Chapter 41 Love and Duty #2
An old desire ached in her like a long-healed wound on a cold winter night.
A memory of how it had felt when she’d believed Heracles was destined to help her find Prometheus, and she would have the might of a demi-god beside her against the formidable force of the gods.
Odysseus was offering her an army, a plan, and she sorely wanted to trust he would deliver.
She wondered now how she ever thought she could storm Olympus with only Telamon and Atalanta by her side.
Even if she could learn to master Gaiasight, the more she dwelt on the coming fight, the more facing the Olympians in battle seemed an insurmountable task.
But, as Metis would say, she must have faith.
‘Fine,’ she said quietly, ‘I will do it.’
Danae lingered in her chamber, waiting for the rest of the palace to slip into sleep.
As she paced back and forth across the stone floor, Odysseus’ words chased each other through her mind: …
he is the best mortal Greek soldier alive.
We need him to make the fight for Troy worthy of luring the gods down to the battle.
She clenched and unclenched her fists. She could do this, she must.
Finally, when she could wait no longer, she eased open the door. Odysseus’ Ithacan soldiers stood like sentries outside the room. She lifted a finger to her lips as she emerged. They remained silent but moved to follow her as she stepped out into the corridor.
She shook her head and whispered, ‘You must stay here.’
The man on the left inclined his head. ‘Begging your pardon, my lady, but you are the last daughter. We go where you go.’
Wrapped in the shadows of the pillared passage, for the first time she saw them not as Odysseus’ servants, or Ithacan soldiers, but men who would lay down their lives for her destiny. Just like Manto had done.
‘What are your names?’
The guard who had spoken replied, ‘Sinon, my lady, and this is Evenor.’
Danae nodded. ‘I thank you for your service, Sinon and Evenor, but I order you to remain here. If the palace guards pass by, they must think I am abed like the rest of the household. I’m sure you have your instructions from Odysseus, but no harm will come to me, I swear it.’
They glanced at one another, conflict raging between them, then both bowed their heads.
‘As you command,’ said Sinon, and the pair stepped back to flank her chamber door.
Danae’s feet whispered along the corridor that led to Achilles’ chamber. Darkness stretched between the brazier lights spilling across the faded frescos. Earlier, Odysseus had told her which room belonged to the best of the Greeks. How he had come by that information she did not know.
At the sound of footsteps, she flattened herself to the wall, sinking into the darkness behind a pillar. The last thing she wanted was for Lycomedes to suspect foul play.
A moment later, two guards walked by, spears in their hands. Only when they turned the corner did breath return to her lungs.
When she reached Achilles’ chamber she paused before knocking softly on the wood.
After a few moments, it opened to reveal the Myrmidon who’d sat next to Achilles at the feast. He stood barefoot, wrapped in nothing but a leather kilt, his skin gleaming with sweat.
His eyes swept over her with barely veiled disdain. ‘What do you want, Seer?’
‘Who is it, Patroclus?’ Achilles’ voice sounded from inside.
Patroclus’ jaw tightened. ‘Odysseus’ seer.’
She glanced down the corridor, pulse quickening as she waited for a glint of bronze to appear.
‘Let her in,’ called Achilles.
For a moment, it seemed as though Patroclus would disobey his captain. Then he stepped back, and Danae swiftly slipped into the room.
The air was sweet with the scent of fresh flowers and brazier smoke.
A great bundle of blooms was arranged in a painted vase on a low table in the centre of the chamber, and a grand bed carved from dark wood dominated the far wall.
Achilles lounged upon it, naked but for a cloth draped over himself.
‘Leave us,’ Danae said to Patroclus.
He did not move.
Achilles nodded his consent, but Patroclus lingered. The best of the Greeks rolled his eyes.
‘Go.’
Patroclus’ brow darkened, his eyes raking over Danae as if scanning her for a hidden weapon. Then he bowed to his captain and left them alone, shutting the door behind him.
‘You must forgive Patroclus. He’s very protective.’ Achilles propped himself on his elbow.
‘Where’s your wife?’
Achilles blinked. ‘Asleep in her chamber. Not that it’s any of your concern, seer.’
‘Why marry her, if you would rather spend your wedding night with one of your soldiers?’
‘I am the son of a prince. There are expectations …’ He frowned. ‘What happened to your eye?’
Involuntarily, Danae twitched a hand to the tender skin around the left socket, where Odysseus had struck her. The swelling had gone down, but she imagined she had an eye the colour of a ripe fig.
‘You should see the other man.’
Achilles’ lips quirked. He stretched like a lynx. ‘Go on, then, what have you to tell me?’
Danae lifted her chin. ‘The omens have spoken. You must come with us to Troy.’
Achilles flopped back on the bed and sighed. ‘Did wily old Odysseus put you up to this?’
‘You dare defy the gods?’ The old threat tasted bitter in her mouth.
He sat up. ‘Never.’
‘Odysseus may be my king, but a seer answers to no mortal master.’
The best of the Greeks, mocked the voice. You are a Titan. He should be worshipping at your feet.
She advanced. ‘You should show a mouthpiece of the Twelve more respect. It is not just their words that flow through me.’ She placed a hand on the bed frame and sent a bolt of life-threads into the wood. The frame cracked, splintering beneath her touch.
Achilles sprung from the bed, landing crouched ready to spring, like a cat. He looked at the bed then back at Danae. Slowly, he rose to stand naked before her, staring as though seeing her through fresh eyes.
‘Very well, Seer. I should have known my mother’s plan to cheat the fates was foolish and my destiny would come for me sooner or later.’ He clenched his fists. ‘I am not afraid.’
Danae frowned. ‘What destiny –’
At that moment the door flung open, and Patroclus ran into the room.
‘I heard …’ he trailed off at the sight of the broken bed frame and Achilles standing bare before Danae.
The tension fled Achilles’ limbs. He moved to pluck a cloak from a nearby chair and swept it around his shoulders.
‘Come, Patroclus.’ He strolled towards his Myrmidon, his gait almost convincingly nonchalant. ‘I have a sudden urge to swim.’
Patroclus eyed Danae as though she were a viper. Then he followed Achilles towards the door.
‘We leave at dawn,’ said Danae.
Patroclus turned sharply to Achilles. The best of the Greeks lingered, his face half turned in shadow, then he nodded.