Chapter 2

On the northern end of the beach are newly pitched tents, oiled sheepskins stretched over whale bone frames with curls of smoke rising from their tops. Further down, soldiers collect arrows and swords off the sand and rinse them in the sea. The severed limbs and heads are carried to the western end, where the dead are piled on beds of driftwood, stripped naked of their armour and weapons, like rotten fish over collapsed barrels. Patroclus emerges from his tent looking for Achilles.

He sees a Myrmidon and calls him.

'My friend, have you seen your leader?'

'Ay, Achilles took twenty men with him to the temple sir,' the soldier points eastwards. 'To bring back gold and women,' he says and breaks into a toothy grin.

'When did he leave?'

'Before midday, should be back any time now.'

Patroclus frowns. It is just like Achilles to go without telling him. He shakes his head slightly.

'Can't wait either eh?' the soldier sniggers stroking his beard, 'Heard those Trojan priestesses have the softest bosoms and the tightest…'

Patroclus turns away before the soldier finishes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

'I must say,' Achilles drawls softly, 'I am disappointed.'

Sword still pointed and its tip unmoving, he looks the other man up and down. Hector is a few inches taller, with black curls and a bearded jaw, fists tightening into balls, muscles quivering with strength.

'I came all this way for you, Prince Hector.' he looks into the other man's eyes. Hard, grey, pupils large, almost black.

'To fight the best.' Achilles continues, pleased with the pure hatred he sees. 'To fight you and kill you.'

He waits for a response. None came.

'It's a pity to see this end so prematurely,' he says, still holding his gaze. 'I guess all that is left to do after I kill you, is to burn your city and fuck your wife.'

Upon this, Hector swipes his left wrist at Achilles' sword forcing it to the side. Metal cuts through leather, then skin. Hector brings his right arm behind his back and grabs the gold-tipped spear. Cut into arm-length moments earlier, he thrusts it hard at Achilles' neck. Caught off balance by this surprise attack, the tip grazes Achilles' throat as he veers to the side. A moment later, Hector's fist collides with Achilles' cheek sending the other man to the ground. Taking this opportunity to collect this sword, Hector stands heaving, ready to strike another blow.

Suddenly half a dozen Myrmidons surge into the inner chamber, six swords outdrawn all pointed at his body. Still facing Achilles, Hector assesses his enemies from the corner of his eyes.

Achilles stands and wipes the blood from his mouth.

It is then that Hector laughs coldly, and speaks.

'So this is the great Achilles. Sacking temples, killing innocents, letting others do the fighting for him.'

Achilles narrows his eyes as Hector's blood drips from his gauntlet, and splatters silently on the ground. He sees the man clench his sword tighter, ready to attack. He sees the look in Hectors's eyes, and knows it well. A man who faces death's scythe, fearlessly, determined to fight it with his sword. He knows but for this intervention, his arrogance would have led to his demise under this very sword. He has finally found a worthy adversary.

With a wave of his sword, the other six blades withdraw.

Uncertainty briefly clouds Hector's eyes.

'It's too early to kill princes.' Achilles says offhandedly.

He picks up his golden spearhead, and tosses it to Hector.

'Let's see if you can make good your word.'

With the spear in one hand Hector walks out without a backward glance. His every step is forceful and certain.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Outside, the sunlight startles his unaccustomed eyes. Achilles studies Hector as he makes his way down the steps. With a whistle, the horse comes bounding to him. A tamer of horses in indeed. But Hector doesn't mount his horse, but instead leads it by its reins across the sandy ground. He stops at the body of the soldier that Achilles had speared. The spear shaft is still protruding from the dead man's throat.

Achilles grips the hilt of his sword as Hector kneels down in front of the dead man. He sees Hector draw out his sword and cut off the wooden shaft. He watches Hector cradle the limp head to his chest and gently close the dead man's eyes. He can not pull his eyes away as Hector gathers the body into his arms as if it is a sleeping child and places it on the saddle with the greatest care. With the dead man in his embrace Hector disappears over the horizon.

Achilles' legs are fixed to the spot. He feels a strange tug on the inside. A sense of long suppressed yearning and loss threaten to break the surface. He suddenly thinks of Patroclus and wants to see him, touch him and fuck him till all the feelings subside, until he is left with emptiness save for a single desire. How dare he laugh at him and flaunt his noble acts. I will bring you down, thinks Achilles. I will smash your hero's veneer. I will rip your body to shreds then next time we meet. I will break you until you beg for mercy at my feet. Then I will kill you and claim my glory.

Leaving his men behind, Achilles goes down to the beach to find Patroclus.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


TBC... coming up, Breisis, Patroclus, n/c, violence, madness and more darkness.. What do you think so far? Please leave a review!