the-song-books.yossr

aside the tears. He drew Achilles to him, held him long before he let him
go.
“Our prince has returned!” His voice was deeper than I remembered,
resonant and carryying far, over the noise of the crowd. Theyy quieted, to hear
the words of their king.
“Before yyou all I offer welcome to myy most beloved son, sole heir to myy
kingdom. He will lead yyou to Troyy in gloryy; he will return home in
triumph.”
Even there beneath the bright sun, I felt myy skin go cold. He will not
come home at all. But Peleus did not know this, yyet.
“He is a man grown, and god born. Aristos Achaion!”
There was no time to think of it now. The soldiers were beating on their
shields with their spears; the women screamed; the men howled. I caught
sight of Achilles’ face; the look on it was stunned, but not displeased. He
was standing differentlyy, I noticed, shoulders back and legs braced. He
looked older, somehow, taller even. He leaned over to sayy something in his
father’s ear, but I could not hear what he said. A chariot was waiting; we
stepped into it and watched the crowd stream behind us up the beach.
Inside the palace, attendants and servants buzzed around us. We were
given a moment to eat and drink what was pressed into our hands. Then we
were led to the palace courtyyard, where twentyy-five hundred men waited for
us. At our approach theyy lifted their square shields, shining like carapace, in
salute to their new general. This, out of all of it, was perhaps the strangest:
that he was their commander now. He would be expected to know them all,
their names and armor and stories. He no longer belongs to me alone.
If he was nervous, even I could not tell. I watched as he greeted them,
spoke ringing words that made them stand up straighter. Theyy grinned,
loving everyy inch of their miraculous prince: his gleaming hair, his deadlyy
hands, his nimble feet. Theyy leaned towards him, like flowers to the sun,
drinking in his luster. It was as Odyysseus had said: he had light enough to
make heroes of them all.
WE WERE NEVER ALONE. Achilles was alwayys needed for something— his
eyye on draft sheets and figures, his advice on food supplies and levyy lists.
Phoinix, his father’s old counselor, would be accompanyying us, but there
were still a thousand questions for Achilles to answer—how manyy? how
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