Alexandra Maddox, almythea: Thank you so much for your very kind reviews. You made my day
This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones. Hopefully that will make up a little for slower updates over the next couple of weeks – got a big workload to catch up on.
CHAPTER TEN
A volley of stones flew straight at the sentenced man's head. None missed, none struck anywhere else in his body. Myrmidon accuracy, I thought to myself sadly as the man fell dead on the ground.
Even the air itself seemed to weigh as heavy as led on the shoulders of the Myrmidon army, assembled to witness the trial and sentence of their comrade. There was not one man who didn't look grim and solemn.
The proceedings had been quick. The man accused of cowardice had stood before his judges and his pears, head hung low, and confessed to having tried to flee the battlefield. The trial had been conducted in the Myrmidon tribal dialect, but it wasn't really necessary to understand the words being said to realize what was happening. The whole body language of the accused man, who seemed about to collapse under the crushing weight of shame, and the gloomy austerity on the faces of the judges, spoke clearly enough.
Like you had said, you listened to what the other judges had to say before issuing your sentence. No voice rose to ask for leniency. The man was taken outside the camp's limits, the Myrmidons formed in ranks and watched as the members of the man's phalanx put down their weapons, grabbed a handful of heavy stones each and carried out the sentence on their own disgraced comrade.
Afterward, two of the eldest veterans of the phalanx walked up to you and seemed to be asking for some kind of mercy. You nodded once and pointed to a place near the edge of the cape. The dead man was then wrapped in a non-descript linen sheet and carried on the shoulders of his former comrades in the direction you had pointed. I realized they had asked for the body to be buried, instead of being abandoned to the animals, and you had agreed, but he would remain stripped of any weapons or Myrmidon insignia, and the burial site would be far from the camp, not on the same hallowed ground where the ones fallen in the battlefield found their final resting place.
The ranks broke up and the men returned to the camp. I noticed many of the glum faces passing me by were sporting red eyes, glittering with ill-contained tears. I looked instinctively at you and although your features were the hardest and blankest I had ever seen them, your eyes too were unmistakably red.
That night there was no merry supper with guests and witty banter. The division of the man found guilty of cowardice left to spend the night fasting and keeping vigil in preparation for a purification rite that would be performed at dawn and, as I might have guessed, you went with them to share in the vigil and lead the rite. The rest of the men retired to their respective tents in a subdued silence.
It was as though the entire Myrmidon camp was engaged in fast and vigil, and I was no exception. I tossed and turned in my pallet in the women's quarters, my eyes wide open in the dark.
What had nearly happened that afternoon couldn't happen again. Never. It was wrong in every way possible. What I had felt went far beyond mere attraction. I had wanted you with every fibre of my being. I had been entranced, fascinated, my brain frozen and my heart in full gallop, for the man who had killed my husband.
Hera forgive me! I was no better than the soldier who had been stoned to death only a while earlier. As a widow, I was free to take another man without there being adultery, but getting involved with you of my own free will would be an undeniable act of betrayal against my husband's memory. Yes, I was free to take another man, but not you. Any man but you.
It would have been different if you had used the power you held over me. In such circumstances I would have been innocent, even if later I adjusted to the fait accompli and tried to make the best of a situation I had been powerless to avoid, as so many women had done before me and so many more would undoubtedly do after me. In a way, as I had done myself in my marriage to Mynes.
But that was not the case. As absurd as it seemed, I wasn't as powerless with you as I had been in my husband's house. I could say no. I had been saying no since I'd been brought here. If I now changed the "no" to a "yes", it would be because I wanted to.
And therein laid the betrayal.
I buried my face in my blanket, trying to muffle the sobs tearing through my body. I felt someone stir in her pallet, not very far from mine, stuck my fist in my mouth and remained motionless until all I could hear was the sound of rhythmic breathing all around me. Then I slipped out of bed, wrapped myself in my cloak and slid silently outside.
The night was quiet, a luxurious wealth of stars glittering in the velvety black sky. I walked down the path between the ships to the shore and sat down on the sand, gazing at the even deeper black of the sea. The waves crashed loudly against the rocks, like some mad apocalyptic drummer.
What was drawing me so deeply to you? I wasn't some kind of bubbleheaded idiot to fall for the first pretty face to cross my path and I was very clearly aware of your flaws and shortcomings. As Patroclus had said back in Lyrnessus, that day that already seemed so long ago, you weren't exactly the most amenable man on Earth. Or the easiest. You were proud to the point of arrogance, you were aggressive, authoritative, demanding, headstrong. On the upside, you were honourable, loyal, unquestionably devoted to the people you cared for. You were also surprisingly attentive and caring toward the elderly, like Phoenix and Nestor. You always found a way to show them both the respect you believed they were due and, what struck me as particularly endearing, to indicate that you still saw in them the qualities that had made them stand out in their prime. Not less surprisingly, you were willing to accept that your subordinates could have a different opinion than yours and to actually listen to that opinion – even if ultimately you'd follow your own judgement.
