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“Alright Class, that’s all for today, remember that your essay on Masculinity in the Ancient World is due on Monday.” The teacher drawled as the class began to pack up their equipment and leave the room.
As he was packing up, Patrick began to think about what he could do his essay on, there were a multitude of options of ancient literature which could be used for the topic. He continued to ponder the text for his essay as he headed towards the campus library. As he entered the building and headed towards the Classics section, he had made his decision, he would do the essay on the Iliad, as the relationship between Achilles and all the other characters in the epic would prove to be an interesting delve into masculinity, especially the bond between Achilles and Patroclus.
Decision made, Patrick set down his bag and perused the shelves looking for the book. Looking along the shelves at the numerous thick books he thought to himself, ‘wouldn’t it be great if we could just experience the books first-hand rather than actually having to read them. It would make life so much easier. VR designers take note.’ He began to grin, and his thoughts tapered off as he saw the book on the top shelf, just barely in his reach. Balancing on his tiptoes, he reached for the novel and as his fingertip made contact with the book, he realised that something felt wrong. The feeling intensified as he properly grasped the book pulling it from the shelf like a sword from its sheaf. Fully removed from the shelf, the book began to glow, energy pulsing from it.
At this, Patrick tried to put the book down, but it was firmly attached to his hand. It was stuck and so was he. The light started to pulse brighter: completely covering his form, the light grew hotter and more intense enveloping the entire room. As Patrick wondered what the hell was going on, he felt sick to his stomach as if he was being squeezed through a hole way too small for him. It began at his navel and covered him in seconds. The pressure grew more and more intense, it began to hurt, burning him slightly whilst fully enshrouding him in a bright cloak-like mist, smothering him in a world of pain.
The last thing he had time to think before becoming dead to the world was ‘death by book was not how I was expecting to go.’
Upon waking up, the stench of illness surrounded him. ‘Maybe he had been brought to a hospital or he was hallucinating’ he thought. Opening his eyes, Patrick could see that he was in a tent of some kind, surrounded by very ill looking men. The strangest thing was the fact that everything seemed very outdated, from the tent itself to the pallets they were all lying on to the clothes of the ill men surrounding him. Coughing to try and clear his dry throat, Patrick sat up and immediately felt off- like he wasn’t himself in some way. Spotting a bronze shield near his pallet he reached over and grabbed it; peering into the mirror revealed something terrifying that he didn’t think possible: he wasn’t himself, he was in somebody else’s body. Instead of his long curly ginger hair, green eyes and a face splattered in freckles on a pale complexion, he was instead greeted by short cropped black hair, brown eyes and a deep tan of someone who spent all their time outside in the sun. It was weird and he didn’t like it, not one bit.
Breath coming in faster and faster pants, he tried to think through what could have happened.
“Calm down Patrick, it’s all a dream, I am me and this isn’t real I’m not surrounded by ill people and I’m definitely not dead…” whispered Patrick in an unintentional parody of a soothing voice.
Patrick’s mantra, which was meant to be calming him down started to increase his frazzled and drained psyche. His thoughts began to spiral further as his mind became trapped in a loop of ‘Dream or Dead, Dream or Dead, Dream or Dead…’
He pinched his arm harshly abruptly cutting off his thoughts, the sudden calm from the flurry of thoughts shocked him into pinching a bit too firm and drawing a bit of blood. He quickly wiped at it leaving a red streak up his arm.
“Patroclus, my friend its good to see you up!” Spoke a beautiful looking man, impressively tall and leanly muscular with sun-kissed skin, blonde hair and piercing grey eyes.
Whilst Patrick was caught up in his accidental ogling of the blonde man, he had approached him and started to lean into his personal space with a hand heavy on Patrick’s shoulder.
“Hey, Patroclus, is anybody home? Are you okay? Do you need more rest? The Healer?” Queried the blonde man, brow furrowed and looking more concerned, the more questions left his lips.
