobilitythatIthrowmyself.Weareenemies,yetyouhaveneverbeenknownascruel.Ibegyoutoreturnmyson’sbodyforburial,sohissouldoesnotwanderlost.”Ashespeaks,heiscarefulnottolethimselflookattheshadowfacedowninthecorner.
Achillesisstaringintothecuppeddarknessofhishands.“Youshowcouragetocomeherealone,”hesays.“Howdidyougetintothecamp?”
“Iwasguidedbythegraceofthegods.”
Achilleslooksupathim.“HowdidyouknowIwouldnotkillyou?”
“Ididnotknow,”saysPriam.
Thereissilence.Thefoodandwinesitbeforethem,butneithereats,nordrinks.IcanseeAchilles’ribsthroughhistunic.
Priam’seyesfindtheotherbody,mine,lyingonthebed.Hehesitatesamoment.“Thatis—yourfriend?”
“Philtatos,”Achillessays,sharply.Mostbeloved.“Bestofmen,andslaughteredbyyourson.”
“Iamsorryforyourloss,”Priamsays.“Andsorrythatitwasmysonwhotookhimfromyou.YetIbegyoutohavemercy.Ingrief,menmusthelpeachother,thoughtheyareenemies.”
“WhatifIwillnot?”Hiswordshavegonestiff.
“Thenyouwillnot.”
Thereissilenceamoment.“Icouldkillyoustill,”Achillessays.
Achilles
“Iknow.”Theking’svoiceisquiet,unafraid.“Butitisworthmylife,ifthereisachancemyson’ssoulmaybeatrest.”
Achilles’eyesfill;helooksawaysotheoldmanwillnotsee.
Priam’svoiceisgentle.“Itisrighttoseekpeaceforthedead.YouandIbothknowthereisnopeaceforthosewholiveafter.”
“No,”Achilleswhispers.
Nothingmovesinthetent;timedoesnotseemtopass.ThenAchillesstands.“Itisclosetodawn,andIdonotwantyoutobeindangerasyoutravelhome.Iwillhavemyservantsprepareyourson’sbody.”
WHENTHEYAREGONE,heslumpsnexttome,hisfaceagainstmybelly.Myskingrowsslipperyunderthesteadyfallofhistears.
Thenextdayhecarriesmetothepyre.BriseisandtheMyrmidonswatchasheplacesmeonthewoodandstrikestheflint.Theflamessurroundme,andIfeelmyselfslippingfurtherfromlife,thinningtoonlythefaintestshiverintheair.Iyearnforthedarknessandsilenceoftheunderworld,whereIcanrest.
Hecollectsmyasheshimself,thoughthisisawoman’sduty.Heputstheminagoldenurn,thefinestinourcamp,andturnstothewatchingGreeks.
“WhenIamdead,Ichargeyoutomingleourashesandburyustogether.”
HECTORANDSARPEDONaredead,butotherheroescometotaketheirplace.Anatoliaisrichwithalliesandthosemakingcommoncauseagainstinvaders.FirstisMemnon,thesonofrosy-fingereddawn,kingofAethiopia.Alargeman,darkandcrowned,stridingforwardwithanarmyofsoldiersasdarkashe,aburnishedblack.Hestands,grinningexpectantly.Hehascomeforoneman,andonemanalone.
Thatmancomestomeethimarmedwithonlyaspear.Hisbreastplateiscarelesslybuckled,hisonce-brighthairhangslankandunwashed.Memnonlaughs.Thiswillbeeasy.Whenhecrumples,foldedaroundalongashenshaft,thesmileisshakenfromhisface.Wearily,Achillesretrieveshisspear.
Nextcomethehorsewomen,breastsexposed,theirskinglisteninglikeoiledwood.Theirhairisboundback,theirarmsarefullofspearsandbristlingarrows.Curvedshieldshangfromtheirsaddles,crescent-shaped,asifcoinedfromthemoon.Attheirfrontisasinglefigureonachestnuthorse,hairloose,Anatolianeyesdarkandcurvingandfierce—chipsofstonethatmoverestlesslyoverthearmybeforeher.Penthesilea.
Shewearsacape,anditisthisthatundoesher—thatallowshertobepulled,limbslightandpoisedasacat,fromherhorse.Shetumbleswitheasygrace,andoneofherhandsflashesforthespeartiedtohersaddle.Shecrouchesinthedirt,bracingit.Afaceloomsoverher,grim,darkened,dulled.Itwearsnoarmoratallanymore,exposingallitsskintopointsandpunctures.Itisturnednow,inhope,inwistfulness,towardsher.
Shestabs,andAchilles’bodydodgesthedeadlypoint,impossiblylithe,endlesslyagile.Always,itsmusclesbetrayit,seekinglifeinsteadofthepeacethatspearsbring.Shethrustsagain,andheleapsoverthepoint,drawnuplikeafrog,bodylightandloose.Hemakesasoundofgrief.Hehadhoped,becauseshehaskilledsomany.Becausefromherhorsesheseemedsolikehim,soquickandgraceful,sorelentless.Butsheisnot.Asinglethrustcrusheshertotheground,leavesherchesttornuplikeafieldbeneaththeplow.Herwomenscreaminanger,ingrief,athisretreating,bowed,shoulders.
Lastofallisayoungboy,Troilus.Theyhavekepthimbehindthewallastheirsecurity—theyoungestsonofPriam,theonetheywanttosurvive.Itishisbrother’sdeaththathaspulledhimfromthewalls.Heisbraveandfoolishandwillnotlisten.Iseehimwrenchingfromtherestraininghandsofhisolderbrothers,andleapingintohischariot.Hefliesheadlong,likealoosedgreyhound,seekingvengeance.
Thespear-buttcatchesagainsthischest,juststartingtowidenwithmanhood.Hefalls,stillholdingthereins,andthefrightenedhorsesbolt,dragginghimbehind.Histrailingspear-tipclicksagainstthestones,writinginthedustwithitsbronzefingernail.
