This will probably be my last update for a while. I really hope you enjoy it! Thanks for being here and happy reading:) Xx
Chapter 28
The distance to his quarters had never felt longer, his vision tunnel-like as he approached. Achilles had never felt his heart stutter like this before, had never had his body react in such a way. So this is how people feel when they see me approaching on the battlefield. He had never experienced fear like this – the nausea, the crawling across his skin, the faintness in his head. What could he possibly say to Adara? How could he make here understand why he was sending her away in mere minutes? Desperation coursed through him, and felt felt a surge of self loathing. He had never felt so vulnerable. Achilles stood outside of his tent for one breath and then two before he forced himself in. He did not have time to waste if this plan was to work and they were going to get Adara safely away before the king's men arrived.
Adara knew something was wrong the moment she saw him, and Achilles wished he could have hidden his fear from her, but she knew him too well. He was thankful that her golden gaze did not hold pity, only concern.
"What has happened," she asked, rushing to him, taking his hand which was hanging limply by his side and pressing it to her lips. "Tell me."
Achilles felt tears well up in his eyes and his throat constrict. What can I say he wanted to moan. He felt as if time had sped up, as if now that he had gotten the one thing in the entire world that he wanted, he was being forced to give it away. Lifting his hand from her's he cupped her face and pulled her close, forgetting that he was still covered in blood. Adara did not even hesitate to hold him despite the stench that encompassed him. Her skin was warm under his fingers, and he could detect the familiar scent of Rosemary that always haunted her steps. A stray tear slid from his eye.
"Achilles, please," he heard her whisper against his chest, her voice choked with withheld tears. "Please tell me."
"I love you," he murmured, pressing his lips into her hair, breathing in her scent. He had never said it so openly, and he wished that it had come out as he intended, not as an apology. Adara pulled her head back so that he could see that she was crying, her golden eyes swimming with tears.
"Was someone hurt?" She asked, pressing a hand to his cheek. He could feel the concern radiating off her skin, but Achilles wanted to stall for a moment longer. She was his gift from the gods – they had sent her too him, to bring him peace during the war, and now they were ripping her from him.
"No," he shook his head. "You have to go."
"What?" she said stepping back, pulling away from his grasp. Her face was lined with confusion, her tears giving her cheeks a pink glow. "No, my place is by your side, Achilles. Here, serving the Myrmidons. Tell me what is wrong."
"Agamemnon is coming now to claim you as recompense for the lost priestess. I cannot let that happen, you must go into hiding," Achilles repeated, unable to say that it was his fault, his pride that had lost her. Achilles should have known better than to draw his sword and threaten Agamemnon, but he had been naïve and now he was paying the price. He was angry, but standing before Adara all he could feel was fear and sorrow. Yet the lines between Adara's eyes were fading, and Achilles knew that she understood more than he had said.
"What did you do? Oh, Achilles, you foolish, golden man," she said, pressing a hand over her mouth and stumbling backwards. She has always seen through me he thought, and if the situation had not been so dire, he might have smiled at her.
"Patroclus has gone to collect Phoenix. He is going to take you to a safe location where you must stay out of sight. I need you to put on one of my black tunics and cover your hair, you are too recognizable dressed like this," he said, his voice flat.
Adara was frozen, her face contorted with terror, but her tears had stopped. Achilles could see something building within her, but he was not prepared for what was coming next.
"So you are going to do nothing? You are going to let them force me out of your camp, out of my home?" She hissed, her body shaking with rage. "I begged you to give Agamemnon the cattle. I offered my life to Apollo for you and your men, and this is how you repay me? By telling me that you love me and sending me away. And what will happen if Agamemnon finds me in the end? Will you fight for me then? Or will you use this slight against your pride to your advantage, to show the other kings of Greece how wrong they have been to support the King of Kings all along."
Her words drove into him like spikes, her fury something he had not expected. Achilles would have preferred her to cry, to wail and to beg to stay, but that had never been her nature. She was soft where he was fiery, but they were partners of one heart, and where he was afraid she was strong. Adara had recognized how Achilles would use this situation to his benefit. No one shames me twice and escapes unscathed he had thought as he ran from Agamemnon's tent. But as afraid as he was of losing her, her tone had brought for some of his own frustration, sending it brimming over.