I had begun by hating you, but that had obviously changed. The question was, into what? I had learned to respect you, that was clear enough, and even to admire some of your qualities. I also appreciated the way you had treated me and the considerate attitude you had toward your prisoners. Had I grown to actually like you?
Not really. Not simply. Not the way I liked Patroclus, for instance. He was nice, amiable, good-natured. You were definitely none of those things. I felt comfortable around him, I had grown to trust him, in fact I thought of him as a friend. With you… I certainly didn't feel comfortable, on the contrary, I felt continuously challenged. I did trust you in many ways, but I wouldn't dream of looking to you for a shoulder to cry on.
A wave crashed higher on the sand, spraying my cloak with tiny pearls of salt water. A pearl, yes, that would be Patroclus. Steadily translucent, glowing softly like the moonlight, smooth to the touch, no edges on which to scratch the tips of my fingers.
You, on the other hand, were all hardness and cutting edges. Shining brightly in layers upon layers of clear depths that could reflect all the colours of the sun's light, as well as all the shades of blackness of the night.
A diamond.
People liked pearls, but diamonds inspired passion. I curled up in a ball on the sand and cried myself to sleep.
O – O - O
A hand brushing lightly on my shoulder woke me up. The sun was already high in the sky, the sand had scratched my cheek and the back of my hand. I sat up, rubbing the sleep off my eyes.
You sat down next to me. You looked more exhausted than ever and your movements were stiff and careful, but the most prominent feature in your eyes was worry:
"What happened? Why are you sleeping out here?"
"I kept tossing and turning in my bed. I didn't want to disturb the other women, so I came outside and I'm afraid I ended up falling asleep on the ground."
You stared at me for a while. "You shouldn't have watched the execution. I didn't realize you'd be that impressed or I wouldn't have allowed you to."
I shook my head. "It wasn't because of the execution. It was quick and rather painless. I've seen much worse."
"What was it, then?"
I hesitated. But I had to put an end to this thing that had started to grow in me before it got completely out of hand.
"Achilles, please try to understand: it's nothing against you. Not really, not anymore. But what almost happened yesterday… it can't happen again. It's wrong, morally wrong."
That ominous calm that heralded the rising of a storm spread all over your face.
"Why is it wrong?"
I shook my head desperately. I didn't want to tell you the truth.
"Why is it wrong, Briseis?" You waited a little, then, realizing I wasn't going to answer: "I want it, you want it as well – don't deny it, I've seen it quite clearly yesterday. Neither of us is married. So, what is morally wrong about it?"
I looked suddenly up at you:
"You're not married?"
You smiled tightly: "No, I'm not. What led you to believe I was?"
"Well, I know you have a son, so I thought that maybe…"
"You do realize people don't need to be married to have children, don't you?"
I wanted to respond to your ironical smile, but I remained serious:
"But that was not really the point anyway."
"Then what was it?"
"Achilles, please, just think about it a little. You know why it's wrong."
"No, I don't."
I searched your face, but, of course, it was completely impenetrable. Finally, I whispered almost inaudibly:
"You killed my husband."
"Ah." You stretched your legs on the sand, as if you were making yourself comfortable. "That makes it morally wrong, you say?"
"Of course it does! It would be unbelievably disloyal to his memory."
"And his memory as a husband is worthy of your loyalty?", you asked with that same eerie calm.
I stared incredulously at you: "Look, as you pointed out explicitly yourself, I never pretended to love him more than I did. But I've always respected him and been true to him, and I don't want to shame his memory by becoming willingly involved with his slayer."
Your jaw was set, the storm was rising in your eyes. Still, you kept your apparent calm.
"I killed him in battle. He was as armed as I was, and trying his fucking damnedest to kill me." I looked up in surprise; you had never sworn in front of me before. "It was not like I murdered him treacherously in his innocent sleep. Besides, when I did get him cornered, I offered him a chance to yield and he refused. He wanted to go down fighting, like a true warrior, so that's exactly what I gave him. I respected him for that, mind you. It's the exact same choice I hope I'll make when my time comes." You paused for breath. "But that's from warrior to warrior, and it's not even the issue here. It's just an answer to the implications of your accusation against me. The real issue is a whole different one. I ask again: is his memory as a husband worthy of your loyalty? Or, in other words, how good was your marriage?"
How good was my marriage? What kind of question was that?
"What's that got to do with anything? He was my husband, he has a right to my loyalty."