Atlasthefreeshimselfandstands,hislegs,hisback,scrapedandcrusted.Hefacestheoldermanwholoomsinfrontofhim,theshadowthathauntsthebattlefield,thegrislyfacethatwearilykillsmanafterman.Iseethathedoesnotstandachance,hisbrighteyes,hisbravelyliftedchin.Thepointcatchesthesoftbulbofhisthroat,and
WITHINTHEWALLSOFTROY,abowisstrungquicklybyrushinghands.Anarrowisselected,andprincelyfeethurryupstairstoatowerthattiltsoverabattlefieldofdeadanddying.Whereagodiswaiting.
ItiseasyforParistofindhistarget.Themanmovesslowly,likealiongrownwoundedandsick,buthisgoldhairisunmistakable.Parisnockshisarrow.
“WheredoIaim?Iheardhewasinvulnerable.Exceptfor—”
“Heisaman,”Apollosays.“Notagod.Shoothimandhewilldie.”
Parisaims.Thegodtoucheshisfingertothearrow’sfletching.Thenhebreathes,apuffofair—asiftosenddandelionsflying,topushtoyboatsoverwater.Andthearrowflies,straightandsilent,inacurving,downwardarctowardsAchilles’back.
Achilleshearsthefainthumofitspassageasecondbeforeitstrikes.Heturnshisheadalittle,asiftowatchitcome.Hecloseshiseyesandfeelsitspointpushthroughhisskin,partingthickmuscle,wormingitswaypasttheinterlacingfingersofhisribs.There,atlast,ishisheart.Bloodspillsbetweenshoulderblades,darkandslickasoil.Achillessmilesashisfacestrikestheearth.
ChapterThirty-Three
THESEA-NYMPHSCOMEFORTHEBODY,TRAILINGTHEIRseafoamrobesbehindthem.Theywashhimwithroseoilandnectar,andweaveflowersthroughhisgoldenhair.TheMyrmidonsbuildhimapyre,andheisplacedonit.Thenymphsweepastheflamesconsumehim.Hisbeautifulbodylosttobonesandgrayash.
Butmanydonotweep.Briseis,whostandswatchinguntilthelastembershavegoneout.Thetis,herspinestraight,blackhairlooseandsnakyinthewind.Themen,kingsandcommon.Theygatheratadistance,afraidoftheeeriekeeningofthenymphsandThetis’thunderbolteyes.ClosesttotearsisAjax,legbandagedandhealing.Butperhapsheisjustthinkingofhisownlong-awaitedpromotion.
Thepyreburnsitselfout.Iftheashesarenotgatheredsoon,theywillbelosttothewinds,butThetis,whoseofficeitis,doesnotmove.Atlast,Odysseusissenttospeakwithher.
Hekneels.“Goddess,wewouldknowyourwill.Shallwecollecttheashes?”
Sheturnstolookathim.Perhapsthereisgriefinhereyes;perhapsnot.Itisimpossibletosay.
“Collectthem.Burythem.IhavedoneallIwilldo.”
Heinclineshishead.“GreatThetis,yoursonwishedthathisashesbeplaced—”
“Iknowwhathewished.Doasyouplease.Itisnotmyconcern.”
SERVANTGIRLSARESENTtocollecttheashes;theycarrythemtothegoldenurnwhereIrest.WillIfeelhisashesastheyfallagainstmine?IthinkofthesnowflakesonPelion,coldonourredcheeks.Theyearningforhimislikehunger,hollowingme.Somewherehissoulwaits,butitisnowhereIcanreach.Buryus,andmarkournamesabove.Letusbefree.Hisashessettleamongmine,andIfeelnothing.
AGAMEMNONCALLSacounciltodiscussthetombtheywillbuild.
“Weshouldputitonthefieldwherehefell,”Nestorsays.
Machaonshakeshishead.“Itwillbemorecentralonthebeach,bytheagora.”
“That’sthelastthingwewant.Trippingoveriteveryday,”Diomedessays.
“Onthehill,Ithink.Theridgebytheircamp,”Odysseussays.
Wherever,wherever,wherever
“Ihavecometotakemyfather’splace.”Theclearvoicecutsacrosstheroom.
Theheadsofthekingstwisttowardsthetentflap.Aboystandsframedinthetent’sdoorway.Hishairisbrightred,thecolorofthefire’scrust;heisbeautiful,butcoldlyso,awinter’smorning.Onlythedullestwouldnotknowwhichfatherhemeans.Itisstampedoneverylineofhisface,socloseittearsatme.Justhischinisdifferent,anglingsharplydowntoapointashismother’sdid.
“IamthesonofAchilles,”heannounces.
Thekingsarestaring.MostdidnotevenknowAchilleshadachild.OnlyOdysseushasthewitstospeak.“MayweknowthenameofAchilles’son?”
“MynameisNeoptolemus.CalledPyrrhus.”Fire.Butthereisnothingofflameabouthim,beyondhishair.“Whereismyfather’sseat?”
Idomeneushastakenit.Herises.“Here.”
Pyrrhus’eyesrakeovertheCretanking.“Ipardonyourpresumption.YoudidnotknowIwascoming.”Hesits.“LordofMycenae,LordofSparta.”Theslightestinclineofhishead.“Ioffermyselftoyourarmy.”
Agamemnon’sfaceiscaughtbetweendisbeliefanddispleasure.HehadthoughthewasdonewithAchilles.Andtheboy’saffectisstrange,unnerving.
“Youdonotseemoldenough.”
Twelve.Heistwelve
“Ihavelivedwiththegodsbeneaththesea,”hesays.“Ihavedrunktheirnectarandfeastedonambrosia.Icomenowtowinthewarforyou.TheFateshavesaidthatTroywillnotfallwithoutme.”
“What?”Agamemnonisaghast.
“Ifitisso,weareindeedgladtohaveyou,”Menelaussays.“Weweretalkingofyourfather’stomb,andwheretobuildit.”
“Onthehill,”Odysseussays.
