For the Most Beautiful (19 page)

All was a confusion of desire as he touched me, and I felt the brush of his lips upon mine, so real that it was almost …

I awoke with a start, my forehead damp with sweat, and sat up on my pallet on the other side of the hut from Achilles' bed, heart beating very fast, horror pumping through my veins. All was quiet. Achilles lay asleep on his woollen covers, his naked belly rising and falling with his breath, a shaft of moonlight from the hole in the rush roof shading his chest with the same perfect clarity as in my dream. I hugged my knees to my chest, my mind a whirl of shock and fear. Achilles was my mortal enemy. I had sworn never to lie with him. How could I have dreamt of making such passionate – such very passionate—

I shook my head to clear it as my mind filled with images of Achilles: his lips, his tongue … I looked up at the meadow rushes of the darkened ceiling, willing myself to think of something else, anything.

Mynes
, I thought furiously.
Think of Mynes. Remember what it felt like to be with him, to love him.

I tried to remember every detail of the first night we were together. The blue canopy above our bed, his arms around me, the moonlight filtering in through the roof of the hut …

No! Not the hut. We were in the palace. The palace of Lyrnessus that Achilles sacked.

I felt my anger flicker, like a kindled flame.
You hate Achilles
, I reminded myself fiercely.
You hate him.

It was just a dream.

I tossed around my bed in frustration and anger and brought the covers up under my chin, holding them tight in my fists. I should not even be thinking of this. To think such things was a betrayal of Mynes' soul as he wandered, unburied, in Hades.

You are Mynes' wife and his love, always.

I paused.

And yet you promised him
, a small voice said in the corner of my mind,
you promised that you would live your life without him.

I shook my head.
No
, I told myself,
no. I didn't mean it. He should not have asked me.

But as I stared up at the thatched ceiling, trying to will myself to fall asleep again, I could not help but wonder if Mynes had known what small comfort the dead could bring to those who were left behind, with cold beds and broken hearts, to live the war alone.

‘Idaeus, the herald of the Trojans, has arrived, my king.'

I was standing at the corner of King Agamemnon's council chamber beneath the largest of the decorated tapestries, the stools that were usually occupied by the Greek lords empty, the large round table cleared of tablets and maps for the king's evening meal, lighting the oil-lamps in their bronze stands as the day darkened towards evening. One of the Greek heralds, Talthybius, had drawn aside the tent flap to reveal a stooped old man, his dark hair patched with grey. I half gasped as I recognized him: he was the messenger who had delivered Queen Hecuba's early-morning summons for Cassandra to attend her on the walls of Troy, only a few weeks before. But he did not look at me. Who, after all, would notice a slave? His gaze was directed at the king, who was seated as usual on his throne.

King Agamemnon raised a hand heavy with gold rings in acknowledgement. ‘Ah,' he said, clearly unsurprised by the presence of a Trojan in the camp. ‘Herald. Yes. You have come for the body of Troilus, I take it?'

Idaeus nodded. ‘I have the treasure in a cart at the gates of the camp.'

King Agamemnon leant forwards. ‘You had better make sure you do not go back on your word, Trojan,' he said, his eyes boring into those of the herald. ‘We have King Priam's assurance that he would send the prince's weight in gold in exchange for the right to bury him.'

Idaeus looked evenly back at the king. ‘We have kept our side of the bargain.'

King Agamemnon leant back again and glittered a smile at him. ‘And we ours,' he said smoothly. ‘You will find the corpse laid out in the healer's hut.'

Idaeus inclined his head.

‘You can go now,' King Agamemnon said, waving a hand again. ‘Talthybius will escort you to bring back the ransom and ensure it has been paid in full.'

‘Wait!'

The king turned slowly to me, and Idaeus exclaimed, ‘Companion to the princess! But we thought you were …'

I ignored him and moved towards Agamemnon, then forced myself to kneel at his feet. ‘Will you allow me to accompany Idaeus and ensure that Troilus' body is prepared in the proper way?' I asked, the words tumbling out of my mouth in my nervousness.

Talthybius started forwards, as if to silence me, but the king shook his head, the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk. ‘The body has already been prepared in the proper way, slave.'

I dared to look up at him, and my eyes met his. ‘No, my lord. It has been prepared in the Greek way.'

There was a long silence as Agamemnon stared at me, his eyes narrowed, and I held my breath, wondering if I had gone too far. Then the king let out a short bark of a laugh. ‘Very well,' he said. He motioned towards the two heralds. ‘Talthybius, take her with you. Ensure she has what she needs.' He smiled, his eyes cold. ‘We cannot be seen to treat the Trojan dead without respect, can we?'

Talthybius gave the king a deep bow, and I rose to my feet and moved quickly towards him before the king could change his mind.

The two heralds stared at me as we left, Talthybius' glare full of disapproval, Idaeus' expression one of barely concealed surprise.

The healer's hut was only thirty paces or so from King Agamemnon's and we made the walk in silence, the heralds' sandals crunching on the dry sand.

‘You can't come in.'

We had reached the hut. I moved to stand before the door, arms crossed over my chest, holding the Greek herald's gaze.

Talthybius' eyes narrowed. ‘And who are you to tell me what I can or cannot do, slave?'

