The Trojan Princess (9 page)

           
The noblemen came with their wives, and sons, and daughters, all in their
finest, to present a huge variety of wondrous gifts; one of the wealthiest men
in the city, who had grown rich from ship-building in the docks, presented
Hector and Andromache with a new ship, to which Andromache had gasped, bringing
tears to the old man’s eyes; another nobleman, loathe to be outdone, brought a
chest of jewels for the new princess, and Andromache could scarce believe her
eyes as she looked upon golden headbands encrusted with huge red rubies,
necklaces of spun silver that glittered with green emeralds, and tiaras adorned
with diamonds and crystals.

           
It was not only the noblemen that came; the people of the city gave whatever
they could, farmers brought goats and lambs and horses; millers brought sacks
of corn, and fisherman huge crates of fish, salted and smoked and filling the
room with their aroma.

           
Her royal family, of course, presented gifts too; Creusa and her husband,
Aeneas, presented her with a wardrobe full of expensive gowns of the finest
silks; Polyxena and Laodice gave her vats of scented oils and perfumes; and
perhaps grandest of all, King Priam and Queen Hecuba presented a highly
exquisite and detailed, life-sized golden statue of Andromache and Hector,
holding hands, loving looks upon their faces as they gazed upon each other.

           
It was enough to make Andromache feel faint with the intoxication of it all,
but the guests did not end there. The kings and queens of nearby lands had
either come to the city or sent envoys in their place, and these too presented
gifts, both to congratulate them and to remind King Priam and the city of how
wealthy and how respectful their countries were. From Ethiopia came a host of
exotic creatures, and Andromache fell in love with the long-legged,
pink-feathered birds that strutted around the great hall calling out in soft
tones, their long beaks pecking at the stone floor as if there might be food to
find there.

           
By the end of the day, Andromache was exhausted from the excitement and delight
of the day. There was still one gift left to be presented to her, and Hector
found great pleasure in introducing Andromache to Philomena, the daughter of
Trojan nobleman, who was to be her maid-in-attendance, and join Iliana and
Ilisa as part of her household.

           
“You spoil me so,” Andromache said, smiling at him as Philomena bowed to her.

           
“Does not every wife deserve to be spoiled?” Hector asked, and Andromache
kissed him on the lips, savouring the warmth of him. She did not care that
Philomena, her new maiden, saw and was shocked at the overt display of
affection. For what did she mind who knew of her love for her husband?
Andromache wanted everyone in Troy, in the whole world, to know that she and
her husband were in love and would always be so.

*
* *

           
Andromache found married life both pleasant and wondrous and took upon her
wifely duties with vigour and enjoyment. The household at the palace grew
accustomed to Andromache’s presence by his side and indeed welcomed the sight
of the young couple, so in love that it was plain for all to see, and there was
often talk amongst servants and the royal family themselves that it could not
be long before the heir and his wife bore a child.

           
The princess went to see her husband train with the other soldiers of the
household guard, cheering when he disarmed an opponent or won at swordplay, for
he always won and she would bestow kisses upon him that caused the other
soldiers with whom he trained to look away, fearing they were looking upon a
scene too intimate for their eyes.

           
Indeed, such was Hector’s skill in the arena, and so wise was his talk of
tactics and battle, that King Priam and his council appointed him General of
the Armies of Troy. The honour was a great one and, though he would be advised
by his brothers Helenus and Diephobus, the people knew that it was by Hector
that the highest accolade had been won.

           
A feast was thrown in honour of Hector’s new titles and Andromache sat merrily
by his side, feeling joyous just to be in his presence and to share in his
happiness and his mirth.

That night as the couple
enjoyed the throes of passion, Andromache promising Hector the gift of a child
in celebration of his new honours, the forgotten queen, Andromache’s mother,
alone and bedridden in her small chambers, breathed her last breath. With this,
an unknowing Andromache was silently bestowed the title of Queen of Cicilian
Thebes, as the last of the royal family, and though she did not feel the weight
descend upon her, a great responsibility had now been placed upon her.

*
* *

           
As Queen of Thebes, Andromache’s mother was mourned respectfully as befit her
position, but Andromache knew that nobody grieved in this city for her beloved
mother. They wore black gowns and bowed their heads respectfully as Andromache
passed, but she could see in their eyes that they did so only out of duty and
not out of sadness. Even Hector, who consoled his wife in the midst of her
grief, did not share in her woe, for he had not known the queen. Since she had
arrived in Troy she had not left her chambers, not sent a gift to her daughter
to celebrate their wedding, nor joined them at any feasts. The people of Troy
knew her even less for she had only passed through the city once, hidden
beneath blankets as she rode on the back of a cart, dragged by Axion and his
two men.

           
Iliana and Ilisa shared her grief, and so it was in her chambers, apart from
Hector as he trained or held council, that she felt she could truly share her
tears for her mother. Philomena, though she had bonded well with the two
sisters, had never known the queen and so she busied herself with changing the
sheets and washing the silks, giving them time to grieve alone.

           
As was tradition, her mother’s body was to be burned on a huge pyre along with
her worldly treasures and Andromache was to make the journey to Thebes where
the ceremony was to take place. Andromache had insisted upon this; her mother
would have wanted to make the final trip home.

           
Hector and Diephobus were to travel with her, though she did not like the
company of the sly prince, Andromache made no protest.