Menelausnods.“Afittingplaceforthem.”
“Them?”
Thereisaslightpause.“Yourfatherandhiscompanion.Patroclus.”
“AndwhyshouldthismanbeburiedbesideAristosAchaion?”
Theairisthick.TheyareallwaitingtohearMenelaus’answer.
“Itwasyourfather’swish,PrinceNeoptolemus,thattheirashesbeplacedtogether.Wecannotburyonewithouttheother.”
Pyrrhusliftshissharpchin.“Aslavehasnoplaceinhismaster’stomb.Iftheashesaretogether,itcannotbeundone,butIwillnotallowmyfather’sfametobediminished.Themonumentisforhim,alone.”
Donotletitbeso.Donotleavemeherewithouthim
Thekingsexchangeglances.
“Verywell,”Agamemnonsays.“Itshallbeasyousay.”
Iamairandthoughtandcandonothing.
THEGREATERTHEMONUMENT,thegreatertheman.ThestonetheGreeksquarryforhisgraveishugeandwhite,stretchinguptothesky.ACHILLES,itreads.Itwillstandforhim,andspeaktoallwhopass:helivedanddied,andlivesagaininmemory.
PYRRHUS’BANNERSbeartheemblemofScyros,hismother’sland,notPhthia.Hissoldiers,too,arefromScyros.Dutifully,AutomedonlinesuptheMyrmidonsandthewomeninwelcome.Theywatchhimmakehiswayuptheshore,hisgleaming,new-mintedtroops,hisred-goldhairlikeaflameagainsttheblueofthesky.
“IamthesonofAchilles,”hetellsthem.“Iclaimyouasmyinheritanceandbirthright.Yourloyaltyisminenow.”Hiseyesfixuponawomanwhostands,eyesdown,herhandsfolded.Hegoestoherandliftsherchininhishand.
“What’syourname?”heasks.
“Briseis.”
“I’veheardofyou,”hesays.“Youwerethereasonmyfatherstoppedfighting.”
Thatnighthesendshisguardsforher.Theyholdherarmsastheywalkhertothetent.Herheadisbowedinsubmission,andshedoesnotstruggle.
Thetentflapopens,andsheispushedthrough.Pyrrhusloungesinachair,onelegdanglingcarelesslyofftheside.Achillesmighthavesatthatwayonce.Buthiseyeswereneverlikethat,emptyastheendlessdepthsofblackocean,filledwithnothingbutthebloodlessbodiesoffish.
Shekneels.“Mylord.”
“Myfatherbrokewiththearmyforyou.Youmusthavebeenagoodbed-slave.”
Briseis’eyesareattheirdarkestandmostveiled.“Youhonorme,mylord,tosayso.ButIdonotbelieveitwasformeherefusedtofight.”
“Whythen?Inyourslave’sopinion?”Apreciseeyebrowlifts.Itisterrifyingtowatchhimspeaktoher.Heislikeasnake;youdonotknowwherehewillstrike.
“Iwasawarprize,andAgamemnondishonoredhimintakingme.Thatisall.”
“Wereyounothisbed-slave?”
“No,mylord.”
“Enough.”Hisvoiceissharp.“Donotlietomeagain.Youarethebestwomaninthecamp.Youwerehis.”
Hershouldershavecreptupalittle.“IwouldnothaveyouthinkbetterofmethanIdeserve.Iwasneversofortunate.”
“Why?Whatiswrongwithyou?”
Shehesitates.“Mylord,haveyouheardofthemanwhoisburiedwithyourfather?”
Hisfacegoesflat.“OfcourseIhavenotheardofhim.Heisnoone.”
“Yetyourfatherlovedhimwell,andhonoredhim.Hewouldbewellpleasedtoknowtheywereburiedtogether.Hehadnoneedofme.”
Pyrrhusstaresather.
“Mylord—”
“Silence.”Thewordcracksoverherlikealash.“IwillteachyouwhatitmeanstolietoAristosAchaion.”Hestands.“Comehere.”Heisonlytwelve,buthedoesnotlookit.Hehasthebodyofaman.
Hereyesarewide.“Mylord,IamsorryIhavedispleasedyou.Youmayaskanyone,PhoinixorAutomedon.TheywillsayIamnotlying.”
“Ihavegivenyouanorder.”
Shestands,herhandsfumblinginthefoldsofherdress.Run,Iwhisper.Donotgotohim.Butshegoes.
“Mylord,whatwouldyouhaveofme?”
Hestepstoher,eyesglittering.“WhateverIwant.”
Icannotseewherethebladecomesfrom.Itisinherhand,andthenitisswingingdownonhim.Butshehasneverkilledamanbefore.Shedoesnotknowhowhardyouneedtodriveit,norwithwhatconviction.Andheisquick,twistingawayalready.Thebladesplitstheskin,scoringitinajaggedline,butdoesnotsink.Hesmacksherviciously
Sheeruptsfromthetent,pastthetoo-slowhandsoftheguards,downthebeachandintothesea.BehindherisPyrrhus,tunicgashedopen,bleedingacrosshisstomach.Hestandsbesidethebewilderedguardsandcalmlytakesaspearfromoneoftheirhands.
“Throwit,”aguardurges.Forsheispastthebreakersnow.
“Amoment,”Pyrrhusmurmurs.
Herlimbsliftintothegraywaveslikethesteadybeatsofwings.Shehasalwaysbeenthestrongestswimmerofthethreeofus.Sheusedtoswearshe’dgonetoTenedosonce,twohoursbyboat.Ifeelwildtriumphasshepullsfartherandfartherfromshore.Theonlymanwhosespearcouldhavereachedherisdead.Sheisfree.
Theonlymanbutthatman’sson.
Thespearfliesfromthetopofthebeach,soundlessandprecise.Itspointhitsherbacklikeastonetossedontoafloatingleaf.Thegulpofblackwaterswallowsherwhole.
