As always, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and is following this story.

I'm sorry I'm taking longer to update now. Unfortunately, work can't wait, so it's writing that must go on the back burner…

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

My feet tripped on the steep terrain, forcing me to place both palms rather abruptly against the rugged ground in order not to fall flat on my face. You turned and held your hand out to help me up:

"Come on. We're nearly there."

The predicament I was in was entirely of my own doing. I had asked you to take me to your favourite spot in the cape, the secluded place you withdrew to whenever you wanted to get away from everyday pressures. You had warned me it was a hard climb to get there, but I had skulked like a child, insisting I was a very good walker and it would take more than just a little hill to give me any trouble.

Well, it did look like a little hill… but it was rocky and steep and indeed absurdly hard to climb. I suspected that was exactly the reason you had chosen it to be your personal spot – only in extremely urgent circumstances would anyone have the heart to go bother you up there. I was panting, my legs shaking from the effort, and the path around the rocks was so narrow I found myself having to fight vertigo at every turn.

You eyed me critically. "Those long robes are going to get you killed", you stated flatly, proceeding to pull my gown about one foot up and tucking into my belt, so that the hem was now hovering above my ankles. "There, that's better. Come now, I'll help you." Your fingers closed around my arm with a welcome firmness, steadying me the rest of the way to the top of the cliff.

When we finally got there, I gasped in surprise. It was the most impressive view I had ever beheld. To the south, the Achaean camp stretched at our feet all the way to the point where the cape fused back with the mainland's rolling plain. To the east, the bay of Troy glittered in the sun, the city rising watchfully above it in the distance, suspended halfway between the bay and the black shadow of Mount Ida. Far to the north it was possible to make out a dark outline, tenuous as that of a cloud, but that was in fact the coastline on the other side of the Hellespont, the waterway everybody wanted to control. To the west, the Aegean filled the horizon, shining endlessly in the same deep blue of Poseidon's hair.

I looked up at you, a fascinated smile splattered on my lips. Suddenly, a gust of wind tore my veil from my head and carried it flying away. I shrieked, you laughed and ran to catch it.

You came back clutching the delicate piece of nearly transparent silk edged in gold thread and handed it back to me, then helped me fasten it over my braid. It was a married woman's veil, the most exquisite I'd ever owned, but what made it particularly meaningful in my eyes was the fact that you had given it to me shortly after we got together, nearly four months ago. Of course wearing a wife's veil didn't make me your lawful wife, but it was a gift laced with symbolism and I treasured it as such. It was meant to be worn flowing gracefully down the back, leaving the face and the top of the head exposed. Women only pulled the shorter fold down over their faces when they were ashamed of something, or to protect their skin from the sun. I had heard less-than-flattering comments that Helen often covered her face with hers and that it had nothing to do with an intense wish to avoid freckles… Anyway, I wore mine proudly back. Married or not, I was not ashamed of loving you.

You smiled happily: "The view's magnificent, isn't it? Unfortunately, it tends to be kind of windy…"

I smiled back: "'Kind of' is a bit of an euphemism. This is a regular gale that's raging up here. But the view is well worth it."

You gestured in the general northwest direction: "Phtia's that way. Across the sea…" There was an unmistakable nostalgia in your voice and I realized that was probably the reason you had originally braved the climb up the steep rocks. From the top of the cliff you had an unhindered view over the Aegean that somehow made you feel a little closer to home.

We stared silently at the horizon for a while, then you walked briskly to a rocky outcropping overlooking the Achaean camp. You sat down on a flat rock that was somewhat sheltered from the wind and pulled me so that I was sitting between your thighs, my back to you and my head resting against your chest. You wrapped both of us in your cloak, held me closer with a hand on my stomach and pointed with the other one:

"That's Ajax's camp, over there. The first one from the mainland. Ours, of course, is the first one from the side of the sea. Odysseus', sly fox that he is, managed to get the safest spot, dead centre of the cape, with half the army on either side." You chuckled. "Agamemnon was pretty pissed when he realized the Ithacans had beached their ships right in front of the place where the council hut would be built, stealing the highest profile stretch of sand right from under his nose."

I laughed along with you. "Why didn't he order them out?"

"We're not like the Hittites. Agamemnon is not our emperor. He's the high king, which means simply that he's the first among equals. The final decision over matters concerning the war and the army is his, but he has a duty to listen to the other kings first and he can't order them around. And any one of us has the right to call a council."

I hesitated. "I don't like Agamemnon. You don't trust him, do you?"

You looked down, surprised, your long hair tickling my face.

"Where have you met Agamemnon?"

"I never did. I mean, not formally. But I saw him when I first arrived, while the spoils were being distributed." There was a short uncomfortable silence, both of us aware that I had been part of those spoils, then you spoke.

"Yes, I remember. He seemed to be interested in you, but I managed to deflect it."

"By saying I was a widow", I commented. "I noticed that."

You gave me one of your crooked smiles. "Well, he has his reasons not to want to get involved with widows. All the better for me."

That picked my curiosity:

"What has he got against widows? Is he one of those men who only feel comfortable with virgin maidens?"

