down on the mattress and made himself comfortable, again with his face averted. The instant rise and fall of his back hinted that he might be sleeping; this was probably the case, but she couldn’t take the risk. The only way to see the text was to lift the book up to eye level, with her arms at right angles. The cramp came quickly, but she had no option other than to try and ignore it.
Achilles, interrupting Agamemnon, shouted:
‘I’d be called a coward, a nobody,
if I held back from any action
because of something you might say.
Order other men about. Don’t tell me
what I should do. I’ll not obey you any more.
But I will tell you this – remember it well –
I’ll not raise my hand to fight about that girl,
no, not against you or any other man.
You Achaeans gave her to me, and now,
you seize her back again. But you’ll not take
another thing from my swift black ship –
you’ll get nothing else with my consent.
If you’d like to see what happens, just try.
My spear will quickly drip with your dark blood.’
Kathryn fought to maintain the unnatural position, struggling against the desire to wrench herself free from the silk binds. She was grateful for one thing: with his face averted, she could cry silent tears as she sounded aloud the words into the dawn.
The alarm as usual heralded the start of another day. Her eyes, red and aching, were running; she was no longer consciously crying, but it was as if her very soul was shedding tears. Her speech was slurred with the confusion of a drunkard. Her cramped muscles and painful limbs had simply numbed themselves, and to move even slightly was agony.
Her husband almost sprang from the bed and performed an elaborate stretch whilst yawning to indicate a sleep well had. He walked slowly over to the chair and untied the silk scarf. Her head fell forward involuntarily and felt surprisingly light and unstable, as if her neck had forgotten how to support its weight unaided.
Mark reached for her hand and helped her stand. As her legs became separated from the raffia, the pain was intense, as though her skin and the chair base had become fused and to remove one from the other meant undergoing the agony of dissection.
‘Come.’
He gave the usual command, the one word with which he could summon or direct. She followed his lead, too weak in every sense to protest or resist. He laid her face down on the bed and took his pleasure in his usual violent way. With her body prostrate against the mattress, her face felt the softness of the pillow and she fell into a deep sleep that rendered her immobile and removed from what was occurring.
He tapped her cheek with his palm, rousing her into consciousness.
‘Shower time for me and you must get breakfast for the children. We are running a couple of minutes behind schedule and so no shower for you today, Mrs Sleepyhead.’
Kathryn stripped the bed and stepped into her clothes, exhaustion rendering her weak and unsteady. She teetered on the stairs and had to clasp the banister rail to ensure she didn’t fall. She put the bedclothes into the washing machine and started to lay the table, fishing around in the cupboard like a blind woman groping for cereal boxes, bread, honey and anything else that she considered necessary for a good start to the day.
Dominic was the first to appear. She looked at him and waited for his comment. She searched for her happy voice, for that false brightness that dispatched her children each morning with a sense that all was right with the world. But try as she might, she couldn’t find it.
‘Oh my God! You look like total shit.’
She nodded and fought to swallow the tears that had gathered behind her swollen eyes. Still no words came. She implored him with her eyes: Please, Dominic, please be kind to me today.
‘What’s going on, are you ill, Mum? Is that what this is?’
‘Yes, probable.’
She had meant to say more, she had meant to say ‘probably’, but the exhausted state in which she was trying to function made even the smallest of tasks impossible.
Her son took a seat at the table. Kathryn reached for the teapot and poured clear hot water into his mug.
‘You forgot to put the tea bags in.’
Dominic stared at her with a lack of understanding and something bordering concern.
‘It’s okay, Mum, I’ll do it.’
He stood and emptied the water into the