The Trojan Princess (27 page)

           
When Helenus had left her chambers, Andromache fell upon her bed, feeling
exhausted, not only from Diephobus’ scheming but from the intensity of the look
that had passed between her and Helenus. She brought Hector back to her mind so
that she might not forget that Hector was the only man she could ever love.

*
* *

           
When news of Helenus’ dismissal from the council of Troy reached the city’s
allies, disagreement arose within their already beleaguered ranks. King Memnon
of Ethiopia and Queen Penthesilia of the Amazons had both been slain and though
the armies they had brought to the city’s defence with them had remained, much
debate now ensued as to whether they should remain any longer. Their numbers
were much depleted after years in battle and with Helenus no longer commanding
the armies and rumour rife of King Priam’s madness and the plotting of his
council, their numbers soon dwindled further as regiments departed.

           
Diephobus did not greet this news eagerly and he cursed them as the last of
Troy’s allies departed from the gates, leaving the city once more alone in its
war against the Greeks.Though it was with this bad news that he greeted his
council, he did not linger on the tidings he had imparted to them, for he had
more serious matters to bring to their attention.Now that Helenus was no longer
a member of the council, he had found his power and influence over the other
councillors greatly increased, but there was still a threat to his absolute
power within the council chambers. Polites had sided with him in many matters,
but he was stubborn and staunch in his insistence that Helen should be returned
to Menelaus, and Diephobus did not seek such plans, for he still wished to
marry the golden widow, and he knew that Polites would not agree to such an
affront to his sensibilities.

           
The risk was too great, even though he was sure that he could persuade Laocoon
to vote in his favour against Polites, for if Polites came to suspect that
Diephobus had plotted and schemed - not in the council’s interests but his own
- then he would likely seek to reinstate Helenus to the council and Diephobus
could think of nothing more damaging now that he had so firmly and brutally
isolated this brother.

           
He had thought long and hard of how he could get rid of Polites, and it could
not be done in the same way as Antimachus had been, for Polites was his brother
and a royal prince. As such, Diephobus had put much thought into this and he
knew the time had come to strike, for Polites had reignited discussion of what
was to be done about Helen.

           
Before he could do such a thing, however, the council meeting was interrupted,
and Diephobus at first, upon hearing cries outside the doors, suspected that
Helenus had come to make accusations of his own against him. Perhaps this would
be what he had been waiting for, he thought,; this way he could strip Helenus
of all his remaining titles and throw him into the dungeons to think upon his
loyalties too.

           
He was sorely disappointed then when King Priam swept into the room. His beard
was clean, his walk steady and his face set in a determined manner. There was
no hint of the rumoured madness about his father as he approached.Laocoon and
Polites dropped to their knees, and Diephobus did too, for it was expected of
him.

           
“I have heard of much trouble within this room,” Priam greeted them. “It pains
me to see my council in such discord.”

           
“My king –” Diephobus began, but Priam raised a hand he fell silent.

           
Helenus entered the room too, his eyes focused on Diephobus, anger blazing
within them.

           
“I have reinstated all of Helenus’ titles,” Priam stated. Diephobus tried to
keep his composure, faced with Helenus’ barely concealed triumph. “And I wish
to bring an immediate end to this prolonged matter of Helen’s future.”

           
“I have given the matter much thought,” Diephobus nodded.

           
“She will be returned to Menelaus,” Priam cut across him as if he had not
spoken. “I have sent a messenger to the Greek camp with my terms for
negotiation.”

           
Diephobus opened his mouth to protest, but he knew his father’s word was final.
He had been so close to claiming power and now it had crashed down upon him.

           
King Priam’s sudden and authoritative return from his madness had disconcerted
many within the palace, though for Andromache she felt only relief, not
wondering for a moment how his madness had been overcome, only that he remained
in power and in doing so prevented Diephobus and those who sought power for
themselves from succeeding.

           
Andromache, grateful as she was for the king’s rule once more, felt sadness
that Helen would soon be departing from the city to be returned to her rightful
husband King Menelaus. With such plans underfoot, King Priam had sought to do
everything in his power to proclaim that Paris and Helen’s marriage had in the
end not been sanctioned by the gods and as such Helen was still married to
Menelaus. Though everyone within the palace knew that he did this only to encourage
Menelaus to agree to the peace terms the king wished to impose upon Helen’s
return, many took to this story with eagerness, for Helen’s successful return
to her husband would bring about peace, and the people longed for it.

           
One who was not pleased to have his father returned to health was Diephobus,
and he swept about the palace with irritation, a scowl upon his face.
Andromache was careful to avoid the man. Helenus remained suspicious of him;
and for good reason, Andromache thought, for the brother had sought to claim
the throne for himself. Helenus’ titles and authority had been returned to him
by his father, and Diephobus seemed determined to do everything in his power to
disregard Helenus, even in the king’s presence.

