The Trojan Princess (14 page)

           
She paused before Helen and  felt the concern of Iliana and Ilisa behind
her. They did not like Helen; Philomena had heard rumours of the queen’s past
behaviours in Sparta, and the maids had spent hours gossiping on such scandals
that seemed to follow the queen wherever she went and whatever she did.

           
Before she could speak a kind word, an alarmed cry rang out from further along
the walls. The cry was taken up by another, then another – and soon the whole
of the wall seemed to be a chorus of shouts from the soldiers posted along its
reaches.     

           
Andromache felt panicked at their calls, but did not have to search long to see
the cause of their alarm. Looking out beyond the sandy shore and over the ocean
to the horizon, she saw the white sails of ships. Hundreds of ships had
appeared over the horizon, and it seemed the longer she looked, the more
appeared. Though she could not make out their direction, she had a dire feeling
that it was to Troy they made haste.

           
“So many ships,” Iliana gasped under her breath, clutching Astyanax closer to
her.

           
“An army,” Ilisa whispered.

           
Andromache knew her maids were right. This was the army she had feared, sailing
upon the city that held everything she loved so dearly; Astyanax, Hector, her
maids, and her royal brothers and sisters of Troy.

           
She turned on Helen, who too was gazing out at the ships on the sea.

           
“This is your doing,” Andromache said boldly, fear and anger thick in her
words.

           
Helen looked frightened.

           
“I never –”

           
“These are your husband’s armies, coming to claim you,” Andromache talked over
her, “And if it were up to me, you would be sailing out to meet him already, so
there would be no need for them to set a single Spartan foot on our shores.”

           
Helen paled at her words, but Andromache did not care. She wanted to strike the
foolish queen who had brought this down upon them, but she did not. She
gestured to her maids and stormed away; trying to ignore the trembling of her
limbs as fear, like an uncontrollable fire, threatened to engulf her.

           
The arrival of the Greek armies upon the shores of Troy sent alarm through the
city and the outlying lands. In the days that followed the sighting of the
sails upon the horizon, Andromache watched from the windows of the palace as
farmers, miners, shepherds and fishermen brought their families and livestock
over the terrain to the gates of the city and sought sanctuary within the
walls. The city soon grew crowded, the spare outbuildings and storerooms filled
so quickly that the people flocking to the safety of the city were soon forced
to sleep on rooftops or in the streets. Andromache was not the only one to fear
the time would come when King Priam would order the gates shut and then the
desperate screams of those who had not reached safety in time would drift over
the city walls and chill those who were safe within the perimeters.

           
Hector, fearing civil unrest in the crowded city, had told Andromache that she
was not to leave the palace and Andromache had agreed. The atmosphere on the
streets had changed dramatically upon the sight of an approaching army; the
people no longer seemed so in awe of the royal family that protected them from
strife. And who could blame them, Andromache thought sadly, for it was a royal
prince who had brought trouble to their shores, and yet King Priam had yet to
do anything about it. As far as the people were concerned, nothing had been
done to prevent these armies from bearing down upon them.

           
One of those seeking safety within the city was Diephobus, who had arrived
shortly after the first appearances of the vast number of sails on the horizon;
Andromache had been surprised to see him roaming the corridors of the palace,
and had instantly fallen upon him with questions of Thebes and her people, but
he had been evasive in his answers, and Andromache knew then that he had
abandoned them to their fates. If the Greeks were to attack the town,
Andromache knew what would become of them and she mourned for them even though
nothing had as yet happened.

           
When the ships eventually landed upon the shore, Andromache felt palpable fear
within the confines of the palace. Helen had withdrawn to her chambers and did
not show her face, and Andromache was grateful for that small mercy. Paris did
not have the good sense of his lover and remained a visible presence, to
Andromache’s irritation, and those of the council too, for with each passing
day the mood turned further against the selfish prince.

           
A glimmer of hope, however, came when an envoy arrived with a message from King
Menelaus, whose ship had been one of the first to land upon the shores of Troy.

           
“What does the messenger say?” Andromache asked her husband when he joined her
in their chambers later that evening. “Are we at war? Is there any hope for
us?”

           
Hector sighed. It was a sound that Andromache had heard a lot in the last days,
and it grieved her that her beloved husband should be so put upon because of
the actions of his brother.

           
“King Menelaus seeks a meeting with the council,” Hector answered.

