No One But You

Chapter Six : Who Wants To Live Forever ?

'There's no time for us,
There's no place for us,
What is this thing that builds our dreams,

Yet slips away from us?'

Queen, 'Who wants to live forever?'

Odysseus mentally steeled himself as he approached Achilles' tent. Though he had left Troy at midday, it was almost dusk, for he had been obliged to spend the entire afternoon in Agamemnon's presence, and so this would be the first time he saw Achilles since his return from the golden city.

He entered Achilles' tent to find the warlord sitting on his bed, sharpening his blade with long, rasping strokes that made the hairs on Odysseus' neck stand on end.

"You're back," Achilles drawled languidly, not looking up, but Odysseus had known Achilles far too long to be deceived by his show of indifference.

Odysseus sat down and poured himself a cup of wine. If his instincts were right, and he prided himself on the fact that they usually were, then he would be needing it before long.

"So what did the old king say?" Achilles asked lazily, still not looking up from the sword.

"Oh," Odysseus shrugged. "The usual. No combat for twelve days, no Trojan will try to leave Troy until the truce has ended. Nothing particularly new."

Achilles only grunted in reply, continuing his work, but Odysseus could see the internal struggle going on inside him.

"I saw her," he affirmed, answering the unspoken question and saving Achilles from the indignity of having to ask about a slave girl.

Achilles' reaction was immediate. His head snapped up, his eyes momentarily blazing, though with what, Odysseus did not know, for the emotion was gone as quickly as it arrived.

"How was she?" he asked thickly, both longing for and dreading the reply.

"Alright," Odysseus said cautiously, not wanting to insult his friend by lying to him, but equally reluctant to tell the truth for fear of the warlord's reaction. "She is...she seemed unhappy," he told Achilles, who was impatiently waiting for information. "I think that she was very angry with Paris," he finished, all-too aware of how inadequate his description of Briseis' state was. But how could he tell Achilles of how she had clung to him, weeping? How could he say him that she missed him? Or that she was regretting her return to Troy.

Achilles' eyes went flat and angry at Odysseus' words. "If they are treating her badly..." he growled.

"Achilles," Odysseus interrupted, knowing that he could no longer put off the inevitable. "There's something you should know."

Achilles' eyes narrowed, worried by the tone of Odysseus' voice. "What?" he asked carefully.

"Paris challenges you to one-on-one combat," Odysseus said slowly. "Because...because you raped his cousin."

Achilles did not react for a moment, but sat, immobilised by shock. But when he did more, it was with a black anger. "The bitch!" he said furiously, standing up violently, and ignoring the sword that had been resting on his lap as it fell to the ground with a bull thud. "You know I didn't rape her!" he demanded of Odysseus.

The old king nodded quietly, understanding the cause of Achilles' anger. The younger man had once told him that he had three rules by which he lived. Other men set themselves standards and then fell far below them, but not Achilles. He had very few beliefs, but what he did believe in, he would rather die than turn back on. Achilles had taken thousands of years of great philosophers' works, and compressed it into three simple rules for his life. Firstly: never cause undue suffering in battle. And as far as Odysseus knew, he had stuck by this, for Achilles always killed quickly and cleanly. Secondly: never kill priests or children. Again, Odysseus knew that he had never gone back on this. Thirdly: never rape a woman. Not, Odysseus thought, that he had ever had any trouble with this: women were usually tripping over each other trying to get into his bed. And so Odysseus understood, to at least some extent, his friend's rage.