"Gods, Adara! I am trying to protect you. I am not asking for what you want, I am ordering you to get changed and await Phoenix here so that he may take you to your safe location," Achilles spat, his hands balling into fists. With these words, the anger that had flared in Adara dissipated.
"You are not even going to go with me?" She whimpered, her voice barely audible from the other side of the tent where she stood staring at him. Her gaze had gone from teary to snapping to empty within seconds, and Achilles felt his head whirling trying to keep up, the whole while his body warning him that they were running out of time.
"I must be here when Agamemnon's soldiers arrive, or else they will know that I have plotted against him. Patroclus must stay also, but Phoenix is one of my most trusted advisors and will see you safely. Adara blinked once, then twice, and then seemed to creak to life, grabbing one of Achilles shapeless black tunics from the ground and beginning to unravel the layers of the sumptuous green chiton she was wearing. Achilles looked away, not out of shame, but unable to bear the resentment in her eyes, the defeat. When at last she was changed, he stepped forward slowly, as if she might try and flee at any moment. He extended his arms, his actions begging her to let him hold her, but she shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself, her empty stare fixed on the sand.
"I would rather trade places with Prometheus and have a vulture pluck my liver from my body every day than have you fall into the hands of Agamemnon," he said.
"And what of what I want, Achilles," Adara replied, finally meeting his gaze. From behind him, Achilles heard the flap of his tent open, but he did not look over his shoulder. He felt like he was staring at Adara from the other end of a long tunnel. "You promised me you would not leave me." She sounded young when she said this, and Achilles remembered how young she was, only twenty summers, and someone who had already lost a home and a family once before. She was hardly older than he had been when he had arrived at Troy so many years ago.
"Achilles, it is time," Patroclus' voice said from behind him. Achilles body shook, but neither he nor Adara moved.
"I will come for you. Do you truly think one Swine King could keep me from you?" He whispered so that only Adara could hear.
"Achilles," Patroclus called again, this time more urgent.
"He already has," Adara replied, and then she pulled up the simple brown swath of fabric she was using to cover her face and hair and stepped out from behind Achilles and moved to join Patroclus and Phoenix. She did not cry when the old man took her hand, and she did not look over her shoulder. Achilles stood rooted to the spot, watching as Patroclus took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
"We will bring you home soon, Adara," he said with a bow. She said nothing.
"Come, my daughter, it is time," Phoenix said, his dry, papery voice slicing the air, and then the tent flap fell closed and she was gone, leaving Achilles and Patroclus alone in the dark.
{{{}}}
"Head down now, my daughter, and not too fast," Phoenix instructed, his voice perfectly calm as he ambled through the crowds of men in the various camps that were not Achilles'. Adara felt as if her entire body had been repeatedly plunged into the coldest part of the ocean. He is letting them force me away, he did nothing to fight for me. She knew that this was not fair, that Agamemnon had forced Achilles' hand and that he was doing what he could to keep her safe, yet she could not forget how Achilles had refused to give Agamemnon the cattle, how his pride could have prevented this entire situation in the first place.
"I think perhaps another name is a good idea," Phoenix wheezed between breaths. "Of course Menelaus will recognize you, but for the other women and men in his camp. And I think you should consider keeping your hair covered, or dying it. You are very recognizable." Although their matter of discussion was very serious, he kept his head up and spoke in a light tone. Achilles was smart to send him; he does not attract suspicion Adara admitted to herself.
"Perhaps Euanthe, and you can tell everyone you are from Lesbos. Have you been to Lesbos?" He asked, glancing down at her with a critical eye. "Well, I suppose it won't matter. Menelaus only keeps Spartan women in his household so they will not now the difference between Lesbos and Lyrnessus."
"I am going to Menelaus?" Adara asked, her mouth falling open. They are sending me to Agamemnon's brother. I will not last more than one day.
"Yes, and do not say that again until we have reached his personal quarters. We have taken a very round about path, but I can never tell if someone is following us. My eyesight is going you know," he chatted pleasantly.
"I expect that this matter will all blow over within a few days, Zeus willing, or a few weeks at the most," Phoenix encouraged. "Ah, here we are." He said, stopping in front of a large, red tent. "Now what is your name?"
