I knew, before I even heard him shout my name, that this day would be my last. I knew it as I still lay in bed with Andromache and as I watched Astyanax sleep. I knew it when I stood and dressed in my armor, and when I left for the wall. Though you may not believe it, I knew that my end was near the second my eyes were open, before the sun was even up. Somehow, some way, I knew.
I would like to believe that the reason I was given that knowledge was the Gods, gifting me with a small amount of time in which to say goodbye to my loved ones. But as I stand here, faced with the challenge of telling the woman I have loved for more than ten years just how much I have loved her, I know that a few moments is not enough. An eternity would not be enough. I want to rush, speaking as fast with as many words as I can, anything to tell her how much she has meant to me, how much our son has meant to me, but I cannot seem to get my jaw working, so I embrace her instead. Even through my lack of words, she understands. She always has.
I find myself turning even though my entire being desperately wants to cling to her for a few more seconds. A warrior's body, an instrument of war, operating without the use of a mind, as though it does not need one. Have I always been like this? As far as I can remember. Andromache had never liked it, being one of very few people allowed to see beneath my armor. You wanted me to stop fighting, didn't you, Andromache? You knew, too, that this war would be my end.
It is remarkable that I am so calm now, right before the end. Right before I should step out to face that man killer Achilles. I will ask him for a proper burial, I think, but he will not allow it. I know it in my heart. He is angry, and with a man like that, his anger is enough to swallow a man whole. What will you do to me, great Achilles? I try not to think about it. It will not be kind.
In front of me, the gates begin to open, slowly swinging before me, great masses of creaking wood. I can almost hear them speaking, inviting me to face my doom. Inviting me to dance the dance of war once more, just once more. And then, I hope, peace. I have known peace before. In the beauty of Troy. In the love of my father. In the good-natured antics of Paris and the kind, sweet words of Briseis. I have known peace in being a good father to my son, my Astyanax. I have known peace in Andromache.
Perhaps, in this time of war, I will find peace once more.