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Cygnus
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The great and terrible war between the Greeks and the people of Troy had just begun.
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A fleet of Greek ships had dropped anchor.
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Warriors armed to the teeth were wading ashore.
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The people of Troy knew this army had come to attack their city.
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The Trojan men sharpened their swords,
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they harnessed horses to chariots,
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they seized helmets and shields and strapped on breastplates.
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The bronze gates of their city were thrown open and the Trojan army poured across the plain with a whirring of wheels,
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a creaking of chariots,
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a neighing of horses,
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a shouting of men and a thundering of hooves and feet.
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With a crash of bronze against bronze,
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the Trojans met the Greeks.
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And striding among the Trojan soldiers was a warrior called Cygnus.
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He stood head and shoulders above all other men.
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His skin was charmed against the striking of all weapons;
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sword, dagger, spear, arrow and battle axe.
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He was a son of Poseidon, the god of the sea.
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He was white skinned, white lipped, white tongued,
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as white as sea foam.
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He cut down Greeks with every stroke of his sword,
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with every thrust of his spear,
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while the Greeks’ swords buckled against his skin and Greek spears glanced from him as if glancing from stone.
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He left a wake of dead behind himself as he fought.
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Among the Greeks was their fiercest warrior: Achilles.
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As soon as his eyes fastened on Cygnus,
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he came bounding across the battlefield towards him,
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as though he was running through long grass.
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When he drew close to Cygnus, he lifted his spear.
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‘Know it was Achilles who killed you.’
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With all the strength of his arm,
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he hurled his spear.
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It struck Cygnus’ throat and clattered down to the ground at his feet,
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as though it was a reed that had been thrown by a little boy.
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Cygnus lifted both his arms and laughed.
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‘Throw another one my little friend.
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I know who you are.
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You’re Thetis’ son.
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But I’m no more afraid of you than of a mosquito that I might smear across my arm.
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From head to foot,
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I am charmed against the striking of all weapons.’
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Achilles drew his bronze sword then and attacked Cygnus.
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He leapt and twisted,
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cutting and slashing with his sharp-edged blade,
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until Cygnus’ armour hung from his body like a shattered egg-shell.
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But still the white skin was unscratched and still Cygnus laughed at Achilles.
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And then he lifted his own spear and he threw it.
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He threw it with such force that Achilles staggered backwards.
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The blade had penetrated the gold of his shield.
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It had penetrated nine layers of hardened ox-hide.
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But then Achilles caught his balance and smiled grimly,
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and it was as though in that moment he’d solved a riddle.
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He curled his lips back from his teeth and screamed.
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He leapt and smashed his shield into Cygnus’ face.
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He ground the boss of his shield to the left and the right until Cygnus’ nose was smeared across his cheek and his teeth were shattered.
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Cygnus fell backwards and Achilles knelt on his shoulders.
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‘If weapons won’t harm you,
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what will armour do?’
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He tore the helmet from Cygnus’ head and wrapped the helmet straps around his throat.
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He tugged and twisted and tightened the tourniquet until Cygnus’ head was half torn from his shoulders and every last shudder of life was gone from him.
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Splattered with blood and shrieking with laughter,
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Achilles leapt to his feet.
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The Trojan army stood and stared at him, appalled.
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And then a strange thing happened.
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The twisted, broken neck of Cygnus began to stretch and to curve.
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His face narrowed.
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His mouth stretched and hardened into a beak.
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White feathers pushed through his white skin.
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His father Poseidon had taken pity on him and had transformed him into a swan.
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He beat his feathered arms against the air and the shattered eggshell armour fell from his body.
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He flew up and up and up into the sky,
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high above the battlefield.
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Every warrior stared up at him.
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There was no sound but the sighing and the soughing of his wings.
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Three times he circled above both armies and then he flew over the white sands,
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over the masts of the ships,
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over the blue waves of the sea.
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And he was gone.