"Euanthe," Adara replied duly, unable to muster any of the emotion she had felt just moments before in Achilles' tent. Her world had been ripped from her.
"And where are you from, Euanthe?" He asked.
"Lesbos."
"Excellent, excellent. I've heard the food there is wonderful. Now let's go in," Phoenix chimed, stepping forward through the flap, not bothering to hold it open for her. This surprised Adara, until she remembered that she was no longer the head of the Myrmidon household, only a lowly servant girl name Euanthe from Lesbos.
It was muggy inside, but it smelled clean the space was beautifully but sparsely decorated. A table with many chairs was to her left, and several suits of armor lined the wall opposite the door. There were hanging white linens which hid his bed from view, and the air was perfumed by a platter of dried fruits which had been lain upon the table.
As they shuffled inside, a figure which Adara had not seen lying on the bed rose and pushed aside the curtains, stepping forward into the light. Menelaus was tall and narrow, with a strong jaw and soft eyes that turned down in the corner. He shared Agamemnon's ruddy complexion, but on the whole he was handsome – nothing like his brother. He strolled across the space, his eyes squinting at the two of them, his head leaned slightly to the side. Menelaus sat and crossed one leg over the other, placing his elbow on the table, surveying them all the while. Adara had seen him before, and dinners, and charging into battle. He was very different from his brother in looks, but it did not stop her breaths from coming in shuddering spurts.
"Menelaus," Phoenix said with a bow.
"So he is sending her to me," he said, staring at Adara and ignoring Phoenix's greeting. "Does he think I will take her?" His voice was not cold, only conversational. His gaze was direct, but Adara could not bring herself to feel fear. The time for fear had passed, Achilles had left her to this and she would make him proud.
"I believe he had hoped—" Phoenix began once more, but he was interrupted.
"Why? We are not friends."
"No, I do not believe Achilles would call you that either," Phoenix retorted, and this time he managed to sneak a layer of steel into his voice. Menelaus noticed, and inclined his head to the old man, one corner of his mouth twitching.
"Why should I take her? What would prevent me from taking her to my brother?" He asked, crossing his arms. Adara peered closer at him, watching the way his muscles relaxed. Menelaus did not seem like someone who was itching to go and turn in a traitor. In fact, he seemed quite comfortable where he was asking questions. He is not as proud as his brother, or as cunning. What you see is what you get with Menelaus Achilles had once told Adara. That is why some say Helen left him, the poor man, because she was bored.
"Nothing would prevent you. With the gods as my witness we have put our trust in you and we have no other choice but to hope that you will not run to your brother," Phoenix said with a shrug, placing a wrinkled hand on Adara's shoulder.
"I know why you are here, even if you will not say it," Menelaus said with a chuckle. "I started this war ten summers ago when I lost my wife, and now Achilles is losing his woman and he hopes I might, how might I say it, sympathize with his cause."
"And will you?" Phoenix asked, this time turning the question on the Spartan.
"No, I will not," Menelaus said with ease, getting to his feet and cocking his head to the side once more, surveying the pair. "Take off that head wrap, Adara. I know who you are," Menelaus commanded.
Adara's limbs felt stiff as she unwound the fabric around her head, bearing her distinctive honey colored curls to the world. They still had not broken eye contact, and this seemed to please Menelaus.
"You must have me mistaken, my Lord. My name is Euanthe," Adara corrected him, her voice steadier than she could have ever expected.
"Euanthe? Pardon me," he said with a smile. "Well Euanthe, I will not sympathize with your master. He is proud, and it is his own pride that has caused his downfall. I will not lie to you, I am not fond of Achilles and I have little respect for him beyond his skill with his sword and his love for his men. What you see in him, I am not sure."
Adara remained silent while he spoke, her hands clenching the fabric in her hands with a grip of iron. He seemed to be enjoying keeping her waiting, and a small part of her mind hated him for it, but Phoenix must have noticed, for he squeezed her shoulder tightly. Melelaus was smarter than he let on, and insightful, but unlike Odysseus he hid nothing of what he was feeling, speaking openly and freely. Some would say it is foolish Adara could hear Achilles whispering in her mind, but I think it a form of bravery to say whatever you are feeling.
