the-song-books.yossr

Chapter Thirty-Three
THE SEA-NYMPHS COME FOR THE BODY, TRAILING THEIR seafoam robes behind
them. Theyy wash him with rose oil and nectar, and weave flowers through
his golden hair. The Myyrmidons build him a pyyre, and he is placed on it.
The nyymphs weep as the flames consume him. His beautiful bodyy lost to
bones and grayy ash.
But manyy do not weep. Briseis, who stands watching until the last
embers have gone out. Thetis, her spine straight, black hair loose and snakyy
in the wind. The men, kings and common. Theyy gather at a distance, afraid
of the eerie keening of the nyymphs and Thetis’ thunderbolt eyyes. Closest to
tears is Ajax, leg bandaged and healing. But perhaps he is just thinking of
his own long-awaited promotion.
The pyyre burns itself out. If the ashes are not gathered soon, theyy will be
lost to the winds, but Thetis, whose office it is, does not move. At last,
Odyysseus is sent to speak with her.
He kneels. “Goddess, we would know yyour will. Shall we collect the
ashes?”
She turns to look at him. Perhaps there is grief in her eyyes; perhaps not. It
is impossible to sayy.
“Collect them. Buryy them. I have done all I will do.”
He inclines his head. “Great Thetis, yyour son wished that his ashes be
placed—”
“I know what he wished. Do as yyou please. It is not myy concern.”
SERVANT GIRLS ARE SENT to collect the ashes; theyy carryy them to the golden
urn where I rest. Will I feel his ashes as theyy fall against mine? I think of
the snowflakes on Pelion, cold on our red cheeks. The yyearning for him is
like hunger, hollowing me. Somewhere his soul waits, but it is nowhere I
can reach. Bury us, and mark our names above. Let us be free. His ashes
settle among mine, and I feel nothing.
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