A to Z: Perfect Patroclos

 

    Today's choice is going to be particularly obvious to anyone who knows me well, as I am a self-described Patroclos fangirl.  I actually have a surprisingly varied selection of works I could talk about, too.

    On top of the prologues of the Atalanta and Ariadne books (the prologues are always set in and around the war), there's Are You A Better General Than Agamemnon?, the failed yandere visual novel I talked about with Deidameia, the play "Pyrrha," the visual novel set in the 1980s I talked about as the origin of Grant Nemo, the failed sci-fi novel I talked about (in the same post about Grant), and all its incomplete spin-offs.  There's also Ilios, my 2011 NaNoWriMo project, but...it's problematic.  😅  In the interests of not stressing myself out, gonna limit myself to just a few sources.

    One of my favorite parts of Better General is that Achilles has a madness meter (though it's a hidden stat), and for the most part the way you increase his madness meter is to separate him from Patroclos.  This can lead to him butchering you, or even the whole camp if the final blow to his sanity is Patroclos' death.  So there is actually a lot of material in there about them (though it's never enough!) and they can have some pretty romantic endings if they both survive the war...

Enraged at having had his concubine taken away, Achilleus left the war in the ninth year.  By the time the Achaian fleet returned to Hellas, Achilleus and his Myrmidons had unified the Hellenic people by conquering them all while the majority of their warriors and kings were still at Troy.  (This saved his descendent the trouble of having to do so nearly a thousand years later.)  Though Achilleus took several wives over the course of his long reign as King of Hellas, he had no children other than Pyrrhos, the boy he had fathered while he was hiding in disguise as a woman on Scyros; it was often said that his wives never conceived because he so rarely went in to them, preferring to spend his nights--like his days--with his faithful Patroclos.  The only serious threat to Achilleus' reign was the arrival of the Heracleidai, who attempted to take Hellas for themselves, but he was able to muster the survivors, sons and grandsons of his allies from Troy (even those who had initially fought against him) to work together to fight them off.  When he eventually died, his bones were enshrined in the same vessel as those of Patroclos.  Pyrrhos inherited his throne.

    ...or...

Outraged that you felt he was ruled by his desires, Achilleus returned to Phthia in a fit of anger, along with Patroclos, who had to spend days of intimate private time to convince Achilleus to spend even one evening in the company of other people, leading the gossip all throughout Thessaly to speculate that Achilleus had no use for anything other than his lover's bed.  Peleus was greatly distressed to see his son behave in such a childish manner, and swore he would not permit Achilleus to inherit Phthia if he did not begin to behave more appropriately, so Achilleus set off to the north with Patroclos to prove himself by conquering Hyperborea.  He never returned.

    ...or...

Achilleus returned to Phthia after the war's end, with many ordinary slaves, but no concubine to keep his bed warm.  Peleus set about trying to find a bride for his son, but Achilleus consistently rejected them all, and by the time Peleus died of old age, it was clear even to him that his son refused to take a wife because he wanted no one who could come between him and Patroclos.  Once his father was gone, Achilleus sent to Scyros for the son he had fathered there, and made him his heir.  When they eventually died, Achilleus and Patroclos were buried in the same grave.

    ...and a fairly romantic one if Achilles dies and Patroclos lives...

Patroclos remained behind when the rest of the Achaian army sailed back to Hellas.  He continued to tend to Achilleus' tomb until his own death, at which time a friendly local obeyed his wishes and placed his bones inside the tomb along with Achilleus'.

    But maybe what's most interesting is what can happen when the Trojan army is rampaging through the Achaian camp in the ninth year if you forced Achilles to be the first to disembark on the Trojan shores, and thus got him killed on day one.