Phoinixsendsamanout,adiver,tolookforherbody,buthedoesnotfindit.Maybehergodsarekinderthanours,andshewillfindrest.Iwouldgivemylifeagaintomakeitso.
THEPROPHECYTOLDTRULY.NowthatPyrrhushascome,Troyfalls.Hedoesnotdoitalone,ofcourse.Thereisthehorse,andOdysseus’plan,andawholearmybesides.ButheistheonewhokillsPriam.HeistheonewhohuntsdownHector’swife,Andromache,hidinginacellarwithherson.Heplucksthechildfromherarmsanddasheshisheadagainstthestoneofthewalls,sohardtheskullshatterslikearottedfruit.EvenAgamemnonblanchedwhenheheard.
Thebonesofthecityarecrackedandsuckeddry.TheGreekkingsstufftheirholdswithitsgoldcolumnsandprincesses.QuickerthanIcouldhaveimaginedpossibletheypackthecamp,allthetentsrolledandstowed,thefoodkilledandstored.Thebeachisstrippedclean,likeawell-pickedcarcass.
Ihaunttheirdreams.Donotleave,Ibegthem.Notuntilyouhavegivenmepeace.Butifanyonehears,theydonotanswer.
Pyrrhuswishesafinalsacrificeforhisfathertheeveningbeforetheysail.Thekingsgatherbythetomb,andPyrrhuspresides,withhisroyalprisonersathisheels,AndromacheandQueenHecubaandtheyoungprincessPolyxena.Hetrailsthemeverywherehegoesnow,inperpetualtriumph.
Calchasleadsawhiteheifertothetomb’sbase.Butwhenhereachesfortheknife,Pyrrhusstopshim.“Asingleheifer.Isthisall?Thesameyouwoulddoforanyman?MyfatherwasAristosAchaion.Hewasthebestofyou,andhissonhasprovenbetterstill.Yetyoustintus?”
Pyrrhus’handclosesontheshapeless,blowingdressoftheprincessPolyxenaandyankshertowardsthealtar.“Thisiswhatmyfather’ssouldeserves.”
Hewillnot.Hedarenot.
Asifinanswer,Pyrrhussmiles.“Achillesispleased,”hesays,andtearsopenherthroat.
Icantasteitstill,thegushofsaltandiron.Itseepedintothegrasswhereweareburied,andchokedme.Thedeadaresupposedtocraveblood,butnotlikethis.Notlikethis.
THEGREEKSLEAVETOMORROW,andIamdesperate.
Odysseus
Hesleepslightly,eyelidsfluttering
Odysseus.Listentome.
Hetwitches.Eveninsleepheisnotatrest.
Whenyoucametohimforhelp,Iansweredyou.Willyounotanswermenow?Youknowwhathewastome.Yousaw,beforeyoubroughtushere.Ourpeaceisonyourhead.
“MYAPOLOGIESforbotheringyousolate,PrincePyrrhus.”Heoffershiseasiestsmile.
“Idonotsleep,”Pyrrhussays.
“Howconvenient.Nowonderyougetsomuchmoredonethantherestofus.”
Pyrrhuswatcheshimwithnarrowedeyes;hecannottellifheisbeingmocked
“Wine?”Odysseusholdsupaskin.
“Isuppose.”Pyrrhusjerkshischinattwogoblets.“Leaveus,”hesaystoAndromache.Whileshegathersherclothes,Odysseuspours.
“Well.Youmustbepleasedwithallyouhavedonehere.Herobythirteen?Notmanymencansayso.”
“Noothermen.”Thevoiceiscold.“Whatdoyouwant?”
“I’mafraidIhavebeenpromptedbyararestirringofguilt.”
“Oh?”
“Wesailtomorrow,andleavemanyGreekdeadbehindus.Allofthemareproperlyburied,withanametomarktheirmemory.Allbutone.Iamnotapiousman,butIdonotliketothinkofsoulswanderingamongtheliving.Iliketotakemyeaseunmolestedbyrestlessspirits.”
Pyrrhuslistens,hislipsdrawnbackinfaint,habitualdistaste.
“IcannotsayIwasyourfather’sfriend,norhemine.ButIadmiredhisskillandvaluedhimasasoldier.Andintenyears,yougettoknowaman,evenifyoudon’twishto.SoIcantellyounowthatIdonotbelievehewouldwantPatroclustobeforgotten.”
Pyrrhusstiffens.“Didhesayso?”
“Heaskedthattheirashesbeplacedtogether,heaskedthattheybeburiedasone.Inthespiritofthis,Ithinkwecansayhewishedit.”Forthefirsttime,Iamgratefulforhiscleverness.
“Iamhisson.Iamtheonewhosayswhathisspiritwishesfor.”
“WhichiswhyIcametoyou.Ihavenostakeinthis.Iamonlyanhonestman,wholikestoseerightdone.”
“Isitrightthatmyfather’sfameshouldbediminished?Taintedbyacommoner?”
“Patrocluswasnocommoner.Hewasbornaprinceandexiled.Heservedbravelyinourarmy,andmanymenadmiredhim.HekilledSarpedon,secondonlytoHector.”
“Inmyfather’sarmor.Withmyfather’sfame.Hehasnoneofhisown.”
Odysseusinclineshishead.“True.Butfameisastrangething.Somemengaingloryaftertheydie,whileothersfade.Whatisadmiredinonegenerationisabhorredinanother.”Hespreadhisbroadhands.“Wecannotsaywhowillsurvivetheholocaustofmemory.Whoknows?”Hesmiles.“PerhapsonedayevenIwillbefamous.Perhapsmorefamousthanyou.”
“Idoubtit.”
Odysseusshrugs.“Wecannotsay.Wearemenonly,abriefflareofthetorch.Thosetocomemayraiseusorlowerusastheyplease.Patroclusmaybesuchaswillriseinthefuture.”
“Heisnot.”
“Thenitwouldbeagooddeed.Adeedofcharityandpiety.Tohonoryourfather,andletadeadmanrest.”