           
Andromache dared let herself hope. If he sought a meeting, perhaps he hoped to
avoid war and wanted to negotiate for Helen’s return. She was sure the council
would agree to that; they would probably throw Paris into the bargain if it
meant avoiding a war.

           
“That is good news, is it not?” she asked.

           
Hector let a smile adorn his lips, and Andromache had her answer. There was
hope. She kissed his smiling lips, running her hands through his hair. Hope,
she realised, was a powerful emotion - perhaps the most powerful of all.

*
* *

           
Andromache watched from the ramparts, along with what seemed to her the rest of
the royal household, as King Menelaus and his brother, King Agamemnon,
travelled by cart from the ships up the shore to the gates of Troy far beneath
them.

           
As huge a city as Troy was, there were four main gates that allowed access
through the walls to the city within; one facing the mountains; one to the east
and one to the west; and one approached from the shore, which was the one
through which these Greek kings entered the city. Andromache watched until they
passed beneath the walls and ramparts and out of sight. She smiled reassuringly
at her maids, for she knew of the terror they felt, willing herself to be
strong. She caught a glimpse of Helen, set apart from the crowd on the wall,
looking out at the sea of ships that ran along the shore as far as the eye
could see. On the shore in front of some of the ships, makeshift camps had
sprung up, seemingly rising from the sand. Upon catching her eye, Helen bowed
her head and retreated inside.

           
In the council room, King Priam wore his most elaborate robes and bowed low
when King Menelaus and his brother entered the room, flanked by a small number
of guards.

           
“Greetings, King Menelaus. I am sad that we must meet under such unfortunate
circumstances,” King Priam said, hoping to placate the man.

           
“Where is my wife?” Menelaus demanded, looking about the chambers as if she
might be hidden amongst the pillars or gathering of advisors.

           
Hector, standing amongst his fellow councilmen, observed the two kings who had
entered the room. King Menelaus was short in stature and though not handsome,
he had a comely-enough face and a mass of brown hair. He wore armour over his
robes, as if expecting the Trojans to attack at any moment, and Hector sensed
that the man had a degree of intelligence at last in comparison to his brother.
King Agamemnon, who had so far remained silent, was far larger than his
brother. He had broader shoulders over a large stomach, his armour groaning
against the mass of flesh it strained to contain, and he had dark brown hair
and beard with a hint of red in its colours, and his eyes were small and
malicious, thought Hector; this man was far more dangerous than his younger
brother. Of the other men, a few of their number looked too noble to be mere
soldiers; their beards trimmed and tidy, their skin too clear and their bellies
too round for common, but disciplined warriors.

           
“Now, now, brother,” Agamemnon said loudly, stepping forward and putting a
placatory hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We did not expect to find your wife
awaiting our arrival with open arms and open legs.”

           
King Menelaus growled but made no other comment.

           
Priam attempted a smile. He looked frail and aged by comparison to the two
younger Kings.

           
“Your messenger said you wished for a meeting,” he said. “And we have much to
discuss, my lords.”

           
Hector did not like to hear his father speak in such a pleading tone, but it
was necessary if they hoped to bring peace to their lands. He gritted his teeth
against this travesty and prayed to the gods for the patience and good nature
to bear this disrespect.

           
“Of course I wanted a meeting!” Menelaus bellowed. “Your son kidnapped my wife!
I want her returned to me at once!”

           
“And if she is returned to you?” Priam asked.

           
“We can sail home,” Menelaus replied.

           
Hector felt a flicker of hope. Agamemnon, however, stepped forward, pushing his
brother aside in his haste to confront King Priam.

           
“Not so quickly,” he said. “My brother has suffered much insult at this
abduction of poor Helen. It would not be as simple a matter as just sailing
home again.”

           
Menelaus shot his brother a curious look, which did not go unnoticed by Hector,
though he again remained silent. Menelaus, however, was not in any mood to
listen to his brother it seemed, for he shrugged him away and turned to Priam
once more.

           
“I wish to speak to my wife,” he said. “Alone. Then there may be peace,
perhaps.”

           
Priam hesitated. Hector knew that Paris would not approve, but he had not been
invited to the meeting and he willed his father to think carefully.

           
“I shall summon Helen,” his father said cautiously. “I will implore to her that
you wish to speak alone, in private. I will make sure she agrees to such a
meeting.”

