Thursday, December 25, 2003

Patroclus stared at his best friend. He stared long and hard. He stared with such intensity that the gods watching wondered if his eyes would not fall out.

"Achilles."

Patroclus spoke the one word, the name of his closest comrade.

The said comrade looked up. His green eyes implored Patroclus to say something useful, daring him to have broken the previous silence for anything trivial.

"You are being completely ridiculous."

This did not match Achilles' idea of 'useful.' He turned away.

"Don't turn your back on me! You're only turning your back on reason!" Patroclus clenched and unclenched his fists, growing more and more agitated with every passing second that his friend ignored him.

Achilles did not turn around, but replied: "Patroclus. I have my reasons. And you know how perfectly reasonable those reasons are."

This only infuriated him more.

"No! Your reasons are rubbish! I agree that pride can be a pressing matter, but not this pressing! People we've known are dying, Achilles! They're dying, and think, the only reason you refuse to help them is because of PRIDE!"

Achilles whipped around, eyes slits of anger. "I loved her, Patroclus! That is not a pride issue! Pride is not a matter of the heart!"

His own green eyes growing wide, Patroclus shot back, "That's a lie!"

His tone dangerously icy, Achilles asked, "Which part?"

Determined, Patroclus continued, "The part about you loving Briseus!"

There was a deafening silence, broken only by the sound of the two men breathing hard in their seperate infuriated states. Achilles seemed shocked that his comrade would state such a thing. Patroclus, in the stead, seemed eager to complete his mission; he still had things to say.

"You know nothing of what you are saying," said Achilles, surprisingly calm.

"No?" countered Patroclus, purposely adding a slight mocking air to the rhetorical question.

Achilles merely looked at his friend, green eyes challenging him to speak more of his accusation.

"You do not, and you never have, loved Briseus. She existed purely for one reason, and that one reason is this: to take your mind off of the one girl you did, and the one girl you still do, love..."

Before Patroclus could speak her name, Achilles shushed him. "No."

Shaking his head, however, Patroclus continued.

"Grace."

And without pausing for too long, perhaps making it impossible for Achilles to respond, he went on. "She is the reason you first went to Troy. She is still in Troy. So why aren't you fighting for her at Troy?"

Achilles opened his mouth to reply, but was once again interrupted.

"And don't say 'because of Briseus.' You don't love Briseus. You never did. You loved Grace. You still love Grace. If for no other reason, it's obvious in the way your eyes flashed when I said her name."

This time, Achilles managed to speak. "Patroclus, you know me well. However, how well do you know Grace? For all we know, she may be wedded to one of Priam's many sons. She may be happily in love, longing for her Trojan husband to return from the war."

Shaking his head, Patroclus said, "No. Grace loved you, I am sure. And love, it never fades. It can never be replaced or done away with. She is probably still crying herself to sleep over you. And you, Achilles, you know very well, that this is true."

Achilles nodded. He could not find the proper words to illustrate just what was in his mind. But it was something.

Saturday, December 20, 2003

And now a messenger went to white-armed Helen too...
"Come, dear girl, come quickly---
so you can see what wondrous things they're doing,
stallion-breaking Trojans and Argives armed in bronze!
A moment ago they longed to kill each other...
Now... the fighting's stopped, they lean against their shields,
their long lances stuck in the ground beside them.
Think of it: Paris and Menelaus loved by Ares
go to fight it out with their rugged spears---
all for you--- and the man who wins that duel,
you'll be called his wife!"...
Quickly cloaking herself in shimmering linen,
out of her rooms she rushed, live tears welling...

book III 'Helen Reviews the Champions'

A knock fell on Grace's door as she stood in front of her mirror, brushing her long brown hair. Brush in hand, she went to the door.

"Grace! Menelaus and Paris are about to fight it out- once and for all! Come, come quickly!" Helen had tears streaming down her face, and beckoned urgently.

"Pull on a cloak, then, and let us away!"

Breathless with wonder, Grace did as she was told. Off of a chair, she grabbed a light cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Soon, it might all be over.

Friday, December 19, 2003

"We mustn't worry," Helen would say. "They won't stand for this. It will be any day now that Menelaus and his army come to bring us back." With those words, she would turn and look at Grace, waiting for a response.

Grace ran the scenario over and over again in her head before answering. She pictured the Argive army, led by Menelaus and his brother, Agamemnon. She pictured them storming the walls of Troy. And she also pictured Achilles, breaking down the door to her room, and taking her by the hand. "Thank the gods you're alright," he would say. Or so she imagined.

However, in reality, Grace knew several things. Troy was a long way from Argos, an extremely long way, made even longer by the fact that she and Helen were only two women. They were two mere women who, yes, had been stolen, but were they indeed worth such a trip? And assuming they were, were they worth even a skirmish? The answer that came to her mind was always the same: no. Yet she knew that Helen wasn't asking for a truthful answer.

"Of course. Any day now." Grace echoed her best, her only, friend.

Sunday, November 16, 2003

"Grace, wake up," whispered Helen softly. It was so early in the morning that there was little to no light filtering in through the window of Grace's room.

Grace opened her eyes, sitting up in bed. "Is something wrong?"

Helen smiled, as though she had a secret to share. "Oh no, definitely not. I just thought that you might like to know... Achilles left this for you last night." As she said this, Helen held her hand out to her friend, in it offering her a delicate-looking silver chain of a necklace with a pendant on it that was watery blue, shaped like a raindrop.

Grace's mouth opened to form the shape of an 'o'. Helen nodded and knelt down to fasten the necklace around her neck. "This means something, Grace."

Touching her hand to her chest where the pendant hung, Grace mirrored the nod of her best friend. She began to interprete outloud just exactly what the necklace meant, but she could not comprehend it. "It means... something."

Monday, October 27, 2003

She looked through her window when she awoke, glimpsing a misty morning. Grace looked around lazily, and then suddenly it hit her.

She wasn't in Argos anymore.

The nightstand by her bed did not belong to her. And come to think of it, neither did the bed. The entire room smelled different than it should have.

So this was Troy in the morning.

Grace Is Gone

Neon shines through smokey eyes tonight
It's 2 A.M., I'm drunk again
And it's heavy on my mind

I could never love again
So much as I love you
Where you end, where I begin
Is like a river running through

Take my heart, take my eyes
I need them no more
If never again they fall
Upon the one I so adore...

Excuse me please, one more drink
Could you make it strong?
'Cause I don't need to think
She broke my heart
My Grace is Gone
Another drink and I'll be gone

One drink to remember
Then another to forget
I think of every day to find
A love like you again

One drink to remember
And another to forget

Excuse me please, one more drink
Could you make it strong?
'Cause I don't need to think
She broke my heart
My Grace is Gone
Another drink and I'll be gone
One more drink and I'll move on

You think of things impossible
Then the sun refuse to shine
I woke with you beside me
Your cold hand lay in mine

Excuse me please, one more drink
Could you make it strong?
'Cause I don't need to think
She broke my heart
My Grace is Gone
Another drink and I'll go...

Excuse me please, one more drink
Could you make it strong?
'Cause I don't need to think
She broke my heart
My Grace is Gone
Another drink and I'll move on
One more drink and I'll move on
One more drink, my grace is gone.

--Dave Matthews Band