Probably my last update for a while! I have lots of work to catch up on. Thank you so much for your reviews, they are very kind and so encouraging. I hope you like this next chapter. Happy reading, and of course I own none of Homer's wonderful characters.
Chapter 14
An entire cycle of the moon passed on the Achaean beach, but Adara felt as if she had been among the Greeks for years. She grew accustomed to the sounds of battle ringing down from the hills and could bear the bitter stench of blood that clung to Achilles. The men in the camp came to know her, and in return she grew to know them also. Automedon, the chariot driver, was witty but quiet and could often be found practicing archery in the sweltering heat after returning from battle. He had sweeping black hair and sleepy brown eyes that screamed of exhaustion and hatred for war. Adara also became close with Actor, the seeming grandfather to the Myrmidon men. As the oldest man in the camp, he was the first to compliment men during their training and always willing to lend a hand.
The men fought for several days in a row and then went many days without a Trojan encounter. On the days that the men stayed in camp Adara was kept busy cooking and cleaning and mending clothes. Occasionally Achilles had her run messages to Odysseus or groom his horses, an honor that many of the women despised her for. Adara no longer despised Achilles company, but she found his endless staring and proud demeanor tiring. At the same time, she was glad that he had chosen her to be his personal attendant. It gave her a greater purpose in the camp and she realized that there were many worse people she could have gone to.
Visitors came to visit from time to time from other Greek nations. The great Diomedes came to feast one night, his bear like figure taking up half the table and his appetite even larger than his figure. Odysseus attended every few days, his dry humor and wry smile livening the men. He always asked after her, inquiring where his "favorite messenger" was and if she would be joining them for dinner. Nestor and Phoenix came even more frequently than the Ithacan; their wisdom brought enlightening conversation with them. Achilles was always sure to introduce Adara whenever new visitors came, and often she was given the honor of dining with the great chieftains.
During these meals, Adara remained quiet, watching the interactions between kings and princes and listening to their easy banter. When Diomedes attended, they discussed war and battle strategies and Achilles behaved formally and uptight. With Odysseus' company came stories of home and of the lush shores of Greece. He spoke wistfully of his wife, Penelope, and of his hope to return to her soon.
"I would give all the armies of Agamemnon to return to her," Odysseus murmured one night, taking a long draught from his chalice.
"I am certain that there is no man more in love with his wife than you," Achilles said with a rare, thin lipped smile.
"If only you could meet her, Achilles," he replied. "She has auburn hair softer than Cretan silk and nimble fingers that can weave tapestries more intricate than your shield." Achilles raised a perfectly sculpted brow in doubt. "If we ever make it out of this war, I will get her to make a tapestry of your glories. It would be a fearsome thing to behold," Odysseus promised.
Phoenix and Nestor too spoke of Greece, but it was tales of their youth and stories of the heroes of old. Of all the kings that came to visit, Adara enjoyed Phoenix's companionship the greatest. Achilles too seemed to like the old man and was at ease around him, his tempest like blue eyes calm and his hands clasped loosely on his stomach. Patroclus could carry conversation easily with any of the visitors and often helped to continue friendly banter when Achilles became too tired or uninterested to talk.
Phoenix held particular interest for Adara because he often spoke of Phthia, Achilles' homeland. The stories of Peleus and Thetis, Achilles' goddess mother were fascinating, as were the tales from his studies under Chiron. Achilles spoke freely with the old man, recalling his teachings and his accomplishments at even such a young age. Patroclus joined readily into these conversations. He had been raised by Achilles' parents and had studied alongside Achilles under the centaur. Both men spoke of their teacher with reverence, praising his strange but harsh methods. In these moments, when Achilles spoke of his life at home, Adara felt as if she came to know the great warrior.
He seemed to have been a warrior from the beginning, though not always as proud. He told stories of climbing Cyprus trees during windstorms and falling to the earth and learning to swing a sword.
"I used to not be able to lift my blade above my head. Chiron had me carry a rock under each arm and climb the mountain each day until I could swing my sword with ease," Achilles admitted with a smile.
He appeared to have been just as headstrong in Greece as he was now, refusing to listen to other's proposals. Despite his pride and strong beliefs, he was capable for respect for those he thought were deserving, which was few. But he had shown promise and strength from the beginning, and so he was sent to Chiron at the age of nine, hardly old enough to ride a horse. He had known all along that he would be a fearsome warrior, and had been bred to fight and kill. Adara pitied him; he never knew anything beyond the destruction he could bring.