"But just as I do not sympathize with Achilles, nor will I deny him the right to protect the one he loves," Menelaus stated, and Adara released a breath she did not know she had been holding. "I know many think that it was a matter of pride and a search for money that sent me chasing the skirts of my wife, but I love her, whatever she may feel for me, whatever my brother's purposes for war are." Adara felt herself smiling despite the madness and severity of her situation.
"Thank you, Menelaus," Phoenix said with a bow, drawing the Spartan king's gaze from Adara to himself. "I with leave you with Euanthe then, I would hate to be missed." The old man bowed and then turn to embrace Adara.
"I do not know when I will see you next, my daughter, be strong for him," Phoenix whispered into her ear, his paper thin voice tickling the wispy hairs by her face. Adara's throat constricted. There were a thousand things to say, but all she could do was give him a thin lipped smile and withhold the tears that had surged into her eyes when she realized that she was finally going to be alone in the Spartan camp. One moment she was holding his wiry figure, and then next he was gone.
"So," Menelaus interjected after Phoenix had left. Adara turned to look at the Spartan, his image blurred by her tears. His soft eyes seemed to understand, and he motioned to the chair across from him. "Sit, and eat. You look as if you are going to faint." Adara nodded and did as he commanded, remembering that she was once again a lowly servant.
"You have caused quite the commotion with our greatest warrior," Menelaus continued, picking over the figs on the platter before selecting a particularly ripe one. "I was there the night he almost killed the man who touched you at Agamemnon's feast. And then today, my brother came to me right after Achilles left his quarters. Told me that your lover threatened to kill him if he did not hand over the priestess."
Adara, who did not know the details of Agamemnon and Achilles' conversation, snapped her head up from the olives she had been holding to stare open mouthed at Menelaus. The sent a chuckle from the king.
"I see you did not know. Taking you was supposed to be Achilles' punishment, but I think judging by the tracks of your tears that the separation alone will be enough. And if my brother has anything to say about it, there will be other things taken from the Myrmidon camp. Achilles will certainly not be pleased," Menelaus said with far too much pleasure for Adara's comfort. Menelaus paused and surveyed her again, his drooping eyes peering into her own.
"You know; I feel like I am speaking to a wall. You can talk to me – I give you my word that I will not turn you over to my brother," he said, lifting his right hand and giving a wry smile. Adara felt a bolt of surprise run through her, and she smiled again. His kindness felt like a soothing balm after the harsh separation from the Myrmidon camp.
"What is she like," Adara asked before she could stop herself. Menelaus, however, scrunched his brow. "Helen, I mean," Adara clarified. "What is she like."
This question seemed to take Menelaus by surprise, and he leaned back in his chair, once again crossing his arms.
"Well I suppose I do not know; it has been over ten summers since I saw her last. When she left me, she was only twenty and two summers and our daughter Hermione was hardly six," Menelaus said, and something inside Adara seemed to thud loudly in her hears. She could not imagine being separated from Achilles for ten summers, or even worse, the idea of Achilles abandoning her at all. "Do you pity me?" He asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"I cannot imagine being abandoned by the one I loved," she whispered, her mind wrestling with the image of Achilles sailing away on a ship that she knew would never bear him home.
"So you do love him?" Menelaus said with a smile. "One often wonders how women feel when powerful men pursue them. I think about this all the time. Did Helen ever love me, or was she raised to be married, and did she chose me because it seemed like the safest choice. After all, that is why Achilles chose me to protect you – I was the safest choice."
"I was not raised to be married, I was raised to be a servant. I was Queen Briseis' handmaiden – I was never to be allowed to marry," Adara said. She did not know why she was telling Menelaus these things, but the conversation shoved away thoughts of her isolation and abandonment for the time being, and the less she had to think about Achilles the better.
"Perhaps that is why he likes you, but I can see that there is more to you than meets the eye," he replied. "But you wanted to know what Helen was like. When I remember her, I remember her like this: tall, almost as tall as I am, with golden hair like the sun and skin softer than calf hide. She had eye's like burning embers and when she laughed the entire castle fell silent so that even the walls could listen. There is a reason that every king of Greece vied for her hand, and there is a reason that they all signed a contract to aid whichever man she chose, which was me." Menelaus' voice had taken on an odd right too it, one which Adara recognized in her own: longing.
