For The Definitive Wonder challenge

Notes: For the purposes of condensing a *very* long poem into something readable in one sitting, a few things have been squished together, or excised entirely where I felt they were unnecessary to the basic story. The book numbers that appear here do not follow precisely the Iliad itself, therefore, because it might confuse people to, say jump from IV to VI. As per Homer's own custom, the Greeks are also called Argives, Achaeans and Danaans, the Trojans Dardanians.

Prologue:

Wrath, Oh Muse, remind me of the wrath of Justin,
The great wrath that flung many men, slain on the shores of Ilium,
Down to the deepest depths of Acheron and Hades' lair.
Sing of the ninth year of the war,
When Joseph, Leader of Men, fighting for his brother's wife,
Won in battle Ashley, son of a priest,
And was forced to return him to the temple,
And the service of Apollo Who Slays From a Distance.
What god then whispered in his ear, and turned his mind to Britney Jean?
For what were his thoughts bent on his own honor,
When he took the prize of his greatest warrior, and sent his men to their doom?
Tell of the lives that were ruined, the city sacked,
All for the love of females and the want of a golden apple,
When Fleet-Footed Justin turned his eyes from war,
And long haunted the beaches of Troy,
Brooding on his glory and his woman, stolen both.

Book I:

In the ninth year of the war,
When for many ages battles were waged on the shores of Ilium,
When the Trojans thought all hope was lost,
Their city doomed to fire and death,
The leader of the Greeks, Joseph, son of Atreus,
Won in combat the son of the priest of Apollo,
Fair-haired Ashley, and sorely grieved his father.
Then it was that Chryses went to his temple,
And slaughtered a lamb, snowy-white,
And wreathed the altar in entrails,
And pleaded his cause before his god.
"Oh Far-Seeing Apollo, He Who Slays From a Distance,
Long have I labored in your service,
Sharing your wisdom with the people of Troy,
And garlanding your temple with flowers and praise.
Now Joseph, Leader of Greeks, encamped long on these shores,
Has stolen my son, devoted to you, and brought him to dishonor.
In peace I went to the Argive camp,
Bringing with me much booty, in robes and gold,
And in laughter I was sent away,
While my son toiled still in the tent of Joseph.
If ever I have won your favor,
If ever my works found grace in your eyes,
Bring now, I beg, a plague upon their people,
And send them down to death and torment,
While my heart is tormented still,
With Ashley missing and enslaved.
Two-tongued Apollo heard his prayer,
And shot black arrows filled with sickness,
And a pestilence fell on the Achaean camps,
But Ashley remained untouched.

Donna, Queen of the gods, wife of All-Knowing Johnny,
Looked upon the Greek camps, and was saddened greatly.
"Oh, that such sickness should befall my people,"
She cried, "when alas! they stood on the cusp of Troy,
Nearly to the very doors of the citadel,
And Howie, who slighted my beauty."
She took herself to the tent of Justin,
Where the warrior lay sleeping in the arms of Lance,
And the goddess whispered, snakelike, in his ear.
"This plague has unnatural causes,"
She hissed, "unnatural means, and too many deaths.
A meeting must be called, of all the forces,
And the cause rooted out, and removed."
She stroked his brow, her gentle caress
Pushing the thoughts deeper in his mind,
And back she flew to Olympus, and the home of the gods.
But Justin, Fleet-Footed, rose from his bed,
And gathered the leaders together,
And all of the Greeks,
Determined to finish their misery.
"Indeed," muttered Pink, a prophet,
"The cause has been told me by the gods,
But I cannot tell you now, for fear of death,
For a great man is implicated,
Who would cast me down and kill me."
"I pledge your safety, then," Justin said,
"For too many have died already, and the cause must be found at once."
Then a change came over Pink, and her eyes rolled back,
And she spoke with the voice of another,
And pointed her finger at Joseph, Leader of Men.
"He keeps in his camp a captive, the son of a Trojan priest
Who holds Apollo's ear, and touches upon his heart.
Ashley must be returned, or the plague will kill us all."
"My prize," Joseph said, "cannot be returned,
Unless compensation is made. For my honor will be stolen
By no one, be he Trojan, Greek, or god."
"Hush!" Justin leapt to his feet, crying, "Think on what you say!
Your honor -- your honor has brought our misery!
Who among us should be bereft instead, so that you find glory,
When every hour men are falling sick,
And the Trojans in their city laugh at us,
And raise their cups in token to the gods?"
"You," Joseph said, eyes flashing, "since you insist
You protect this prophet, and mock me to my face.
Ashley will go back, untouched, to his father,
The very moment Britney enters my tent."
Then Justin started, and raised his arm, intent on killing,
And if not for Gray-Eyed Madonna, he would have struck,
And Joseph would have fallen on the sands of Troy,
Dead at the hands of his soldier.
"You will have three times the glory,"
Madonna whispered, "three times what he takes now,
What you give up. Three times the booty, and the honor,
And men shall laud your name when Joseph
Is a tragic memory of a tragic doom."
Justin stayed his hand, and Joseph lived,
And the order was given for Britney Jean.

