“You are so capable of loving. Yet why do you fight and kill men?” Briseis asked. “Fighting is not my choice,” said Achilles having planted a passionate kiss on the ruby lips below Brisei’s lilac eyes. Her eyes resembled those of a gazelle, serene and pure. “I inherited it from my father and his father and all the ancestors. One cannot wish away one’s ancestral inheritance.” “I wish you could,” said Briseis wistfully. She had lost her husband, father, mother and three brothers in the war led by Achilles’ people. She was delivered to Achilles for the nocturnal pleasures of the day’s warrior. Achilles looked at her as the soldier dragged her along and threw her on Achilles’ bed in the tent. The gaze and the grace of the gazelle charmed Achilles instantly. He sat beside her on the bed and wiped away the blood from her ruby lips. But the lips still shone like ruby. He smelled her hair. “You a royal?” he asked. She refused to reply. He took his towel, squ
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