Thank you Anemone Lee, almythea and A. for your reviews.
As ever, my thanks to all my readers and to everyone faving and following this story.
This time I managed to update really quickly! Yay! Please take this as another way to apologize and make it up to you for the shameful delay of the previous one. :) (Honesty demands I give fair warning that the next update will probably be back to the "once a month" rule. I wish I could do this faster, but there's work waiting for me again.)
Anyway, thank you for not giving up on this story. Hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Predictability isn't exactly a desirable trait for a warrior and it was most certainly not a flaw anyone could blame you for. Quite the opposite. By the sacred spear of Ares, were you unpredictable!
I wasn't so naïve as to expect you to come charging out of your camp at the head of the Myrmidons, to drive off the Trojans, rescue the Greeks and re-establish yourself, once and for all, as the sole true commander-in-chief of the Achaean army. Regardless of how decisive your wish to get me back might have been for your choice to withdraw from fighting, it was still only a private matter. To the public eye, that is, the thousands of soldiers in the army, the real issue was the blow Agamemnon had dealt on your honour. You could not come back until that damage was repaired.
Clearly, that was also how Nestor – who had surely heard about my supposed betrayal of you from his son Antilochus – viewed the matter. That evening, after sunset called a respite from the fighting for the night, all the Achaean chieftains met for council in Agamemnon's tent. Even if nobody had ordered me to wait at the table for supper, I would have offered to do it anyway. I couldn't wait to find out first-hand what was going on.
When Phoenix walked in, looking older and frailer than ever, and shot me a scathing glare of contempt, I felt my mouth go instantly dry and my hands begin to shake. The presence of your trusted advisor was a sure sign things were changing in the Myrmidon camp.
Nestor proceeded to suggest sending a delegation to your tent, with an offer of amends and a public apology from the high king. Agamemnon was so desperate he whole-heartedly agreed and launched into a speech promising to give you pretty much anything you might want and – what impressed me even more – admitting he had been in the wrong. It wasn't, however, an unconditional capitulation: he did recognize his error and offered all manner of things, but he also demanded that you submit to him in exchange.
My shoulders sagged in disappointment. You'd never accept that. Then I caught Odysseus' eye and breathed a sigh of relief: if the astute king of Ithaca had any say in the matter, you'd never even hear about that condition of Agamemnon's.
And Odysseus would indeed have a lot of say in the contents of the message that would be relayed to you: he was chosen to lead the delegation, along with your cousin Ajax and Phoenix himself.
After the chosen ambassadors departed, there was nothing left for anyone to do but wait. You could feel the tension in Agamemnon's hall like the unbreathable charged air before a storm. I and the other slaves went around filling cups, but the Achaean kings hardly even took a sip. There were all exhausted and far too worried to be able to enjoy their wine.
It seemed to take forever before Odysseus and Ajax walked back in, their heads down and their footsteps heavy. Phoenix wasn't with them.
My heart sank. Was it possible that you had refused?
Indeed, you had. I heard in a haze of incredulity as Odysseus reported your answer, stating that lost wealth could be won back and that honour was something only the gods could bestow, since the one accorded by men was fickle and unreliable. Life, on the other hand, was the only truly precious and irreplaceable gift, because, once lost, it could not ever be recovered. Death, you had added, was the great equalizer, beyond which heroes and cowards faded into the exact same state of inexistence. So you'd be sailing off in the morning, turning your back on the war and the promise of immortality through glory, to go home to a life of forgettable banality, but with a guarantee of being long and happy.
You had no trust in anyone anymore, no faith in anything – not in your allies, not in the warrior code you had always lived by, not even in love.
Everyone was plunged into a stunned silence. Agamemnon asked, in a small, defeated voice:
"What about the girl? That's what pushed him over the edge. Didn't you explain to him I've never lain with her? Doesn't he want her back?"
It was Ajax who replied, his tone almost as brutal as the words themselves: "He said, 'Let him sleep with her, enjoy himself'."
