Achilles cannot make his flashing eyes gentle. “It has never been the will of men, or kings, that steered the world. I judge a man by whether he faces Fate bravely or whether he squirms like a coward. So does history.”

“You think I should not try to prevent the war?” Caesar asked.

“Of course you should try, just don’t imagine you’ll succeed. There’s honor in urging the right course, even when the wrong is set. Many of my old friends are still called wise for their efforts to make peace with Troy. Fail well, as they did, and be ready to fight well once you have failed.”

The Emperor frowned. “I want to hear this from your own lips: you are not a human being born of human parents, but the fictional Achilles, brought to life by divine fiat. Is this true?”

“Brought both to life and back to life.” The hero brushed back the Greek curls which fell around his neck like drops of hyacinth. “You’ve seen the remnants of Troy and Mycenae in museums, as I have now. There was a Troy, and I think I was the real Achilles then, but ghosts forget. We need friends and descendants to recount our glories, speak our names, remind us of ourselves with prayers and sacrifices. After three thousand years, most of my contemporaries have lost even their names, since spirits forget our names as history forgets them. I remember myself mostly as Homer painted me, since that is how men know me now. Thus I am brought both to life and back to life, since I once walked this earth a breathing man, but have never before walked it as the man of myth and verses I am now.”

MASON did not shudder. “And yet somehow you are also a soldier of the World Wars?”

“Yes and no.” Against the gray, imperial marble, the Major’s green fatigues made him look like an invading weed, as if patient Nature had wormed through the stony citadel and emerged, vibrant and fresh, to bring her gentle doom to all man’s lofty towers. “The child Bridger, who made me real, didn’t understand history chronologically as much as thematically. I fought in the Epic War. Three hundred or three thousand years ago, it’s still ancient by a child’s standards. I think you of all people, Caesar MASON, shouldn’t be picky about that kind of anachronism.”

Caesar paused only a moment. “And you also fought Apollo’s future war?”

Achilles tensed. “Apollo Mojave’s, you mean? They were all the god Apollo’s wars.”

It takes MASON some heavy breaths to digest any sentence involving our lost Apollo. “Yes.”

“Yes, then,” the veteran answered. “I remember fighting in Apollo Mojave’s future version of the war too—not that my experience with robot suits and A.I. space gods will help us much down here.”

“Do you have proof you are what you say?”