But Justin retired to his tent, among the Myrmidons,
And prayed to his mother, Lynn, that she might turn the ear of Johnny,
And make the war go badly for Achaeans while he lingered,
Brooding, and refused to fight.
At once she fled to the great god's throne,
To the father of men and of gods,
And knelt at his side, a suppliant, arms thrown over his knees.
"My son has been dishonored by the Argives,
And now he lingers on the beaches, sorely grieved,
While Britney weaves in Joseph's tent,
And brings him food and honor.
I do not ask you turn the war forever here or there,
For long have you said that Troy must fall,
As the Fates have written it so,
But while Justin waits and watches, let them die.
Let them beg him to return, and fight, and win.
Let them know he is their only hope,
And greatest fighter of the Greeks."
Then Johnny bowed his head, and it was so,
And though Donna fought and argued long,
Until he sent her from his side,
Free of plague, the Greeks still died.

Book II:

Night fell on the plains of Troy,
Black night, robed in satin, dusky,
And Sleep blew gently in the Argive ears,
And winged dreams bore them off from tents and sand.
Then it was that Johnny, father of men and of gods,
In fulfillment of his promise went down,
Descended from Olympus, and brought Joseph dreams,
And visions of ultimate glory.
"Troy will be yours," he said, "if your men are true.
The city will fall, the towers blaze,
And JC will be born back to your brother, Nick,
Who was plucked thence long ago by Howie,
And imprisoned in the iron walls you siege.
Victory is at hand." Then Joseph woke,
And called together all his generals,
To tell them of his dream, which would prove false.
"We must try the men," he said, "for if they're true,
Ilium, Kevin's keep, will soon be razed,
The long war over, and the beauty of Sparta returned."
He called the men together, all the men,
The Argives, and Achaeans, Spartans too,
The Myrmidons, grumbling, came from Justin's tent,
The Mychanaeans came to their king's feet,
The Ithacans, and Nestor's men from Pylos,
Telamonians, and Lokrians, men of Ajax both,
The Tydians as well, all gathered round,
And Joseph raised his hands until they settled.
He told them they were going home,
And leaving JC in the hands of Troy.
Hardly had the words fled from his tongue
When all rushed for the ships, to pack, to go,
To flee from Troy and leave the hostile sands.
Then wily Christopher, striding in their midst,
Raised his voice and ordered them to stop.
"For shame!" he cried, "for shame! Whither do you flee?
Are you not Greeks? Not Argives, not Achaeans,
Are you not men of the Hellespont? Are you not?
So quickly do you turn your tail, when nothing has been won!
For what did we fight nine years? For what fall, dead,
And redden the sands of Troy with Argive blood?
The man for whom we fight, the wife of Nick,
The queen of Spartans lies within those walls,
And your own kings made vows to see him safe,
When long ago they volleyed for his hand.
Would you allow them now, forsworn, to slink back,
Honorless, and shame your homes?
Bring your names forever to disgrace?
For shame! You ought to fight,
And remember the honor of your cities
When even generals and kings think on it not."
"Honor is cold comfort," spoke one soldier,
Jacob, "when our marriage beds lie empty lo nine years,
And sons we left as children are grown men,
Raised by women while we lingered here.
We made no vows," he said, "we break none now."
"No, none," said Christopher,
The cunning man, the man of twists of turns,
"The vows made in the name of Ithaca
Have no binding on the Ithacans, of course.
How foolish I, to think my words as king affected all,
How foolish Nestor, Nickolas, Ajax,
Diomedes, and Justin, Joseph too,
To think that as your kings,
Our promises included not just us,
But all our cities, people -- all of you.
Fly, then. Crawl like vermin to your ships, and go.
Return to homes, and when your women,
When you sons now grown turn unto and ask,
'Where are our kings, our leaders? Where are they?'
Tell them that you fled, and left them here,
For some men still in Greece have honor left."
Then, shamed, the men turned back, and grabbed their gear,
And readied themselves for battle once again.
In this they were mimicked by the Trojan men.

