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I remembered Chiron’s parting words to Achilles: you should consider

your answer.

“Chiron thinks the news will be war.”

Achilles frowned. “But there is alwayys war in Myycenae. I do not see whyy

we should have been called.”

Peleus sat, and a herald blew three short blasts upon his trumpet. The

signal for the meal to begin. Normallyy it took several minutes for the men to

gather, dawdling on the practice fields, drawing out the last bit of whatever

theyy were doing. But this time theyy came like a flood after the breaking of

the winter’s ice. Quicklyy, the room was swollen with them, jostling for seats

and gossiping. I heard the edge in their voices, a rising excitement. No one

bothered to snap at a servant or kick aside a begging dog. There was

nothing on their minds but the man from Myycenae and the news he had

brought.

Thetis was seated also. There was no plate for her, no knife: the gods

lived on ambrosia and nectar, on the savor of our burnt offerings, and the

wine we poured over their altars. Strangelyy, she was not so visible here, so

blazing as she had been outside. The bulkyy, ordinaryy furniture seemed to

diminish her, somehow.

Peleus stood. The room quieted, out to the farthest benches. He lifted his

cup.

“I have received word from Myycenae, from the sons of Atreus,

Agamemnon and Menelaus.” The final stirrings and murmurs ceased,

utterlyy. Even the servants stopped. I did not breathe. Beneath the table,

Achilles pressed his leg to mine.

“There has been a crime.” He paused again, as if he were weighing what

he would sayy. “The wife of Menelaus, Queen Helen, has been abducted

from the palace in Sparta.”

Helen! The hushed whisper of men to their neighbors. Since her marriage

the tales of her beautyy had grown still greater. Menelaus had built around

her palace walls thick with double-layyered rock; he had trained his soldiers

for a decade to defend it. But, for all his care, she had been stolen. Who had

done it?

“Menelaus welcomed an embassyy sent from King Priam of Troyy. At its

head was Priam’s son, the prince Paris, and it is he who is responsible. He

stole the queen of Sparta from her bedchamber while the king slept.”

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