Ancient Evenings

CHAPTER THREE

I HATCH A PLAN

To be fair, the King of Phthia excelled at war. His own blood may have made him faint but he spilled the blood of others with great vigor and a boyish enthusiasm. On the battlefield he was a wonder and cut huge swaths of devastation through the Trojan ranks. Achilles was not only the greatest warrior, his Myrmidons were ferocious. They numbered less than 100 men but were always first into the battle. The mere sight of the Myrmidons caused panic in their foes.

I got to know Achilles and his men well. Only a few bedded me. They were much more interested in each other, but I would often dress their minor wounds and gossip with them. As ferocious as they were on the field, they were quite tame in their tents.

Briseis, ignored me for the most part, refusing to share the chores. When not ignoring me, she was a bitch. To her credit, she was an admirable laundress. The Myrmidons were always the best turned-out Greeks in the Troad. Their whites the whitest, their armor blinding.

Having brought the best to the field, it was inevitable that Achilles would bristle under the command of the Great King, Agamemnon. I was never adverse to lending fate a hand.

The bards sing that Apollo sent a pestilence sweeping over the Greek camp, killing hundreds each day. I recall no plague and there were no deaths from illness, only overcrowded latrines due to a Greek fondness for raw shell fish out of season. Still, an army cannot fight if they need to squat all day.

This plague continued for three or four days and the Great King grew furious. Agamemnon desired a speedy end to the war. "Time is money," he would often say. The Great King consulted the seers, entrails were read but no solution was found.

On the fifth day of the plague, Achilles burst into the tent and threw down his helmet and spear. Patroclus and I were on the bed, still intertwined after an hour or two of sweaty lovemaking. Achilles looked at us and fumed.

"Agamemnon denied us permission to go raiding. Says we are needed here, to guard the camp until the others are well." While Menelaus had sailed to Troy to retrieve his wife and his own treasury, most of the other Greeks were present for different reasons: raiding, or as they called it, road trips. With frequent lulls in battle, the Greeks spent much of their time on excursions to the countryside for some leisurely, sightseeing, raping and pillaging, trotting off with anything not securely fastened.

"A few more days of rest will do the men good," said Patroclus, slapping my ass.

"He'd rather keep me down than win this war," said Achilles. "He won't let me be the Achilles I know I can be." Patroclus rolled his eyes. "And you, Pat. A girl is a fine distraction from time to time but this is getting unnatural. The men are beginning to whisper about you. How can the men depend on you in the thick of it if you're thinking about some piece of ass you left in the tent?"

Moving to the mirror, I began to comb and oil my hair. "You need the plague to end?"

"Yes, whore."

"Then it's simple. It's obvious that Apollo is angry."

Achilles mulled this over. "Because of the temple?"

"Perhaps," I said, "because of Chryseis."

It took a minute to sink into that thick skull. Chryseis was the daughter of Chryse, a priest of Apollo. We were distantly related and had known each other before the war. Chryseis was a lovely, quiet girl, that now cried herself to sleep every night for thoughts of home. She had been taken by Agamemnon in a raid and now shared his bed. Agamemnon had even compared Chryseis' beauty to that of his wife. Whether true love or not, all agreed, the King of Mycenae was smitten.

"And?" said Achilles, joining me at the mirror. I sat him down and began to comb his long tresses. He did have divine locks.

"And," added Patroclus, "if the plague is to abate, she should be returned to her father, to appease Apollo."

Achilles howled with laughter at the thought. "The plague will end and the King will be shamed for having to return his war prize! A prize I won for him, by the by. But, Agi won't go for it. A delicious idea though, bitch."

Achilles grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. "Come wench, for that I shall fill you with my semi-divine seed."

Five minutes later I was back at the mirror, combing my hair.