For the Most Beautiful (34 page)

The Greeks were laughing and jeering at him, whistling and making rude gestures.

And then the same thing happened again – but this time it was Achilles who was arching his body back, Achilles running over the sand and flinging his huge ash spear with all his strength, watching, head craned up to the sky, to see if his aim was true.

I covered my eyes with my hands, half wishing I could not watch, but peering through my fingers all the same, desperate to see what would happen to our prince.

But the cast was too low and Hector easily lowered his shield to block it. The tip of bronze crumpled against the hide layers of the tall oval shield and the spear rattled back with a loud ringing sound, clattering on to the plain, like a dropped stick.

Hector started to move in towards him.

But Achilles did not give up. He reached down and, with a sharp scrape of metal on metal, drew a sword from his belt and charged towards the greatest warrior of Troy.

If Hector died now, Troy would be lost.

I tightened my grip on Cassandra's hand.

Hector was running faster than I had ever seen him. In one swift movement, he drew his left arm tighter towards his body to cover his body with his shield, then swung his right arm back and, with lightning speed, raised his spear above his head. The point glittered in the sun and then, as he let it go, flashed like a shooting star towards his opponent.

There was a moment, when Achilles simply stood still, mid-run, his sword still held high above his head as the spear point buried itself in the soft part of his neck, just above his collarbone, tunnelling its way through to the other side. Then he stumbled forwards a little. Blood gushed from his neck and gurgled through his throat, almost like a voice, a curse.

He fell to his knees, and then collapsed, face-forwards, on to the ground.

I held my breath, excitement and incredulity fighting for my attention in equal measure.

I looked around. No one could believe what had just happened. I could not believe it.

Achilles is dead!

But – how is that possible? He was hit in the neck, not the heel, he—

I heard the whisper around the parapet, heard it echoed like a breeze through the trees by the army below the walls.

Achilles, the greatest of the Greeks and son of a god, is dead!

The whisper grew louder, swelled into a rumble and then a roar.

‘Achilles is dead! Achilles, the greatest of the Greeks, is dead!'

The nobles on the tower were celebrating, laughing and clapping. Even King Priam was smiling.

I turned to Cassandra and laughed aloud. She threw herself into my arms and embraced me.

The Trojans on the plain were shaking their spears in the air, roaring Hector's name. The Greeks stood silent and petrified, as if they had been turned into statues of bronze.

Slowly, Hector walked over to the dead body, crouched beside it and turned it on its back. With an enormous wrench, he pulled the spear from Achilles' throat. Then he took Achilles' helmet in both hands, and pulled it off.

Then, suddenly, all at once, the Greeks were shoving and pushing at each other, pressing forwards in a great mass to look at the body.

And now it was the Trojans who were stock still and silent, staring.

‘Why aren't they moving?' Prince Aeneas asked impatiently, from beside his father's throne. ‘My brother just killed Achilles. They should be counter-attacking, the fools!'

It was Helen who answered him. She drew her veil slowly back from her face and gazed down from the walls, her lovely face impassive. Then—

‘It's not Achilles,' she said quietly.

‘Not Achilles?' King Priam said loudly, astounded, and I heard his words repeated through the crowd in a low, breathless murmur. I felt my breath catch in the back of my throat.
How could it not be Achilles?
And then I remembered again what Briseis had said about his heel, and my heart dropped. ‘But – but that is impossible! That is Achilles' armour. I am sure of it!'

Helen took a deep breath, still looking down at the body lying limp and bloody below the walls. ‘It's Patroclus.'

We could hear the army tramping from the plain as I huddled in the armoury with the other slaves. The shower of missiles upon the roof had ceased almost an hour ago, but we had been too frightened to leave our sanctuary. We had heard the muffled shouting, too confused to make anything out, then the distant sounds of weapons clashing upon the plain.

And silence.

Now the army was returning – but whether in victory or defeat, we did not know.

Neither did we know any more which side we wanted to win.

At last, unable to bear the tense silence inside the armoury, I decided to leave. I pushed open the door.

The guards that had stood outside when Patroclus had brought me there were gone. The camp was eerily quiet. Bronze-edged shields and broken spears littered the shore, and here and there wild dogs shuffled through the huts, noses to the ground. I picked my way around arrows lodged in the sand and bits of charred wood that had fallen from the burning ships towards the assembly-place.

And then I heard a cry of unearthly grief, a long, piercing moan, like the howl of a wounded animal.

My heart froze. I had recognized it before I had even had time to think. I would know that voice anywhere.

It was Achilles.

I gathered my tunic in one hand and started to run, darting between collapsed tents and fallen door-posts, my only thought to get to Achilles. The sound had come from the assembly-place.

I quickened my pace, avoided a discarded spear, darted past a soldier fallen upon his side and groaning in pain, ran around the side of Agamemnon's tent to the clearing …

And saw something that made me feel as if the ground were shifting beneath my feet, like the sea in a storm.

Patroclus, lying on a funerary bier raised upon a mound of earth, his brown eyes closed in death, his body clothed in the simple brown tunic, now stained with blood, that warriors wore beneath their breastplates. The soldiers standing by, respectful, sorrowful. As I gazed upon his body lying there in death, I saw Mynes' body, unburied, lying in the ruins of Lyrnessus. The bodies of my brothers, my father – everyone I had ever loved.

I held my arms out to each side of me and staggered through the crowded Greek warriors to the centre of the assembly-place.

