The Trojan Princess (20 page)

           
The people of Troy mourned and wept as Hector’s body was carried through the
streets towards the great pyre that had been constructed outside the temple in
the courtyard to its fore. Andromache held Astyanax’s hand and willed him to be
strong, for it would not do for the people to see their beloved Astyanax, son
of the heir, weeping like a babe. He remained brave, squeezing his mother’s
hand for strength, and Andromache squeezed back, for she sought strength too.

           
The entire royal family made the procession, adorned in all their finery out of
respect, Paris and Helen amongst them, and Andromache longed to throw herself
at Paris, scratch his skin and his eyes until he were but a corpse, hideous and
unsightly, but she did not. When he looked to her, his sad, mournful eyes
seeking her forgiveness for bringing about this war, and hence Hector’s death,
Andromache could bring herself to grant it and she turned from him in disgust.

           
When the body had been laid upon the pyre, the fire was lit and Andromache
watched as her husband was consumed within the flames. Hector's spirit was
borne up to the gods with the smoke to be freed from his torment and to seek
peace in the afterlife, where Andromache knew that she would be reunited with
him once more.

*
* *

           
The days the followed were ones of grief for Andromache, for although her
husband had been laid to rest properly, as befit a prince and heir of their
great city, she was still as yet unaccustomed to eating at the high table
without him by her side, nor waking up to find his side of the bed cold and
unslept upon.

           
It was also in these days that discussions arose as to what was to become of
Hector’s titles now that he no longer lived. Andromache paid little heed to
these negotiations, for she knew that King Priam wished her son to remain Heir
Apparent, despite his youth, and Andromache knew that this was what Hector
would have wanted.

           
Paris and Diephobus both sought to influence the king’s decision in this
respect, and Andromache had to watch and listen as the two brothers who claimed
to have loved Hector so sought to steal the crown from his son’s brow. Paris,
the second son, would be the natural choice for heir, but King Priam was
dismissive of this at once. Diephobus too had a claim, but King Priam and
Andromache both remembered how he had failed the lands of Cilician Thebes and
deserted them upon the start of war, leaving them to be captured and
slaughtered instead of helping to protect them.

           
It was with great uncertainty then that Andromache hoped for King Priam to live
for many more years, until her son was old enough and wise enough to take the
crown and throne from him when Priam passed. Priam assured her that he would,
and Andromache thought his words had an air of truth, for after all, she had
not believed it possible that the man could persuade Achilles to return her
husband’s body and yet he had succeeded.

           
As Hector had been a wealthy man and had been honoured with a great many other
titles besides royal Heir Apparent, it fell to the council and the king to
decide upon whom they should now be bestowed. His wealth and possessions all
passed to Andromache, who accepted the news with quiet dignity. His various
titles were passed out amongst the council and other noblemen of the city.
Helenus was appointed General of the Trojan Armies, and he sought Andromache’s
counsel when he had left the meeting in which it had been decided.

           
“I have some news to impart to you,” Helenus said, bowing his head to her, for
he recognised that as the mother of the Heir Apparent, her status was now
greater than his or his other royal siblings. Andromache beckoned him closer as
she sat upon her seat in Astyanax’s room, awaiting his return from training.
“The council has appointed me General.”

           
“Congratulations,” Andromache said.

           
“I sought to tell you myself,” Helenus said quietly, “And I wished to hear your
thoughts on the appointment.”

           
Andromache was surprised, for she was no member of the council and her opinion
on such matters did not matter. Yet Helenus looked at her with anticipation,
and she was reminded of how highly Hector had thought of this wise, kind and
gentle brother of his. He reminded her of Hector at times, she thought; he had
strength and wisdom, a trait she could not have used to describe all of the
royal princes.

           
“My husband often spoke very highly of your skill on the battlefield and of
your mind of tactics,” Andromache said, and she saw Helenus’ cheeks flush with
pride. “I think he would be very pleased with your appointment, as am I.”

           
Helenus bowed his head again, pleased with her words.

           
“I thank you,” he said, and swept from the room.

           
Andromache watched him go and knew that Hector would indeed have been pleased
that Helenus, of all his brothers, would be in charge of defending the city.

           
She hoped, as she heard Astyanax and her maids’ laughter coming from down the
corridor, that Helenus would be granted more good fortune than her husband had
in this terrible war.