“Hey man, I think you have the wrong guy, I’m not Patroclus and I don’t know who you are either.” Patrick responded in confusion.
The blonde man’s face fell as if all the happiness had been sucked out of it.
“You can’t be serious… I’m Achilles. Your best friend, brother at arms, the idiot you advise.” The last phrase was said with a wry grin that fell as Patrick failed to acknowledge what must have been an inside joke.
But Patrick wasn’t listening, his brain had stalled after hearing the blonde man introduce himself. It must have been a cosmic joke of some kind; he wasn’t serious about what he thought in the library that was just his typical lazy thoughts surfacing. He began to take in the implications of what was being suggested to him, he was Patroclus, in the Iliad.
That meant one thing: he was going to die.
Once more his breathing began to stutter and skip, he was panting like a dog in the hot sun, unable to take in a full breath of oxygen; his panic seemed to continuously increase, and with the increased lack of air it soon became a vicious cycle. Gasping and clawing at his throat, Patrick tried to calm himself but to no avail.
Throughout this, Achilles watched in muted horror, he had never seen something like this before, he didn’t know how to help. This was his friend he needed to help so that he could get to the bottom of Patroclus’ memory issues. Steeling his resolve, Achilles reached out for Patroclus and pulled him into a hug: gentle but firm. He rubbed large circles into Patroclus’ back whispering comforting murmurs, hoping that him remaining calm would reflect on his panicking friend. He continued his quiet murmurings hoping that it would soothe his friends’ worry and allow him to draw in the air he so desperately needed.
After a couple minutes of this, Achilles’ efforts seemed to have been rewarded, as Patroclus’ breathing had once more returned to normal. Patroclus was whispering something under his breath that Achilles could not quiet pick up on.
“I’m not Patroclus, I’m Patrick, I want to return to my own body, my own time. Please help me.” He said softly in a somewhat defeated manner.
Achilles blinked and recoiled away slightly. He felt angry at this imposter possessing his friend, but he wanted his friend back as well. Meeting with the possessor’s demands would likely be the only way to get his friend back.
“Okay, I will help you.” Began Achilles, “but I’m not calling you Patroclus as you are not him, and I don’t think that I need to get into why calling you Patrick would be an issue. Until this is resolved I will call you Pat as a compromise. I hope you leave my friend’s body soon I cannot deal with my counsel gone and an imposter in his body.”
Patroclus- no Pat, looked up at Achilles and the grim line that Achilles’ face was fixed in, and with tear filled eyes let out a watery and warbly “Okay.”
Achilles frowned, “It looks like I am also going to have to teach you about how men behave here because you need to change that.” He ended, gesturing at Pat’s full body.
“You just gestured to all of me?” questioned Pat.
“I know.” Groaned Achilles.
And with that Achilles got up to leave.
“It’s starting to get late; I will see you tomorrow where we will try to fix this, and I can get Patroclus back.” He stated as he turned, lifting the tent flap and letting it flow shut dramatically behind him.
Pat was sat thinking about how all of this had happened, and slowly lay back down. Exhausted, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow of the pallet below him.
The next day, Pat awoke to Achilles standing over him with a grim look of determination on his face.
“Yesterday when we were talking, you mentioned something about returning to your own time. Does that mean that you are from the future? Do you know how this battle ends and when it will end, we have been fighting already for ten long years and I dearly wish for it to end.” Began Achilles looking intense. “Did you know that this plague was caused by the God Apollo for Agamemnon’s misdeeds?” His brow was furrowed, and he looked worried at what the potential answers to the questions he asked were. Achilles peered down at Pat almost as if he were boring into him with his piercing eyes alone.
