Achilles

13 Years Before

    "Ahhhh!" The sea water dumped on Achilles' back stung.

    "It could be worse," Patroclus said. "You'll have some scars but this really isn't that bad."

    Achilles snorted. His back was sore, itchy, and hot. He'd been whipped four more times for falling asleep while cleaning the deck.

    "Look on the bright side," Patroclus said as he picked up another bucket of seawater. "In just a few days we will be marching on Athens. Distinguish yourself in the battle and this will be forgotten." Another heap of water was thrown on the boy's back causing Achilles to yelp. "Sleep on your stomach or you'll regret it," Patroclus advised.

    "I'll sleep on the deck, it's too hot in the hold."

    "They'll drag you downstairs by your hair, boy."

    "Let them try."

    To Patroclus' surprise, Achilles was allowed to sleep on deck, to Achilles dismay, it was near the latrine. The boy gave in after three hours and returned to his hammock down below.

🦁

    They docked at the port of Marathon where the Spartan host was waiting. Achilles had been assigned as Patroclus' squire for the entirety of the campaign, meaning he was last off the boat due to having no rank among the men.

    "Welcome friends," a tall man said, "we honor your courage and sacrifice by marching with us."

    "King Tyndareus," Chiron stepped from between the leaders of the Myrmidons. The centaur extended his arm to the man who clasped it warmly. "I haven't seen you seen Heracles crowned you."

    "It's been many years, old friend. How goes your healing?"

    "Since Heracles played his prank I've regrown all my fur and the sores have gone, though the scars remain."

    Achilles raised an eyebrow. Heracles playing some sort of joke on his teacher was a story he hadn't heard before. He made a note to Chiron ask about it later.

    "Good to hear it. You remember my son-in-law, King Agamemnon of Mycenae, and his brother Prince Menelaus." Tyndareus gestured to two men standing not far behind him.

    It was clear who was who among the brothers. Agamemnon was dark of hair, humorless of eye, he only had one, face scared with one long gash from his forehead down through his right eye, and though not tall he was very board and heavily muscled. The crest of Mycenae was stamped on his armor. It was a spear dripping with blood set inside a sideways crown. Agamemnon had won his kingdom back from a cousin determined to see him and Menelaus killed for the sins of their father.

    Achilles looked at the man he knew to be Agamemnon and considered how the events of his life had produced such a hard man. It'd been many years since the first rumors of the curse upon the house of Arteus began to swirl around Greece. The feud in his family was the stuff of legend.

    Arteus, Agamemnon and Menelaus' father, had committed a truly despicable deed. Arteus discovered his twin brother was having an affair with wife. Arteus tried to deny it at first but soon the evidence was impossible to ignore. The act of betrayal on the part of both his wife and brother was said to break the mind of Arteus, for truly no man in his right mind could have done what he did next.

    Arteus' brother was called Thyestes. Thyestes had three children, the oldest of which was called Aegisthus and was of an age with Agamemnon. Thyestes' other two children were twin boys slightly younger than Menelaus at the time. In the fog of his broken mind, Arteus ordered the youngest two sons killed and had them presented to his brother. At the same time Arteus' wife disappeared her fate unknown, but guessable.

    This sparked the first civil war of Mycenae. It was a short campaign but a brutal one. Aegisthus defeated the forces of Arteus and proclaimed his father king. Thyestes felt a great debt to his son for winning the throne and installed him as co-ruler. With his new position, Aegisthus vowed further revenge on Arteus' line by condemning Agamemnon and Menelaus to death.

    Agamemnon was a youth of eighteen at the time and his brother ten years younger. Though skilled in combat, Amamemnon knew he couldn't win a war without a large host at his back. He managed to run away from Mycenae with his brother in tow. They eventually found hospitality and shelter with Tyndareus in Sparta. Though not a friend to their father, Tyndareus was sympathetic with Arteus for he knew the pain of an unfaithful wife. Agamemnon and Menelaus turned up at his door not long after Leda, Tyndareus' wife, had lain with the god Zeus once again. Though the child didn't survive, it was the second time he'd endured this sting as Castor and Pollux were several years old by then.