           
A messenger had been sent from the city to King Menelaus, setting forth King
Priam’s wishes for a peaceful resolution to the war that had claimed so many
men from both sides. It was two days before King Menelaus sent a messenger back
with his response.

           
King Priam’s face was bright as he raised a toast in the great hall that
evening.

           
“I have some most wonderful news,” he said, when silence had fallen upon the
people before him. Andromache listened, anxious. “This afternoon I received a messenger
sent from King Menelaus with his response to my own messages. He has agreed to
immediate discussions in respect of bringing about an end to the war, and to
Helen’s return.”

           
Applause filled the hall and Andromache saw many weeping with joy, and cheering
went up from the back of the hall. Andromache glanced upon the royals’ faces;
many were delighted - only Diephobus seemed not to relish the thought. Helenus
too looked troubled, though Andromache felt sure that it was due his distrust of
Menelaus and Agamemnon rather than the thought of an end to the fighting.

           
It was indeed good news, Andromache thought as the applause died down and Priam
set forth his plans to send for King Menelaus so that he might join them in the
palace and negotiate the peace terms in comfortable surroundings. It would mean
Helen would surely suffer, Andromache mused, but what was one person’s
suffering compared to the suffering of thousands? She once more thought of the
prophecy Cassandra had foretold of Paris and shuddered. Surely, she thought,
Helen leaving the city was for the best, and she realised only then how
desperate she was for peace and an end to these difficult times.

*
* *

           
The dungeons beneath the royal palace were dark despite the torches that hung
in brackets upon the stone walls. The narrow passages and even smaller cells
were carved into the rock beneath the ground itself and as such they were
impenetrable, escape impossible except through the entrance, which was guarded
every hour, day or night.

           
It was down this dark corridor that Andromache now walked, shoulders stooped
slightly for the ceiling sloped down the further beneath the palace she went.
Each cell was cast in darkness and she could not make out if they were occupied
or not, unless the captive was pressed against their prison bars, pleading at
her as she passed.

She
quickened her pace, the smell of damp and faeces and despair thick in the air, and
she wondered why Helen had been put in a cell in such depths, for she had
always believed that only the most dangerous prisoners were kept in these
cells, so far from light and fresh air. She thought of the crimes Helen was
accused of – and of the war she had brought about – and wondered if perhaps she
was the most dangerous captive in these dungeons after all.

When
she reached Helen’s cell she picked a flaming torch off the nearest wall
bracket and held it aloft so that she might see into the recesses of the cell.

           
“Who is there?” Helen’s voice called, eyes blinded by the sudden light, for she
must have grown accustomed to the darkness during her imprisonment, Andromache
thought.

           
Andromache lowered the torch and looked upon the golden widow. Helen’s hair was
an untidy nest, unwashed and unkempt, and her nightdress was the one she had
been wearing when Polites and his guards had dragged her from her bed, though
it was now stained. The cell smelled just as the others, and Andromache felt
pity for the woman once a mighty queen now reduced to sleeping in this cramped,
dirty cell with its foul odours.

           
Helen looked at her, her eyes still blinking in the light from the flames. She
came hesitantly to the bars and Andromache did not blame her for being
uncertain.

           
“I wish you no harm,” Andromache said. “I only wished to see how you fare.”

           
Helen let out a shrill laugh, bitter and mocking, Andromache thought.

           
“You wish to see me fallen so low?” Helen asked, lip curling in jeer.

           
“I did not wish this fate on you, nor did I play any part in it,” Andromache
said, unsurprised but hurt that the woman could think her capable of wishing
this ill treatment on another.

           
“I do not know whether to believe you or not,” Helen said, brushing a tangle of
golden hair from her face. “I have no one to trust, no one to help me.”

           
Andromache was silent for a moment.

           
“You will not be kept here forever,” Andromache said.

           
“It already feels that I have,” Helen sniggered. “I am alone in this dark,
lonely, evil place with only the rats and the bugs for company, and they only
stay so that they may feast upon me when I am dead.”

           
“The king is returned now,” Andromache said. “He is discussing what is to
become of you.”

           
“Become of me?” Helen asked. “You people think to decide my fate, yet I am
Queen of Sparta and Princess of Troy. I alone decide what fate I will accept
and which I will not.”    Andromache wondered if the golden
widow had truly succumbed to madness. Helen looked into her eyes and Andromache
felt a flicker of unease at the look upon the woman’s face. She did not know
what to make of such an expression, and shivered.

           
“You need not have come,” Helen said, turning her back upon her. “I wish to be
alone.”

           
“I only thought to –”

           
“You have had a wasted trip down here,” Helen interrupted her. “You can return
to your luxurious chambers and your scented silk sheets, for you have nothing
to say that I would wish to hear.”