Feeling somewhat unnerved to waking up to a demigod peering over him; he thought about how to phrase his answers before speaking. “I come from a future of such, but perhaps not one that you would recognise. I do know about the battle, about how it is won, how long it lasts and who dies in the struggle for victory. I am also aware of Agamemnon.” He sighed deeply. “Look Achilles I know that you have no reason to trust me and that you are worried for you friend, but I must beseech you to give Agamemnon Briseis for him to surrender the maiden that he stole. It is her father that prayer to Apollo out of anger for his daughter being taken. This is the only course of action that will prevent the good men here of dying of sickness. I promise you.”
Achilles scrutinised Pat, looking for any sign of deceit, before he nodded to himself, satisfied with what he must have seen.
Achilles seemed to mull over his options before letting out a sigh “you may as well come with me; the men’s morale will be increased from seeing you walking around with me.”
Reaching his hand out to help Pat up, he made sure to glare at Pat before he hisses “don’t do anything that I don’t it’s clear that you do not know how to act in our ways. I will teach you later but I, no we don’t have time right now. That fat old man needs to return the girl. I am not happy about having to give up Briseis though.” He ended petulantly with a pout half formed on his face.
‘Cute,’ thought Pat to himself. This wasn’t the situation for it but the sight of this all-powerful demigod acting almost like a toddler throwing a tantrum was cute in a funny sort of way, it made him seem more human than this almighty character of rage and might that Pat knew of from his many readings of the original story.
That was made him pause for a second, this was clearly not a story anymore it was real, they were characters they were people with real people flaws not two dimensional figures from myths of sacrifice and glory.
Achilles looked back at the imposter, he was stood in the middle of the pathway like an idiot, foot traffic needed to get through, he couldn’t just stand there like that. He sighed to himself again, ‘why me?’ he thought. He doubled back to where the moron was stood and pulled sharply at his arm to shake him out of whatever ridiculous stupor his brain had thought up for him.
It seemed to work and the two made it to the tent where Briseis was being kept. He quickly got a guard to tie her up and he and Pat walked with her to Agamemnon’s tent.
“Where are you taking me? What are you doing?” Briseis quizzed fear in her eyes and tremor in her voice at the fact that the two men with her said nary a word and were leading her somewhere. Gods she longed for death over whatever else they deemed acceptable to do to female prisoners. The two men did not respond, one did look at her apologetically, and her heart seized. She started to plead for death anything over what they wanted. She openly started to call for the Gods for aid, but none answered.
Her pleading skyward was abruptly stopped by a deep monotonous voice saying, “We’re here.”
The tent flap was flung open by an old man with greying white hair. This was King Agamemnon, leader of the Achaeans.
“Agamemnon, return Chryseis to her father and you can have her.” The tall blonde man ended by shoving Briseis forward which led to her almost stumbling into the slightly rotund older man.
“I should not have to give up my own prizes just for you to do what is right, your men are dying and when you were asked yesterday to give her back you all but demanded an alternate tribute. You are no true leader but unfortunately for us Greeks they think that you are necessary for our victory. So, I will give you Briseis on those terms, but my men and I are going to draw out of the fighting. I cannot bear to work with such a selfish old coot. Let me know if you see the error of your ways.” The two men one blonde one black haired then walked off with purpose in their steps.
Agamemnon, quickly sent for some strong fighters to grab Chryseis and return her to her father whilst he looked on joyously at his consolation prize.
Pat and Achilles had walked back to what Pat found out was their shared tent. Pat had asked why the two shared a large tent alone together and was told that Patroclus had grown up with Achilles, so it was weird for the both of them to sleep without the other nearby. Pat obviously knew not of this when he asked but he regretted posing the question to his companion when he saw the hurt and pain in Achilles’ face.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad-“
“It’s fine.” Responded Achilles cutting him off. “ What we need to focus on right now is how you should be acting and behaving. It’s obvious that you don’t belong. I won’t have you killing off my own friend by your incompetence to act like a proper Achaean man.” Finished Achilles.