“Heisablotonmyfather’shonor,andablotonmine.Iwillnotallowit.Takeyoursourwineandgo.”Pyrrhus’wordsaresharpasbreakingsticks.
Odysseusstandsbutdoesnotgo.“Doyouhaveawife?”heasks.
“Ofcoursenot.”
“Ihaveawife.Ihavenotseenherfortenyears.Idonotknowifsheisdead,orifIwilldiebeforeIcanreturntoher.”
Ihadthought,always,thathiswifewasajoke,afiction.Buthisvoiceisnotmildnow.Eachwordcomesslowly,asifitmustbebroughtfromagreatdepth.
“Myconsolationisthatwewillbetogetherintheunderworld.Thatwewillmeetagainthere,ifnotinthislife.Iwouldnotwishtobetherewithouther.”
“Myfatherhadnosuchwife,”Pyrrhussays.
Odysseuslooksattheyoungman’simplacableface.“Ihavedonemybest,”hesays.“LetitberememberedItried.”
Iremember.
THEGREEKSSAIL,andtakemyhopewiththem.Icannotfollow.Iamtiedtothisearthwheremyasheslie.Icurlmyselfaroundthestoneobeliskofhistomb.Perhapsitiscooltothetouch;perhapswarm.Icannottell.ACHILLES,itsays,andnothingmore.Hehasgonetotheunderworld,andIamhere.
PEOPLECOMETOSEEhisgrave.Somehangback,asiftheyareafraidhisghostwillriseandchallengethem.Othersstandatthebasetolookatthescenesofhislifecarvedonthestone.Theyarealittlehastilydone,butclearenough.AchilleskillingMemnon,killingHector,killingPenthesilea.Nothingbutdeath.ThisishowPyrrhus’tombmightlook.Isthishowhewillberemembered?
Thetiscomes.Iwatchher,witheringthegrasswhereshestands.Ihavenotfeltsuchhatredforherinalongtime.ShemadePyrrhus,andlovedhimmorethanAchilles.
Sheislookingatthescenesonthetomb,deathafterdeath.Shereaches,asifshewilltouchthem.Icannotbearit.
Thetis,Isay.
Herhandjerksback.Shevanishes.
Latershereturns.Thetis.Shedoesnotreact.Onlystands,lookingatherson’stomb.
Iamburiedhere.Inyourson’sgrave.
Shesaysnothing.Doesnothing.Shedoesnothear.
Everydayshecomes.Shesitsatthetomb’sbase,anditseemsthatIcanfeelhercoldthroughtheearth,theslightsearingsmellofsalt.Icannotmakeherleave,butIcanhateher.
YousaidthatChironruinedhim.Youareagoddess,andcold,andknownothing.Youaretheonewhoruinedhim.Lookathowhewillberememberednow.KillingHector,killingTroilus.Forthingshedidcruellyinhisgrief.
Herfaceislikestoneitself.Itdoesnotmove.Thedaysriseandfall.
Perhapssuchthingspassforvirtueamongthegods.Buthowistheregloryintakingalife?Wediesoeasily.WouldyoumakehimanotherPyrrhus?Letthestoriesofhimbesomethingmore.
“Whatmore?”shesays.
ForonceIamnotafraid.Whatelsecanshedotome?
ReturningHector’sbodytoPriam,Isay.Thatshouldberemembered.
Sheissilentforalongtime.“And?”
Hisskillwiththelyre.Hisbeautifulvoice.
Sheseemstobewaiting.
Thegirls.Hetookthemsothattheywouldnotsufferatanotherking’shands.
“Thatwasyourdoing.”
WhyareyounotwithPyrrhus?
Somethingflickersinhereyes.“Heisdead.”
Iamfiercelyglad.How?Itisacommand,almost.
“HewaskilledbyAgamemnon’sson.”
Forwhat?
Shedoesnotanswerforsometime.“Hestolehisbrideandravishedher.”
“WhateverIwant,”hesaidtoBriseis.WasthisthesonyoupreferredtoAchilles?
Hermouthtightens.“Haveyounomorememories?”
Iammadeofmemories.
“Speak,then.”
IALMOSTREFUSE.Buttheacheforhimisstrongerthanmyanger.Iwanttospeakofsomethingnotdeadordivine.Iwanthimtolive.
Atfirstitisstrange.Iamusedtokeepinghimfromher,tohoardinghimformyself.Butthememorieswelluplikespringwater,fasterthanIcanholdthemback.Theydonotcomeaswords,butlikedreams,risingasscentfromtherain-wetearth.This,Isay.Thisandthis.Thewayhishairlookedinsummersun.Hisfacewhenheran.Hiseyes,solemnasanowlatlessons.Thisandthisandthis.Somanymomentsofhappiness,crowdingforward.
Shecloseshereyes.Theskinoverthemisthecolorofsandinwinter.Shelistens,andshetooremembers.
Sheremembersstandingonabeach,hairblackandlongasahorse’stail.Slate-graywavessmashagainstrocks.Thenamortal’shands,brutalandbruisingonherpolishedskin.Thesandscrapingherraw,andthetearinginside.Thegods,after,tyinghertohim.
Sheremembersfeelingthechildwithinher,luminousinthedarkofherwomb.Sherepeatstoherselftheprophecythatthethreeoldwomenspoketoher:yoursonwillbegreaterthanhisfather
Theothergodshadrecoiledtohearit.Theyknewwhatpowerfulsonsdototheirfathers—Zeus’thunderboltsstillsmellofsingedfleshandpatricide.Theygavehertoamortal,tryingtoshacklethechild’spower.Dilutehimwithhumanity,diminishhim.
Sherestsherhandonherstomach,feelshimswimmingwithin.Itisherbloodthatwillmakehimstrong.
Butnotstrongenough.Iamamortal!hescreamsather,hisfaceblotchyandsoddenanddull.
WHYDOYOUnotgotohim?
