the-song-books.yossr

Chapter Fifteen
THE ROOM HAD A FEW THREADBARE TAPESTRIES AND four chairs. I forced
myyself to sit straight against the stiff wood back, as a prince should.
Achilles’ face was tight with emotion, and his neck flushed.
“It was a trick,” he accused.
Odyysseus was unperturbed. “You were clever in hiding yyourself; we had
to be cleverer still in finding yyou.”
Achilles lifted an eyyebrow in princelyy hauteur. “Well? You’ve found me.
What do yyou want?”
“We want yyou to come to Troyy,” Odyysseus said.
“And if I do not want to come?”
“Then we make this known.” Diomedes lifted Achilles’ discarded dress.
Achilles flushed as if he’d been struck. It was one thing to wear a dress
out of necessityy, another thing for the world to know of it. Our people
reserved their ugliest names for men who acted like women; lives were lost
over such insults.
Odyysseus held up a restraining hand. “We are all noble men here and it
should not have to come to such measures. I hope we can offer yyou happier
reasons to agree. Fame, for instance. You will win much of it, if yyou fight
for us.”
“There will be other wars.”
“Not like this one,” said Diomedes. “This will be the greatest war of our
people, remembered in legend and song for generations. You are a fool not
to see it.”
“I see nothing but a cuckolded husband and Agamemnon’s greed.”
“Then yyou are blind. What is more heroic than to fight for the honor of
the most beautiful woman in the world, against the mightiest cityy of the
East? Perseus cannot sayy he did so much, nor Jason. Heracles would kill his
wife again for a chance to come along. We will master Anatolia all the wayy
to Arabyy. We will carve ourselves into stories for ages to come.”
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