Beautiful War

Chapter 22 Into the Lion's Den

We soon arrived at the edge of the battlefield as the sun was beginning to set in the west. Priam had remained silent the whole ride across the plains. The same plains that his son died on just ten days before. I did not know what to say or do to comfort Priam. How can one comfort a parent when they have lost a child? I knew that pain, I felt the pain that Priam was in.  I had lost two children before they were even born. So I understood his pain. So I let him be, I let him grieve in silence. For silence was far better then fake words of sympathy. True to Aeneas' word, Telemon was there waiting for us on the outskirts of the Greece camp. He had a dog by his side. He grabbed hold of the reins. His eyes meeting mine.

"You are the merchant and his daughter that I am supposed to meet this evening," Telemon asked. Clearly he received Aeneas' message. I sent a silent prayer thanking Zues that the message was not intercepted by anyone that could lead us into a trap.

"Yes sir, we are here for my brother's body. Achilles and his Myrmidons killed him in cold blood. We wish to know where his body is and give him a proper burial," I replied smoothly. Playing along with the ruse. Telemon nodded and motioned for us to follow him. I got down from the wagon and went over and helped Priam.

"Keep your faces hidden, no one must know who you truly are," Telemon warned behind his shoulder. I pulled the hood farther over my head. The shadows hiding my face. We walked straight into the Greek camp, the Lion's den. As we walked by the different ships, and the many campfires with Greek soldiers surrounding them. I felt anxiety flutter in my stomach. I knew what we were doing was a huge risk. That anyone of these soldiers could recognize who I was, and then it would be over. We would be taken to Agamemnon. Who would most certainly kill us both. Every Greek on this beach wanted me dead. Wanted Priam dead. They wanted to believe that I was the cause of this war. And not the ambition of two mad kings; Agamemnon and his long deceased brother Menelaus. We made our way halfway through the camp when Telemon was stopped by two passing Greek soldiers. One of the soldiers looked like he was fighting under Odysseus, The other was for Agamemnon. No doubt that soldier had recognized Telemon as a servant to Agamemnon.

"Stop Telemon, where are you taking these people," one of the soldier's demanded. I quickly moved my gaze to my sandals, hiding my face. I prayed to my father that this soldier did not recognize who I was. Telemon gave the soldier a hard look.

"I am taking this merchant and his daughter to see Achilles. He and his men killed their kin. They wish to know where his body is, so they can give it a proper burial," Telemon lied smoothly. Both soldiers just laughed at us. I felt angry at their laughter, was this how they treated widows and orphans asking for their parents, their husbands bodies. Every man, whatever side they fought on deserved a proper burial.

"They will find no mercy from Achilles. Did they not hear, he has killed the mighty prince Hector. And now remains hidden away in his tent. Only coming out to drag the poor son of bitch around Troy," the other soldier said. I looked over at Priam, he was trying to contain both his anger and his grief. I reached out and took his hand. 

"Whatever he has done, they have a right to ask this of Achilles and his men. Perhaps they find him in a giving mood," Telemon replied. Both soldiers just shook their heads, and soon shoved past us. Both were laughing at our futile attempt. The moment they were a safe distance from us. I saw Telemon visibly relax. I too felt relief flood through my body. We continued through the Greek camp with no more altercations. Until we came to the outskirts of the Greek camp where Achilles and his men were. There was a scattering of small tents with a larger tent in the center. That had to be Achilles' tent. It was then I saw Hector's body. Laying the sand beside Achilles chariot. You could see the flies swarming the body, and the smell of rot was present in the air. It was a sad ending for a glorious warrior. I felt both horror and anger, seeing the state that Hector's body was in. Hector did not deserve such a fate. Hector had always been noble, treating the Greek dead with as much as respect as the Trojan dead. And to see his body like this, descrated, all because of one simple mistake. The wrath of Achilles truly knew no bounds. I was beginning to doubt that this plan would work. That Achilles was too wrapped up in his grief to listen to the pleas of an old man. Even if this old man was the king of Troy.