No One But You

Chapter Fourteen : The Beginning

And God shall wipe away all the tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying; neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away

Revelations 21:4

The years passed, and one blustery spring morning found Briseis standing quietly on the docks, watching a ship draw in. To a casual observer she looked the very image of a princess - serene, placid, breathtakingly beautiful - but the few who knew her would see the tightness in her jaw, the stiffness in her shoulders that betrayed a multitude of emotions racing through her slight frame.

The ship docked, and a tall, handsome man swung down onto the quay. He had dark blond hair, and a scar on his cheek gave him a cruel, mocking look. Belted around his waist was a sword, and Briseis could see two more knives protruding from the backs of his boots.

"Lady Briseis," he said as he approached her, lifting her hand and inclining his head slightly.

"My Lord Neoptolemus," Briseis responded, her voice never faltering as she curtseyed.

"How is she?" Neoptolemus asked in an anxious voice as he led Briseis to the waiting carriage.

"Very ill," Briseis replied quietly. "She's been hanging in to see you, I think."

The young warlord nodded tightly, and Briseis could see the flash of pain in his eyes.

"She's not in any pain," she continued. "But she has not got much time left."

Neoptolemus nodded again as he handed Briseis up into her carriage. "You do not mind if I ride ahead?" he asked.

Briseis shook her head. "I'd hurry," she advised. "She's been asking for you. I think she knew that you'd be coming today."

With a curt nod Neoptolemus turned and swung up onto the stallion a groom was holding for him.

"My Lady," he said by way of farewell, and moments later he was pushing his horse forwards into a fast canter up towards the palace.

Briseis followed more sedately in her carriage, struggling to keep her emotions in check. It had been four years since he had left her in this strange land, and today was the first time she had seen him since then. And yet despite the years that had passed, his mere presence was enough to send a fresh wave of grief through her. If anything, Briseis mused, the years had made the resemblance to his father even stronger.

Briseis gave herself a shake. Achilles was dead and gone. His mother, Thetis, who had cared for Briseis like her own daughter since her son's death, would soon be with Achilles, leaving Briseis alone in the world. No, not alone. Worse. Leaving her at the mercy of the brutal warlord who had just landed in Phthia. Now was not the time to be grieving for a long-dead past. Now was the time to be fearing for her future.

When Neoptolemus emerged from his grandmother's room it was early evening, and the palace was lit up in a spectacular array of reds and golds by the setting sun. He joined Briseis in the small room that she and Thetis regularly passed their evenings, talking and reading.
"How is she?" Briseis asked as the young warlord entered.

Neoptolemus sat heavily down onto one of the seats, and in the few hours since he had arrived it looked like he had aged several years.

"She's sleeping now," he told her. "I don't think she'll wake again."

Briseis nodded, looking down at her lap. "Did you speak with her?" she asked after a moment.

He nodded.

There was silence again.

Suddenly Neoptolemus jerked his head up to look at Briseis. "Thank you," he said stiffly. "For everything you've done for her in the past weeks. She said..." his voice broke off as he choked up, and Briseis suddenly felt a rush of compassion for the young man sitting opposite her. He may be one of the most feared men in the Agean, but he was still little more than a boy, overtaken by the grief of losing his last remaining family member.