           
The journey was so different from the one which had brought her to Troy; she
remembered her mother lying helpless with grief on the back of the cart, Axion
commanding them to keep going, her maids crying in their sleep with the fresh
memories of the sacking of Thebes at the hands of Achilles. Now a plush litter
carried Andromache back to her home, which was slowly recovering from the
attack.

           
She thought of Achilles often as they travelled. He had slain her father and
her brothers and she held him responsible for her mother’s death too. She
willed herself not to think of the warrior, but he entered her thoughts
unbidden, and she hated him with every inch of her being.

           
Cilician Thebes was much as she remembered when they passed through its streets
to the now abandoned palace at its centre. The townspeople gathered to welcome her,
but they did not smile and wave, but wept for their fallen queen. There was no
sign of the attack that had taken so much from her, Andromache thought, the
burnt houses had been rebuilt, the fallen had gone to the afterlife.

           
 The palace was empty and an air of neglect hung heavy in its deserted
chambers. Axion, who had accompanied her, swept the building and found nothing;
all trace of her brothers and father had gone, burnt on pyres by their adoring
subjects.

           
A huge pyre of wood had already been constructed on the outskirts of the city,
by the shore, and Andromache’s eyes could not help but linger on it even as she
tried to push the thoughts from her mind. She retreated from its sights, into
the cellars of the palace, where she and her maids tearfully prepared her
mother’s body.

           
Hector and Diephobus remained upstairs, discussing matters with the elders of
Thebes, who had all but run the city in the absence of a ruler.

           
“Your mother is at peace now,” Iliana said softly.

           
“She is reunited with your father and your brothers,” Ilisa assured her.

           
The words soothed Andromache, for she knew it to be true.

           
As darkness fell, Andromache led the procession of mourners through Thebes and
out across the shore to where the pyre stood, black in the growing darkness.
Axion and his men carried the queen’s body to the top, and as they clambered
down and a torch was set to the wood, Andromache felt Hector squeeze her hand
in reassurance.

           
She watched as the flames took hold of the pyre, spreading with vigour until
it  her mother’s body was consumed, and the people wept, though her eyes
remained dry. She knew that her mother was with her family and she felt eased
at the thought.

           
The flames burned all night and slowly the mourners dispersed, reassured that
their queen had passed to the afterlife. Andromache remained, flanked by Iliana
and Ilisa, Axion and his men, until the pyre was all but gone and soon enough
the darkness became impenetrable as the last embers died.

*
* *

           
It was the following day when Andromache discovered why Diephobus had journeyed
with her and Hector to Thebes. She was called to a meeting between the two
brothers and a group of Theban elders, whom she recalled from her childhood;
these men were wise, but they were not rulers and nor did they have any right
to be, she thought as she greeted them each in turn, still weary and tired from
grief.

           
“As you must know, Princess, you are now the sole heir of Thebes,” one of the
men said, his beard a snow-white, in contrast to his bald head. He bowed as he
approached her, “And so we recognise you as our Queen, and bow to your rule.”

           
Andromache was nonplussed, for in her grief she had forgotten that as her
mother’s sole heiress, the rule of these lands would pass to her. Diephobus
stepped forwards, hands clasped in front of his body, and Andromache turned to
him, weary of what words might come forth.

           
“I beg to differ, sir, but the princess has since been married to my dear
brother,” Diephobus said, his tone placatory, but his manner suggesting
otherwise. Andromache was once again reminded of her distrust of the man she
must called brother. The elders exchanged looks and Andromache wondered if they
too distrusted him.

           
“That is so,” agreed one, nodding.

           
“And as such, as I am sure you are aware, her inheritances are also my
brother's to share in accordance with the marriage laws of this land,”
Diephobus continued, eliciting more weary looks from the elders. “She is our
most beloved princess in Troy now, and her place in the city will surely be
missed if she were to return to rule over Thebes.”

           
“She is our queen,” one of the elders countered, “And her place is –”

           
“Her place is with her husband,” Diephobus cut him off, scowling at him, eyes
flashing, before he remembered himself and feigned a smile for them. “Hector is
heir to Troy, one day to be king of our great city, and as such the princess
must remain at his side. It would be unseemly to allow her to remain in Thebes,
parted from her husband, and after so recently being wed. For how can they hope
to produce an heir if parted in this way?” Diephobus held up his hands in
question and the elders murmured amongst themselves, at a loss as to what could
be done to overcome such a problem. “My father, King Priam, in his wisdom, has
offered a solution,” Diephobus pressed on, “That perhaps another could rule in
her stead. Maybe someone from her new family, a Trojan royal.”

           
“The Trojan royal family have no right to rule over Thebes,” one of the elders
protested at once. “King Eetion would never have sanctioned such a –”

           
“Alas, you mistake my words,” Diephobus feigned horror at offending him, “It
would be a person of dear Andromache’s choosing who should rule in her place.
Of course, all decisions would pass through her, but the day-to-day ruling of
such a small city need not trouble a princess of such importance in the kingdom
of Troy –”

           
“And who do you propose should be this figurehead?” an elder asked.

           
“There are so many of brothers and sisters who would be honoured to take such a
position,” Diephobus said airily, “Perhaps, as I am already here, I could, in
the interim –”

           
“You fancy yourself King of Thebes?” the elder asked, shaking his head. “That
would never do.”

           
“Brother, you speak the truth,” Hector said, stepping from Andromache’s side to
the centre of the room, and all eyes fell upon him at once. Though the elders
may have regarded Diephobus with uncertainty, they did not do so with Hector.
Hector turned to Andromache, his face as earnest as always, “But if my wife
wishes to rule over Thebes, she may do so.”