The youth picked languidly at his plate.
When he did not reply, King Lycomedes answered for him, ‘Achilles’ mother, Thetis, sent her son on a prolonged visit to my kingdom. I was delighted, of course, to entertain such a renowned warrior, but when my daughter expressed afondness for our guest and the opportunity to unite the kingdoms of Phthia and Skyros presented itself … well, how could I not bless such a marriage?’
At her father’s words, Deidamia beamed at Achilles. At the same time, the Myrmidon beside him stiffened. The soldier looked not much older than his captain, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen. He was similarly tall and lithe, with tawny-brown skin and dark, tightly curled hair. Achilles never looked at him, but moved his hand ever so slightly, so his little finger brushed against the Myrmidon’s clenched fist.
‘What a happy arrangement,’ said Odysseus, his eyes drinking in the exchange. Danae was sure he had missed none of what just passed between the three young people. ‘But surely your Myrmidons must be growing bored with only serving girls and goats to entertain them.’
Telamon laughed. Lycomedes’ lips pursed, and Achilles’ spine straightened, like a snake jabbed with a stick.
‘My men go where I go. If I am happy, they are happy.’
The Myrmidon next to Achilles glared at Odysseus.
The King of Ithaca laughed easily. ‘You are blessed, Achilles, best of the Greeks. I wish I could say the same for my men.’
Achilles did not return his warmth. ‘I meant what I said. I will not come with you to Troy.’
Odysseus nodded. ‘Remind me again what it is exactly you took offence to in Aulis?’
Achilles’ cheeks flushed. ‘You know damned well – he used my name! He lured that poor girl to her death with my name as bait.’
‘It was a tragedy the girl had to die, but it was the will of the gods.’ Odysseus’ voice rang out for all to hear. ‘Surely you do not mean to criticize the Twelve?’
The colour in Achilles’ face deepened. ‘Never. It is not the sacrifice that angers me, but the use of my name. I am Achilles, the greatest mortal soldier Greece has ever seen. My name is worth more than gold, and I will not have it used by a duplicitous king for his own ends.’
Danae stared at him: this boy who was so sure of himself. The youth who commanded his own army. The man who cared not for the life taken, but only his reputation. She was flooded with the desire to fling him to the floor and watch that beautiful face twist in pain as she buried her fists in his ribs. But she knew the hollowing in her chest had been carved before this night, by another hero who valued his name above all else.
‘I see,’ said Odysseus, ‘thank you for indulging my curiosity. I shall speak no more upon this matter.’
When the platters had been picked clean and the wine jugs drained, Lycomedes proclaimed the feasting at an end and retired to his bedchamber. The courtiers drifted back to their homes, and Odysseus’ men were shown to rooms in the servants’ quarters. Telamon had already retired to his chamber, and Atalanta disappeared with the blonde princess. Danae tried not to think about it. Imagining them together felt like swallowing hot ashes.
Finally Danae, Odysseus and Hylas were left alone with two of the Ithacan soldiers and several Skyros guards. As they rose from the feast table, Odysseus said to Hylas, ‘You should get some rest. We leave at first light.’
Hylas’ gaze flicked between the king and Danae, and for a moment it seemed like he would dissent. Then he turned, leaning on his crutch, and walked away across the stone floor.
‘What’s your plan?’ Danae whispered, both sets of guardsfollowing them as they stepped out into the pillared corridor. ‘Achilles is married – surely it will now be impossible to persuade him to leave.’
‘It is not I but you who must convince him,’ Odysseus murmured.
‘Me?’
‘Remember, you are a seer,Dione. As we learned at dinner, Achilles is both proud and pious. So,’ he glanced behind them, ‘you will go to his chamber tonight, and tell him that the gods demand his presence in Troy. You will say that if he does not fight for the Greek allied army, the Twelve will be incandescent with rage.’
‘You want me to lie?’
Odysseus regarded her for a moment. ‘I know you do not trust me. I don’t blame you – we’ve only known each other a short while. But we are on the same side. Everything I do is in your service, to clear a path for you to fulfil your destiny.’ He paused. ‘I can see it is a burden for you to deceive –’
‘You do not know me.’
‘No, but Hylas does. I admit, I took him with me when I left the Doliones’ shore because he knew you, and I have been searching for you ever since you destroyed the oracle at Delphi.’ Danae opened her mouth to ask how he knew, but Odysseus continued, his voice a fervent whisper, ‘Since then, Hylas has become a most valued advisor, and a friend. I hope in time you can learn to trust me as he does.’
An old desire ached in her like a long-healed wound on a cold winter night. A memory of how it had felt when she’d believed Heracles was destined to help her find Prometheus, and she would have the might of a demi-god beside her against the formidable force of the gods. Odysseus was offering her an army, a plan, and she sorely wanted to trusthe would deliver. She wondered now how she ever thought she could storm Olympus with only Telamon and Atalanta by her side. Even if she could learn to master Gaiasight, the more she dwelt on the coming fight, the more facing the Olympians in battle seemed an insurmountable task. But, as Metis would say, she must have faith.
‘Fine,’ she said quietly, ‘I will do it.’
Danae lingered in her chamber, waiting for the rest of the palace to slip into sleep. As she paced back and forth across the stone floor, Odysseus’ words chased each other through her mind:… he is the best mortal Greek soldier alive. We need him to make the fight for Troy worthy of luring the gods down to the battle.
She clenched and unclenched her fists. She could do this, she must.
