CHAPTER EIGHT

"It's hard to believe you ever managed to walk on thin ice without it cracking under your feet", you commented to Ajax.

We were all sitting for supper: you, Patroclus, Alcimedon and your cousin and guest, Ajax Telamon, at the men's table, me, Iphis and the other woman I had invited at the smaller women's table across from yours. In accordance with my new role as hostess, I had looked for a topic that would allow for general conversation while being agreeable to your guest, so I had asked whether it was true that you and Ajax had studied under Chiron. That had triggered a string of memories from both of you.

"Walk on thin ice?", I asked.

"Yes", you explained. "When the rivers started to freeze on Mount Pelion, in early winter, Chiron would make us walk over the thin ice, so that we'd learn to be light on our feet. But I have some trouble believing that my bear of a cousin here was actually ever able to do that."

"I was a little smaller back then", Ajax said good-naturedly. "But it's true that Chiron had to give up making me do it since I became about nine years old."

"But wasn't that terribly dangerous? I mean, if the ice cracked, you could die", Iphis said.

"He'd tie a rope around our waist, the other end to his horse's saddle, and he would hold on to the middle. When the ice cracked, he'd pull us out. But, of course, facing danger was also part of the lesson", you answered lightly.

It was time I contributed something again:

"A saddle? Wasn't Chiron a centaur?"

You and Ajax laughed.

"Centaurs are a very ancient tribe of great horsemen. A little wild, mind you, and not exactly friendly to Achaean tribes, at least most of them", you said, "but as human as any of us. The thing is, outside their tribe's land they're rarely ever seen off their horses, so people started thinking they were part man, part horse."

"They can practically live on horseback", Ajax supplied. "And it's a fact that they actually look more comfortable on their horses than on their feet."

You smiled. "Chiron certainly did. His legs were so arched he seemed to wobble from side to side when he walked. Worse than a sailor. But I've never seen anything as graceful as him riding a horse."

"Their female counterparts are supposed to be the Amazons", Patroclus said. "Not that I've ever seen one, though."

"I did", you recalled. "One of them came to talk with Chiron, once. Now, I have to take back what I said before: she looked even more graceful than him on horseback. Most frightening woman I've ever seen. She cast me such a look I had to check whether my blood hadn't turned to dust in my veins."

"Are you admitting to being frightened?", Patroclus joked. "Of a woman to boot?"

You gave him a playful shove: "Watch your mouth, therapon, unless you want to find yourself on latrine duty."

You were relaxed, cheerful. I had never actually seen you like that, or, at least, I had never noticed it. Still, although I was taking part in the conversation as naturally as I could, I felt a little uncomfortable and avoided making eye contact with you.

After my brush-off with you earlier that evening, I had gone straight to Iphis and told her what had happened. She listened wide-eyed, in a mix of astonishment and exasperation.

"You must be crazy, girl!", she said at last. "From now on, you're strictly forbidden to go anywhere without first explaining to me exactly what you mean to do. Going to Achilles to say you wanted to be demoted to a common slave's status… Mighty Olympus, you really must be raving mad." She rolled her eyes dramatically. "You do realize you were lucky, don't you? He must care more for you than he's been letting on."

"He did say he was interested in me, but that doesn't really mean all that much, does it?", I replied. "I mean, that's just an euphemism for saying that he wants me and, on second thought, that isn't really news, is it? Why else would he have asked for me?" While talking to Iphis, I had calmed down enough to start putting your words into perspective. There really was no point in reading too much into them. The only thing worth worrying about was that absurd dare you had tricked me into, but even that would eventually wear out by itself. In that particular case, time would be on my side: when you realized for sure that you were getting nowhere with me, you would channel your "interest" elsewhere.

Iphis nodded. "No, that's not news. Patroclus had already told me even a blind could see Achilles had wanted you from day one." She smiled smugly, then became serious again. "But there was one very meaningful thing, which he tried to cover up with that barrage of words that left you reeling." She stopped as if expecting me to know what she was talking about. Seeing my blank expression, she clarified: "He admitted that you had hurt him."

I creased my brow: "That wasn't an admission, it was a kind of justification for having been so obnoxious. A sort of way of apologizing without being exactly humble about it."

Iphis shook her head. "No. If you want to have any hope of understanding Achilles at all, you can never forget that he is a warrior to the bone. This means basically two main things: one, he never, ever, admits to any kind of vulnerability. He never shows pain, whether physical or emotional. Not even when he's injured, because he believes that would make him look vulnerable and, in his world, vulnerable means weak and, as brutal as it sounds, weak means dead. So he may show anger, pride, aggression, but not pain. Second, that mind of his is used to functioning under terrible pressure, in kill-or-be-killed situations. Actually, it is at its sharpest precisely when he gets into a fight, any kind of fight. Finally, there's one third thing: when one looks at him and sees that great, physically powerful warrior, it's easy to overlook the fact that he's been a general since he was sixteen. He's a strategist. Most of the time, he knows exactly what he's doing and there is a well-defined purpose to his actions."

