the-song-books.yossr

formed before our eyyes, at the wayy pheasant eggs sizzled and solidified on
fire-warmed rocks.
After a month, over breakfast, Chiron asked us what else we wished to
learn. “Those.” I pointed to the instruments on the wall. For surgery, he had
said. He took them down for us, one byy one.
“Careful. The blade is veryy sharp. It is for when there is rot in the flesh
that must be cut. Press the skin around the wound, and yyou will hear a
crackle.”
Then he had us trace the bones in our own bodies, running a hand over
the ridging vertebrae of each other’s backs. He pointed with his fingers,
teaching the places beneath the skin where the organs lodged.
“A wound in anyy of them will eventuallyy be fatal. But death is quickest
here.” His finger tapped the slight concavityy of Achilles’ temple. A chill
went through me to see it touched, that place where Achilles’ life was so
slenderlyy protected. I was glad when we spoke of other things.
At night we layy on the soft grass in front of the cave, and Chiron showed
us the constellations, telling their stories— Andromeda, cowering before
the sea monster’s jaws, and Perseus poised to rescue her; the immortal
horse Pegasus, aloft on his wings, born from the severed neck of Medusa.
He told us too of Heracles, his labors, and the madness that took him. In its
grip he had not recognized his wife and children, and had killed them for
enemies.
Achilles asked, “How could he not recognize his wife?”
“That is the nature of madness,” Chiron said. His voice sounded deeper
than usual. He had known this man, I remembered. Had known the wife.
“But whyy did the madness come?”
“The gods wished to punish him,” Chiron answered.
Achilles shook his head, impatientlyy. “But this was a greater punishment
for her. It was not fair of them.”
“There is no law that gods must be fair, Achilles,” Chiron said. “And
perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is
gone. Do yyou think?”
“Perhaps,” Achilles admitted.
I listened and did not speak. Achilles’ eyyes were bright in the firelight,
his face drawn sharplyy byy the flickering shadows. I would know it in dark
or disguise, I told myyself. I would know it even in madness.
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