Finding Achilles

ii. the hero leaves

The suffering soldiers had stopped coughing up blood and muttering curses in a state of hysteria. Their blistered skin had began to heal and they showed tremendous progress.

All at the cost of Agamemnon's respect, as he himself concluded.

"That old crassly man had the power to enrage a God against me!"

He banged his fist on the table, the chalice of wine toppling over on the ground. Apollo was a god– he had every right to curse the greeks to a plague, but at the word of a minor priest?

Even gods raged and showed mercy in miraculous moments when it came to women.

"She was an excellent prize, something that I much deserved. I treated her well too!"

The warriors present nodded their heads. Some hooted and gave their consent, while others kept mum.

Agamemnon got up from his chair. His eyes fell over Achilles, the former standing up too as he caught his gaze.

Something stirred inside Agamemnon– something lustful, something twisted, something diabolical.

"Achilles, you are a warrior who serves the cause of the greeks."

Achilles raised a brow. "I do. It is in my interest."

"You support me in this endeavor."

"I do, it is also in my interest."

"You–"

"But I do not serve you. I am here as a comrade, a warrior fighting on the same field as you."

That's it.

Agamemnon had got what he had wanted.

"So you wish to rise my against me?"

The other warriors looked at the two in tension and anticipation of what was about to happen. Achilles, though confused and taken aback by the sudden change in the ambience, didn't give in to his wrath so soon.

"Not being under you doesn't mean rebelling against you. I am here for my duty and will complete it as long as it is enriching my heroic history."

"Don't you think as your senior you should listen to me and think about my welfare?"

"I respect you as much as you deserve."

"Then if you really do–"

Agamemnon pushed away the chair dramatically, walking across the tent to Achilles.

"–give Briseis to me. I lost my prize of war, and as your senior I have the right to gain yours."

The chalice fell from Achilles' hands.

"I am far supreme to you, Achilles."

"Never!"

Achilles took his dagger out of the sheath and threw it across the tent. It glided in the air like Medusa's snake and put a sleek cut on Agamemnon's right cheek. The latter, in shock and awe, touched his bleeding wound. Blood now covered his hands.

Achilles fumed like a stubborn bull. "She is like my wife. I would never give her away to you."

Seething with rage, he added. "I have won Briseis in the battle. It was also me who fought and won Chryseis. When I didn't claim the fairest maiden of them all and remained happy with Briseis even after being the best warrior here, who are you now to think of putting your hands on what belongs to me!"

The two men stared at each other in a  war of gazes. Then with a battle cry the two launched like arrows set free from a bow. The other soldiers present intervened, separating the two angered men.

"Enough is enough!" Achilles spat, wiping off the blood from his lips. "I shall no longer stay where my respect has been denied."

"No, Achilles," said Odysseus, "you are the most precious warrior we can have. Give Briseis to him, but don't leave. Why fight over a woman?"

"Yes, Achilles," said another. "You are one of a kind. Your presence in the battle gives us immense strength. You are the light of us all."

And one by one each showed their loyalty to Achilles. Agamemnon burnt in rage, envy, turning green and grim. But however hard the warriors tried to stop Achilles, he would not stay even a moment longer.

"I have made my decision," he declared, "if Briseis is just a woman and you all want me to hand her over to Agamemnon, so be it. But if that happens, my feet shall not walk along with you all."

Achilles took up his sword and shield and made way to the end of the tent. There, he stopped abruptly. Two pale brown eyes looked at him from beneath black tresses as divine as the night sky. He stumbled in his resolution for a moment, thinking if he should leave or not.

But he could not back down now. It would destroy his costly ego.

"Goodbye, Patroclus. You shall always be in my heart."

Patroclus held his hand. "Tell me, where do you plan to reach?"

He gestured Patroclus to lean and whispered in his ears.

"To what we mistook for Troy."

And thus the hero left.