I shrugged. ‘The king told you to give me everything I need, did he not? Idaeus and I must be alone. Only Trojans may witness the rituals for the Trojan dead.'

Talthybius gave an impatient grunt of annoyance, but said nothing.

I turned with a smile and pushed the door open. ‘Idaeus? Are you coming?'

The herald nodded and bent to follow me. I caught a last glimpse of Talthybius, standing with his back to us, foot tapping irritably on the sand, before the door swung shut and we were alone.

The hut was small, dingy and smelt strongly of myrrh and incense. I bit my lip as I caught sight of Troilus in the opposite corner and almost faltered. I had known, of course, but … it was different seeing him. I blinked streams of salt tears from my eyes, and steadied myself against one of the wooden pillars that supported the roof. His beautiful body had been embalmed with sticky scented oils and laid out on a wooden bier, the wounds washed clean, and a wreath placed around his head. For a moment all I wanted was to throw myself upon his body and give in to my grief, but I knew I could not. There were other things to be done.

And time was short.

‘Idaeus,' I kept my voice low as I turned to the herald, who was gazing at the body of the prince with tears in his eyes, ‘you know you can trust me, do you not?'

The herald sniffed. ‘Princess Cassandra always used to say she would trust you with her life,' he whispered, ‘and she believes you were not to blame for Prince Troilus' death.'

I gave him a long look. ‘And you?'

‘I am but a herald, daughter of Polydamas,' he said in a low voice. ‘I am in no position to say. But if I were to venture an opinion …' He shrugged his shoulders. ‘The prince was always a hot-headed young man, the gods bless him. And the king's refusal of your marriage shook him greatly.'

‘You must take a message for me back to the king, Idaeus. I swear to you, I would not ask you to do such a thing if it were not of the gravest importance.'

His eyes widened slightly.

‘Tell King Priam,' I said, lowering my voice until it was almost a whisper, ‘that the Greeks believe they have been given a prophecy from their gods that the city of Troy will fall. I hardly know whether or not to believe it, but … if it is true … the king should know of it.' I paused. ‘Tell him also that there is a secret way into the Greek camp through the woods to the south, and that it seems the Greeks have decided to leave this path unprotected.' I thought of what Troilus had said of King Priam's order that he never speak to me again. ‘Only – only do not tell the king that this information comes from me.'

‘How do you know of the path?' Idaeus asked, with a frown.

I waved my hand. ‘I overheard the Greeks talking about it in – in the camp.'

We were silent for a time.

‘Why are you doing this, daughter of Polydamas?' Idaeus said at last. ‘Do you know how much you risk if you are caught passing information to our side?'

I shot him a disbelieving look. ‘Would you stand back and watch if you knew the city and the people you loved were in danger?'

He took this in. Then he crossed his arms and looked down at me, his face grave. ‘You are full of surprises tonight, Krisayis. Is there anything else?'

‘Nothing for now. Can you return?'

He considered. ‘Perhaps in a few days. There is talk of a truce, and our king will need me to negotiate it if that is so.'

I gave him a swift smile. ‘A few days should be plenty of time for me to gather more from King Agamemnon's war council.'

I forced myself to glance at Troilus' body lying at peace on the bier, and turned to pick up a rough cloth and a jar of spiced myrrh from the stool beside me, my hands trembling slightly, but certain in the knowledge that I was doing what was right.

‘For now, however, we have work to do.'

It is just after the midday meal, and the gods are gathering in the assembly-place on Mount Ida, around the gap in the clouds above the Trojan plain. They are talking in low voices, wondering why Zeus has summoned them at such an unlikely hour. Perhaps he has had a message from the Fates.

Zeus waits until they have all settled themselves in their seats, then heaves himself up from his throne and turns to survey his council. ‘Gods,' he says, spreading his arms wide. ‘Sons. Daughters. We have a very important decision to make today.' He gazes around the gathered crowd.

When no one says anything, Zeus begins again: ‘Recently, on this very spot,' he bows his head to Athena, who is, of course, sitting upright and eager, ‘we saw my dear daughter go to war to help the hero, Ajax.'

Poseidon, who has been slumped against the back of his throne gazing up at the sky, jumps as Ares elbows him in the ribs. ‘What?' he hisses at him, then sees Athena glowing with pride, and his face darkens. ‘Talking about Cycnus again, are we?'

Zeus chuckles. ‘Oh, brother,' he says, ‘you mustn't always take things so personally.'

‘What? Like when you got to rule the whole world and I was given the stinking sea?' Poseidon interrupts, under his breath, folding his arms. ‘Like that, you mean?'

Zeus pretends he didn't hear.

‘What I mean is,' Zeus says, reassuming his regal tone, ‘we can't let that happen again.'

Athena jumps up from her seat in protest, the snakes on her breastplate hissing.

Zeus holds up his hand, and she sits down again sulkily.

Poseidon smirks with satisfaction.

‘I'm not saying you did anything wrong,' Zeus continues, ‘but we simply can't have squabbles like this interfering with the war. After all,' he beams around at the gods, most of whom are looking very disagreeable indeed, ‘we are gods! We're meant to be setting an example!'