Sometimes Phoenix asked her of Lyrnessus and she answered readily. When she first arrived on the shores of Troy, Adara would not have been able to speak of her home, but now stirring the memories helped her to come to terms with what had happened. She spoke of being selected from all the women in Lyrnessus to be Briseis' handmaiden and the training that she underwent for years to be ready for the new Queen. Adara told the story of first learning to ride and recounted tales of her brothers wrestling in the streets. Her favorite thing to do was describe the long sweeping hallways and ornate decorations in the palace. The table paid her respect, falling silent when she spoke and asking questions when appropriate. Achilles never spoke, but he kept his summer blue eyes locked on her face – although she never turned to look at him. Patroclus too paid her special attention, but he was always the first to ask questions and request more information about her hometown. She was thankful for his inquiry – it was nice to share her life with others. It was true that the days held some of her happiest moments, yet also some of her saddest.
After the one night Adara stayed in Achilles' tent, she returned to the women's quarters and with her returned her nightmares. She could hear the petrified cries from the castle and could feel Malthus' body slide from her arms. How long ago Malthus seemed she thought absentmindedly. Almost as if he is from a different life, one not my own. Speaking of Lyrnessus with the guests made the dreams more vivid, but also easier to suppress in the morning. Each dawn she awoke sweating next to Melitta, her brow furrowed and her gums chewed raw from withholding screams, and left the tent in silence to go bathe in the creek. During each of these walks she sent prayers to the Gods. To Hades, she asked for mercy on the souls of her people. From Hera, she asked forgiveness on the behalf of Briseis and prayed for Briseis' failed loyalty to Mynes. To Athena she prayed for protection of the Myrmidons in battle, especially for Patroclus. And to Apollo she prayed for light and peace.
During one of her morning walks, as she was praising Apollo, she thought she saw a figure watching her from the copse with hair like gold and swathed in a white chiton. The figure was unfamiliar, and blinking, she found that the person had disappeared.
Sometimes Patroclus would accompany her on these walks to the stream. He was good natured and jovial, laughing lightly at her jokes and doing his best to make her smile. They had much in common and often fell into silence, enjoying each other's company. She did not understand where his interest in her had come from, but after the night on the Myrmidon ship, Patroclus had continued his interest in her.
Moments spent with the Lutienant were her happiest. For a reason unknown to Adara, he had given up on his pursuit of Briseis and now focused all of his attention on her. Soft smiles were always cast in her direction when they passed. He made excuses to accompany her when she delivered messages and he sat next to her at each meal. Along with cleaning Achilles armor, Adara had taken up polishing Patroclus' also so that she could spend time with him in his tent. On their morning walks, he would clasp her hand and shower her face in gentle kisses. After the feasts, when she had left Achilles' tent, she would meet him on the bow of the ship and enfold him into her arms. Under the moonlight, he was a young Apollo with a beaming grin and eyes only for her.
In normal circumstances, Adara would not have felt any guilt about her actions, but she knew that Achilles would not approve of their seeing each other. He did not waiver in any areas where Adara was concerned, and seemed to become her own shadow. Whenever he was summoned to another camp, Adara was always asked to accompany him. She felt like a prize animal that was groomed and polished to be shown off to the rest of the camp. Achilles always remained in his tent with her when she cleaned his armor, and he always invited her to his quarters after meals to talk with him. Their conversations were not strained, nor were they easy flowing as they were with Patroclus. They spoke of the men at camp and of their homes. In these times, Achilles did not hesitate to let his walls crumble, revealing the man behind the furious warrior's façade.
At one time Adara had been mystified by his dual nature, but as she learned of his upbringing, she felt that she understood him. As a man raised to be a warrior, he knew nothing but killing and strategy and death. Surely this must have taken his toll on him, even at such a young age? But it was also clear to Adara that Achilles did not want to be the weapon that he had become. It was true that he took great pride in his skills, which no man could match, yet he did not desire to only the servant of Hades.
Patroclus too knew that Achilles would not approve of the two of them, and so in his presence they attempted to remain distant.
Adara was grooming Achilles horses in the red of a setting sun when Achilles came and found her. She was hot and covered in horsehair, but the stallions glistened and pressed their soft muzzles into her stomach and the nape of her neck. Achilles watched her as she ran her hands across his horses' hides, running the brush with the flow of their hair and combing their manes with a bone brush. Adara did not mind his presence for she was accustomed to him always leering over her, but she was surprised when he reached forward and stayed her hand with his own.
"May I speak to you?" He asked so gently that Adara felt herself taken aback.
"Of course. Speak and I shall listen," Adara said, confused as to why he felt he must ask permission to talk to her. I am at his disposal, surely he knows this now? Achilles paused, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he attempted to form his words. Upon further inspection, Adara saw that his eyes were rimmed red and his hands were folded into fists.