“One aspect that is very important is the pederastic relationships. Although both Patroclus and I are twenty five years old, I somehow doubt that you are also of that age.” Achilles said speaking slowly and evenly. “Since you are younger than me, I propose that we partake in such a relationship in order for me to educate you the way that a true Greek boy is. This will allow you to be virtuous of soul and knowledgeable of the mind. This is often done in our society as a way of teaching young boys about their burgeoning masculinity and to help them come into themselves as men. Just ignore any mention of you being a cinaedus from any of my men. If they start giving you any flak in that respect just send them to me and I will sort them out!” Achilles ended with an almost boyishly large grin.
Pat thought about it for a second, ’it seems like this will help me, but it can’t just all be for me there has to be something that Achilles would get out of it, especially since he named the relationship that must mean that it is common. I wish that I didn’t sleep through my lectures, Sharla probably covered them in seminars. God how I regret that now.’ He finished his thoughts by sending Achilles a scrutinising look.
“What’s in it for you?” He settled on asking.
Achilles took in a deep breath before answering. “This type of relationship is set up to prepare young men for male sociability later in life, it does involve a degree of physical intimacy as it teaches young boys about following the ideology of the trueness of soul and all noble ideas such as modesty, self-control and holding in any sort of subjection which would lead to troubles in the soul, which is most definitely ignoble and should be avoided at all costs.”
‘Did I just get propositioned by Mr. Demigod himself, a man so strong that he only had a single hard to reach weakness. I really shouldn’t be thinking of things like this, but man life is short, and I’m set to die in like three weeks. At least I will have an idea for my essay on masculinity if what Achilles is talking about holds any weight.’ He ended his thoughts with a wry joke to himself.
“I guess I have no choice but to agree so that Patroclus’ body doesn’t get killed for thoughts of him being an imposter.” Pat told Achilles.
“Brilliant!” Achilles responded clapping Pat on the back.
Achilles then pushed Pat to the floor and started ruffling through a knapsack near his pallet. He pulled out some small texts on politics and warfare. He then returned to Pat’s side and dropped the books in his lap. “Ask me if you have any questions, okay? The sooner you read up on all of this stuff the sooner we can work towards getting you home and the real owner of the body that you’re wearing back. I really do miss Patroclus.” He finished with a sad sort of grin. He left Pat to his reading and walked back over to his knapsack, where he pulled out a lyre and slowly started to strum a sad tune that washed over the two of them for hours to come.
The relationship between the two continued in a very similar way for the next couple of days, it turned out that Achilles’ lyre playing was meant to be an example of how things went in the Symposium. Men would gather round and hear music and poetry whilst being entertained in other ways as well. Achilles taught him many things about how masculinity works, about how the pederastic relationship worked to the minutiae. Such as the fact that it allowed both parties to fully decompress especially the eromenos. The eromenos is the younger in the pair (usually mid to late teens) than the erastes, the older, so in this case Achilles, teaches, guides and loves. It is also often considered an induction into military life. It was also a way of being allowed to fully express homosexual attraction without any backlash as this relationship was seen as a sacred relationship between a teacher and a student rather than as an ideal of male prostitution which has often led to the mockery of both the male prostitutes and the people who search them out. This is a much more acceptable affair that provided a step into full manhood from a boy- a teen. There is never any money involved in such relationships as it suggests that they aren’t free, which is bad as they are both freed citizens and everyone who is in such a relationship are free-men as well.
Also, as Achilles touched on earlier there is a philosophical expression present in the relationships of following the noble calling of the soul and not giving in to blatant and wanton desire. Engaging in a sharing of bodies souls and minds purely in an expression of mutual respect and appreciation. He told Pat also of the myth of Ganymede who became Zeus’ cupbearer, as a result of the invoking of such a relationship.
‘The dynamic present in a pederastic relationship was so much more multifaceted and complex than I could originally comprehend.’ Pat thought after recapping all of the most important points of the relationship and consequent male expression in relationships. He had just finished writing about how Zeus and Ganymede were also in such an arrangement when Achilles approached him.
