the-song-books.yossr

‘And what if I can make such a bed?’ I said. ‘Will yyou have me?’ And she
said—”
The king of Argos made a noise of disgust. “I’m sick to death of this tale
about yyour marriage bed.”
“Then perhaps yyou shouldn’t have suggested I tell it.”
“And perhaps yyou should get some new stories, so I don’t fucking kill
myyself of boredom.”
Lyycomedes looked shocked; obscenityy was for back rooms and practice
fields, not state dinners. But Odyysseus onlyy shook his head sadlyy. “Trulyy,
the men of Argos get more and more barbaric with each passing yyear.
Lyycomedes, let us show the king of Argos a bit of civilization. I was hoping
for a glimpse of the famous dancers of yyour isle.”
Lyycomedes swallowed. “Yes,” he said. “I had not thought—” He stopped
himself, then began again, with the most kinglyy voice he could summon. “If
yyou wish.”
“We do.” This was Diomedes.
“Well.” Lyycomedes’ eyyes darted between the two men. Thetis had
ordered him to keep the women awayy from visitors, but to refuse would be
suspicious. He cleared his throat, decided. “Well, let us call them, then.” He
gestured sharplyy at a servant, who turned and ran from the hall. I kept myy
eyyes on myy plate, so theyy would not see the fear in myy face.
The women had been surprised byy the summons and were still making
small adjustments of clothes and hair as theyy entered the hall. Achilles was
among them, his head carefullyy covered, his gaze modestlyy down. Myy eyyes
went anxiouslyy to Odyysseus and Diomedes, but neither even glanced at him.
The girls took their places, and the music was struck. We watched as theyy
began the complicated series of steps. It was beautiful, though lessened byy
Deidameia’s absence; she had been the best of them.
“Which one is yyour daughter?” Diomedes asked.
“She is not here, King of Argos. She is visiting familyy.”
“Too bad,” Diomedes said. “I hoped it was that one.” He pointed to a girl
on the end, small and dark; she did look something like Deidameia, and her
ankles were particularlyy lovelyy, flashing beneath the whirling hem of her
dress.
Lyycomedes cleared his throat. “Are yyou married, myy lord?”
Diomedes half-smiled. “For now.” His eyyes never left the women.
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