Reformatted: 09-05-13
I do not own The Iliad and no money is being made from this fanwork. ...I'm not sure if that applies in this case, since The Iliad is so old, but better safe than sorry. Btw, This has nothing to do with Troy (which I loved as a movie but disliked as an interpretation of Homer's story), or any other movie.
There are various ways to interpret Homer's Iliad. You can say Achilles loved Briseis, or that she was just more loot to him. You can say Achilles was a hero- which the Greeks obviously thought- or that he was a pouty spoiled prince who happened to be really good with a spear. I choose the former interpretations, and I'd like to thank Dr. Ansorge for presenting this work to me so clearly and passionately. Below is my interpretation of how Hector eventually learns what Achilles has been wrestling with throughout the entire epic- that the institution of the family is paramount, and that all men of courage are brothers.
"Dear One, Why So Desperate? Why So Much Grief For Me?"
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His body jerked as his head snapped back and he breathed deeply of the emptiness. It seemed he had been floating for a long time, and was now once again grounded. He looked down at his arms formed exactly as he remembered them, but insubstantial when he tried to reach out and touch the tree next to him.
"Well look who's finally awake. We've been waiting a long while for you, O Breaker of Horses."
Hector turned; sitting beneath another tree was a man with a vaguely familiar face. A large dog sat by his side, and he stroked it with one hand while gazing amusedly at Hector. "Who..." but suddenly the face became clear to Hector, and he drew back. "Patroclus." The word was a sneer on his lips, but fear touched him. Hadn't he killed this upstart of Achilles'? Achilles... Memories slammed him upside the head and flooded into his consciousness. "But you... I... I know you're dead, and I... think I am, too. So... what is this?"
"The afterlife, what else?" Hector glared, and Patroclus held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "Follow me. All will be explained." He stood and walked off.
Hector stared after him a moment, then followed.
The dog loped in front of him, and he noticed for the first time how truly huge it was. It paused and looked at him, all six of its eyes laughing at some private canine joke. Wait, six... He blinked. Yes, the dog did have three heads. The left-most one cackled at him, not unlike a jackal, and the central one growled at it. Hector decided not to ask.
They walked down to the beach, under the shadows of the great black ships that waited as staunchly as the soldiers in the trenches to take back Helen and bring her home. They walked right past guards and sentries with out so much as a "who goes there?" even when the dog ran barking in three part harmony at a shadow that it apparently found offensive. There was a touch in the air that made Hector think of tall mountains and cool breezes that knew nothing of the salt sea; a touch of the gods. Patroclus stopped walking and looked down at something lying at his feet. Hector came over, curious. He looked down and immediately cried out and turned away. He took a deep breath then glanced down, his face torn with emotions. "So it is true. I am dead." The third head looked at him slyly, its foxy ears pricked forward and its tongue lolling out in a mocking grin.
"Pretty much." There was a cold, ironic edge to Patroclus' voice that made Hector look at him. The words that formed in his mouth died unspoken as a small commotion off to their left caught their attention and led them deeper into the Greek camp. They followed it to a great tent, and Patroclus shivered slightly to see like this what his eyes had viewed so many times in life. "My home away from home."
"Father!" Hector gasped when he saw the man who stood before Achilles' door. "No! They'll kill him!"
Patroclus gripped his shoulder, his hand surprisingly firm in it's insubstantiality. "Watch. Do you see his guide? Your eyes are no longer bound by mortal constraints."
Hector looked again. "It seems one of the very gods leads my father to his enemy's house. Why? Do the gods hate Troy so much?"
Patroclus shook his head. "Watch."
Hector shook off the hand on his shoulder and ran to his father. His hands passed right through the beloved body and his father continued through the gates of the enemy who had killed his son.
"Come." Patroclus lead him into the house after Priam, but they slipped invisibly through walls and people alike toward where Achilles waited in the center like a god, taking his meal. The old man gripped Achilles' knees, but Hector's eyes were drawn to Patroclus. He stood behind his friend, gazing at him longingly. His lips moved softly, and Hector moved closer.
"...Too much, my friend. Such a hard life for you. And not even lasting happiness with Briseis. She'll miss us both, but you more than I, her brother of circumstance. O how she'll mourn for you, and soon, as you mourned for me. Why? Why did we let rage and pride tear us apart? Why..."
Suddenly, Achilles jumped up and bounded out of the room. The two shades followed him out into the night, shadows of the two flesh and bloods that trailed in their comrade's wake. Maids came, took Hector's body and bathed it, dressing it in clothes Achilles himself chose for it. And as Hector and Patroclus watched, he took the body in his own arms and carried it to the wagon where he laid it gently. A shiver passed through his body and he groaned from the depths of his heart. "Oh Patroclus," he moaned, "forgive me! Forgive me!"
Patroclus went to his friend, the grief that filled him all the more terrible that he could not pour it out. His arms went around Achilles, and then through. Tears ran down his ghostly face as he whispered, praying that he would be heard, "Forgiven! Always forgiven!"
Perhaps he was heard. Achilles sighed deeply, but the torrent of emotion was calmer and he went back inside to his guest. Hector stood in the darkness of the night, gazing at Patroclus as if he had never seen a man before. Coming forward, he touched the Greek's shoulder. Their eyes met.
They slipped inside, and hovered over Priam and Achilles who sat together like a man and his long lost son. Hector looked at Patroclus with bright eyes. "They get it, don't they?"
He smiled. "Yes."
"It took me dying to figure it out. Father... I look back now and I think he knew it the first time we looked out over our walls and saw your army coming. There was a look on his face that I'd never seen before, but I remember it so clearly- war is hell."
"For Achilles it was a woman. Briseis- even now I smile when I think of them together. She was so good for him, but no one understood what it was they had. She made him realize what it was he was here fighting for and just why it was so vitally important- the sacredness of family."
Hector leaned back. "Damn Paris."
"Damn Aphrodite," added Patroclus sardonically.
"Ha! I suppose if it hadn't been him, or her, it would have been someone else. There's no way to prevent it, and no way to stop it once it's started. That's the sting isn't it?" He paused and looked back at the pair as they sat together, marveling in each other's greatness. "They see that, too."
"Yes."
Hector nodded. They watched as the two men stood and parted, father from son. Priam went out the front door. Achilles stepped toward a curtain in the back; Briseis came forward, pulling it aside before he touched it. They looked at each other. The eyes speak so much better than the tongue. She took him in her arms and they just held each other, each gaining strength from the other, each secretly crying for the day that was to come.
Hector and Patroclus walked along the beach, the dog darting ahead and chasing driftwood. It came trotting back proudly bearing three branches, one in each mouth. Patroclus took one from the jackal head and threw it down the beach. The other two heads bayed in disappointment and the jackal cackled as it went bounding after the prize. The wolf snatched it up and a fight over the rightful ownership ensued; in the end the fox won out, slyness triumphant. Hector laughed to see it and the sound felt strange in the eeriness of the almost dawn. He looked at his companion, who had been strangely silent for a long while.
"He will join us soon." It was not a question.
"Yes. Then Cerberus will lead us all home."
"Home." It felt strange to say that and mean the eternal home rather than the topless towers of Ilium. Strange, but not bad. "It will be good to come home with my brothers."
Yes I said brothers, he thought, glancing sidelong at Patroclus who was smiling softly. This man was more his brother than ever Paris was, his blood. Strange, how death changed one's perspective of the world. And how great that there were those who could change before that irrevocable event caught up to them. All men died; it was how they lived that mattered. A candle in an ocean was still a candle; and though it shone very little, every time it did it made a difference.
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