Book III:

In the highest reaches of the Trojan citadel,
Howie, son of Kevin, left his royal chambers,
And made his way down, at last, to the battle.
Raising a cry, he called for peace,
Short-lived thought it might prove to be,
And challenged Nickolas to a private duel.
"Each of us against each other,"
He said, "and to the winner JC, and the end of war."
Then Nickolas smiled, for he knew each man's prowess,
And Howie's skill with swords was not his own,
For Howie preferred a bow and arrow, and fighting apart from the fray.
While he and Howie argued on the battlefield,
Hammering out agreements as to booty to be won,
JC left the hated bed, and joined his father-in-law
In watching on the walls.
And as he went, his beauty filled the men,
And each one vowed that he would stay, or go,
Trojan and Achaean, each,
And all were heartened by his shining eyes.
Was that the face that launched a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
I cannot do it justice in my song, nor tell his smile,
Nor his grace, nor cheek, nor any of his features fair and kind.
When bears, newly woken in springtime,
Ramble from their caves, their tempers hungry
And their stomachs small from winter's long delay,
And snap at each other, with tooth and claw,
Until they find a mess of berries glinting in the light,
And bury their snouts in juices, eating all,
And sun upon their fur is warm and sweet,
With hunger slaked, and the drowsy joy of summer comes once more,
So too did JC bring the men good will,
And aching, also, that he should be theirs.
Along the walls he walked, at Kevin's side,
And pointing to the Argives, far below, told his father who the Greek men were.
"There stand Ajax Great and Small, both of them renowned in war.
There is Chris, a man of many tricks and turns,
Known far and wide for wisdom, and for guile.
At his side you see old Nestor, and with him all his sons.
Lance is there as well, companion of Fleet-Footed Justin,
Whom I cannot find. Joseph, Leader of Men, stands over there,
Watching Nick and Howie banter terms of war.
A great kingdom is his, and many men, and not for nothing did his brother
Hand to him the reins of this long seige.
He left his sons at home, all three, and a daughter
Just as fierce as they, although she holds it close,
And looks as meek as all her sisters when they stroll
Among the gardens of their citadel.
I fear for him, in his long absense now from Mychanae --
Clytemnestra, his wife, harbors bitterness
And his people have a pliant ear."
On he went, showing Kevin generals and kings of Greeks,
But on one alone his eye would linger soft,
And long his gaze returned to Nickolas.
Roses touched his cheeks, like Dawn,
Painting the sky when she rises,
And he turned his back on the fields of Troy.
"I'm sorry," he said, "for this battle,
And all your people slain. If I had known --"
But Kevin hushed his voice, and stilled his lips.
"It was worth many deaths, and many more,
To have such beauty grace the Trojan walls,
And call you, for a year or two, my son."
Then, leaving him, he swept down to the camps,
And swore an oath with Joseph, that the duel
Would be respected by each side alike,
The terms laid out as Nick and Howie chose,
And to the victor JC would belong,
A wedded wife, and neither side
Would battle for his beauty anymore.
The fight began in earnest then, as each,
Gazing at the walls of Troy, saw love,
Saw grace, and JC, lovely, standing there,
And each man vowed to bring him home,
And send the other hastening to his doom.
Desire for JC lent to Howie strength,
And great ambition, and he fought as he had not,
For all the long years of the Trojan war,
And for a time at least, the battle waged
Even on both sides. But finally,
Nickolas proved more skilled at the fight, and drew him off,
And knocked his sword from his right hand,
And held him at the very cusp of death.
Aphrodite, beautiful and great,
Forgot her servant not, nor his hard choice,
And held him dearer to her breast for that.
Now, now she flew down from the mountain's hight,
From high Olympus now she came at once,
And shrouded him in mist, and took him off,
Plucked from Hades' door to his own room,
Leaving Nick, alone, on Trojan shores,
And to the walls she went, where JC stood,
And hurried him to the love despised,
For the sake of an apple, gold, that she had prized.