    The sons of Arteus lived within Sparta for many years, and eventually Agamemnon wed the recently widowed daughter of Tyndareus, Clytemnestra. Tyndareus decided to support his new son-in-law's endeavors and sent him back to Mycenae with a large host. While the first civil war had been short the second lasted three years and was twice as brutal. Agamemnon faced Aegisthus in single combat on the hills of Mycenae. Their duel was said to last for an hour as the men looked on. In then end, Agamemnon would win but lose an eye while Aegisthus lay dead.

    For all the hardship that had shaped the man Agamemnon would become, Menelaus seemed to be touched by it little or perhaps not at all. Menelaus was a lean man where his brother was stocky. His red hair was long and slightly unkempt, and he wore a bored expression.

    "Yes," Chiron inclined his head to the brothers. "This is Orion, leader of the Myrmidons." The man at Chiron's elbow stepped forward. Achilles scowled at him slightly as his side ached, remembering where the man had kicked him when he caught Achilles sleeping on duty.

    "I'm honored to go to war with you all. The fleet and men of Phthia are at your disposal. Has the whole host been gathered?"

    "Not quite. We're waiting for the men from Ithaca. We've had reports their fleet likely ran into a bad storm on the way here. We can only wait a week or so then we must march," Tyndareus said. "There will be a war meeting at first light, I want you and your essential men to attend."

    "Who's this?" Agamemnon pointed to Achilles.

    "Achilles, son of King Peleus of Phthia, and my squire," Patroclus said.

    "And you are?"

    "Patroclus son of Menoetius, cousin to Achilles."

    "Patroclus of Opus," Agamemnon asked with a shrewd expression. "I heard you were a murderer wanted in your hometown. It must not be true if your royal cousin sends you to look after his son. You and your squire shall attend the meeting as well. The boy will face more war than this in his life, it's time he learned." Agamemnon walked off with his brother trailing after him.

    "My son can be discourteous," Tyndareus said. "I apologize for his manner."

    "It's of no matter," Patroclus said somewhat tightly.

    "Tyndareus," Chiron broke in, "I wish to take wine with you. We have much to catch up on."

    "Indeed my friend," Tyndareus turned to Orion, "make yourself comfortable and set your camp. If you require anything, come to my tent and Menelaus will see to it you have everything you need."

    As the others began to disperse, Achilles looked up at his cousin. "Are you a murderer? I won't squire for a man without honor."

    Patroclus' eyes flashed with fury. "Not here, Achilles. We will discuss it after dinner. Set up our tent, I have some business to attend too," Patroclus said mysteriously.

    A stream of Mrymidons began to exit the boat with loads of equipment. Luckily, Patroclus didn't have much to haul off the boat. Achilles had the tent set up and had four fish roasting over the fire by the time Patroclus came back. The man was in high spirits but didn't mention anything more about his business.

    Achilles poured the wine while he waited for Patroclus to finish eating. Was it his imagination or was Patroclus taking longer to eat than usual? Achilles' leg began to bounce with impateince. Patroclus smirked.

    "Bring me two heavy sticks, three feet long," Patroclus ordered.

    "You said we were going to talk!"

    "And we will, now bring me two sticks three feet long."

    Achilles stomped off. Patroclus' request was simple on the surface. However, with the army being camped here for several days most of the trees had already been chopped down for firewood. Achilles gave up looking for a tree and stole two sticks of wood from a pile he found outside Agamemnon's tent.

    Twilight was over the land by the time Achilles returned to their camp. Patroclus was stretched out on the grass, gazing up at the first stars as they appeared. Achilles returned sweaty and twice as irritable, much to Patriclus' amusement. He dumped the sticks beside his cousin but Patroclus didn't move.

    "Well," the boy said.

    "Pick one stick up, we spar."

    "What? You made me get these for that? I have a sword and so do you."

    "Do as I say, Achilles." Patroclus picked up a stick and swung it around to get a feel for its weight.

    Achilles did the same, though reluctantly. As much as Achilles enjoyed fighting he always had a problem with melee weapons. No matter if it was blunt, sharp, long or short none ever felt completely balanced in his hand. The blacksmith of the Phthia's armory had spent hours trying to construct a sword for Achilles, but no matter how long he toiled no sword ever felt right. For that reason Achilles also carried a bow and several daggers.

    Patroclus barely allowed Achilles to grab his stick before swinging it at the boy's head. Achilles blocked the strike, but the weight of the stick felt off, as ever. Patroclus narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Achilles while taking another shot at Achilles' side. Achilles blocked the strike with ease.

