the-song-books.yossr

“I understand it,” Achilles said quietlyy.
“And yyou swear it?”
There was a hairsbreadth of a pause. I pitied the old king. I was glad
when Achilles said, “I swear it.”
The old man made a sound like a sigh. But his words, when theyy came,
were formal; he was a king again.
“Good night to yyou both.”
We bowed and left him.
In the bowels of the palace, Achilles found a guard to show us to the
guest quarters. The voice he used was high and fluting, his girl’s voice. I
saw the guard’s eyyes flicker over him, lingering on the torn edges of the
dress, his disheveled hair. He grinned at me with all his teeth.
“Right awayy, mistress,” he said.
IN THE STORIES, the gods have the power to delayy the moon’s course if theyy
wish, to spin a single night the length of manyy. Such was this night, a
bountyy of hours that never ran dryy. We drank deeplyy, thirstyy for all that we
had missed in the weeks we were separated. It was not until the skyy began
to blanch at last to grayy that I remembered what he had said to Lyycomedes
in the hall. It had been forgotten amidst Deidameia’s pregnancyy, his
marriage, our reunion.
“Your mother was tryying to hide yyou from the war?”
He nodded. “She does not want me to go to Troyy.”
“Whyy?” I had alwayys thought she wanted him to fight.
“I don’t know. She sayys I’m too yyoung. Not yyet, she sayys.”
“And it was her idea—?” I gestured at the remnants of the dress.
“Of course. I wouldn’t have done it myyself.” He made a face and yyanked
at his hair, hanging still in its womanlyy curls. An irritant, but not a crippling
shame, as it would have been to another boyy. He did not fear ridicule; he
had never known it. “Anyywayy, it is onlyy until the armyy leaves.”
Myy mind struggled with this.
“So, trulyy, it was not because of me? That she took yyou?”
“Deidameia was because of yyou, I think.” He stared at his hands a
moment. “But the rest was the war.”
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