IT GOES LIKE THIS, on and on, the tent flap opening, the tentative face. Phoinix, or Automedon, or Machaon.
At last Odysseus. “Agamemnon has come to see you, and return the girl.” Achilles does not say, She has already returned. Perhaps he does not know.
The two men face each other in the flickering firelight. Agamemnon clears his throat. “It is time to forget the division between us. I come to bring you the girl, Achilles, unharmed and well.” He pauses, as if expecting a rush of gratitude. There is only silence. “Truly, a god must have snatched our wits from us to set us so at odds. But that is over now, and we are allies once more.” This last is said loudly, for the benefit of the watching men. Achilles does not respond. He is imagining killing Hector. It is all that keeps him standing.
Agamemnon hesitates. “Prince Achilles, I hear you will fight tomorrow?”
“Yes.” The suddenness of his answer startles them.
“Very good, that is very good.” Agamemnon waits another moment. “And you will fight after that, also?”
“If you wish,” Achilles answers. “I do not care. I will be dead soon.”
The watching men exchange glances. Agamemnon recovers.
“Well. We are settled then.” He turns to go, stops. “I was sorry to hear of Patroclus’ death. He fought bravely today. Did you hear he killed Sarpedon?”
Achilles’ eyes lift. They are bloodshot and dead. “I wish he had let you all die.”
Agamemnon is too shocked to answer. Odysseus steps into the silence. “We will leave you to mourn, Prince Achilles.”
jacobvanloon
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
izzy806
baratheonpilled
dededos