Achilles leant down and gently cupped Pat’s face in his hand, bringing it gently forward to capture their lips together – this aspect of the relationship had also progressed far, and privately this was Pat’s favourite part. Their lips fit together like puzzle pieces as if they were meant to be together. They drew apart briefly for breath and their faces were centimetres away from each other when they heard a throat clearing behind them.
“Ahem.” The voice intoned.
The two jumped apart like water poured on cats. In front of the tents’ entrance were some important generals in the Achaean army: Odysseus, Phoenix and Great Ajax.
Achilles and Pat sprung apart, Achilles standing to look more presentable and Pat to go find some wine and food for the guests, Achilles grins and says, “Welcome friends, how can I help you on this fine day?”
Odysseus responded: ”Agamemnon has sent us to come and apologise for what he has done on his behalf, he offers a multitude of objects in return, but you really need to re-join the fight. Do you not want to be known as a strong fighter as someone important and heroic, you will be hailed in glory if you return now to help the fight, you will be immortalised by your acts of valour in the fight, as all Greek men would like to be. Remember your honour and the glory you will earn as a result of your battle prowess and success. ”
Achilles offers Odysseus a half-smile “I am sorry my friend, but my men and I plan to return home to Pythia where we will live long lives rather than ones of glory like you are offering. Just because Agamemnon has realised that throwing a tantrum like a toddler to get what he wants is finally wrong does not mean that I want to fight with him. You cannot make me.”
Phoenix sighs, “Achilles, my boy, I see you like my own son, I helped to raise you. I know you. I fear if you do not re-join the fight that you will regret it. I have told you of the tale of Meleager, he was a warrior, as you are, and he left a battle in a fit of rage and then refused to fight. He was offered gifts to get him to return to the fight as they were losing. He refused. Only at the pleading of his wife,” at this Phoenix shoots a sly look to Patroclus before continuing like nothing had happened, ”but by then it was too late to receive any if the gifts, I don’t want to see that happen to you, so just help us and return to the fight.” He ended.
Achilles once more offered a small half-smile, “I am indeed sorry Phoenix, but Agamemnon’s insults have gone too far. You may stay the night in my encampment, but I will not return to the battle.”
Greater Ajax then lets out and annoyed huff, “Do you not want to earn the love of your comrades? Just think about how it will seem that many good Achaean men will die, and you refuse to fight because your pride was hurt. It is very petty for you and for no need.”
“I am sorry my friends, but I am not going to fight, I understand your point and I accept that I will not fight until Hector has burned the ships. If I return to battle it makes my pride seem like it means nothing. I hope that you can understand.” Achilles states firmly.
The men leave Pat and Achilles and the two turn in first together, then for the night.
The following sunrise, Pat wakes as Achilles continues to slumber and stands outside, he knows how the plot of the story goes and he has come to accept it, ‘perhaps him dying won’t mean that Patroclus will as well, perhaps him dying will allow Patroclus back into the body where he will then be saved.’
He continues his train of thought as he is approached by Nestor one of the leading strategists of the Achaean military.
“Hello, Patroclus, please help get Achilles to re-join the fight, we have suffered major injuries at the hands of the Trojan forces. Or at least wear the armour and head out into battle, it would do so much for morale. I am begging you to help.” Nestor pleads.
“I will do what I can, one way or another.” Pat responds chocking back tears.
“I thank you Patroclus, this will help turn the tide of the war!” Nestor exclaims as he heads back to the retreating Achaean forces to treat injuries that occurred during the days battle.
Pat then heads towards Achilles’ tent, upon seeing Pat enter Achilles offers a smile in greeting.
“Achilles, I need to borrow your armour and go out to fight in it. If you won’t fight at least let me.” Pat states firmly.
“Why would I do that, we’re fine here there is not issue with-“ Achilles begins.