    "Is this the best you can do," the boy taunted.

    Patroclus' eyes held a hint of mischief. Patroclus started his next strike slow and Achilles attacked. The boy soon had Patroclus retreating. But the faint didn't last long. As Achilles got cocky his form got sloppy. Patroclus stepped inside Achilles next thrust, positioned his stick under the boy's wrist and pushed up. The sudden movement forced Achilles to drop his stick. Patroclus took his chance and kicked him in the chest, sending the boy to the dirt.

    "Ouch! You broke my finger." Achilles had landed wrong on his hand snapped his index finger on his right hand.

    "You'll live. Wrap it in a splint, I saw what I needed too."

    Grumbling, the boy did as his cousin suggested. Patroclus offered the boy wine and Achilles accepted but he was still grumbling. The sun had set behind the horizon and many of the men behind them were preparing for bed. Some were still drinking and their joval slurred singing could be heard.

    "Yes," Patroclus said. "I am wanted back in Opus for murder. That's why I came to Phthia, to hide because I believe I will never get justice."

    "What justice do you expect to get? Does my father know about this?"

    "He does. But I swear to you, I wasn't the one who killed Yivgris. Everyone just thinks I did because of a disagreement we had."

    "Tell me everything."

    "Six months ago I accused a man in a gambling house of rigging his game. He won far too often, no man is that favored by the gods or so lucky. He was angry. Many people witnessed our fight. I knew he was cheating, but I didn't know how and couldn't prove it. When I left the gambling house I discovered my dagger was missing. It was given to me by the former head of the city guard before he died, he and my father were great friends and he had no sons of his own, so he wished to pass something to me like a father would. The dagger is extremely distinstive and it was known to be mine. I was in a foul mood once I realized it was gone and set about finding it, but had no luck. Later that night, I was walking down by the river when I found the man I'd fought with stabbed and robbed on the bank. I couldn't tell how he was killed at first. I rolled him over and got blood on my hands, and the dagger which had killed him was sticking out of his chest. From the hilt alone I knew it was mine. I pulled it out of the man in shock. A woman who worked in the gambling house came to fetch water. She screamed when she saw the scene and it alerted some royal guards.

    From there I was put into their custody. Nothing I said could cleanse me of guilt in the public eye. Too many people had seen our fight in the gambling house and testified against me. They sentenced me to death. Three days before I was to face the block my friends broke me out of prison. I had only one place to go and that was to your father. I told him my story and he consulted the gods. They told him to take me in and that convinced him of my innocence. He's seeking a pardon for me with the King of Opus."

    "If the gods proclaim you're innocent surely they can't hold this against you."

    Patroclus gulped his wine. "I wish it were so simple but in this case, I'm not certain even Zeus himself could convince the people I am innocent. Even if the pardon is granted, I will never set foot in my home again."

    "The man who was killed, who was he?"

    "Yivgris was the son of the wealthiest merchant in the city. He was known for being extremely generous, especially among his friends. He was very liked among the populace because of this. But Yivgris was a foolish man with his family wealth. The wealth he so generously lavished on those around him caused many flatters and fools to worm themselves into his company. He often put money in their hands without thought of being repaid, without his father's savy business dealings their coffers would have been emptied long ago. It made his father angry, but Yivgris was the only surviving child he had. He couldn't bring himself to rein his son in."

    "If he carried large amounts of money on him I'm surprised he wasn't stabbed long ago."

    Patroclus nodded. "Yes, he usually traveled with guards but he was alone that night. Why I don't know."

    "Are you sure his guards didn't kill him?"

    "The only things I can be sure about are that I didn't kill him but everyone thinks I did. It doesn't matter who really wielded that knife, my name will never be cleansed of this." Patroclus threw the remainder of his wine into the fire. It sizzled and popped and cast a dark light on his face.

    Achilles hesitated. "Do you have family there? Perhaps it would be wise to send for them."

    Patroclus shook his head. "No. My sister is wed and lives in another town with her husband and their children. Our parents died not long after she married and that was years ago. I am happy they departed for the underworld before this happened. The shame this brought on our house would have killed them."

    "I'm sorry for these troubles," Achilles said with genuine regret.