         You make your way across the seething battlefield that is your camp, until you find yourself in the area where the Myrmidons have their huts. You head to the hut of the leader of the Myrmidons, Menesthios, the son of Achilleus' sister. (You recall being introduced to the both of them in Aulis before the sailing and being quite perplexed to see that uncle and nephew were so alike in age that you could not even guess which was the elder of them...though you actually suspected the nephew to be the elder. The tale you were told was that Peleus had been married before being given Thetis as a bride, and that his first wife died, according to rumor due to the jealous intervention of another woman who wished to have Peleus for herself. (Which probably meant she actually died in childbirth, and Peleus had tried to make her death sound more flattering to himself. You know several men who had told tales like that about wives who had died naturally, or through their husband's abuse.))
         Menesthios (who took over control of the Myrmidons on his uncle's sudden and unexpected death when the fleet first arrived in the Troad) is not present in his hut, of course, having long since led his men out to fight against the enemy swarming the camp. Other than Menesthios' slaves, the only one in the hut is Patroclos, who sits mournfully staring at Achilleus' long-empty armor, which still shines brightly, either through years of careful maintenance by his bereaved lover or because the legends are true and it really was a wedding gift to Peleus from Hephaistos himself.
         "Did you need something?" Patroclos asks, looking at you. Though it has been nine years now since Achilleus died, Patroclos' eyes are still red as though he has recently been weeping.
         "I had hoped to stir the men up with a miracle," you tell him, explaining that you had wanted to ask Menesthios to go into this battle in his late uncle's armor, pretending to be his shade risen from the house of Hades and stirring up the men to fight all the harder.
         "He wouldn't do it," Patroclos tells you. "More than that, he couldn't do it. He can't fight the way Achilleus could." He gets to his feet. "But I can."
         You start to object, but are unsure how you could do so without giving grievous offense.
         "I taught Achilleus combat when he was first returned from Scyros," Patroclos informs you, even as he gently picks up the helm, staring at it as if he can see the face of his long-dead boyfriend in it. "Our combat style is identical, even if I do not have the divine strength that only failed him once in his all-too-short life."
         As much as you want to tell him that he would only be throwing his life away in vain if he dons that fabulous armor and makes himself a target for the enemy, you can't. In fact, you suspect he knows that. He is certainly acting like he wishes for death to take him so that he can finally be reunited with the one he loves.
         "The men may not be fooled, knowing your face so well," you say (a problem which would not have plagued Menesthios, as he does resemble his dead uncle, though he is much less pretty than Achilleus was), "but the enemy only saw him the once. They may well mistake you for his shade, risen to avenge himself." You hesitate a moment. "As long as you can draw them out of the camp, that may be enough to save us all."
         Patroclos nods, and begins donning the armor.
         You leave the hut and set about the camp to do whatever you can to put the enemy to flight and save the ships. You do not have to do this for long, though, before the enemy begin to flee the camp in terror. Evidently the ruse is working--or Patroclos really is as skilled as he says. (Honestly, you have rarely seen him in combat yourself, as you do not typically find yourself fighting near the Myrmidons.) Your men are soon chasing after the fleeing enemy, pursuing them into the field.
         You find yourself faced with the choice of accompanying them or remaining in the camp to restore order and search out any enemies who hoped to linger unseen and wreak havoc upon the unguarded camp.
         You opt for the latter, and soon have gathered around you the others too old or wounded to join the battle outside. "All those who can should see to putting out any fires the Trojans lit, and make sure the bridges over the ditch are repaired or replaced; our returning army will need to be able to get back over it at the end of the day!"
         You, too, get to work on restoring order to the camp. Fortunately, the smoke you saw earlier came from one hut only--probably lit aflame by accident, as who would be fool enough to burn a camp they intend to enter?--and it is already extinguished by the time you reach it.
         As you were going through the camp to seek out straggling enemies and bring aid to wounded comrades, you learn that while many of your men were wounded during the battle within the camp's walls, none of the princes were slain, while the enemy lost Sarpedon, the son of Zeus, to Patroclos' spear.
         The bridges are repaired by the time the army returns from the field. In fact, their return is so late that the sun has entirely vanished from the sky, and you can see only by torchlight as the chariots return. The lead chariot contains Menelaos, Antilochos and all that is left of Patroclos.
         Though you had honestly expected this outcome (and suspect it is what Patroclos wanted), you cannot help feeling saddened to see such a fine, kind man reduced to an abused and naked corpse. "How did it happen?" you ask, since the armor of Achilleus should have protected him from most fatal blows.
         "I did not have the best view," Menelaos says, as he steps down out of the chariot, "but it appeared as though his armor was removed from his body by some unseen hand while he still lived." He shakes his head sadly. "He tried to flee his foes after that, but he had gotten too far ahead of us, and the enemy were able to kill him despite our attempts to save him."
         "It is a terrible loss for us all," you say, because what else can you say? Antilochos is weeping piteously, and he was one of the closest of Patroclos' friends. In the face of Antilochos' grief, you can't say what you really think, that he wanted to die this way, and is happier now.

        There are also variations where you can reverse canon to see Patroclos mourning at Achilles' funeral.