           
“Of course she will agree,” Menelaus snapped proudly, though Hector detected
the relief in his voice at Priam’s reaction. “She is my wife, she will do as I
command.”

           
And so the meeting concluded. Hector wished that more had been discussed; too
much planning and far too many ships had arrived on the shore to be merely
pacified by one man’s happiness, and he distrusted Agamemnon, who looked darkly
at the conclusion of discussion. He wondered on what Agamemnon’s true motives
were for sailing to Troy and he remembered Laocoon’s words; that Agamemnon had
encouraged Helen to flee her husband with Paris. He was under no illusion that
Agamemnon wanted anything less than war between them, and he hoped that course
of action would not prevail. Hector prayed silently that Helen would leave the
city and do as Menelaus requested when they met in private, for she alone could
save them from war.

*
* *

           
Andromache waited anxiously for the conclusion to Menelaus and Helen’s private
meeting as did the rest of the royal household. It seemed that everyone held
their breath, so much hanging on such a meeting that it was difficult to know
what to do until the verdict had been spoken.

           
Pacing before the window in her chambers, Andromache could put her mind to
nothing, with the thoughts of what might be happening downstairs intruding upon
anything she tried to do. Iliana and Ilisa were both anxious and had spent the
better part of the day wringing their hands together and jumping at the
slightest of sounds. Philomena was not so affected and she sighed exasperated
upon seeing Iliana and Ilisa's exchanged worried looks.

           
“We have nothing to fear,” Philomena said, “We are safe here. Even if it does
come to war, our city has enough food stockpiled to last us years, and nobody
in the history of all the world has ever broken through our city walls. We will
be safe and they will go home.”

           
Iliana and Ilisa looked a little more reassured, but Andromache could not feel
so secure.

Astyanax
knew nothing of such worries and crawled along the smooth, cool floor of the
chambers. Andromache lifted him and lay on the bed, Astyanax wriggling from her
to continue his crawling, his little faced bewildered at how the floor had
become so soft and the surface so silken. Andromache smiled down at him and
Iliana and Ilisa sat at the end of her bed, cooing over him.

As
she looked at her son, she could not think of fear and war – only his beautiful
smile and his curiosity as he found a loose thread in the silk and began to
pluck at it, his little round lips frowning in bewilderment, forcing Andromache
and her maids to laugh.

It
was hours later when Hector returned to their chambers, his face sour and his
shoulders slumped in defeat. Andromache composed herself, wanting him to spare
her no detail in his telling; she might be but a princess, but she wanted to
know all of what was happening.

“King
Menelaus and his brother Agamemnon have left the city,” Hector said. His voice
was bitter, and Andromache went to embrace him but he stepped back. “Paris
learned of Helen and Menelaus’ meeting and interrupted them.”

“Why
would he do such a thing?” Andromache gasped, her maids shaking their heads
sadly from the foot of her bed. “Does he wish us all to be condemned to war?”

“Who
knows what goes on inside the mind of a fool?” Hector sighed. “Whatever his
motivations were, King Menelaus called off all negotiations. King Agamemnon was
delighted by his brother’s decision and instantly declared war.”

“They
command so many men,” Andromache said quietly, thinking of the vast wave of
ships that even now waited upon the shores.

“It
is not only the armies of Sparta and Mycenae that are here to wage war,” Hector
went on. “Menelaus informed us that all of Helen’s suitors, the great kings and
royal princes of most of Greece – and it would seem there were many! – swore an
oath upon Helen and Menelaus’ wedding day to defend the marriage, and now they
have all raised their swords against us in support of Menelaus’ claim to his
wife.”

“All
those men, so many ships – all come to claim one woman?” Andromache could
hardly believe such a thing to be true.

Hector
nodded.

“It
would seem she has a face able to launch a thousand ships in pursuit of her,”
Hector said sadly. “Though for many, I suspect they just wish to conquer us and
claim our lands and our riches; I am certain that is King Agamemnon’s priority,
though he says he only seeks justice for his brother’s betrayal.”

The
room fell quiet. Iliana and Ilisa held each other’s hands, fear in their eyes.
Philomena looked a frightened too, for all her talk of the great walls. Even
Astyanax seemed to understand something was wrong, for he fell quiet, looking
from his mother to his father with wide eyes, though he had no way of knowing
what was happening.