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Authors: Colleen McCullough
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function. Achilles was still looking down the road after his father, his big eyes bright with unshed tears. This was a parting of great importance to him.
‘Come with me, young men. I will show you your new home.’
They followed silently as I led them to my cave and showed them how comfortable such an odd dwelling place could be. I pointed out the soft furry skins upon which they would sleep, the area in the main chamber where they would sit with me and learn. Then I took them to the edge of the precipice and sat down in my chair with one of them on either side.
‘Are you looking forward to your schooling?’ I asked, more to Achilles than to Ajax.
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Achilles courteously; his father had at least given him lessons in good manners.
‘My name is Chiron. You will call me that.’
‘Yes, Chiron. Father says I must look forward to this.’
I turned to Ajax. ‘On a table in the cave you will find a lyre. Bring it to me – and make sure you do not drop it.’
The hulking lad regarded me without rancour. ‘I never drop anything,’ he said, quite matter-of-fact.
My brows rose; I felt a slight twinkle of amusement, but it kindled no answering spark in the grey eyes of Telamon’s son. Instead he went to do as I had asked, the good soldier obeying his orders without question. That was the best I could do for Ajax, I reflected. Mould him into a soldier of perfect strength and resource. Whereas the eyes of Achilles mirrored my own mirth.
‘Ajax always takes you at your exact word,’ he said in the firm and measured, pleasing voice I already liked to hear. He stretched out a hand to indicate the city far below. ‘Iolkos?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then that must be the palace up there on the hill. How small it looks! I always thought it dwarfed Pelion, yet from Pelion it is just another house.’
‘All palaces are, if you can get far enough away from them.’
‘Yes, I see that.’
‘You miss your father already.’
‘I thought I might cry, but it has passed.’
‘You’ll see him again in the spring, and the time between now and then will fly. There will be no chance to be idle, and it is idleness which breeds discontent, mischief, malice, pranks.’
He drew a breath. ‘What must I learn, Chiron? What do I need to know to be a great king?’
‘Too much to detail, Achilles. A great king is a fountain of knowledge. Any king is the best man, but a great king understands that he is the representative of his people before the God.’
‘Then learning cannot come too soon.’
Ajax came back with the lyre in his hand, holding it off the ground carefully; it was a big instrument more akin to the harps the Egyptians play, formed from a huge tortoise carapace which glowed all browns and ambers, and it had golden pegs. I laid it across my knee and stroked the strings with a feather touch which produced a pretty sound, not a melody.
‘You must play the lyre and learn the songs of your people. The greatest sin is to appear uncultured or uncouth. You will commit to heart the history and the geography of the world, all the wonders in nature, all the treasures beneath the lap of Mother Kubaba, who is the Earth. I will teach you to hunt, to kill, to fight with all manner of weapons, to make your own weapons. I will show you the herbs curing sicknesses and wounds, teach you to distil them for medicines, school you in splinting broken limbs. A great king sets more store by life than death.’
‘Oratory?’ asked Achilles.
‘Yes, of course. After learning from me, your oratory will draw the hearts of your listeners out of their breasts in joy or sorrow. And I will show you how to judge what men are, how to frame laws and execute them. I will teach you what the God expects of you because you are Chosen.’ I smiled. ‘And that is just the beginning!’
I took up the lyre then and set its base upon the ground, drew my hand across its heartstrings. For a few moments only I played, the notes increasing in
‘Come with me, young men. I will show you your new home.’
They followed silently as I led them to my cave and showed them how comfortable such an odd dwelling place could be. I pointed out the soft furry skins upon which they would sleep, the area in the main chamber where they would sit with me and learn. Then I took them to the edge of the precipice and sat down in my chair with one of them on either side.
‘Are you looking forward to your schooling?’ I asked, more to Achilles than to Ajax.
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Achilles courteously; his father had at least given him lessons in good manners.
‘My name is Chiron. You will call me that.’
‘Yes, Chiron. Father says I must look forward to this.’
I turned to Ajax. ‘On a table in the cave you will find a lyre. Bring it to me – and make sure you do not drop it.’
The hulking lad regarded me without rancour. ‘I never drop anything,’ he said, quite matter-of-fact.
My brows rose; I felt a slight twinkle of amusement, but it kindled no answering spark in the grey eyes of Telamon’s son. Instead he went to do as I had asked, the good soldier obeying his orders without question. That was the best I could do for Ajax, I reflected. Mould him into a soldier of perfect strength and resource. Whereas the eyes of Achilles mirrored my own mirth.
‘Ajax always takes you at your exact word,’ he said in the firm and measured, pleasing voice I already liked to hear. He stretched out a hand to indicate the city far below. ‘Iolkos?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then that must be the palace up there on the hill. How small it looks! I always thought it dwarfed Pelion, yet from Pelion it is just another house.’
‘All palaces are, if you can get far enough away from them.’
‘Yes, I see that.’
‘You miss your father already.’
‘I thought I might cry, but it has passed.’
‘You’ll see him again in the spring, and the time between now and then will fly. There will be no chance to be idle, and it is idleness which breeds discontent, mischief, malice, pranks.’
He drew a breath. ‘What must I learn, Chiron? What do I need to know to be a great king?’
‘Too much to detail, Achilles. A great king is a fountain of knowledge. Any king is the best man, but a great king understands that he is the representative of his people before the God.’
‘Then learning cannot come too soon.’
Ajax came back with the lyre in his hand, holding it off the ground carefully; it was a big instrument more akin to the harps the Egyptians play, formed from a huge tortoise carapace which glowed all browns and ambers, and it had golden pegs. I laid it across my knee and stroked the strings with a feather touch which produced a pretty sound, not a melody.
‘You must play the lyre and learn the songs of your people. The greatest sin is to appear uncultured or uncouth. You will commit to heart the history and the geography of the world, all the wonders in nature, all the treasures beneath the lap of Mother Kubaba, who is the Earth. I will teach you to hunt, to kill, to fight with all manner of weapons, to make your own weapons. I will show you the herbs curing sicknesses and wounds, teach you to distil them for medicines, school you in splinting broken limbs. A great king sets more store by life than death.’
‘Oratory?’ asked Achilles.
‘Yes, of course. After learning from me, your oratory will draw the hearts of your listeners out of their breasts in joy or sorrow. And I will show you how to judge what men are, how to frame laws and execute them. I will teach you what the God expects of you because you are Chosen.’ I smiled. ‘And that is just the beginning!’
I took up the lyre then and set its base upon the ground, drew my hand across its heartstrings. For a few moments only I played, the notes increasing in
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