"She loved music, and she loved our daughter. That was why I was most shocked when I heard that she had left," Menelaus admitted. "When they told me that she was gone, they tried to sell it that she had been stolen away by the Trojan brat Paris, but I have always known that she chose to go herself."
"Do you think she is still inside the walls of Troy?" Adara asked.
"Oh yes, I have seen her pacing the battlements. Her golden hair shines like a beacon, and I would know it from any distance."
"What is Paris like?" Adara asked.
"I do not remember much of his personality, he was with us such a brief time in Sparta, but he is a pathetic fighter. He spends most of the fighting days behind the walls with a bow and arrow. Quite good at it too, but he is a coward. I could best him easily in a duel," Menelaus said, but it was not bragging to Adara, merely a statement of strengths.
"And why do you choose to love Achilles, Euanthe? There are many men with less violent talents."
"Because he is like the sun. Perhaps painful if one stares at it too long, and you may get burned if you are in close proximity to it, but the sun is life sustaining, and he enriches my life," Adara said, thinking about the tenderness on the inside, the ways in which he had helped her to grow, the things she had learned.
"Like the sun," Menelaus laughed. "I would not have thought that comparison possible, but hearing it from your mouth it seems fitting." His face grew more somber and he got to his feet, stretching.
"I must go to Agamemnon's quarters and see the damage that has been done because of you and your lover. You will remain inside my tent and do not set one foot outside," Menelaus commanded. "I will instruct one of my warriors to bring brown dye and a servant's kit and to set them just inside the doorway. I will shelter you, but I will not run the risk of having you recognized. I wish for you to dye your hair, and always keep it covered. I will not have my name sullied for Achilles sake, and I do not wish to stir up an argument with my brother."
"Thank you," she said, inclining her head to him.
"Starting tomorrow I will have you begin working in the kitchens and serving my meals. If you are my personal attendant it should spare you the… interest of my men," he said politely. "Speak too as few people as possible, and if they ask why you are here, say that you were a ward of my brothers and that he was displeased with your performance, and so you were sent to me for discipline. Oddly enough, no one seems to want to associate with anything Agamemnon has touched," Menelaus instructed dryly. With that, he gave a nod in her direction and exited his tent, whistling a dull tune as he walked.
Adara closed her eyes and sat back in the chair, on the whole feeling that she was much calmer than she aught to be. Across the back of her eyelids there was a flash of summer blue, and she could hear Achilles' voice pounding in her head. I will come for you. Adara wished that she had embraced him, kissed him, said something kind, but she had been so angry, so disappointed that she had not been able to bear it. She had never seen him like that, completely broken, as if his entire existence had been shattered. He has always worn many faces Adara, and you have seen the last one.
Suddenly the flap open and two sets of hands set down packages of goods. There was a plain tunic dyed the same shade of red as Menelaus' tent, and a bowl with a thick brown cream. Adara stared at the hair dye for a moment, reluctant to alter her appearance, but she remembered the risk Menelaus was undergoing for her, and without hesitation she began to apply the cream to every inch of her hair, running it across her brows and pressing it against her scalp. At last every inch of her hair had been covered and she went to the wash basin where she pressed her head under the water and scrubbed.
Resurfacing several times for air, Adara had finally washed all of the excess dye from her hair. Pulling Achilles tunic over her head, she used it to dry her hair, and then pulled the seemingly identical red one on.
When all of this was done, Adara returned to the seat she had occupied, Achilles tunic clutched in her hand. Despite the dye that clung too it, she could still smell the musky, iron scent of Achilles on the fabric and she buried her face into it. What was he doing right now? Was he worried that Agamemnon had found her? I love you he had said to her. Of course she knew that, after all Agape meant unconditional love. But Achilles did express his emotions in the open like Menelaus did, and to have him say that too her before he was taken away, it seemed cruel.
She did not know how long she waited for Menelaus to return. She dozed for much of it, her face pressed against Achilles tunic, her mind haunted with nightmares where Achilles screamed with pain. When she was awake, she was numb, her body sapped of the many emotions that had flown through her this day. She was safe, but for how long she did not know, and she was alone with no idea as to when she would be reunited with Achilles.
At last the flap to the tent and Menelaus reappeared, his hair ruffled and his face creased. Adara had been staring at the tent entrance, and she sat up when he entered, bowing in her seat.
