Warrior’s Prize
: Part 2 – Chapter 42

Achilles himself lay to rest in a corner of the hut,

with lovely Briseis by his side.

Iliad, Homer, Book XXIV,

(Rouse’s translation)

We lay in his bed and loved and loved again, our passion all the deeper for our shared sorrow. He fell asleep before I did, and as I lay drifting off, the sound of his breathing filled me with a sense of peace. When morning came, I saw the soft, unguarded look in his eyes as he awoke. He kissed me, gave his radiant smile, and pulled me once more into his arms.

A long time later, he sat up, and his mood changed abruptly. I watched his thoughts take him far away. He bent to plant another kiss on my lips before springing to his feet. I felt a rush of cold air from his side of the bed. As he pulled on tunic, sandals, and the blue mantle, there was tenseness and urgency in his movements.

“Where are you going?” I asked, afraid.

“To Agamemnon’s quarters.”

“Now? Why?”

“I must make sure of my promise to Priam. Agamemnon must tell the Achaeans they won’t fight for eleven days.”

“What if he won’t agree?”

He gave a grim smile. “The army will do as I say. I have regained my honor. Although it doesn’t seem to matter so much now.” He bent to kiss me again. “Wait for me here. Have the morning meal ready.” And he was gone.

I lit the fire and fetched bread and a jug of milk, which I set on the lip of the hearth. He returned in less time than I had thought possible. “All is well. We have eleven days,” he said, flinging off his mantle. “Now, where’s that meal?”

He ate in silence. I guessed from the sudden bleakness in his eyes that the eleven days loomed as a vast emptiness in which to miss his friend. He would spend the time doing things the men did when there was no battle: drills and hunting, exercising the horses, mending weapons, armor, harnesses, sometimes engaging in races and contests. But for me the truce was a god-sent gift. I would fill his emptiness, tell him of the child, and make his return to battle unthinkable.

I said, “Achilleus, today will you take me beyond the camp where we went once before?”

“Aye, if you want, but why?”

“I’d like to bathe in the sea. And I have something to tell you.”

He gave a teasing grin. “How do I know you aren’t going to try to run away again?”

I was dismayed. “I would never—“

But he burst out laughing. “Do you remember how ferocious you were when you first came here? You tried to kill me, not just once but twice!”

Abashed, I lowered my gaze. “Don’t remind me!”

He laughed again, and then grew serious. “My Briseis, I love your fierceness—your fiery spirit.” He tilted my chin up to his face and kissed me.

After a moment he said, “Get some food ready to bring, and let’s go.”

We set out in the shimmering stillness, walking to where there were no more huts or ships. When we reached the last sentry post, Achilleus greeted the guard and told me, “This is one of my men.” He introduced me to the man, saying, “If Briseis ever comes here without me, let her through. She has my trust. Tell your fellows.”

After we crossed the shallow stream onto the empty beach, he said, “There, my sweet! You can come to bathe here any time you want. And if my company grows too tedious, you can take a long walk and leave me far behind, as you tried to do the last time we came here.”

He was laughing as he said it, and I wanted to answer with a jest, but could think of nothing. What I said at last was the simple truth. “I was afraid that day. Afraid of my heart.”

He took me in his arms and I felt raw emotion surge through him. “My Briseis! I wish we’d had a better start. We would have had so much more time.”

Would have had. The import of this sank into my heart like a stone. This was the crux of it, the thing he believed but wouldn’t say, the shadow hanging over us, its sadness pervading even the joy of our reunion: his belief that in recommitting to the war, he had chosen death.

I wanted to shake him, scream at him, tear my hair out. But I forced myself to say lightly, “We have lots of time. Our whole lives.”

His answering silence was weighted with meaning.

How do I get us past this? How do I get him out of this war?

In silence we walked far down the shore to where the beach widened and the sand was soft, and we sat side-by-side looking at the sea, smooth and silvery under the blazing sun. Gulls dipped and soared on black-tipped wings, their cries the only sounds we heard.

It had been several months since I’d come to his camp in early spring, and now, though the weather was still mostly warm, the days were growing shorter.

At last he said, “What did you wish to tell me?”

Now that the moment had come, I struggled for words. I reached for his hand and brought it to rest on my belly. “Achilleus, your child is growing here inside me.”

A sudden intake of breath. “Mine?”

“Who else could it be? After Mynes there was no one but you.” For a long time he said nothing. When I ventured a look at his face, he was staring at the horizon, the familiar curved furrow between his brows. “Are you glad?” I asked.