           
Andromache wished to impart some kindness to this woman, but Helen was already
retreating into the dark recesses of the cell once more.

           
“You will not be here forever,” Andromache repeated quietly to her retreating
back.

           
Helen laughed, not turning to face her.

           
“I know,” she said, amused. “Though it will be I who decides when I shall
leave, not your king or the poor man’s king they seek to send me back to.”

           
Andromache stepped away from the cell and Helen was swallowed by the darkness.
As she hurried back up the stone corridor, desperate to be out of such a
horrible place, she could not rid herself of the unease Helen had made her
feel.

           
The air grew fresher as she neared the entrance and she climbed the steps to
the door gratefully, rapping hard upon the door and almost pushing past the
guard as he let her out. She drew in deep breaths of fresh air, shivering at
the thought Helen far beneath her in her cell. She turned and Diephobus caught
her arm, both of them registering surprise upon seeing each other and almost
crashing into each other.

           
“I apologize,” Andromache said, “I was not looking where I was going.”

           
“Do not trouble yourself on it,” Diephobus dismissed her. Andromache retreated
down the corridor, and glanced back to see Diephobus being admitted through the
door she had just come from, and he disappeared down the steps to the dungeons.
She wondered who the prince went to visit, but there was no doubt in her mind
that it was Helen he sought.

*
* *

           
King Menelaus arrived in the city of Troy the following day and it was with apprehension
and excitement that the palace welcomed him. As part of the welcome that
received him in the courtyard of the palace, Andromache set eyes upon this king
who had called upon his wife’s former suitors and sailed upon Troy with war in
mind. She thought he looked a tired man and she could not place this brown
haired, unremarkable man as the one she had so feared, so hated for bringing
about war.

           
The Spartan king had come with only a few advisors and he had left his brother,
King Agamemnon, behind at the camp. Andromache felt hopeful when she heard
this, for Hector and then Helenus had both told her that it was Menelaus’ older
brother who sought conquest not peace, and without him she was sure that
negotiations for peace and an end to war would be more welcome to Menelaus’
ears.

           
Andromache and her maids waited in her chambers whilst discussions took place
within the council chambers, and she knew that her maids were as eager and as
anxious as she was for King Priam’s success. She had hoped that peace would
come quickly, but the negotiations lasted for three days, and Andromache feared
nothing would be agreed upon. The palace grew restless, though when King
Menelaus dined with them at the high table in the great hall, King Priam sought
to lighten the mood and Andromache watched as the charade and discussions
continued.

           
At the end of the third day of discussions, when Andromache was beginning to
fear that no terms could be agreed upon, the kings left the council chambers in
a more jovial air than previously they had, and Andromache heard of such
tidings at once, for Philomena had heard of it through a guard.

           
Andromache dined at the high table with anticipation and it was not long before
King Priam announced that he and King Menelaus had reached an agreement at
last.

           
“Our honoured guest,” King Priam said to the apprehensive hall, gesturing
towards King Menelaus who sat beside him, “and I have reached terms that we
both find acceptable. Queen Helen, his wife, will leave the city with him, and
upon her return to King Menelaus’ camp, their ships will be readied for a
return to Sparta with the utmost haste.”

           
The king’s announcement was greeted with silence, for nobody dared to hope that
peace had finally come.

           
“Furthermore, King Menelaus will call upon the leaders of the other Greek
nations and release them from the oath they swore,” Priam stated, and King
Menelaus nodded in agreement as he read the terms. “And they too will set sail
at first chance to return home.”

           
Worried faces creased with smiles throughout the hall, Andromache amongst them,
for everyone knew that this meant the war was over. It was with happy hearts
that the hall dined and drank that evening, for peace was at last upon them and
Andromache could not help but wish her husband still sat beside her to see such
a wonderful sight.

*
* *

           
Andromache left the great hall with a spring in her step as she swept down the
corridors, feeling more elated than she had dared to feel for such a long time.

           
Ilisa was waiting in her chambers for any news and Andromache’s smile elicited
a squeal of hopeful excitement from her maid.

           
“The kings made a truce,” Andromache told her, joy thick in her voice. “Helen
is to return with Menelaus to the camps tomorrow, and they will set sail at
once.”

           
Ilisa threw herself into the princess’s arms, tears glistening in her eyes, and
the two women held each other, letting the wonderful news seep over them, for
Andromache knew that tonight would be one neither of them were likely ever to
forget.

           
“Shall I wake Astyanax to tell him the news?” Ilisa asked.

           
Andromache shook her head, for she did not wish to disturb her son’s peaceful
dreams, and besides, it would be a wonderful way to start a fresh day; with the
hope of freedom.