Book IV:

On high Olympus, home to all the gods,
Johnny took their council, for his heart
Was sorely wounded by the long-fought war,
And much did he desire to let peace stand,
And spare the city though the war might end.
Donna, queen of gods, rose from her seat,
And paced the halls, eyes flashing angrily.
"You would spare these men, these Trojan men,
Who scorned my beauty long ago, when nine years now
You preached the will of Fate? For what
Have Greeks then died, for this? That you,
Capricious, could decide at last it's been in vain?
That Aphrodite might whisk him away,
That Trojan whom I will not deign to name,
Spare him from his doom, spare all of Troy?
Of course, she has her way, while I, your wife,
The queen of all the gods, am yet spurned in my will,
And watched for nine long years my people die,
My chosen people, dearer to me than sons,
And spill their last breaths on these foriegn shores."
"Peace!" cried Johnny, "hold your tongue!
The Fates, I see, will have their way at last,
And as you asked for, Troy will be destroyed.
Gloat not, though, I warn, for many things
Will come from this, things that will please you not.
Aphrodite and Apollo will have their day,
And Eminem will see a city breathed of war,
And all the world shall bow before its might,
And tremble at the Marshian walls of Rome.
Go," he told Madonna, "persuade a Trojan now
To break the truce." She fled,
And found a Dardanian son,
And filled his heart with longing for great glory,
For the fame of slaying kings,
And loosed his trembling fingers on their bow.
The arrow cut through air with whistling speed,
And cut through flesh with violence just as swift,
Nestling itself in Nickolas' leg.
The truce was broken. Joseph called his men,
And Greeks and Trojans, both sides died again.

Book V:

AJ, Slayer of Men, greatest warrior of Troy,
Wandered the maze of the palace,
Coming upon his brother's rooms and JC,
Weaving the story of war upon his loom.
Nine years there were, battles great and small,
AJ glittering in his armor, and Justin too,
Fleet-footed Justin, breathing fear on Troy,
And sending many, scattered, to the walls.
Kevin roamed his citadel, looking down,
Sorrow crowning his face, and Kristin with him,
Watching their children die.
Joseph and Christopher took council, fought, and killed,
And Nickolas, with the Spartans at his back,
But Howie, for whom it all began,
Howie remained in Ilium, a bow clutched in his hand,
And arrows, gleaming, arced across the sky.
Space was left, as well, for fighting still to come,
And battles not yet waged upon the Trojan sands.
It would travel home, with JC,
And grace the walls of his room,
And the horse would be there, woven in,
The flames, and screams, and sleeping Trojans slaughtered in their beds,
And long before that, Justin dead,
An arrow sprouting from his ungraced heel,
Last defense of a brother killed and mangled,
Though no one knew it yet.
AJ passed the weaver, shuddering,
And found his brother reclining, and shuddered anew.
"Our men are dying," AJ said, "and here you lie?
It is for you, your spouse, that long our waters have run red,
Long our people fought, and here you lie.
Does the clash of arms not call to you?
Does your blood not sing with cries of war?
Do you not thrill to battle, like a man, my brother?
Here you lie, and did I not see you in our mother's arms,
A baby, newly born, I would not know who was the man,
And who the wife upon a loom. Come fight!
Kindness and love avail you nothing now."
"I fought," said Howie, "long and hard today.
I battled Nickolas himself, upon our beaches.
Did you not see? But when his sword was at my throat,
And death seemed near at hand, my doom,
From the sky came Aphrodite, to my side,
And she plucked me away, safe, untouched,
And left me here to rest, with JC by my side.
And so I rest. I'll fight no more today."

AJ left him there, shrouded in cotton and silk,
And found his own spouse, Brian, and their son,
Before he went back to the sands.
Baylee, the hope of Troy, played at his feet,
But when his father raised him, the great helm he wore,
The red feathers and the metal at his cheek,
Rendered him a stranger, and the child cried.
AJ laughed, and took the helmet off,
And lo! there was his father, kissing him.
"Someday this all will be yours,
And you too, my son, will bear a shield of Troy."
"It shall not be," Brian said, "not if you fall and die.
The Greeks will fill our walls,
And our son will die, ignominious, slain
For the promise of retribution at his hands,
Though he be but a babe at arms this day.
They will come," Brian said, "they will come,
And they will kill him, throw him from the walls,
And he will lie unburied on the sands, amidst his kin.
But I, I will be taken from home,
And dragged to foriegn beds,
A slave, who once was royalty,
The wife of AJ, prince of Troy.
I will be but a toy for Danaan men,
A prize to point to and say, 'This slave,
He once kept AJ's bed, and now he's mine.'
And I will die there, raped and caged,
Far from my son and the man I loved,
Who deserts me now for battle."
AJ gave his son then to a nurse,
And folding Brian in his arms, pressed kisses to the forehead dear.
"Fight I must, though it be for death and ruin,
For the sake of the city we love.
If I stay here, hidden in the walls, the Greeks will come,
And kill me still, far worse,
And there will be no comfort in my death, no grace,
No hope of the Elysian fields, and battles
Far less deadly than these now.
I'm needed," AJ said, "by Ilium. Though it grieves me much,
The city calls out my name, and I must go,
As long as Dardania beckons."
Brian wept against his chest, but raised his face,
And AJ kissed him then, a touch
Of lips, and tongues, and salty tears.
He took his helmet from the floor, and shod his face,
And leaving the things of home,
His spouse, his son, their bed, their room,
He went back to the shores and to his doom.

