Chapter 14 - Achilles Returned
The first sign was not Achilles himself.
It was the Trojans running.
From the wall, I watched our forward lines collapse toward the city with a speed I had never seen.
Men threw glances over their shoulders.
Chariots raced for the gates.
Units that had stood firm against years of battle suddenly moved as though fire followed them.
Then I saw why.
Achilles advanced across the plain.
His new armor blazed beneath the sun.
Even at distance, he seemed different from the warrior I remembered.
Not faster.
Not larger.
Worse.
Focused.
Grief had burned away whatever else had once restrained him.
Around him, the Myrmidons moved with terrible purpose.
Men fell back before they even reached him.
The city gates opened to receive retreating Trojans.
Hector remained outside.
At first, I thought he was helping organize the withdrawal.
Then more men came through.
Then more.
The plain emptied around him.
Someone on the wall screamed his name.
Priam appeared above one of the towers.
Hecuba beside him.
Their voices carried faintly in the wind.
They were calling Hector back.
Come inside.
Come inside.
I could not hear every word.
I did not need to.
Ione gripped my arm.
“Why is he staying?”
I knew the reasons people would give later.
Honor.
Duty.
Shame.
Courage.
Fate.
At that moment, all I could think was: because he believes Troy requires it.
Achilles approached.
Hector waited.
Then something human happened.
Hector ran.
A murmur of shock went through the wall.
I felt no contempt.
Only relief.
Run, I thought.
Run through the gate.
Live.
But he did not run toward the gate.
He ran around the city.
Achilles followed.
Once.
Again.
Again.
The two men circled Troy while thousands watched.
It was one of the strangest sights of my life.
All those years of war reduced to two figures moving beneath the walls.
One pursuing.
One pursued.
Eventually Hector stopped.
Perhaps he knew there was nowhere left to go.
Perhaps pride returned.
Perhaps he simply became tired of running.
They faced one another.
People around me stopped breathing.
The duel began.
I will not describe every movement.
Others have sung of it better, and I do not wish to decorate death.
Hector fought.
Achilles fought harder.
There came a moment when Hector’s defense opened.
Achilles saw it.
Then Hector fell.
No one on the wall spoke.
Not Priam.
Not Hecuba.
Not Ione.
Not me.
A city can make enormous sound.
Markets.
Forges.
Animals.
Children.
Soldiers.
That day, Troy discovered silence.
Achilles stood over Hector.
What followed made grief become rage.
He did not leave the body where it fell.
He bound Hector behind his chariot.
A cry rose from the walls.
Not one voice.
Thousands.
Priam collapsed against those beside him.
Hecuba screamed.
Some men beat their fists against stone.
Women covered their faces.
Ione turned away.
I could not.
Achilles drove off dragging Hector through the dust.
I remembered the carved horse Hector had given the frightened child.
I remembered his son grabbing his hair.
I remembered him laughing once in a courtyard.
Heroes become symbols when they die.
But symbols do not have children.
Men do.
That evening, Troy did not light many lamps.
The market closed early.
No one ordered it.
People simply went home.
Myrine sat beside her dead rooster’s old pen and cried for Hector as if he were family.
In a way, he had been.
Ione lay beside me in darkness.
After a long time, she whispered:
“What happens now?”
I had no answer.
For years, when people said Troy, they meant the walls.
But we had learned to believe the walls had a face.
That face was Hector’s.
Long after sunset, I walked alone toward the gate where Hector had last stood. Guards allowed no one outside, but I could see the dark plain through the opening above the barriers.
The ground beyond looked empty.
That angered me.
A man had died there only hours earlier, and the earth already looked indifferent.
Dymas found me.
'Go home.'
'I don't want to.'
'Neither does anyone.'
We stood without speaking.
Finally I asked, 'Do you think he should have come inside?'
Dymas rubbed both hands over his face.
'Yes.'
The answer surprised me.
'People will say he had to fight.'
'People say many things after someone else dies.'
'Would Troy have forgiven him?'
'Troy asks too much of men and calls it honor.'
I thought of Hector's son.
'Then why did he stay?'
Dymas looked through the darkness.
'Because Hector believed the same stories we did.'
That may have been the saddest answer possible.
For years, the walls had been the image people carried when they spoke the name Troy.
By then, we had given those stones a human face.
May you like
That face was Hector's.
And outside the city, Achilles had taken him away.