You laughed. "I don't think so, no. But his wife had been widowed when he married her and… well, let's just say there are so many issues in their marriage that anything less than spousal murder is bliss by comparison." Then you frowned: "Why are you so interested in Agamemnon all of a sudden?"

As I had discovered soon after we had begun living together, it turned out you were rather on the jealous side. I have to admit that was a bit of a surprise in a man as confident as yourself, but I had learned quickly not to back down when you started talking rubbish.

I frowned right back at you: "Don't you dare! Don't even go there. It's ridiculous and you know it." I paused, then added in a lighter tone to take the sting off my previous harshness: "I do enjoy a little gossip, though, and you never give me any. I only ever find out things through Iphis."

You smiled thinly, not entirely pacified, but I went back to my original point:

"Anyway, as I was saying, I hope you don't trust Agamemnon. I think he has a grudge against you."

You swirled so that you were sitting astride the rock, facing me. "What do you mean, a grudge against me?"

I took a deep breath. We talked about many things and I usually felt free to speak my mind around you, but I had never before touched on your relationship with your allies. That was politics, Achaean politics, and I wasn't sure my input on such matters would be welcome, me being a woman and a foreigner. Still, I trudged on:

"Well, during the distribution of the spoils, when you rose to speak and the army gave you that impressive ovation…" A warm smile spread on your face at the memory, which only compounded my concerns. I went on: "I instinctively looked around to gauge the reaction of the other kings. After living in Mynes' court for three years, paying attention to that sort of things became almost second nature to me. So I noticed there was a lot of tension in many of the chiefs, but mainly I noticed Agamemnon's displeasure. He was really angry and suspicious." I paused again, then finished: "He fears you and I think he'd like nothing more than to see you fall."

You shook your head. At least you weren't angry, which was good, but you weren't taking me seriously either.

"Agamemnon would like nothing more than to see Troy fall to finally win this war, and he knows he can't achieve that without me. I'm not only the best warrior among all the Achaeans, I'm also the leader of the best corps of warriors the army has. If they lose me, they lose the Myrmidons. Agamemnon isn't stupid, he won't risk that."

It was probably wiser to let the matter rest, but I insisted anyway:

"If he perceives you as a threat to his position as high king, he may deem that a bigger risk than losing your cooperation in the war. You're a king's son, you must have seen how power struggles, ambition, envy and courtly intrigues can lead rulers to turn against even their own family and closest companions."

You shook your head again. "Actually, I haven't. Seen that, I mean. I hardly lived in court at all. I was sent to Chiron's when I was three, then I spent a couple of years in Lycomedes' court, but I was still living as a child in the women's wing, so I never really kept up with the political meanderings. I only lived in my father's palace as an adult for less than a year, while we were preparing to join this war." You smiled. "I'm afraid I'm a bit of a savage. Instead of growing up with a bunch of courtiers sucking up to me and a shipload of servants waiting on me hand and foot, I spent my childhood living rough and free, sleeping on the ground in Chiron's cave and roaming the woods during the day. As far as childhoods go, it was pretty great. The downside – beside the absence of a proper bed, of course, and the fact that Chiron pushed me like a freaking slave master – is that I learned how to hunt lions, but I never really learned how to navigate the pitfalls of royal courts. That's what I brought Phoenix for." You stroke my cheek, then added in a different tone, stern and final, effectively putting an end to the conversation: "I do know those pitfalls exist, though, and I don't think they apply to my relationship with Agamemnon. After all, we're just allies. I'm not one of his courtiers. I have, or will have, a kingdom of my own, I neither need nor want his. He must know that. As long as he respects me and behaves honourably toward me, I will respect him and abide by the rules of honour toward him as well."

I bit my lips. Could you really not see how the unconditional appreciation the Achaean army kept showing you would inevitably be perceived as a threat by the man who was supposedly the commander-in-chief of that selfsame army?

But it was clearly better not to press the matter further for the time being. You were getting to your feet and offering me your hand to help me up.

"Come. I don't suppose you'll be too keen on making this climb again any time soon, so I want to show you around before we start on the way down."

It was a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon, even more so because I knew you'd be leaving the next day for a new "foraging expedition". As it turned out, the Achaeans launched their raids on the other cities and towns of the Troad at the beginning of spring, when the sailing season started, and then again before it ended in early fall. However, while the spring attacks were meant to take specific cities and townships, the late summer ones were designed to ensure the army had enough resources to get them through the winter. So, as you had explained to me, it would be mostly a matter of raiding the countryside, taking cattle, horses, grain and other necessities from the enemy, and your absences would be short, four or five days at a time, as opposed to the lengthier springtime campaigns. Still, I had no idea how I would manage to hold on to my sanity with no way of knowing the outcome of the battles you'd be engaging in, with no way of knowing whether you were dead or alive.

But if there was one thing I had learned from day one, it was not to let you see the full extent of my fear for you. I had never been any good in covering up my feelings, but on that particular point I had become a true master. So I smiled and laughed and chatted merrily away with you.

Because, all things considered, you were right: what good would it be to mourn you while you were still alive? It made a lot more sense to just enjoy what we had while it lasted.

The immortals willing, it would last until we both grew old.