Book VI:

On the plains below the citadel of Troy,
AJ offered to duel as Howie had,
And though the Greeks did not trust Trojan men,
Who broke the truce and fought unlawfully,
Man-slaying AJ held his honor still,
And the generals drew lots to vie with him.
The dice were cast, and Mighty Ajax won,
And he and AJ drew their armor on.
All day the battle waged, each man on top.
Now AJ, Ajax now, with sword in hand,
Looked to be the stronger of the two.
Like two stags fighting for the same young doe,
With equal antlers, equal years alive,
Snapping at each other, kicking, biting, harsh,
Their horns locked tight so neither can escape,
And neither twist the other to his will,
So too they struggled on the Trojan shores,
Metal clashing, sword on sword and shield.
The gods on Mount Olympus watched them fight,
The hearts of each god aching for his side,
Donna and Madonna Ajax watched, Poseidon too, with hope.
With hope and fear was AJ watched in turn --
Apollo, Aphrodite, Eminem
All gazed upon him, sole defense of Troy,
And deep inside the walls of Ilium,
Brian held his son and worried too,
And Kristin hid her face in Kevin's side.
Finally they put aside their fight,
And waited for the morning's dewy light.

Book VII:

Rosy-fingered Dawn arose at last,
And with her rising, Greeks and Trojans too.
The trumpets rang, the clash of arms began,
Men poured forth from Troy and from the camps,
And with no gods to hinder or to help,
The Trojans pushed the Greeks back here and there,
Now far, now farther still, along the shore.
Donna rose, Madonna too, at last,
And started to make her way down lofty hights,
But Johnny held her, queen of all the gods,
And shook his head. "You cannot interfere.
Nor would it help to fly to Ilium.
The Fates will have their way.
For now the Myrmidons will join the fray.
Lance will fight, great Lance, in Justin's name.
In Justin's armor, Lance will fight and fall,
Then to the sands where Lance saw daylight flee,
Justin will return and fight anew,
And many Trojan eyes will darken too."
So on the swords clashed, on the spears were thrown,
On Dardanians pushed, all morn and noon,
On until the chariot reached the west
And pulled the sun away, and nightfall came.
Then, thinking to defeat the Greeks at dawn,
AJ and his men camped on the shore,
And Trojans held the lands of Troy once more.

Book VIII:

Joseph, Leader of Men, awaited dawn,
His mind in turmoil at the reach of Troy.
Never in nine long years had they been close,
As close as they were now, so near the ships,
The Greeks last hope of leaving the long-sieged land,
Returning to their wives and sons at home.
At last, resolved to leave, he paced no more,
But turned back to his tent, where Nestor stood,
Nestor wise with wisdom old men gain
From years of living. Diomedes as well awaited him,
And both were certain Troy could still be theirs,
If only Justin, Fleet of Foot, would fight
Beside Danaans once again,
And leave his brooding off, and quit his tent.
Joseph heard the words, and thought of Nick,
Of JC waiting still behind the walls.
He bowed his head, and called for Christopher.
"Take Ajax," Joseph said, "take Phoinix too;
A tutor may request what others can't.
Bring Britney Jean to Justin's tent, and gifts,
Offer him many gifts from me, much gold,
If only he will raise his spear and sword,
And fight with us on these accursed sands."
They went, the woman running at their side
Eager to return, and long they spoke,
Plying Justin's ears with booty, pleas,
With promises of prizes, loot, and gold.
He heard them not, not Justin,
Still enraged. He turned his head aside
And Argives fought without him, and they died.

