A Double Sorrow

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by Lavinia Greenlaw


  V. 1219–1232

  A clearing

  He dreams a dense forest

  A crash and roar

  And the charge of a great boar

  And Criseyde caught beneath its feet

  And how it cut out her heart with its teeth

  And taking her in its arms lay down to sleep

  And how this pleased her.

  V. 1233–1241, IF VII. 23, 24

  Out of sleep

  Now I see clearly

  She will not come. What has she left

  To offer? What subtle pleasure

  What contempt, what perversity

  Has turned her from me?

  What did she mean?

  Nothing?

  V. 1243–1260

  Troilus remembers his dream

  A clause

  What you believe you need to know

  So write. Ask if she has reason not to come.

  If she doesn’t reply you will have your answer.

  If she does then we can read true cause

  Between her lines.

  The prince sits down to turn over the matter

  Of how best to describe his suffering.

  V. 1291–1316

  Pandarus suggests that Troilus sends a letter

  Pages

  My bewildered soul commends itself . . .

  Some time past you left . . . and have not

  . . . This agony compels me . . .

  Two months now . . . day by day I want more not less . . .

  . . . To know why and if you have chosen this . . .

  . . . Still my breath . . .

  Tell me. End this.

  V. 1317–1407

  She cannot say when

  She will come

  As soon as she can and all will be mended.

  He shakes out her words:

  Flattery, promises, nothing.

  The truce is over.

  Troilus starts up like a famished lion

  Who has glimpsed a boar.

  V. 1424–1431, IF VII. 80

  Eventually Criseyde sends a note

  Permutation

  All things are committed to exchange

  And so his grief becomes a kind of strength

  Just as the ground starts to give way.

  The gods have ordained

  That Troy’s every bright feather be plucked

  And that this once great city

  Will go unnamed.

  V. 1534–1547

  The death of Hector

  The hero catches up with his life’s end

  On a muddy field. Preoccupied

  With a man he is dragging by the throat

  He does not see the tireless Achilles.

  Troilus, who has learnt to accommodate grief,

  Makes more room for it.

  An added depth.

  V. 1548–1568

  His heart begins to repair

  With hope almost gone he is restored to love.

  It is who he is.

  He finds new excuses

  And thinks to disguise himself

  And slip into the enemy camp as a pilgrim.

  But who would not recognise him?

  He writes to her often and at length.

  V. 1571–1583

  Her last words

  I cannot heal your pain. I have my own.

  You send me all these pages yet offer me nothing.

  There are matters I dare not mention

  Which hold me in this place.

  I will come but cannot give a date.

  Judge me by my intent and not this letter’s length.

  Speak well of me. Be my friend.

  V. 1590–1630

  Disjunct

  He cannot make sense of her letter.

  It sits before him like the first page

  Of a calendar for a year so new

  That nothing has yet been named.

  She addresses him as if he were a stranger

  With the kindness of politeness.

  He no longer believes her.

  V. 1632–1645

  A clasp

  What brings it home

  Is Deiphebe parading through the town

  The tunic he has torn from a Greek that day

  Which Troilus takes up so as to praise the spoils.

  Remarking on its length and breadth and detail

  He runs the cloth between his fingers

  Which catch on what held the tunic in place.

  V. 1650–1661

  Heartless

  Was this not the ruby heart

  She had given him? Had he not

  Given it back at their parting?

  She had taken it as she might a vow

  And she had given it to the man

  From whom it had been taken now

  To be handed among the crowd.

  V. 1661–1694

  An ending

  This is how she delivers her message.

  I have been displaced.

  Cast clean out of her mind.

  I will kill him or he will kill me.

  Either way may the gods take notice

  And force her to take notice.

  I still do not know how to unlove her.

  V. 1681–1708

  All this he says to Pandarus

  An audience

  His friend is without reply.

  He cannot feign surprise

  So curses his niece and wishes her dead

  But knows it meaningless.

  It’s as if his part in all this

  Has been only to say the right words.

  He has no more words.

  V. 1723–1743

  He seeks the story of his death

  He scours the field in search of Diomede.

  They clash often

  Throw taunts, lob heavy blows

  Test the sharpness of their spears.

  Each draws the other’s blood

  But this is out of their hands.

  They survive one another.

  V. 1755–1764

  That he is slain in this manner

  The battle staggers on through this day.

  No one advances and nothing is gained.

  Running with blood

  The enemies are at deadlock

  When Achilles comes across the crazed prince

  And slits his throat

  Almost as an afterthought.

  V. 1800–1806

  What he notices

  How lightly his spirit escapes his body

  And lifts into infinite space.

  How clearly he can now see

  The scale and alignment of all things

  And that this is the music

  That has lain for so long

  Beyond him.

  V. 1808–1813

  He is his own happiness

  He looks down on what he has left:

  A spot of earth

  Embraced by the sea

  A city

  A camp close by

  A field where men weep

  And he laughs.

  V. 1814–1821

  Also by Lavinia Greenlaw

  poetry

  NIGHT PHOTOGRAPH

  A WORLD WHERE NEWS TRAVELLED SLOWLY

  MINSK

  THE CASUAL PERFECT

  fiction

  MARY GEORGE OF ALLNORTHOVER

  AN IRRESPONSIBLE AGE

  other works

  THE IMPORTANCE OF MUSIC TO GIRLS

  QUESTIONS OF TRAVEL:

  William Morris in Iceland

  THOUGHTS OF A NIGHT SEA

  (with Garry Fabian Miller)

  AUDIO OBSCURA

  (with Julian Abrams)

  Copyright © 2014 by Lavinia Greenlaw

  First American Edition 2015

  First published in 2014 in Great Britain by Faber & Faber Ltd under the title

  A Double Sorrow: Troilus and Criseyde

  All rights reserved

  For information about permission t
o reproduce selections from this book,

  write to Permissions, W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue,

  New York, NY 10110

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact

  W. W. Norton Special Sales at [email protected] or 800-233-4830

  Production manager: Beth Steidle

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:

  Greenlaw, Lavinia, 1962– author.

  A double sorrow : a version of Troilus and Criseyde / Lavinia Greenlaw.

  — First American edition.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-0-393-24732-9 (hardcover)

  1. Chaucer, Geoffrey, –1400. Troilus and Criseyde.

  2. Troilus (Legendary character)—Poetry.

  3. Cressida (Legendary character)—Poetry.

  4. Troy (Extinct city)—Poetry. I. Title.

  PR6057.R375D68 2015

  821'.914—dc23

  2015013575

  ISBN 978-0-393-24733-6 (e-book)

  W. W. Norton & Company, Inc.

  500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110

  www.wwnorton.com

  W. W. Norton & Company Ltd.

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