A Gift from the Gods

16

She would be ready when Achilles came back. She would not cry. No, she would ready a fresh basin of water and a full pitcher of wine. She would shake out the bedding, and she would bathe herself. But she would not cry.

Early afternoon turned to late afternoon, and there was nothing else to do but wait. So she sat in the sand in front of the tent and did just that. Soldiers glanced her way as they passed, but all quickly turned away. Odysseus was the only man brave enough to approach her. He took a seat beside her but did not touch her.

"He will return," Odysseus said.

"Yes," Zephyra said. She had no doubt about that. "And my brother will be dead."

She could feel the man tense next to her.

"Does Achilles know?"

"Does it matter?"

He knew it did not, but it was of no use speaking the words aloud.

They waited as the sun sunk into the horizon. Only then, on the cusp of dark, did Achilles ride into camp. The men were cheering a mile down the beach, and as he rode closer, both noticed a large form dragging behind the chariot. Before Zephyra had time to process, Odysseus ushered her into the tent. She paced, trying to erase the image of what she had just seen. How could that be an honorable death?

Achilles whipped through the tent entrance and stared at her, both waiting for the other to make a move. It was Zephyra who stepped toward Achilles, taking his hands and guiding him further inside. She would not cry. Gently, carefully, she unlaced the warrior's armor, stacking it in the sand at their feet. She took the cloth from the water basin and wrung out the excess and washed the sweat and dirt from his body. When she finished, she kissed his lips and exited the tent. They both needed space that night.

She found herself wandering down the beach, the men still ignoring her, her toes sunk in the wet sand as the water circled her ankles and ebbed back to the sea.

"You look as lonely as the moon and his night." Odysseus's voice was low and calm.

"The Myrmidons are not sailing home in the morning, are they?"

"They are not."

"The attack this morning wasn't my brother's idea. He's smarter than that. Maybe Troy deserves what is coming."

"No one deserves what is coming to Troy."

"Hector killed his cousin, and he killed my brother. When does it end?"

"It never ends, my dear."

Zephyra nodded. She turned to leave. She was angry. Her heart hurt. She was lost. But the only person she wanted to hold her and put her world back together had just killed her brother. She could have laughed at the irony if she didn't want to collapse to the sand. It was those thoughts that carried her back to the tent.

She was still stuck in those thoughts when her legs began to carry her faster, past Achilles to her father, standing there before her. She ran into his arms, nearly knocking the old man to the ground.

"Zephyra?" he said, holding her tight. "Daughter, we thought you were dead."

"No, Father, I'm right here. I'm right here."

Before she could break into further sobs, she pulled away and walked to Achilles, seeking an answer to this strange scene before her. He took her hands.

"You are free," Achilles said. "If I hurt you, it is not what I wanted."

She caressed his cheek, hoping to say in a single touch that he had never and could never hurt her. He pressed her palm to her and leaned into her touch. He pulled her hand away before he would lose himself in her and pressed the pearl necklace Patroclus had worn into her hands.

"Go," Achilles said, then addressed Greeks. "No one will stop you. You have my word."

Zephyra hesitated. This choice would determine her future, her destiny. She knew what she wanted, but her father's presence complicated her choice.

"Come, Daughter," Priam said, his voice stern and unforgiving.

Zephyra stood atop the chariot next to her father, but as they pulled away, Zephyra hopped down to the sand and ran to Achilles, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

"I do not want to leave," she said in the man's ear. "I do not want to leave you."

"You must," Achilles said.

"Please, do not make me."

"You will be safe behind your walls. Now go. And don't look back. I could not bear it if you did."

He pulled away and turned from her. He took her choice away at that moment. She longed for him and hated him all at the same time, the emotions turmoil inside her. She took her place by her father and rode away from the camp. She did not look back.