“Icannot.”Thepaininhervoiceislikesomethingtearing.“Icannotgobeneaththeearth.”Theunderworld,withitscavernousgloomandflutteringsouls,whereonlythedeadmaywalk.“Thisisallthatisleft,”shesays,hereyesstillfixedonthemonument.Aneternityofstone.
IconjuretheboyIknew.Achilles,grinningasthefigsblurinhishands.Hisgreeneyeslaughingintomine.Catch,hesays.Achilles,outlinedagainstthesky,hangingfromabranchovertheriver.Thethickwarmthofhissleepybreathagainstmyear.Ifyouhavetogo,Iwillgowithyou.Myfearsforgotteninthegoldenharborofhisarms.
Thememoriescome,andcome.Shelistens,staringintothegrainofthestone.Weareallthere,goddessandmortalandtheboywhowasboth.
THESUNISSETTINGoverthesea,spillingitscolorsonthewater’ssurface.Sheisbesideme,silentintheblurry,creepingdusk.HerfaceisasunmarkedasthefirstdayIsawher.Herarmsarecrossedoverherchest,asiftoholdsomethoughttoherself.
Ihavetoldherall.Ihavesparednothing,ofanyofus.
Wewatchthelightsinkintothegraveofthewesternsky.
“Icouldnotmakehimagod,”shesays.Herjaggedvoice,richwithgrief.
Butyoumadehim.
Shedoesnotanswermeforalongtime,onlysits,eyesshiningwiththelastofthedyinglight.
“Ihavedoneit,”shesays.AtfirstIdonotunderstand.ButthenIseethetomb,andthemarksshehasmadeonthestone.ACHILLES,itreads.Andbesideit,PATROCLUS
“Go,”shesays.“Hewaitsforyou.”
INTHEDARKNESS,twoshadows,reachingthroughthehopeless,heavydusk.Theirhandsmeet,andlightspillsinafloodlikeahundredgoldenurnspouringoutofthesun.
CharacterGlossary
GodsandImmortals
APHRODITE.Thegoddessofloveandbeauty,themotherofAeneas,andachampionoftheTrojans.SheparticularlyfavoredParis,andinBook3oftheIliadsheintervenedtosavehimfromMenelaus.
APOLLO.Thegodoflightandmusic,andachampionoftheTrojans.HewasresponsibleforsendingtheplaguedownupontheGreekarmyinBook1oftheIliad,andwasinstrumentalinthedeathsofbothAchillesandPatroclus.
ARTEMIS.ThetwinsisterofApolloandthegoddessofthehunt,themoon,andvirginity.AngryaboutthebloodshedtheTrojanWarwouldcause,shestoppedthewindsfromblowing,strandingtheGreekfleetatAulis.AfterthesacrificeofIphigenia,shewasappeasedandthewindsreturned.
ATHENA.Thepowerfulgoddessofwisdom,weaving,andwararts.ShewasafiercesupporterofherbelovedGreeksagainsttheTrojansandaparticularguardianofthewilyOdysseus.SheappearsofteninboththeIliadandtheOdyssey
CHIRON.Theonly“good”centaur,knownasateacheroftheheroesJason,Aesculapius,andAchilles,aswellastheinventorofmedicineandsurgery.
HERA.Thequeenofthegodsandthesister-wifeofZeus.LikeAthena,shechampionedtheGreeksandhatedtheTrojans.InVergil’sAeneid,sheistheprincipalantagonist,constantlyharassingtheTrojanheroAeneasafterTroyhasfallen.
SCAMANDER.ThegodoftheriverScamandernearTroyandanotherchampionoftheTrojans.HisfamousbattlewithAchillesistoldinBook22oftheIliad
THETIS.Asea-nymphandshape-changer,andthemotherofAchilles.ThefateshadprophesiedthatThetis’sonwouldbegreaterthanhisfather,whichfrightenedthegodZeus(whohadpreviouslydesiredher).HemadesuretomarryThetistoamortal,inordertolimitthepowerofherson.Inpost-HomericversionsofthestoryshetriesanumberofwaystomakeAchillesimmortal,includingdippinghimbyhisankleintheriverStyxandholdinghiminafiretoburnawayhismortality.
ZEUS.Thekingofthegodsandthefatherofmanyfamousheroes,includingHeraclesandPerseus.
Mortals
ACHILLES.ThesonofthekingPeleusandthesea-nymphThetis,hewasthegreatestwarriorofhisgeneration,aswellasthemostbeautiful.TheIliadcallshim“swift-footed”andalsopraiseshissingingvoice.HewasraisedbythekindlycentaurChironandtooktheexiledprincePatroclusashisconstantcompanion.Asateenager,hewasfamouslyofferedachoice:alonglifeandobscurityorashortlifeandfame.HechosefameandsailedtoTroyalongwiththeotherGreeks.However,intheninthyearofthewarhequarreledwithAgamemnonandrefusedtofightanylonger,returningtobattleonlywhenhisbelovedPatrocluswaskilledbyHector.Inarage,heslewthegreatTrojanwarrioranddraggedhisbodyaroundthewallsofTroyinvengeance.HewaseventuallykilledbytheTrojanprinceParis,withtheassistanceofthegodApollo.
Achilles’mostfamousmyth—hisfatallyvulnerableheel—isactuallyaverylatestory.IntheIliadandOdysseyAchillesisn’tinvincible,justextraordinarilygiftedinbattle.ButintheyearsafterHomer,mythsbeganpoppinguptoexplainandelaborateuponAchilles’seeminginvincibility.Inonepopularversion,thegoddessThetisdipsAchillesintheriverStyxtotrytomakehimimmortal;itworks,everywherebuttheplaceonhisheelwheresheholdshim.SincetheIliadandOdysseyweremyprimarysourcesofinspiration,andsincetheirinterpretationseemedmorerealistic,Ichosetofollowtheoldertradition.
AENEAS.ThesonofthegoddessAphroditeandthemortalAnchises,theTrojannobleAeneaswasrenownedforhispiety.HefoughtbravelyintheTrojanWarbutisbestknownforhisadventuresafterwards.AsVergiltellsintheAeneid,AeneasescapedthefallofTroyandledagroupofsurvivorstoItaly,wherehemarriedanativeprincessandfoundedtheRomanpeople.