Book IX:

Among the Myrmidons along the shore,
Lance, great Lance, was tested, sorely grieved,
And now, with Justin's honor back, he ached
To fight again, and aid his allied kin.
Back to the tent he strode, to Justin's tent,
The home they shared for nine long years at Troy,
And grabbing Justin's arm, he pulled him out,
And pointed to the bodies on the sands.
"We vowed protection to these fleeing souls,
To live or die with them, and now they die.
While we do nothing, now they die at Troy."
"I will not fight," said Justin, "While that king
Stays in his tent, his home, and, sorry not,
Sends other generals to offer goods.
Till Joseph's humbled as I was, so long,
I will not join the fight. It cannot be."
"That pride should be the downfall of good men,
So many men as redden Trojan fields..."
"I've been hurting for a long time," Justin said.
"And you've been playing for a long time," Lance replied,
"Toying not with Trojans, but with Greeks,
Our friends, our allies, die, and still you sit
And brood upon your honor -- where is it?
Where is honor, letting brethren fall?
If it were just yourself, but no, you stay,
And all the Myrmidons must stay as well.
Do you not see them grumbling as they pace?
It isn't for your honor, but for theirs.
Let me lead them, if you'll lead them not.
Let me don your honor -- who will know?
Not the Trojans, flying back to Troy.
The ships, our refuge, will be safe again,
At just the merest hint you have returned."
Fleet-Footed Justin tossed it in his mind,
Whether to nod his head, and let them fight,
With Fake-Justin fighting at their side,
And finally he drooped, he nodded, and sent Lance
To the doom fortold to all the gods.
"Come back," he said, "with Argives in retreat.
Follow them not back to Dardanian walls,
Come back," he said, and kissed the armored cheek.
"Come back," he said, "Come back. Come back to me."

Lance took the spear and sword, took up the shield,
And left him, Justin, Fleet of Foot, alone
Except for Britney weaving in the shade.
"Myrmidons!" He cried, "Flock to me now!
The Argives stand alone no more! Come, let us fight!"
With shouts of joy the men grabbed knife and rein,
And rode to battle. Lance was at the helm.
Seeing him, Great Justin, as they thought,
The Trojans fled. Across all Ilium's fields, away they flew,
Driven by Myrmidons, by fear, and Lance.
Seeing them fly, who killed his friends, his kin,
Who slew so many bodies, welcomed death,
And dared to drive it towards Achaean ships,
Lance forgot the warning Justin gave,
Forgot the promise, and the farewell kiss,
And rode his chariot to the Trojan walls,
Where AJ, Man-Killer, AJ, Kevin's son
Wheeled his horse around, and waited there.
Then Lance perceived his error, all alone;
The horses Justin drove outstripped his men,
And none were there to fight along his side,
And help him to return to ship and sand.
Hefting his spear, he rode at AJ, hard.
Chariot and chariot chased each other round,
Spear was tossed, and spear received in turn,
And swords were ready for a final blow.
Like a lion, toying with its prey:
Around a fallen deer it wheels the lesser foe.
The hyena, carrion-feeder, laughs aloud
Hoping to cover fear, and bares its claws,
But cannot match the lion, tooth and nail --
For all its body might scream "predator!"
It is a mockery, eating only dead.
Tossed here and there by tawny lion paws,
It hisses, and it laughs again, again,
It laughs because it has no hope of life.
The lion strikes a blow, tired of the game,
And snaps the scrawny neck, and feeds, mouth red,
And though its hide is streaked with sweat and blood,
Never was there a doubt that it would win.
So too did AJ toy with Lance, poor Lance
Betrayed by gods, by Justin's horses swift,
And by the want for honor, when so long
He kicked his heels and waited on the shores.
Tired of wheeling horses here and there,
AJ turned the chariot dead on,
And raised his spear, and whispered to the air,
"Apollo, Far-Seeing, great and mighty god,
If ever I visited your temple, brought you gifts,
If ever I draped your altar with lambs and calves,
If now my pleas fall on a heedful ear,
Give strength then, to my throw, strength to my spear."
Then with a cry, he hurled the spear at Lance,
And with Apollo's aid, it tunneled through,
Piercing leather and flesh, and struck his side.
Out of the chariot, into the ground, dirt flying,
Up at AJ's face, a final gasp, "Justin!" the warrior cried
And far from home and friends, alone, Lance died.

