Odysseus inclines his head. "True. But fame is a strange thing. Some men gain glory after they die, while others fade. What is admired in one generation is abhorred in another." He spread his broad hands. "We cannot say who will survive the holocaust of memory. Who knows?" He smiles. "Perhaps one day even I will be famous. Perhaps more famous than you.

I could have stopped them," he said. The skin of his face was very pale; his voice was hoarse. "I was close enough. I could have saved her."I shook my head. "You could not have known."He buried his face in his hands and did not speak. I held him and whispered all the bits of broken comfort I could find.

Name one hero who was happy.""You can't." He was sitting up now, leaning forward."I can't.""I know. They never let you be famous AND happy." He lifted an eyebrow. "I'll tell you a secret.""Tell me." I loved it when he was like this."I'm going to be the first." He took my palm and held it to his. "Swear it.""Why me?""Because you're the reason. Swear it.""I swear it

Name one hero who was happy.