AGAMEMNON.ThebrotherofMenelaus,AgamemnonruledMycenae,thelargestkingdominGreece,andservedastheover-generaloftheGreekexpeditiontoTroy.DuringthewarheoftenquarreledwithAchilles,whorefusedtoacknowledgeAgamemnon’srighttocommandhim.UponAgamemnon’sreturnhomeafterthewar,hewasmurderedbyhiswife,Clytemnestra.AeschylusdepictsthisincidentanditsaftermathinhisfamoustragiccycletheOresteia
AJAX.ThekingofSalamisandadescendentofZeus,whowasknownforhisenormoussizeandstrength.HewasthesecondgreatestGreekwarriorafterAchilles,andmemorablystoodagainsttheTrojans’attackontheGreekcampwhenAchillesrefusedtofight.However,afterAchilles’death,whenAgamemnonchosetohonorOdysseusasthemostvaluablememberoftheGreekarmy,Ajaxwentmadwithgriefandrage,andkilledhimself.HisstoryismovinglytoldinSophocles’tragedyAjax.
ANDROMACHE.BornaprincessofCilicia,nearTroy,shebecametheloyalandlovingwifeofHector.ShehatedAchilles,whohadkilledherfamilyinaraid.DuringthesackofTroy,shewastakencaptivebyPyrrhusandcarriedbacktoGreece.AfterPyrrhus’death,sheandHelenus,Hector’sbrother,foundedthecityofButhrotum,whichtheybuilttoresemblethelostTroy.VergiltellstheirstoryinBook3oftheAeneid
AUTOMEDON.Achilles’charioteer,skilledathandlinghisdivine,headstronghorses.AfterAchilles’death,heservedhissonPyrrhus.
BRISEIS.TakencaptivebytheGreeksintheirraidsontheTrojancountryside,Briseiswasgivenasawar-prizetoAchilles.WhenAchillesdefiedhim,Agamemnonconfiscatedherasapunishment.ShewasreturnedafterPatroclus’death,andinBook19oftheIliad,sheandtheotherwomenofthecampmournoverhisbody.
CALCHAS.ApriestwhoadvisedtheGreeks,encouragingAgamemnontosacrificehisdaughterIphigeniaandtoreturnthecaptiveslave-girlChryseistoherfather.
CHRYSESANDCHRYSEIS.ChryseswasanAnatolianpriestofApollo.Hisdaughter,Chryseis,wastakenasaslavebyAgamemnon.WhenChrysescametoretrieveher,offeringagenerousransom,Agamemnonrefused,theninsultedhim.Enraged,ChrysescalleduponhisgodApollotosendaplaguetopunishtheGreekarmy.WhenAchillespubliclyurgedAgamemnontoreturnChryseistoherfather,Agamemnonerupted,precipitatingtheirdramaticrift.
DEIDAMEIA.ThedaughterofKingLycomedesandtheprincessoftheislandkingdomofScyros.Tokeephimfromthewar,ThetisdressedAchillesasagirlandhidhimamongDeidameia’sladies-in-waiting.DeidameiadiscoveredthetrickandsecretlymarriedAchilles,conceivingthechildPyrrhus.
DIOMEDES.ThekingofArgos.Knownforbothhisguileandhisstrength,DiomedeswasoneofthemostvaluedwarriorsintheGreekarmy.LikeOdysseus,hewasafavoriteofthegoddessAthena,whoinBook5oftheIliadgrantshimsupernaturalstrengthinbattle.
HECTOR.TheoldestsonofPriamandthecrownprinceofTroy,Hectorwasknownforhisstrength,nobility,andloveoffamily.InBook6oftheIliad,HomershowsusatouchingscenebetweenHector;hiswife,Andromache;andtheiryoungson,Astyanax.HewaskilledbyAchillesinthefinalyearofthewar.
HELEN.Thelegendarymostbeautifulwomanintheworld,HelenwasaprincessofSparta,thedaughterofthequeenLedaandthegodZeus(intheformofaswan).Manymensoughtherhandinmarriage,eachswearinganoathtoupholdherunionwithwhoeverprevailed.ShewasgiventoMenelaus,butlaterranawaywiththeTrojanprinceParis,settinginmotiontheTrojanWar.Afterthewar,shereturnedhomewithMenelaustoSparta.
HERACLES.ThesonofZeusandthemostfamousofGreekheroes.Knownforhistremendousstrength,HeracleswasforcedtoperformtwelvelaborsaspenancetothegoddessHera,whohatedhimforbeingtheproductofoneofZeus’affairs.HediedlongbeforetheTrojanWarbegan.
IDOMENEUS.ThekingofCreteandgrandsonofKingMinos,ofMinotaurfame.
IPHIGENIA.ThedaughterofAgamemnonandClytemnestra,promisedinmarriagetoAchillesandbroughttoAulistoappeasethegoddessArtemis.Hersacrificemadethewindsblowagain,sothattheGreekfleetcouldsailtoTroy.HerstoryistoldinEuripides’tragedyIphigeniaatAulis
LYCOMEDES.ThekingofScyrosandthefatherofDeidameia.HeunknowinglyshelteredAchillesdisguisedasagirlinhiscourt.
MENELAUS.ThebrotherofAgamemnonand,afterhismarriagetoHelen,thekingofSparta.WhenHelenwaskidnappedbyParis,heinvokedtheoathswornbyallofhersuitorsand,withhisbrother,ledanarmytoretrieveher.InBook3oftheIliadhedueledwithParisforpossessionofHelen,andwaswinningbeforethegoddessAphroditeintervenedonParis’behalf.Afterthewar,heandHelenreturnedtoSparta.
NESTOR.TheagedkingofPylosandtheformercompanionofHeracles.HewastoooldtofightintheTrojanWarbutservedasanimportantcounselortoAgamemnon.