Book X:

Light fled from the startled eyes,
Breath escaped, and AJ, Killer of Men,
Stripped the helmet off, the shield, the sword.
He pressed a kiss to Lance's brow, his enemy,
His adversary, worthy of the honor,
And donning Justin's armor, left him there.
"Men of Troy!" he called out, "Flock to me!
Fleet-Footed Justin fell, and Man-Killing AJ,
Ilium's last hope, I still remain."
They carried AJ to the Trojan camps,
And though some thought to seek the city walls,
They were overthrown by all the rest,
Glad-hearted, now that Justin was no more.
"Tonight we shall camp here," they said, "tonight,
And come the dawn, while drive the Argives home.
Fleet-footed Justin fell; AJ remains!"
Sadly, Myrmidons rode back to Lance,
And bore him back to Justin, to the tent.
His body stripped of armor, stripped of life,
Mangled by the spear, they brought it back.
Justin took in the body in his arms.
He kissed the forehead that he held so dear,
The face he loved, the green eyes empty now.
"Come back to me. Come back," he said. "Come back."

"Who was it?" Justin said. "Who dared to slay,
To raise a hand to Lance, which Trojan man?
Who was it, tell me quickly. Who must die?"
His mother heard him then, and flew to him.
"AJ it was," she said, "the Man-Killer.
But do not face him yet, dressed as you are.
First let me beg Hephaestus, god of iron,
God of forge and fire,
And I will bring you armor newly-made,
And blessed by the heavens to keep you safe and strong."
Hard it was to wait, let AJ live,
But Justin nodded, and away she went,
Deep into the mountains, to the fire,
To the anvil where Hephaestus worked,
And falling to her knees she pleaded long,
And he, touched by her fears, began to blow.
Hammer struck iron hot, and rang out loud,
And helmet, shield, and armor soon appeared,
And these were on the shield Hephaestus wrought:
Three circles, concentric, and different kinds of men.
Along the outer edges, normal men,
Tilling fields and marketing,
Gathering in squares to cluck and hiss
And spread false rumors all around the town.
One ring in were warriors brave and strong,
Fighting and finding glory, and their swords,
Their spears were dripping bits of blood and gore,
And back home, women waiting long for them,
And wove their tales on looms and tapestries.
Women whose beauty mortals could not dream,
Wives of grace and polish, golden hair,
Complexions silver on the buttressed bronze.
In the center, Justin surveyed all,
Fleet-Footed Justin was placed there himself,
And with a scowling face, and manner stern,
Bearing the very arms Hephaestus forged,
He glared at friend and foe, at all alike,
And raised his spear and shouted for his love.
Taking shield and hemlet, armor too,
Down to grieving Justin Lynn then flew.

Book XI:

Donning Hephaestus' armor, Justin rode
To battle, and the battle paused.
A murmur ran throughout the Trojan men --
"That was Lance; now Justin's back again."
With gleaming helmet, with the god-forged shield,
Glowering from armor and in face,
His very presence sent them scattering.
Terrified, they ran, they ran for Troy,
And wondered if even their walls would save them now.
Born aloft by all his routing men,
AJ tried to fight, but even he,
Man-Killing AJ, final hope of Troy,
Even his heart trembled in his breast
And feared, at last, when Justin joined the fray.
Back he drove them, killing left and right,
Caring not who died, with Lance now dead,
Intent on finding AJ, killing him,
And finding some small recompense for love.
Back to Troy he drove them, to the walls,
Back behind the safety of the gates,
Back where Kevin waited, old, afraid.
Kristin, at his side, took AJ's hand.
She kissed it, the dear hand, now grown so big,
The little hand that clutched once at her breast
And now was stained with dirt and blood of men.
"Stay here," she begged him, "AJ. Stay, my son."
"I cannot," AJ said, "Troy needs you now."
"Tomorrow Troy will need you," Kevin said,
"Tomorrow, and the morrow after that.
You'll be long dead, and she'll need you still."
"Then let me die," said AJ, "let me go
While I am still of use to Ilium.
Wasting away here, pining for the war --
That is no kind of death, not for a man,
A young man, vital, filled with life, with fight."
He kissed his mother's cheek, his father's hand,
And left to fight and make his final stand.