It felt like a punch to the stomach. I doubled over and stuck my fist in my mouth to stifle a cry of pure pain. Olympus help me, you could kill with your words as effectively as with your spear. My whole body was burning as if I had suffered a physical blow. It hurt, sweet Hera, how it hurt!
I felt Odysseus' eyes on me, but I didn't want to see the pity in them, so I staggered outside, falling on my hands and knees while sobs wracked my body.
I had lost you. Hopelessly, irrevocably, forever. I had been an idiot. In my wish to help, I had acted on an impulse, without taking time to think properly, and now everything was ruined. I had forgotten how irrationally jealous you could be, I had failed to ponder how the weeks of impotent, slow simmering anger that had passed since Agamemnon had me taken from your hut might have affected you. After the message I had sent you through Antilochus, Agamemnon's claim that he had never touched me probably only made you feel even more brazenly lied to. Instead of the burning rage I had expected you to fly into, you had slipped into the kind of cold fury that made you cruel. And I didn't even want to think about the part my supposed defection could have played in that all-encompassing lack of trust and faith that hit everyone in the room like a slap in the face.
I had grossly miscalculated your reactions and now I was confronted with the crushing price to pay for it. I couldn't stand it. I'd run straight to your camp and clear everything up with you right then and there. You probably wouldn't even want to look at me, but I'd find a way. I'd make you listen!
And then I'd rip your balls off and make you swallow them raw for having dared to say such a thing about me.
I jumped to my feet, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.
"Daughter of Briseus? If I were you, I wouldn't do anything rash again."
I turned to gaze at the bright brown eyes of Odysseus, where his lively intelligence was now softened by a warmth of understanding.
"Come here, take a seat", he suggested, leading me to a low bench by the tent's entrance. "You deserve more than just standing in the wings serving wine, after you tried to help us with so much altruism."
I looked up at him, surprised. He chuckled. "I make it my business to keep up with anything that may be of significance. I've known about Menelaus' intervention from the start, so I knew that what you asked Antilochus to tell Achilles was a lie, presumably designed to jolt him into action. What I haven't quite figured out yet, is why you did it. Why would you sacrifice your own best interests like that to help us?"
"I'm not like Helen", I whispered by way of explanation. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation.
"I see. Well, it seems Achilles and I have more in common than I thought."
"Excuse me?", I asked, baffled.
"Unexpected affinities in the women our hearts beat for." He rolled his eyes comically. "Did you know my wife is a cousin of Helen's?" I shook my head. He went on: "Well, she is. When Helen left with Paris, starting this whole mess, all Penelope kept saying was, 'I'm not like my cousin, I'm not like her at all'. Which, of course, there was absolutely no need for her to say. Everybody knew that, and I better than anyone." He stroke his beard distractedly, seemingly lost in his own memories.
"Well", I said, "Achilles' heart isn't exactly 'beating for me' now. Or ever again. And he obviously thinks I'm quite a number of rungs below even Helen."
Odysseus shook his head sharply:
"No, he doesn't. He knows his woman, just as I know mine."
"Oh, come on, son of Laertes! You heard what he said."
The king of Ithaca nodded gravely:
"Yes, I did. As a matter of fact, I heard him say it. Which means I heard how his voice broke and I saw how his eyes were bloodshot and he was blinking back tears. You see, I make it my business to pay attention to such details, particularly when people are trying to cover them up one way or the other. I find they provide very useful insights into a man's true state of mind." He smirked, then became serious again: "There was also the fact – which even Ajax noticed – that immediately after saying that, er, rather nasty line, and I do mean immediately, he started speaking of love. How any man in his right mind loves and cherishes his woman, and how he loved you with all his heart. Aphrodite help him, he even drew a parallel between himself and Menelaus!" Odysseus paused, shaking his head, then went on:
"Part of him may have been turned into a downright jerk by jealousy, which is bound to happen to practically every man I know, including myself, but the other part, like I said, knows his woman and won't give up on her. In the bitterness of his rage against us, he may be prepared to let us all burn, but he won't leave here without you."