         Shortly before the funeral is to begin, loud wailing heralds the arrival of new mourners from the sea: approaching the sound you see a dozen or more beautiful women walking out of the water, led by the most beautiful of them all, her face already streaked with tears even before it has dried from the sea water. You remember Thetis from when she brought her son the new armor that failed to save his life, but are still swept away by her sheer beauty. Thetis and her sisters enter Achilleus' hut and chase out all his servants, slaves and mourners, except for his lover, Patroclos.
         You leave them to prepare the body for the funeral pyre (what other reason could they have had to go into his hut, you reason), and set about finishing the other preparations, including the building of the pyre and readying the funeral feast.
         You have barely finished when Thetis and the other Nereids bring out the body in procession, followed by his lover, then by his Myrmidons. Thetis herself places the body on the bier, weeping copiously as she does so.
         You allow Patroclos to make a speech before the feast begins. He speaks of what a great man Achilleus was, not only on the battlefield, but also of his great kindness and gentleness off of it. (You suspect that this is a side of Achilleus that either Patroclos' excessive fondness has dreamed up or that was never shown to anyone except Patroclos. Certainly you never saw anything gentle or kind about Achilleus.) At the conclusion of his speech, Patroclos shears off his hair in mourning, and places it in Achilleus' hands before returning to join the other mourners.
         The speech over with, you start the feast, but no one is in a festive mood, and people seem to get so little pleasure from the feast that you feel sorry for the animals that had to give up their lives for it, as you might as well have been serving sand, for all the response the food is getting. The mood is particularly soured by the way Patroclos weeps even more than Thetis, going so far as to refuse food in his great grief.
         When the feast is over, Patroclos lights the pyre, and everyone but the most close mourners departs to take an evening's miserable rest.
         In the morning, you watch helplessly as Patroclos collects Achilleus' bones to place in the golden amphora provided by Achilleus' mother. After the bones are deposited in the amphora, you supervise the erection of an impressive barrow, in which the amphora is placed with due ceremony.

    Following up on that, you can even elect to give Achilles' armor to Patroclos rather than to Aias or Odysseus!

         You look at the two claiming the armor and sigh, shaking your head. "It is not that either of you are undeserving of the armor, but I believe Achilleus would prefer another receive it." You turn to look at Patroclos. "I think he would want you to have it," you say, "or at least to decide which of these men should have it."
         "I don't think I could ever be worthy of wearing his armor," Patroclos says with a sad sigh, "and I believe both of these men are far more worthy than I am. But...I...I don't know if I can...I should like to hold onto it for a little while, if I may be forgiven for such selfishness."
         Though neither claimant (or anyone else, for that matter) looks particularly pleased by what Patroclos says, no one voices any objection, either, and you consider the matter settled.

    But enough about the game!

    Although the prologue of the first couple of Atalanta and Ariadne books take place after Patroclos' death, from books three through five he features heavily in the prologue.  (Books six and seven have prologues focused around other characters entirely; not even Achilles is in those prologues.)  As it's the most recently written of them (and the book five prologue, which is probably my favorite, will come up later this month), I want to talk about the new prologue for book four.

    Because book four has the power of the written word as one of its central themes, the original prologue was focused on the only place writing is even mentioned in the Homeric epics:  the tale of Bellerophon in the section of the Iliad known as the "Deeds of Diomedes."  But that meant basically all I was doing was paraphrasing that section of the Iliad and putting my own spin on it to try and counteract the misogynistic aspect of Bellerophon's story.

    That, um...was not good.  I mean, I liked my counteraction of the misogyny, but the rest of it was dull as dishwater.  After starting on the process of rewriting the whole series, I many times tossed around ideas in my head about how to replace that prologue.  And I especially wanted to focus more heavily on the love shared between Achilles and Patroclos in it, since that has become more and more important to me as the years have passed.

    My first replacement prologue was...um.  I think "Yikes" is the best way to sum it up, honestly.  I wanted to bring up one of the other themes of the novel, and the best place to do so seemed to be directly upon Achilles' return to Phthia from Scyros.  When he's like barely past puberty.  So focusing on their relationship then was...creepy.  At best.  I don't think I even finished writing that version before giving up on it in disgust.

    I rejected a few other versions out of hand for similar reasons before I decided to make the connection to the novel's themes a bit more faint.  That allowed me to write something I'm very pleased with, though it may not seem as relevant to the rest of the novel as most of the others do.  (Book five's prologue connects especially beautifully, I think, though part of the connection only becomes apparent late in the novel.)

    Anyway, I wanted to quote part of it because I think it especially highlights a large part of how I characterize Patroclos in my writing.  This is the very opening of the prologue, which is set at an unspecified point in the war, but probably only a few months before the events of the Iliad.  (Content warning:  period-appropriate misogynistic attitudes towards menstruation)