"Indeed. All husbands have a right to their wives' loyalty. They have other rights as well, don't they? Regardless of the little wife's wishes on the matter." Your voice had acquired a weird silkiness and I didn't like what you seemed to be implying.
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."
"You understand perfectly what I mean!", you shouted, the storm finally erupting. "You know exactly what I'm talking about and you know I'm as right as I'll ever be. Actually, what I should have asked is how bad was your marriage. Come on, Briseis, I'm not stupid. Do you think I didn't notice how you never, ever, mention your life with your husband? I listen to the stories you tell me, you know. So I couldn't help noticing that you didn't once, not one single time, recall any episode from the time you spent with him. You have fond memories of your childhood, but then you prefer to think of things that happen here, things from your life as a captive in an enemy camp, to any memory from when you were a queen in your husband's house. I know why that is and so do you."
I struggled to find my voice.
"You don't know anything", I choked out at last. "It was not like that, not at all!"
"Wasn't it? Then pray tell me how it was. Did you have a great wedding night?"
"I'm not going to answer that! It's totally improper."
"Is it? Then maybe I'll just tell you how it was, shall I?"
I rose to leave, furious: "You're tired. You've been injured in battle yesterday, then went through the stress of your man's trial and execution, then spent a sleepless night. That's the only reason I'll forgive you for this… this impudence!"
You rose as well, your movements catlike in their swiftness. If I didn't know better, I'd never guess you were still injured. You grabbed my arm, forced me to face you:
"Impudence? I'll tell you what's impudent: it's you denying a blatant truth. You were sold by your family to the highest bidder and then you were raped on a regular basis throughout the duration of your marriage. I know a great deal about arranged marriages between kings and unwilling young maidens. Do you want to know how? Because that was my parents' marriage as well."
There was a silence. You let go of my arm and turned your back on me. I took a hesitant step in your direction, but you raised a hand to stop me.
"The signs are all over you, Briseis, so yes, I know how your marriage was", you said, more gently now. "You'd been told that husbands had certain rights and that it was your duty to submit. So you did. If it hadn't been your husband, if it had been me doing it, for instance, you'd have called it rape and hated me for it, but since there had been a wedding ceremony… you just accepted it as inevitable and made a hell of an effort not to hate him. But you never wanted him, it was always a bit of a torment every time he came looking for you. You were probably even relieved whenever he took a new mistress and left you alone for a while."
"How do you kn…", I started, then stopped. You turned back to me, an utterly unexpected look of sympathy in your eyes.
"How do I know he had mistresses? I raided his palace, Briseis, I know what I found. Pretty young slaves, with rich clothes and sophisticated hair-dos, displaying all the arrogance of their master's favourites." After a short pause, you admitted in a very low voice: "I bedded a couple of them while we were there. They didn't object."
"Oh." I didn't know what to say. I didn't even know what impressed me the most: the uncanny lucidity of your insight into what my life with Mynes had been, the striking gentleness of tone that sought to take the sting off the harsh truths you were stating, or your strangely intimate confession in the end. Or maybe that phrase about your parents.
I went for the easiest option:
"You bedded Mynes' slaves?"
You shrugged, looking slightly sheepish: "Back then I wasn't expecting to get so close to you. They were there, they were available and… well, they had no worth as hostages and they were very keen to try and gain favour with their new masters."
I started laughing. I guess I was a little hysterical.
"Mynes would be royally pissed if he knew. They were his most treasured possessions. He spent fortunes with them, was always showing them off like freaking crown jewels." My stomach was beginning to hurt, but I just couldn't stop laughing. I was definitely hysterical. "I think he'd be more pissed because of them than because of me."
And then I started to cry. I dropped to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. It was your turn to take a step in my direction, my turn to raise a hand to stop you.
"Go away, please. I need to be alone."
You seemed hesitant: "Will you be alright? Maybe I should send Iphis over."
"No, I'm fine. I just have to… assimilate all this."
You were still doubtful. I looked up, past caring about my blotchy face and running nose.
"Look, you were right on target. Yes, my marriage was beyond bad and, yes, it's absurd to be talking about loyalty to the memory of a man I really only want to forget. But…"
But you had just ripped apart the tapestry of merciful illusions I had woven to cover up the ugly truth. All diamond-like hardness and cutting edges, you had cut to the bone of the bare facts I didn't want to confront. It was unbearably painful and I needed time to sort myself out.
But I didn't tell you any of that. Instead, I said simply: "I just need a bit to pull myself together. I'll be fine, honestly."
You hesitated a little longer, then nodded in acceptance. "Alright. But don't take too long, or I'll send the whole fucking army looking for you."
I looked on as you walked away across the sand, a bright diamond that shone all the colours of the sun's light into all the shades of blackness of the night.