"I have just returned from Agamemnon's camp," he began quietly, his words halting as if he was trying to stem his anger. Adara knew of his intense dislike for the Achaean leader and made a face as if to say I am sorry.
"He has commanded me on another raid. I leave tomorrow at sunup."
This was not the news that Adara had expected. Unsure of how to respond she turned to face Thelise, one of the horses and run her hand across the stallion's back. Achilles' tempest blue eyes followed her but he did not prompt her to speak.
"You have succeeded on all your other raids, I am sure that you will find success again," she comforted, brushing the gray hair to give herself something to do.
"It is not for fear of failure that I come to speak to you," Achilles admitted. Of course not Adara thought, he has never failed, why should he now? "Agamemnon sends me on a raid for his own personal gain. The items retrieved will go only to him, not to any of the other Greeks." Adara watched his body shake with rage and his eyes flare. With the setting sun behind him, his hair seemed to flame, making him god like in his fury, but Adara did not feel any fear.
"What does he demand?" Adara questioned.
"Women, gold, supplies. Anything I can carry back in my ships." Achilles ground his teeth in frustration. "His greed will consume the earth. I pray each night that the Gods will strike him down, but they spite me." Adara listened to his rant in silence.
"Is there any way that you can refuse him?"
"I threatened to, but there is not."
"Agamemnon is not a quarter of the man or the warrior you are, surely he cannot stop you from refusing?" Adara suggested. Achilles shook his head.
"Agamemnon has the entire Greek army at his disposal. I am but one man."
"Surely there is nothing he can do to force you to do his bidding?" Adara asked, wanting to comfort her master but unsure how to.
"He threatened to take my prize of war, Adara," Achilles murmured, his force trembling with the effort to withhold his rage. Understanding slowly dawned upon Adara and she felt her eyes widen in surprise.
"Your prize of war?" She whispered. "Does that mean…?"
"Yes. It means you, Adara." He spoke softly. Adara reeled, imagining the massive pig of a man as her captor instead of the fleet footed Myrmidon. Staggering back, she leaned against Thelise's stomach, closing her eyes and trying to hold back the nauseous feeling welling within her throat.
"What would he want with me?"
"Do not play innocent Adara," Achilles replied. "There are many things a man desires."
Suddenly Achilles stepped in front of Adara. He was so close that he was pressed against her front and her back was pinned to Thelise. His face was inches from her own and his hands closed around her upper arms, sending a shock like Zeus' thunderbolt through her body. Her eyes snapped open to see him gazing fiercely down upon her, his face hard and set and his hair tickling her face.
"I promise," he whispered so urgently she wondered how he did not break from the emotion he held. "I promise no harm will come to you." The statement was so certain that Adara did not know how to respond.
Suddenly, to their left, Adara heard a voice calling her own. Freezing in horror, she recognized the pleasant tones of Patroclus as he shouted for her again. He does not know Achilles is here she thought desperately. Achilles too was surprised, whipping his head around to listen to t he approach of his closest companion. Adara felt her heart pound in her chest. If she pulled away Achilles would be suspicious, but Patroclus would not be hurt. However, if she remained in the warrior's close grasp Patroclus might think… Her head throbbed with indecision, and Patroclus came into view before she could pull away.
He stopped and stared at them, his face flushing a deep red. Adara saw his shoulders sag for a fraction of a second before he pulled himself together. Achilles glanced from Adara to Patroclus and then back to her again before stepping away, his blue eyes narrowed and his face frozen as if chiseled from marble. He said nothing to Adara or Patroclus as he walked away, his hands clasped behind his lower back and his eyes cast down upon the sand as if he was contemplating every grain beneath his feet.
When he disappeared around the bend, Patroclus rushed over and caught Adara who had begun to slide to the ground. She fell into his arms and took several gulping breaths as her heart returned to normal.
"He knows now," Adara breathed, leaning back in his arms so that she could look at Patroclus. He stared at her thoughtfully, but said nothing.
"Do you go with the Myrmidons on the raid tomorrow?" She asked, fearing the worst.
"Yes, I will go," he replied easily, giving her a small smile. Adara pressed her forehead to his chest.
"Will he take his anger out on you?" Adara asked, fearful for the young man in her arms.
"No," Patroclus reasoned. "No he will not. I am not the one that he wanted."
Adara began to cry silently, her heart melting with her betrayal to her new master. Patroclus pressed his hand to the back of her head to soothe her, but Adara did not hear any of his words of comfort.