“Aye!” He turned to me smiling. “That’s wonderful news. A son!”

“It might be a daughter.”

“Then she would be like you.” But a shadow fell on him. The shadow. He lowered his head. “It doesn’t—it can’t change things,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?”

He pulled me close. “Look after my child, Briseis.”

“Of course.” But now was not the time to delve into this. We will speak more of it later. “Achilleus,” I said, “you’ve never told me about your parents—your home.”

He picked up a handful of pebbles and flung them into the shallow water. “My father, the King of Phthia, lives mostly alone. My mother spends much of her time with her people, on the coast. Our home is in the hills near Mount Pelion. There are rivers and springs and woodlands and rich pastures for the horses and cattle.” He spoke as if it were far removed from him. As he described a great house filled with servants and attendants, he smiled sadly. “I was the only child,” he said. “How lonely it was—until Patroklos came to our household.” His face brightened. “When he arrived, we were both young boys. He was older, but shy and afraid.”

I saw that he needed to talk about his dead friend. “Patroklos told me of his exile and how you helped him.”

“I cared nothing for his past. He was the brother, the friend I’d always longed for.”

“Tell me about your home after Patroklos came,” I said.

But it turned out that too little of his childhood had been spent there. There had been no softness or nurturing. “We were sent away to Mount Pelion to be tutored by Cheiron of the Kentaurs. He was a wise man who taught me not only riding and hunting and spear-play but healing and music as well. Then, as young men, we were sent to King Lykomedes on the island of Skyros because my mother wished to hide me from the coming war.” His face sobered. I felt it—the shadow.

“What was your life like on Skyros?” I asked quickly.

“The king and his servants paid us little attention, but Patroklos and I had each other and needed no one else. We wandered all over the island and had many adventures.”

I began to understand the full measure of his love for the only companion of his solitary youth. I was a latecomer in his life. No wonder he had thought me a poor trade for his friend. I remembered something else. “You fathered a child on Skyros.”

His eyebrows lifted. “So you know about my son!”

“Patroklos told me.”

“The king had a daughter a year older than me. Deidamiea. She was wild and wayward, a difficult, bossy girl. Often she wanted to join in our adventures. We tolerated her at times. Her nursemaid did not watch her well, and I, as lads will—” He broke off.

“Did you love her?” I asked.

A spasm crossed his face. “Not enough. We were too young…” He paused. “Too young to understand love. But now there is Neoptolemos, my son, a fine young man of fifteen summers.” He reached down, took another handful of sand and pebbles, let it sift slowly through his fingers. “I’ve had many women since then. I’ve led the life of a warrior, a wanderer.” He brought out his next words slowly. “If the gods will let me live long enough to take a wife—” his voice caught on those words, “it will be you, Briseis, or no one.”

The world was suddenly full of light. A sea bird burst aloft with a shrill cry, and my spirit soared with it. I wanted to speak but no words came.The bird cried out again, but this time it was a sound of such plangent sadness that my heart stilled. Achilleus, silent, gazed out to sea. He gave a sharp sigh.

He looked at me then and smiled. “Where is the food you brought? I’m very hungry, and you should eat for the sake of that baby.”

After our meal he jumped up and flung off his tunic. “Race you to the water!” I’d always been swift on my feet, but I had no chance against Achilleus the Runner. He plunged in waist-deep just as I reached the water’s edge. But after he swam a bit and surfaced for air, I caught him unawares, jumped on him, and dunked him underwater. He came up sputtering and laughing. “You demon!” Picking me up, he threw me bodily into the sea.

When we got out, shivering and laughing, he pulled me up the shore to the soft sand and spread his mantle so we could lie down. For a long moment he lay next to me, propped up on an elbow, looking at me, grinning wickedly.

“What?” I asked.

“We should do this more often—lie together in daylight. I love looking at your body!”

Our lovemaking was long and slow. Afterwards, as we lay sated, with our wet, sandy bodies touching, I closed my eyes. I had only dreamed of what it might be to know a day like this, the sky cloudless above us, the sun on my skin, and my beloved at my side. I wondered if the gods only allotted one such moment in a lifetime, and at that thought a gray sadness tinged the edges of my joy. The shadows were lengthening, the sun dropping toward the sea. The chilly wind picked up, and the sea became restless, each deep blue wave crested with gold. Achilleus rose and pulled his tunic over his head.

“It’s time to go back.” There was a heaviness in his voice.

Ten more days of the truce, I thought as we walked toward the encampment. Ten short days in which to persuade him to sail home to Phthia. But how?