Even then, resolved as AJ was,
He would not fight alone, knew he could not,
But called among the men, "Who'll help me now?
Who'll drive while I Fleet-Footed Justin meet?"
Then with a nod from Johnny Who Sees All,
Gray-eyed Madonna came to AJ's side,
Dressed as brother Trevor, dear to him,
Dearear than all the brothers that they shared,
Than all the Trojans save, perhaps, by one,
Aeneas, brother-in-law but no less kin,
Who in a year, when Troy had been destroyed,
Would transform it to Rome, and rule the world.
"I will drive," the gray-eyed goddess said,
And clasped his hand, and took the slackened reins.
Right down the field she drove him, past the walls,
Down to Justin, waiting with his spear.
Then vanished and AJ, Man-Killer, was alone.
"Cruel trick of Fate!" he cried, "cruel god, to go!
At least I could have died with kin nearby,
To carry the body back to spouse and Troy."
Nevertheless, alone though he might be, he hefted his spear.
"Apollo!" he cried, "for you!" The god heard not.
The throw was good, and strong, the spear struck hard,
But nothing mortal-made could pierce that shield,
And with a clang the spear fell to the ground.
Then Justin took his own spear in his hand
And grinned. A feral look came in his eyes,
And like a great cat, caged for far too long,
Bearing whips and scorn without a hiss,
Paraded round the menageries with oohs,
Until at last the metal rusts enough,
And it breaks free, and falls on handlers. Swift,
It wastes no time with playing, does not scratch,
But grabs the neck at once 'tween two strong jaws,
And rips the veins, and flings the man aside.
So too was Justin, fighting then for Lance,
And such was AJ, from his chariot ripped,
Spear sprouting from his collar bone,
And so he poured his life-blood on the sands,
And died before the city that he loved.
The rage left Justin not, but missing Lance,
He tied the body to his chariot.
Thrice around the walls of Troy he rode,
Screaming that AJ, Man-Killer, was dead,
And he, Fleet-Footed Justin, felled him so.
Three times he roud, three times through dirt and dust,
Then back to Greek tents, dragging AJ on,
And there he tossed him to the dogs to eat
Caring not for laws of gods and men.
Within the walls of Ilium, Brian wept,
And with him Kevin and Kristin mourned as well,
Sad, not knowing why, still Baylee cried,
And all Dardania, for the fatherless boy.
With AJ gone, no hope remained for Troy.

Book XII:

Outraged, Johnny sent swift Erik down,
Where Justin lay, still grieving, in his tent,
And Erik came before him as he was,
Clad in the clothes and manner of a god,
With winged sandals round his ankles tied,
And bearing Johnny's message: "Stop at once.
Kevin must be allowed a ransom come the dusk,
And AJ's body must be born to Troy. Are you so lost
That you would thus defile a worthy foe?
Tonight, enshrouded by mist, he will come down
From Ilium's lofty hights. You'll welcome him,
And give him AJ's body, free of harm."
The god, appearing thus, shocked him from grief,
And Justin bowed his head. "It will be done."
He went to pull the body from the dogs,
And found, oh miracle! the face was saved --
The dogs had touched it not, kept by the gods
From mangling AJ who had once killed men,
And for nine years protected Troy from Greeks.
That night, Apollo lent to Kevin mist,
So Argives would not see who walked with them,
Down on the beaches, midst Danaan tents,
Until, to Justin's tent, he came at last.
Then the mist dispersed, but he feared not.
Great Justin met him, took him in his arms.
"Welcome," he said then, "welcome to my tent."
Kevin knelt then, in the Trojan sand,
And, suppliant, kissed Justin on his hand.
"Fleet-Footed Justin, warrior of Greece,
Whatever you ask for will be yours -- take gold.
Take prizes, women, slaves, take all you want.
Just let me have my son and bury him."
"I ask for nothing," Justin said, "but this,
That ere you bear him back to Troy, you stay,
And let me serve you as befits a king."
He clapped his hands, and slaves brought wine and food,
And there, at Justin's table, Kevin ate.
On into night they dined, Trojan and Greek,
The king of Ilium, the Myrmidon,
Greatest warrior in the Argive camp.
And as they dined they talked of many things,
As though they were not foe, but allied friends.
Until the conversation turned at last,
And thinking of Lance, Fleet-Footed Justin sighed,
And "Pity me," he said, "my love is gone."
Then Kevin, who long had sat,
And eaten with this man as if a kin,
Said "Pity me, for I have kissed your hand.
I kissed the hand of you, who killed my son."
He took up AJ's body, bore him home,
But Justin stayed, encamped, and was alone.