The Song of Achilles

by Madeline Miller

“Yes. But it is not his fault. I forgot to say I wished him for a companion.” Therapon was the word he used. A brother-in-arms sworn to a prince by blood oaths and love. In war, these men were his honor guard; in peace, his closest advisers. It was a place of highest esteem, another reason the boys swarmed Peleus’ son, showing off; they hoped to be chosen.

I remembered how hard a thing indifference was to bear.

Human sacrifice was an abomination, driven from our lands long ago. And his own daughter. We were horrified

and angry, and there was violence in us.

The crowd shouted its approval—they liked their commanders generous, their heroes bold and lusty.

“No man is worth more than another, wherever he is from.”