The Pearl of Troy

Chapter Twenty-One

Achilles rose from bed long before sunrise and crept out of his tent without waking his servants. Hagne nuzzled Achilles' leg and shooed the lamb back inside the tent. "Away, beast," he said. The lamb bleated and licked his hand. "Leave me alone."  With no Briseis or Patroclus around, the animal clung to Achilles like he was her mother.
Hagne trotted after Achilles down the path from the Greek camp to the beach. Achilles picked up the lamb and slung her over his shoulder. Further up the road was a hunt belonging to Dryas the Shepherd, who'd been a friend and colleague of Cressida-there had been talk around the camp that Cressida was now the wife of Troilus, King Priam's youngest son. Achilles left Hagne inside the pen with the rest of Dryas' flock. Hagne's crying woke the other sheep.
"This is where you belong," Achilles said. Sheep were supposed to roam the fields with their own kind, not live in tents with humans.
Hagne ran toward the fence and put her front hooves on one of its wooden beams. Achilles turned his back on her. She would have a happy life under Dryas' care. Even Hector's baby son couldn't have been more coddled and spoiled than Dryas' lambs. Achilles didn't need to feel guilty about leaving her behind.

The letter from Aeneas had arrived a few days earlier. Aeneas wrote on behalf of his uncle, King Priam, to request a twelve-day truce so Hector could have a proper funeral and mourning period. He invited Achilles to meet him in Herkülkalesi to discuss terms. Achilles crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire. Not even a fool would believe that the Trojans wanted to talk of peace, not after Hector's death, and Achilles' brother-in-law had as much of a reason to hate him as anyone. Aeneas was throwing down a gauntlet, not extending an olive branch.
Achilles brushed the dust from the road off his cloak. So, it would end where it all began. Herkülkalesi was where the Greeks had landed almost eight years earlier. They laid siege to the fortified town at the mouth of Scamander for nearly a month before it fell, the first crack in Troy's defenses, and left it in ruins. Among those ruins, the Mycenaean scouts bullied an urchin who turned out to be a princess.
Only one remained out of the dozens of pink roses that grew around the fountain in Herkülkalesi's main square. Aeneas, who greeted the approaching Achilles with a smug grin, plucked the rose and twirled it between his fingers.
Achilles bowed to his brother-in-law, showing the irritating little bastard more courtesy than he deserved. "How is your fair sister?" he said. "I hope she's not pining for me too much."
Briseis probably cursed him like the rest of her kin with good reason and would teach their child to curse his father. Very well. This was what he deserved.
Aeneas attached the rose to his collar. "Don't taunt me, son of Peleus. We didn't come here today to exchange childish words." 
"Then let's get this over with." The hilt of Achilles' sword popped out of its scabbard. You wanted this fight. See if you can win it.
The shrieking gulls overhead and the cooing pigeons at the feet fell silent. Even the wind held its breath for what came next.
Achilles held his blade to strike when Aeneas made the next move, but instead of drawing his sword, Aeneas looked up at the battlements above them.
A sharp twang whizzed down from the battlements. A sharp arrow point pierced Achilles' heel through boot leather, skin, and bone to the other side of his ankle. Achilles fell to his knees.
The laughter ringing from a bell tower drew Achilles' attention from the wound in his ankle. How had Aeneas reached the top in only a few seconds? Or was that Paris grinning down at him? Gods, all these Trojan princes looked the same.
Paris drew his bow and another arrow lodged in Achilles' neck. The third penetrated his chest.