She paused, as if collecting her thoughts in order to explain herself as clearly as possible, then went on:

"Looking at what you told me in light of all this, the really important moment, the truly meaningful fact, was that he let slip that you had hurt him. The aggressive reaction was normal enough for Achilles – showing anger instead of pain. But then he lowered his guard, even if only slightly, and allowed that admission to escape him. I have to tell you, in all the years I've been here, this is the absolute first time I've heard of Achilles admitting to any kind of pain. Of course, he must have realized his mistake even before he had finished making it, so he proceeded to cover it up with a cocky attitude and a string of statements that made you feel vulnerable. But that is the part where he is used to keeping his wits about him under pressure and regain the upper hand after a slip. It doesn't change the rather remarkable fact itself: you have the power to hurt him, and to do so deeply enough that he forgot himself and showed you a chink in his figurative armour."

I made a face: "Well, I think that if I hurt anything, it was his pride, not his feelings. But whatever the case, it's not a power I care to wield ever again. The retaliation was swift and ruthless. I felt like a piece of dirt."

Iphis gave me a comforting pat on the shoulder. "A piece of dog shit is the expression Patroclus uses to describe it. Yes, that's Achilles for you. Swift and ruthless… but not devoid of a heart." Then she smiled knowingly: "So now you're to be hostess in his house. That is another remarkable evolution, previously unheard of. And I'm to be one of your guests – thank you for the invitation, by the way. Who else are you going to ask?"

I thought about it for a while. "I think I'll pick someone older. You know, to bring respectability to the situation." Iphis had approved wholeheartedly, so I had chosen a middle-aged woman from a noble family of Lesbos, who had actually known my mother in her youth, to be the third member of my small female party.

When I arrived in your hut flanked by my two guests, you glanced at the older woman, then turned to me and mouthed, "Clever", with a crooked smile. I have to admit that made me feel incredibly smug.

Now I was watching you swap jokes and childhood memories with your cousin and Patroclus, and, try as I might, I couldn't find the warrior Iphis had described in the young man before me. Yes, I had experienced first-hand how ruthless you could be – both in combat and in personal circumstances. But you looked so young and lively right now – too young and lively to be a survivor of countless life and death situations, a war veteran who had learned not to show pain lest the tiniest sign of weakness got him killed.

For all your straightforwardness and purported frankness, your very looks had a somehow deceptive effect. It was easy to underestimate you, at least out of the battlefield.

"A woman can look really elegant on horseback, if she's a good rider", Ajax was musing. "I gave my Tecmessa a mare. She looks wonderful on it."

"Iphis is a good rider too", Patroclus said, smiling affectionately at the girl sitting next to me.

"What about you, Briseis?", you asked. "Do you enjoy horseback riding?"

I cringed a little at having suddenly become the centre of attention.

"No", I answered. "Unfortunately, I've always been terrified of horses."

"Why is that? Did you ever fall off one?", you pressed.

"No, I never even rode enough to actually fall. The first time I was ever put on a horse, I started crying and screaming so much that they had to take me off. It was my father's horse and I panicked because it was so tall."

"That's a shame", you said. "And you never tried again?"

"Every time anyone tried to bring me even close to a horse, I'd start panicking again. Eventually, they just gave up trying to force me to ride."

"It must have felt odd", you said. "The whole Troad is horsemen country."

I nodded: "Yes. I've always been teased because of it. Particularly because of my name."

"Because of your name? What do you mean?"

I chuckled. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a sense of surprise that I was actually enjoying the conversation.

"Well, my given name is Hippodameia, so ..."

Everybody laughed and that made me feel oddly pleased.

"Tamer of horses", you said. "No, that doesn't seem like the right name for someone who's afraid of the poor beasts." You paused, then added: "So that's why you always use your patronymic. I'd been wondering whether you did it as a way to keep people at arm's length."

Your smirk made it a bit of a taunt, so I smirked right back at you:

"I don't want to keep everybody at arm's length. Only a few ill-intentioned people."

You laughed and I found myself laughing along with you.

I was having fun, more fun than I'd had in a very long time. Ever since I had been married and forced to present myself with the majesty and solemnity appropriate for a queen.

But it was wrong. I was in a miserable situation, wasn't I? And you were the person responsible for it. How could I be enjoying myself this way at your table?

Your eyes were on me, with that same predatory alertness I had seen in them earlier. Yes, your youthful appearance was deceptive and Iphis was absolutely right: you knew exactly what you were doing and you were using strategy on me. The problem was that it was working.