"Well, Achilles has really done it this time, Euanthe," Menelaus said, crossing his hut to a stand where a pitcher of wine awaited him. Adara waited, her body quaking with adrenaline while he filled his glass and drained it.
"Agamemnon's soldiers arrived as foretold, and they searched the entire camp for you, but no one seemed to know where you had gone. Of course they knew that Achilles had hidden you, but even they are not foolish enough to challenge him. When they announced that you were gone, Achilles seemed to think that he had outsmarted my brother, the idiot," Menelaus said, refilling his glass. Adara frowned but she said nothing. "I do not know if he thought they would give up the search and you would be able to return to him tonight, but I think we was deluded – you seemed to be quite the calming mechanism for him while you were around," Menelaus surveyed. If only you knew Adara wished to say aloud.
"When the soldiers could not find you, they decided to take another woman, Briseis I believe is her name. Of course this only added insult to injury. Achilles had lost you in order to protect you, and here was his pride being publicly shamed by the leader of the Achaean forces by stripping another from his household. After all, Achilles had won Briseis fairly in the raid he conducted against Lyrnessus."
Adara was surprised and disgusted with herself to find that she felt no remorse for Briseis. Her queen would see this as an opportunity to increase her power within the Achaean camp, and she would be more than happy to serve Agamemnon in whatever way pleased him most. Having finished his second goblet of wine, Menelaus continued.
"Achilles threatened them not to touch the women when the soldiers informed him that they would be taking the queen. This was when Achilles seemed to truly lose his mind, raving and foaming with both Patroclus and Eudoras needed to restrain him. He was screaming about you, about how Agamemnon had taken you from him, which was ridiculous because it was obvious he was hiding you somewhere and it was another woman they were taking," Menelaus said with a sigh. "But Agamemnon's soldiers could not return empty handed, and so they chose your queen guessing rightly that it would set Achilles off the most due to her relation to you. Patroclus managed to keep the fool from cutting off their heads and starting a war within the camp, but the moment they started to escort Briseis from the women's quarters, Achilles told the soldiers that he would withdraw himself and the Myrmidons from the fighting until Agamemnon righted this wrong and his pride had been restored."
Adara's mouth fell open, and Menelaus laughed, his voice horse and cracking at the irony of the situation.
"I see you understand the gravity of the predicament. We will wait for the two proudest men in all of the Aegean too bend to the other's pride first, but in the meantime, without the Myrmidon's, every single one of us will be slaughtered on the battlefield," Menelaus explained bluntly. "Achilles has signed our death scrolls and handed us over to Hades, the bastard. And all because of you and his damned pride."
Adara felt like she was spinning, and the edges of her vision became blurred. What could she do, she was not there with him to talk reason, and she could not leave her imprisonment in the Spartan camp or else risk capture. Ever fiber of her being was on fire, singeing with shame and a desperation to find a solution.
"The idiot's love for you is so great it might almost be heartwarming if every man of Greece was not going to die for it. He is a child, a good ten summers the younger of any of the other kings of Achaea, and he showed it today. You were like some sort of prize cattle, and without you he is falling apart. The taking of Briseis was the final stone to start some Avalanche within him, and once he had started he could not be stopped. Like the sun, you said? Well you are damn right about the burning, gods be cursed. Crying and screaming like an infant – if his father Peleus could see him, he would be disgusted."
"What will you and the other kings do?" She finally breathed, her mouth still gaping open. This was far worse than anything she could imagine – how could Achilles do this? All of the men she had come to love, Odysseus and his Ithacans, Diomedes, even now Menelaus stood to be destroyed, all for Achilles' pride. And for you a bitter voice in her head thought. Adara thought she might vomit. Yet as she sat there she pictured Achilles heaving on the sand, his skin bearing scratch marks from his own nails and voice hoarse with grief. At night he would shake and quiver alone in their bed with nightmares, and she would not be there to drive them away. Adara knew, in the darkest corner of her mind, that like Achilles, she would let the entire army die that if that was what it took to get back to him.
"The kings of Greece are gathering to determine what to do on the battlefield tomorrow so that Hector does not completely obliterate our forces. As for you, stay here tonight. I do not predict that I will find sleep anytime this evening."
With one more swallow of wine, he exited the tent again, leaving Adara to swim through the horrors in her mind.
