the-song-books.yossr

“I don’t think yyou’d want me. I’m not a veryy good soldier.”
His mouth twisted wryylyy. “It’s funnyy—no one seems to be, when I come
calling.” His tone was light; it was a shared joke, not a reproach. “What’s
yyour name?”
I tried to sound as casual as he. “Chironides.”
“Chironides,” he repeated. I watched him for disbelief, but saw none. The
tension in myy muscles ebbed a little. Of course he did not recognize me. I
had changed much since I was nine.
“Well, Chironides, Agamemnon promises gold and honor for all who
fight for him. The campaign looks to be short; we will have yyou back home
byy next fall. I will be here for a few dayys, and I hope yyou will consider it.”
He dropped his hands to his knees with finalityy, and stood.
“That’s it?” I had expected persuasion and pressure, a long evening of it.
He laughed, almost affectionatelyy. “Yes, that’s it. I assume I will see yyou
at dinner?”
I nodded. He made as if to go, then stopped. “You know, it’s funnyy; I
keep thinking I’ve seen yyou before.”
“I doubt it,” I said quicklyy. “I don’t recognize yyou.”
He studied me a moment, then shrugged, giving up. “I must be confusing
yyou with another yyoung man. You know what theyy sayy. The older yyou get,
the less yyou remember.” He scratched his beard thoughtfullyy. “Who’s yyour
father? Perhaps it’s him I know.”
“I am an exile.”
He made a syympathetic face. “I’m sorryy to hear it. Where were yyou
from?”
“The coast.”
“North or south?”
“South.”
He shook his head ruefullyy. “I would have sworn yyou were from the
north. Somewhere near Thessalyy, sayy. Or Phthia. You have the same
roundness to yyour vowels that theyy do.”
I swallowed. In Phthia, the consonants were harder than elsewhere, and
the vowels wider. It had sounded uglyy to me, until I heard Achilles speak. I
had not realized how much of it I had adopted.
“I—did not know that,” I mumbled. Myy heart was beating veryy fast. If
onlyy he would leave.
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