I studied his face, trying to find the catch behind those remarkably clever features, but apparently there was nothing amiss.
"Do you also make it your business to reassure heartbroken women, king Odysseus?", I asked, half-jokingly. He laughed.
"Not really, no. But I'd hate to see you do something stupid and I figured you were about to do just that."
I studied him a little longer, then smiled knowingly at him:
"Alright. Let's say I take your advice and refrain from doing anything 'stupid' tonight. It may actually be for the best, since there is a serious risk that I might murder your would-be champion for the crap he spills off his lips. But, in return, you tell me the real reason why a king like you would bother to take a break from council to come and comfort a common slave."
"You're no common slave", he objected gallantly. I raised my eyebrows and he shook his head: "You aren't", he said again, in an earnest tone. "You just need to look at the role you played in the unfolding of events. Common slaves don't have that sort of impact."
Then he smirked, a glitter of cunning creeping back into his eyes:
"But to answer your question: you see, I think that Achilles won't really desert us all here, and I'm pretty confident that, once he sees the ships start burning, he won't find it in his heart to deny us some kind of help. Even if he doesn't join the fray himself, he can send his men to force the enemy back and preserve our sole way to salvation. That's what Nestor and I now plan on asking him tomorrow, if things keep going the same way they went today. I can't begin to tell you the difference that having fresh, well-rested reinforcements would make for all of us. Even more so if those reinforcements are Myrmidon-class warriors." He paused, stroking his beard again. "But I'd rather be sure than just confident, and there are only two things I'm sure of, in this instance: first, that Achilles won't go anywhere without you and, second, that he will never risk you getting caught in the crossfire. So… yes, I would very much like to make sure you remain right here with the rest of us, at least for now."
He smiled disarmingly, looking as innocent as a newborn child.
"'Sly fox of Ithaca', indeed", I muttered to myself. "Never heard of a more fitting nickname." Odysseus pretended not to hear.
"Very well, son of Laertes", I said, louder. "I promised I would do as you bid, so I will. There will be no need for you to sound the alarm over a runaway slave. That would be your back-up plan in case persuasion failed, wouldn't it?" He seemed suddenly uncomfortable and I felt oddly triumphant for having been able to see through his scheme.
"I won't deny I'd do whatever needed to be done to keep you here", he admitted. "But there was one thing I did not do: I didn't lie to you. I didn't even try filtering the truth in any way. After my failure with Achilles this evening, I'm a bit wary about trying to manipulate facts. Which was just as well, since you seem to share the same uncanny ability as him to see through to the heart of things." He turned to look straight into my eyes: "Everything I told you about his words and actions is indisputably true."
I nodded: "I believe you, son of Laertes. And regardless of your own agenda in this conversation, I am grateful that you came to me. You did provide reassurance to an extremely heartbroken woman."
He smiled and rose from the bench.
"Shall we go back in? I used the obvious excuse to come outside and by now they must be wondering what is taking me so long."
I took his proffered hand to help me up and straightened my skirt.
"You didn't need to worry, you know", I said suddenly. "Even if I went to him, Achilles would never sail away with me undercover of the night. He would never take me away by stealth. I asked him to, before Agamemnon's heralds came to get me. And he refused."
Odysseus didn't seem too surprised to hear that, still he looked appraisingly at me.
"In a way, that was another reason I sent that message through Antilochus: I felt his integrity was slipping and I didn't want to be the cause for that."
This time, I managed to earn a look of pure astonishment from the clever king of Ithaca.
o – o – o
A.N.: All the thoughts and words I'm attributing Achilles in this chapter – the bit about the futility of human-accorded honour and the whole thing about life and death (as well as the unfortunately "er, nasty line" about Briseis, immediately followed by an explicit statement of love for her and even the comparison between himself and Menelaus) – were taken from Iliad book 9. Achilles' speech in that book is most remarkable in many ways, not least of which the questioning of the very warrior code that determined the world-view of his own society. Can't help loving it!
