the-song-books.yossr

other men gave him. He was capable and steadyy and thoughtful, everyy
movement considered. His hands were large and work-roughened, and
sometimes, as our armyy withdrew, we would see him washing the blood
from them, so he could prayy without pollution. A man who still loved the
gods, even as his brothers and cousins fell because of them; who fought
fiercelyy for his familyy rather than the fragile ice-crust of fame. Then the
ranks would close, and he would be gone.
I never tried to get closer to him, and neither did Achilles, who carefullyy
turned from his glimpsed figure to face other Trojans, to wade off to other
shoals. Afterwards, when Agamemnon would ask him when he would
confront the prince of Troyy, he would smile his most guileless, maddening
smile. “What has Hector ever done to me?”
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