            As he accompanied the two women through the camp, Patroclos found himself incapable of ignoring the stares and smirks of the men they passed.  He did his best to convince himself that they were mocking him for the indignity of walking between two women—two slaves—while they were bleeding, putting him so close to their contamination.  All those men couldn’t be laughing because they were seeing the proof that one more month had passed without Achilles fathering a child on Briseis.  They couldn’t be so cruel, surely!
            “I’m sorry.”  Iphis’ quiet words cut through the routine sounds of early morning in the camp.
            Patroclos looked at her curiously.  “What could you have to apologize for?” he asked.  She wasn’t even the one whose blood was obvious on her skirt!
            “I still haven’t given you a son,” she answered, her eyes moist with shame.
            He laughed, and set a gentle arm about her shoulders, no matter what mockery the gesture was sure to provoke among his comrades-in-arms.  “That can’t be said to be your fault!  Not when the battlefield leaves me so exhausted I barely have the energy to lie with you above one night in twenty.”  The energy or the interest.  Iphis was a nice enough girl, but…  “Only a god could get you with child in such circumstances.  And unlike the princes among our number, I haven’t a drop of divine blood in me.”
            Iphis smiled charmingly, and her cheeks flushed as she looked back into his eyes.  “I think you are a far better man than any of them.”
            “For love of the gods—and for the sake of my safety!—don’t let anyone hear you say such things!” Patroclos hissed.  “If anyone heard you, it could be my head!”
            That made Briseis laugh.  “Achilles would never allow that,” she assured him.
            “Well, no, but…”  Having Achilles risk harm—or death!—to protect him would be as unacceptable to Patroclos as it had been to the princess of Mycenae…

    (In case you're wondering, btw, yes, my online handle is the name of the Iphis in this passage.  She's only mentioned once in the Iliad in passing, but she's also the only person other than Achilles we know to have had any share of Patroclos' physical affection.  Most of my other online handles are PyrrhaIphis, in order to identify myself as both his known partners.  As I said, I'm a self-identified Patroclos fangirl.)  And then towards the end of the prologue, this happens:

            “Hard to believe we’re all fighting and dying for [Helen] no matter what her eyes are like,” Patroclos sighed.  One man’s adulterous wife is such an idiotic reason to get so many people killed!
            “I won’t be dying for her,” Achilles insisted, letting go of Patroclos’ hand in order to stroke his cheek.  “I’ll only die for someone I love.”
            Patroclos wanted to say that he, too, would die for the one he loves—how could he not, when he wouldn’t even be here daily risking death except for his love for Achilles?—but somehow his mouth wouldn’t work.  All he could do was silently stare back into Achilles’ beautiful blue eyes, as warm and deep and dangerous as the sea itself.
            They remained silent and motionless until several of the hounds barged into the hut and started nudging them for affection—or food.  “Ah, that reminds me, you haven’t eaten yet!” Patroclos exclaimed, as Achilles started cursing the grooms for not feeding his dogs.  “I’ll get something right away!”
            “I’m not really hungry,” Achilles insisted, grabbing his wrist before Patroclos could get back to his feet.  “Not for food,” he added, his eyes connecting with Patroclos’ and holding them captive.  The gaze and the words sent a heat surging through Patroclos’ bones that was all but impossible to resist.

    These passages, I think, highlight what I consider to be one of his defining features:  he devotes himself so fully to the one he loves that all matters in his life are filtered through that love and only considered in view of how they impact the objection of his affection.  It seems highly unhealthy, honestly, but that's the impression I get of their relationship in the original myths.

    If I started really digging into my old and unfinished writing, I could go on all day and then some about my various versions of Patroclos, but that was, after all, one of the reasons I wanted this A-to-Z to focus on characters in things I've actually released online (or will eventually release), to put a more definite "stop here" point on posts like this one. 😅  That being said, I'll just post one more quote, in a visual form, from the Mo Dao Zu Shi fanfic that features the lead of that novel being reincarnated in modern times, with all his memories, and joining an online chat group of other people who remember one or more past lives.  A group where the moderators are reincarnations of Achilles and Patroclos (and even using ancient art of themselves for their icons!)

    So, yeah.  There you have it.  Now, links.  Most of my released fiction that involves Patroclos can be found on AO3, including the play "Pyrrha," a short story called "The Hittite Prisoner" that would have been the prologue to the unnecessary eighth book in the Atalanta and Ariadne series, and a sequence of poems on Greek mythological subjects, one of which is directly about Patroclos and another includes him.  (This link has the benefit that once The Martial Maenads is released in its text-only form, it'll be there, too.)  There is also the MDZS fanfic that the picture above is from (though I'm not sure how much sense it would make to those who don't know MDZS), which is here.  For my interactive works involving Patroclos, there's Are You A Better General Than Agamemnon?, quoted extensively above, and A Song of Warriors, my futile attempt to retell the Iliad in a 1980s rock and roll setting.  Later on, there will be the interactive version of The Martial Maenads, but it's still not ready for release yet.  Finally, there are a number of posts here on this blog about him, if you want to go over to the tag cloud and click on his name.  😁