Friday, May 24, 2019

4.25: Never Gonna Hold The Hand Of Another Guy

1183 BCE - Achaean Base Camp.

Briseis stepped into Achilles’s tent, and found him weeping in his mother’s arms. It was strangely incongruous to see the powerful, mortal god emotionally devastated and seeking comfort in the arms of a much smaller woman. Achilles stopped crying when he saw Briseis.


“Agamemnon couldn’t come up with a tribute he thought worthy of Patroclus’s brave sacrifice turning back the Greeks, so he released me, as you asked.”

“Why are you still here?” Achilles sniffed, wiping the tears away, “You’re free now.”

“Because I owe you the truth,” Briseis said, “I feel no guilt for my actions, they were right, but I owe you the truth nonetheless.”

“What truth do you owe me?”

“Patroclus came to me, no more than an hour before he died, and freed me from my chains, pleaded with me to run, to escape, so that you could take to the battlefield.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“The people you’re fighting – among them are my friends and neighbors, Achilles. I’ve had dozens of opportunities to escape Agamemnon’s tent, but I’ve remained in his tent, because as long as I did so, you remained in yours.”

“So you refused Patroclus’s offer because you wanted to keep me out of the fight.”

“Yes. So I bear some of the responsibility for Patroclus’s death.” Briseis half expected Achilles to burst into a homicidal rage, but he didn’t. He just cried more.

“If I hadn’t made that vow years ago, Patroclus might still be alive. If Agamemnon had released you as I asked, Patroclus might still be alive. If Odysseus and my own mother hadn’t distracted me while Patroclus stole my armor, he might still be alive. But most of all, if Hector hadn’t killed him, Patroclus would certainly still be alive.”

“You forgive me then?”

“Patroclus would, so yes.” Achilles nodded towards her swollen abdomen, “Patroclus has no heirs, but I know he would be pleased if your child took his name.”

“What if it’s a girl?”

“Patroclus is a strong name either way, I think.”

A tear rolled down Briseis’s cheek as she laughed, “I will do that then. Is there anything else I can do?”

“See to Patroclus’s body,” Achilles said, “Ajax the Lesser is from Locris, so he’ll know their funeral rights. There’ll be a sacrifice expected, a tribute of some sort to honor the dead. I will see to that, but I will need a new suit of armor. Mother?”

Thetis was weeping. The path her son had chosen was nearing its end, and this would almost certainly be the last thing he ever asked of her. “I will go see Hephaestus,” she said, “I raised the man, I’m sure he will be willing to help.”


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