“Please I know that you know that I am from the future, I am going out to save the ships, and…” he pauses for a second to mentally ready himself for what he is about to say, “I know that Patroclus lives through this battle, so I know that I am going to be okay and through that you do not have to worry about me.” Pat finishes, knowing in his heart of hearts that this will be the last conversation that he ever has with Achilles and in general, he was marching to his own death.
“Alright, I will allow it, just be careful, I notice that you said lives and not comes back uninjured so be careful of the weapons and come back soon.” He ends holding up a hand for a fist bump. Pat bumps it back offering a small smile as he starts to don the armour which will soon be his funeral garb.
As Pat leaves to go join the fight, Achilles shouts, “Myrmidons go join Patroclus in battle and bring us Victory!”
With that Achilles is left alone, and he begins to pray both for his old friend Patroclus to come back and for Pat to also make it back to the tent safely.
Pat runs to the battlefield caught up in the sudden exuberant energy that comes from the men seeing who they think is Achilles, he starts to move around in a flurry of blades as the Trojans are slowly drawn away from the Achaean ships and further up-shore. At first the Trojans are managing in their retreat, but they soon get stuck between the trenches that they dug, and the Achaean army led by Pat pretending to be Achilles.
Pat continues to whirl around the battlefield delivering swift slices and puncture wounds that leave men to bleed out on the floor as the fight leaves them and life leaves their eyes. He continues his mission in the besting of the Trojans. Pat even manages to kill Sarpedon on of Zeus’ offspring, who was wearing a magnificent set of armour that several men scramble towards.
Their leader Hector tries to scramble for it briefly before it seems that he is overrun by cowardice himself and leads a retreat back to the walls of Troy. Pat decides to follow and so leads a charge after the retreating Trojans, the teachings of Achilles were not just literature, he taught him how to wield a sword and he hoped vainly that his luck with the sword would let him survive the next encounter even though he knew his hopes to be a fruitless endeavour.
At that moment Apollo intervenes and drove Pat away from the wall. Apollo then persuades Hector to attack Patroclus. Pat stands tall and ready as Hector leads a frantic charge. First to face him is not Hector, but Cebriones, Hector’s chariot driver. Cebriones falls and there is another mad scramble for high quality armour. In the chaos of people franticly trying to claim the fallen man’s armour, Apollo sneaks up on Pat from behind and stabs him.
Pat lets out a gasp in shock he knew that it would happen, but he didn’t expect it to hurt; not like this. Hector then comes forth from the mob for the armour and stabs Pat through the navel. Pat falls to the ground, grasping at the sword embedded in his stomach.
“Ha, take that Achilles you are nothing, compared to me, and now that the greatest soldier on the Achaean side has been handily bested, the rest of your army should stand no chance against our military might and prowess.” Hector taunted to the soon to be corpse of Pat.
Pat lets out a chuckle that soon turns into a cough in which blood is sprayed from his mouth and starts to dribble down his chin. “I am indeed sorry Hector, but it is you who will die, for I am not Achilles and when he finds out what you have done, he will slay you and drag your corpse in front of the wall for all to see.” Pat says breathily as he cannot get enough air.
With that statement he seems to lose the last of the fight left in him as he falls backwards, sword still embedded in his stomach. Pat thinks of all the things he learned from Achilles, and he mentally apologises for lying to him and dying on him in his head. At that final thought, he draws in his last breath, and everything fades to black.
Patrick awakens to flashing lights and sirens, a paramedic smiles down at him, “Don’t worry hun, you passed out in the university library, so we are taking you to the hospital.” Patrick looks at the roof of the ambulance, knowing what happened was real, hoping that Patroclus lived even though he didn’t, if Gods can exist, then it doesn’t sound too farfetched. He then groans, he has an essay to write and two days to write it. He was in for a rough weekend, but at least he knew what to write on: Masculine relationships in the ancient world.