Achilles and Patroclus
T
he war to end all wars was in the making: All Europe was rising up against all Asia to right a wrong that cried out for revenge. Paris, prince of Troy, an honored guest in Menelaus’ royal halls, had stolen Helen, his host’s splendid wife, raided his treasure house in dark of night, then hightailed it back to the safety of his father’s city to enjoy his loot and captive to the hilt. The Greeks, to a man, rose up in anger and readied for war, vowing to level the looming walls of Troy and free Helen. Mountains were stripped of trees for lumber to build fast ships; fields were emptied of farmers to fill the rank and file of the army; treasuries of ruddy bronze and gold and grey iron were beaten into swords and armor. No man was left behind, no man shirked gory battle, lest he be stripped of all his wealth. The Greeks sailed their beaked ships to Troy, beached them close by, flung up a great barricade to keep them safe, and laid siege to the city. Ten years passed and still the Greeks had not breached the black walls of Troy with their crown of towers. The neighboring towns, though, fell one by one. Noble Achilles, 101
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