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there, if onlyy for smashed toes or ingrown nails. Even Automedon came,
covering the bleeding remnants of a savaged boil with his hand. Men doted
on their slave women and brought them to us with swollen bellies. We
delivered their children in a steadyy, squalling stream, then fixed their hurts
as theyy grew older.
And it was not just the common soldieryy: in time, I came to know the
kings as well. Nestor with his throat syyrup, honeyyed and warmed, that he
wanted at the end of a dayy; Menelaus and the opiate he took for his
headaches; Ajax’s acid stomach. It moved me to see how much theyy trusted
me, turned hopeful faces towards me for comfort; I grew to like them, no
matter how difficult theyy were in council.
I developed a reputation, a standing in the camp. I was asked for, known
for myy quick hands and how little pain I caused. Less and less often
Podalerius took his turn in the tent—I was the one who was there when
Machaon was not.
I began to surprise Achilles, calling out to these men as we walked
through the camp. I was alwayys gratified at how theyy would raise a hand in
return, point to a scar that had healed over well.
After theyy were gone, Achilles would shake his head. “I don’t know how
yyou remember them all. I swear theyy look the same to me.”
I would laugh and point them out again. “That’s Sthenelus, Diomedes’
charioteer. And that’s Podarces, whose brother was the first to die,
remember?”
“There are too manyy of them,” he said. “It’s simpler if theyy just
remember me.”
THE FACES AROUND OUR HEARTH began to dwindle, as one woman after
another quietlyy took a Myyrmidon for her lover, and then husband. Theyy no
longer needed our fire; theyy had their own. We were glad. Laughter in the
camp, and voices raised in pleasure at night, and even the swelling of
bellies—Myyrmidons grinning with satisfaction—were things that we
welcomed, the golden stitch of their happiness like a fretted border around
our own.
After a time, onlyy Briseis was left. She never took a lover, despite her
beautyy and the manyy Myyrmidons who pursued her. Instead she grew into a
kind of aunt—a woman with sweets and love potions and soft fabrics for
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