A group of helmeted generals was clustered in the centre, and I pushed my way towards them, the soldiers buffeting me on each side. I could see Agamemnon in the middle, Odysseus, Menelaus …

And then I reached them, and found Patroclus. His body, his young, honest body, mangled, just as Mynes' had been, just as Rhenor's, Aigion's and Thersites' had been when they died … I let out a strangled cry and fell to my knees by his side, sobbing.

One of Agamemnon's bodyguards came up to me and caught me by one shoulder. ‘What do you think you are doing, girl?' he asked roughly, pulling me away from Patroclus' body. ‘You have no right to be here with the generals.'

I screamed and struggled against him, kicking and shouting Patroclus' name in sobs and gasps.

‘Wait,' I heard Odysseus' brusque voice say, and the soldier stopped at once. ‘Leave the girl here, Thoas. We may need her.'

He let go of me, and I fell to the ground, crawling through the dust back to Patroclus' side.

‘Briseis?' said a voice. ‘Briseis – is that you?'

It was Achilles. Close to, he seemed wild, desperate, possessed. His hair was fouled with dust, his face smeared with ashes and streaked with tears. He dropped to his knees beside Patroclus' bier.

I groped my way towards him. ‘What happened?' I asked him, my voice breaking. ‘What happened?'

Achilles shook his head. He could not speak.

Odysseus looked down at the pair of us, a curious expression on his face, then took a long, deep breath. ‘Patroclus led the army out to Troy. He managed to push the Trojans back from the camp to the walls. There was a duel and …' he exhaled slowly ‘… Hector killed him.'

Achilles started to howl.

‘Does anyone actually know
why
he went to war in the first place?' Nestor asked, his brow furrowed.

Odysseus shrugged his shoulders. ‘We do not. It is clear, at any rate,' he glanced down at the huge, collapsed figure of Achilles beside me, ‘that he was not ordered out.'

A slow terror was filling me. The echo of the words I had spoken in anger rang through my head.

How do you think a warrior such as Achilles could love a coward who spends all his time hiding behind the camp walls?

I felt a shiver run down my spine, and tears trickled down my cheeks.

Oh, Patroclus. Why did you go to war? Did you listen to what I said, foolish words that meant nothing? I tried to tell you! I tried to tell you they were not true …

‘But what about the armour?' Diomedes asked, his face creased in a frown. ‘We all saw him fighting in Achilles' armour. Why was he wearing it? Where is it?'

Odysseus swallowed and glanced at Achilles again. ‘We do not know why Patroclus took it,' he said shortly. ‘But I assume he thought – quite rightly, it turns out – that it was the only way he would be allowed to fight, as everyone knew Achilles had sworn not to permit it.' His tone became business-like. ‘In any case, we lost the armour. Hector took it before Menelaus and I could get to the body. There was nothing we could do.'

Achilles was running his hands distractedly through his hair, groaning and weeping.

‘Achilles,' Odysseus said abruptly, turning to him, ‘you may have lost Patroclus, and Zeus knows I'm sorry for it, but we need you now – more than ever.' The other generals were nodding.

My ears were ringing. All thoughts of Patroclus left me as I realized what Odysseus was about to say.

‘No!' I shouted. ‘No, Achilles – you cannot go to war!'

The bodyguard, Thoas, kicked me in the ribs and I reeled, gasping for breath.

Odysseus ignored me. ‘You saw how close we were to having our camp burnt to the ground, and if we had not mistaken Patroclus for you and thought you were there, leading us … If you could just lay aside your quarrel with King Agamemnon and come back and fight, I am sure,' he looked at the king, who gave a small nod, ‘that Agamemnon will be more than happy to give you everything he offered before—'

Achilles had stood up. ‘The quarrel does not matter any more.'

‘What?'

‘You heard me, Odysseus. The quarrel does not matter. I have lost Patroclus. I have lost my honour. I have failed in my oath to Menoetius.' His eyes glittered darkly, dangerously, and though his voice was quiet it was full of a suppressed rage. ‘Hector will pay for this.' He paused ominously. ‘Even if it costs me my life,
Hector will pay
.'

My vision blurred. My throat was so dry I could hardly utter a sound, only weep and shake my head.

Agamemnon rubbed his hands together. ‘Well, that's settled, then,' he said. ‘And, Achilles, if I was a little harsh earlier – well, you know how it is when Zeus decides to send down the goddess Delusion on us mortals—'

Odysseus interrupted him: ‘We can pass over the excuses,' he said drily. ‘What Achilles needs to know, Agamemnon,' and he fixed him with a hard stare, ‘is if you will return the girl you took from him.' He pointed at me.

‘Oh,' said Agamemnon, caught in mid-speech. ‘That.' He glanced at me, his face blank. ‘Yes,' he said easily. ‘You can have her, Achilles, and my oath, by all the gods of Olympus, that I didn't take her to my bed.'

‘No,' I moaned. ‘Achilles, no … Please …
don't fight
.'

Achilles ignored me, and his eyes met Agamemnon's. There was a long silence as the two men, the king and the warrior hero, gazed at each other.

The entire army seemed to hold its breath.

Then Achilles gave a small, curt nod, and my world collapsed.

Agamemnon roared his approval.

Achilles gazed at the silent sea of soldiers and bronze-helmeted generals, his eyes blazing, face grim, jaw set. Slowly, deliberately, he drew his sword from the scabbard and raised it into the air. The blade flashed gold in the light of the setting sun, like a beacon on the shore. All at once, the men burst into an explosion of sound, cheering and stamping and shouting, clapping each other on the back, chanting Achilles' name and rattling their spears and shields.

Achilles was going to war.

And there was nothing I could do.