ODYSSEUS.ThewilyprinceofIthaca,belovedbythegoddessAthena.HeproposedthefamousoathrequiringallofHelen’ssuitorstoswearavowtoupholdhermarriage.Ashisreward,heclaimedherclevercousinPenelopeashiswife.DuringtheTrojanWar,hewasoneofAgamemnon’schiefadvisers,andlaterdevisedthetrickoftheTrojanhorse.Hisvoyagehome,whichlastedtenyears,isthesubjectofHomer’sOdyssey,whichincludesthefamoustalesofhisencounterswiththeCyclops,thewitchCirce,ScyllaandCharybdis,andtheSirens.EventuallyOdysseusreturnedtoIthaca,wherehewaswelcomedbyhiswife,Penelope,andgrownson,Telemachus.
PARIS.ThesonofPriamwhobecamethejudgeofthefamous“beautycontest”betweenHera,Athena,andAphrodite,withthegoldenappleasaprize.Eachgoddesstriedtobribehim:Herawithpower,Athenawithwisdom,andAphroditewiththemostbeautifulwomanintheworld.HeawardedtheprizetoAphrodite,andsheinturnhelpedhimspiritHelenaway
PATROCLUS.ThesonofKingMenoitius.Exiledfromhishomeforaccidentallykillinganotherboy,PatroclusfoundshelterinPeleus’court,wherehewasfosteredwithAchilles.HeisasecondarycharacterintheIliad,buthisfatefuldecisiontotrytosavetheGreeksbydressinginAchilles’armorsetsinmotionthefinalactofthestory.WhenPatroclusiskilledbyHector,AchillesisdevastatedandtakesbrutalvengeanceupontheTrojans.
PELEUS.ThekingofPhthiaandthefatherofAchillesbythesea-nymphThetis.ThestoryofPeleusoverpoweringtheshape-changingThetisinawrestlingmatchwasapopularoneinantiquity.
PHOINIX.AlongtimefriendandcounselorofPeleus,whowentwithAchillestoTroyashisadviser.InBook9oftheIliad,PhoinixspokeofhavingcaredforAchilleswhenhewasababy,andvainlytriedtopersuadehimtoyieldandhelptheGreeks.
POLYXENA.TheTrojanprincesswhomPyrrhussacrificedathisfather’stomb,beforeleavingTroyforthevoyagehome.
PRIAM.TheelderlykingofTroy,whowasrenownedforhispietyandhismanychildren.InBook24oftheIliad,hebravelymadehiswayintoAchilles’tenttobegforhissonHector’sbody.DuringthesackofTroy,hewaskilledbyAchilles’son,Pyrrhus.
PYRRHUS.FormallynamedNeoptolemusbutcalled“Pyrrhus”forhisfieryhair,hewasthesonofAchillesandtheprincessDeidameia.Hejoinedthewarafterhisfather’sdeath,participatinginthetrickoftheTrojanhorseandbrutallymurderingtheoldkingofTroy,Priam.InBook2oftheAeneid,VergiltellsthestoryofPyrrhus’roleinthesackofTroy.
Acknowledgments
Writingthisnovelwasaten-year-longjourney,andIwasfortunateenoughtomeetmanymorekindlydeitiesthanangryCyclopesalongtheway.Itwouldbeimpossibletothankeveryonewhoofferedmeencouragementovertheyears—itwouldtakeasecondbook—buttherearesomedivinitiesthatneedworshipping.
Inparticular,Iwanttothankmyearlyreaders,whogavemesuchlovingandthoughtfulresponses:CarolynBell,SarahFurlow,andMichaelBourret.Ialsowanttothankmyamazinggodmother,BarbaraThornbrough,whohascheeredmeonthewholeway,aswellastheDrakefamilyfortheirkindencouragementandforbeingexpertconsultantsonwide-rangingmatters.Myheartfeltappreciationgoesalsotomyteachers,especiallyDianeDubois,SusanMelvoin,KristinJaffe,JudithWilliams,andJimMiller;andtomypassionateandfabulousstudents,ShakespeareansandLatinscholarsalike,forteachingmemuchmorethanIevertaughtthem.
IhavebeenfortunateenoughtohavenotonebutthreeamazingmentorsinClassics,teaching,andlife:DavidRich,JosephPucci,andMichaelC.J.Putnam.Iamgratefulbeyondmeasuretotheirkindnessanderudition.ThanksalsototheentireBrownUniversityClassicsDepartment.Itgoeswithoutsayingthatallerrorsanddistortionsinthiswork
SpecialthankstoWalterKasinskas,andtothebeautifulandtalentedNoraPines,whohasalwaysbelievedIwouldbeawriterdespitereadinganumberofmyearlyshortstories.
Thanksandthanksandeverthankstotheinimitable,irrepressible,andoutstandingJonahRamuCohen,afiercefierywarriorwhofoughtforthisbookeverystepoftheway.Iamsogratefulforyourfriendship.
AMountOlympusofgratitudetotheastoundingJulieBarer,bestofallAgents,whosweptmeoffmyfeetandintoamiracle,alongwithalltherestofheramazingteam.
Andofcoursethankstomydynamic,fabulouseditor,LeeBoudreaux,andthewholegroupatEcco,includingAbigailHolstein,MichaelMcKenzie,HeatherDrucker,RachelBressler,andeveryonewhotooksuchexcellentcareofmeandthiswork.IwouldalsoliketothankthefantasticpeopleatBloomsburyUK—theoutstandingAlexandraPringle,KatieBond,DavidMann,andeveryoneelseontheirteamforalltheirincredibleworkonmybook’sbehalf.
Finally,Iwanttothankmyfamily,includingmybrotherBud,whohasputupwithmystoriesofAchillesforhisentirelife,andmywonderfulstepfather,Gordon.Mostofall,Ithankmyamazingmother,whohaslovedandsupportedmeinallmyendeavors,andwhoinspiredmetolovereadingasmuchasshedoes.Iamsoblessedtobeyourdaughter.
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