Finding Achilles

iii. the swordmaker of mysia

A short but perilous journey across the land and sea had brought me back to Mysia, the kingdom which we had initially mistook for being Troy.

And if I went by Achilles' words, this was where I would find him.

I sat quietly in a shop, having hearty tagenites along with olives. People gossiped, cursed and laughed all around me, busy in their own lives. The sky was a light shade of azure with clouds floating like fluffy balls of cotton. The market was buzzing with the polite giggles of women and pretty bright tunics coloured Mysia in tones of a rainbow. Chattering girls, boasting men and children like sunflowers dotted the streets.

I felt like being a part of the crowd, yet so separated from it. My mind wandered to the days of the past– when I was a boy more fiery and reckless as my Achilles now, and how I befriended him while he was a naive child. It was the beginning of a story never ending.

A story which threatened to end abruptly now.

I asked for some more tagenite from the cook and he demanded for a little more payment. I gave what was required and then filled my growling tummy with food.

If I had to search for Achilles amidst so many people, I required energy.

Where could he be hiding? Would he run away from me if I find him?

Was he watching me now?

Suddenly I became more aware of my surroundings. Every detail and sound became important to me.

But in vain I tried to seek him in the hullabaloo and the routine chaos of ordinary life. For even if he was in a disguise, he was extraordinary. He was a mortal whom even the gods revered.

"The king will be commissioning Alexander to make a new sword. I am also thinking of asking him to make better spears for my guards."

The man sipped wine from a chalice and talked with his companions.

"He is the best we have. No doubt he is some former warrior," added another.

Who can this Alexander be?

I strained my ears to listen more closely.

"No one knows where he came from, what is his parentage."

The man who spoke about asking Alexander to make spears for him twisted his lips, brows furrowed in thought. "He was a proud young man, some hot blood when he first came here. But slowly something transformed him and he became so humble. After whatever he creates, remaining so down to earth is a difficult task."

"Oh I would have boasted so much about my skills had I been in his position!"

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

They all turned to me, scrutinising my form and studying my persona.

"Yes?"

"May I know where to find this Alexander?"

"He lives in a cottage by the river Makestos."

"Thank you so much."

"But young man, why do you–"

Before I could completely hear what the man had to say my feet moved of their own accord and I began to sprint like a deer. I ran where my heart took me like a maddened lover in search of his beloved. When sanity struck back, it was too late and I wondered where I had come. I asked a passerby where the river Makestos was.

"Walk some steps from here towards those thorny bushes and the bunch of trees. Crossing that line you will see the river in the distance."

My intuition had brought me to the right place.

"Why, are you trying to meet Alexander?"

"Oh yes–"

So everybody here knew about this man.

"–thank you so much but I am in a hurry."

I took my leave and followed the directions. Soon the river was in my vision.

And so was a cottage on its bank.

It was a little one build of stones and clay. There was a horse stable and a pile of hay kept outside it. The backside of the cottage opened into another bigger building, probably where this Alexander made weapons.

"My heart can't be wrong."

This Alexander could be a clue. There ought to be some meaning.

I walked across the bank and reached the cottage. Knocking on the door, I waited with an impatient heart.

Once, twice, thrice– no one answered to my call.

"Is Alexander here?"

I heard some clinking noise coming from inside. I took a few steps back when the door opened with a creak.

My heart hopped out of my chest to the grassy ground beneath, landing at the feet of Alexander.

The same mismatched blue and brown eyes, the same messy blonde locks, the same charming glow that had bewitched me when I was a boy.

The twinkle of his eyes still shimmered and shone, but something was very wrong.

"I am Alexander. Please come in and have a seat."

My heart shattered.

He didn't remember his Patroclus anymore.