*
* *

           
With life within the palace and the city returning to normal following the
grieving for their beloved Hector, Andromache found herself increasingly
seeking isolation, and so she spent most of her days alone in her chambers,
looking out of the window upon the sea, or lying in her bed, eyes closed,
dreaming of the days when her husband had lived. The Greeks, supposedly at
Achilles’ command, had ceased war for seven days, to allow the city to grief.
Now the funeral games and feasts had stopped, war had recommenced. Anxiety and
fear once more consumed the city, but it did little to permeate Andromache’s
grieving.

Then
one bright morning, Andromache was torn from the throes of her grief by a
disturbance within the palace. A woman shrieked, and sobs echoed through the
corridors so that she was drawn from her solitary mourning out of her chambers
and down the stairs, following the sounds of the commotion. She froze.

           
Polyxena stood in the courtyard, her robes drenched in blood, her hair a mass
of tangles and tears streaming from her eyes, cheeks flushed and knees bruised.
Guards were gathering around her, and her sisters bore down upon, clutching her
to them.

           
“What has happened?” Helenus demanded as he came upon the scene.

           
Andromache felt a sense of authority from the prince, and was reminded of
Hector.

           
“Troilus has not returned with her,” Laodice said, her voice worried. “They went
down to the riverside together, and only Polyxena has
returned.”           

           
“And in this state,” Creusa said, gesturing to her, panicked. She turned to her
younger sister, clutching her by the shoulders and giving her a gentle shake.
Polyxena seemed dazed but met her sister’s eyes, though they were thick with
tears.

           
“Where is Troilus?” Creusa asked, her voice soft but clear. “What happened to
you?”

           
“Achilles,” Polyxena answered.

           
Andromache’s blood ran cold at the mention of the name. Helenus exchanged dark
looks with Diephobus and Polites.

           
“Scouts had been sent ahead – we were so sure it was safe. We were walking by
the river, and he came upon us with a few of his men,” Polyxena continued,
wiping at her eyes with shaking hands. “Achilles took one look at Troilus and
fell upon him.”

           
“Fell upon him?” Creusa repeated.

           
“At first he did not wish to hurt him, I saw it in his eyes,” Polyxena said.
“Achilles – he was overcome with lust for Troilus, he tried to – tried to –”
She was overcome with tears. Creusa gave her another gentle shake. “He tried to
rape him,” Polyxena finished eventually. A chill descended over the courtyard.
“Troilus fought him off and fled, and Achilles’ lust turned to anger. He
pursued him and slaughtered him.”

           
“Troilus is dead?” Helenus asked, shocked.

           
Polyxena nodded.

           
“He beat him to death,” Polyxena cried. “I think he thought to destroy the
beauty that had so drawn him to Troilus in the first place.”

           
“How did you escape?” Helenus asked, stepping closer to his sister. Creusa
maintained her clasp on her sister’s shoulders.

           
“Achilles turned and seemed to notice me for the first time,” Polyxena said.
“He looked ashamed of what he had done, and what he had tried to do. He told me
he was sorry that I’d had to witness his anger and his lust in such a way.”

           
“Did he hurt you?” Creusa asked.

           
“No,” Polyxena shook her head. “He let me go to Troilus, try to help him, but
he was dead.”

           
“And he just let you walk away?” Helenus pressed her.

           
Polyxena looked down at the floor, lips trembling.

           
“He said I was the most beautiful woman he’d set eyes upon,” she said
hesitantly, not raising her eyes from the floor. “And then he said that he
would seek to make me his wife.”

           
A gasp rang out upon these words, and Helenus spat angrily at the thought.

           
“He shall have to go through my sword first,” he declared.

           
“And mine,” Diephobus hissed from beside him.

           
Andromache thought of how easily these men sought bloodshed.

           
“Should we go in search of him?” Polites asked. “He could still be at the
riverside.”

           
“He’s not there,” Polyxena said before Helenus could speak. All eyes returned
to her, as she lifted her head and looked at her brothers. Her eyes found
Andromache, and Andromache smiled encouragingly at her. Polyxena took a deep
breath. “Achilles is at the gates. He seeks an audience with King Priam, to ask
for my hand in marriage.”

           
The news that King Priam had received Achilles and was now discussing matters
of great importance in the council rooms spread quickly throughout the palace,
and Andromache found herself besieged by her maids upon returning to her
chambers. Ilisa and Philomena did not notice her distress, for they fell upon
her at once.

           
“Is it true that Achilles has killed one of the royal princes?” Ilisa asked,
horrified by the prospect. “And that even now he discusses with him the
prospect of marriage to one of the princesses?”

           
Philomena looked similarly aghast, and Andromache fell upon her bed.

           
“It is true,” she told them, and they both let out gasps. “Achilles has killed
Troilus, and now he seeks to marry Polyxena.”

           
“Troilus! Beautiful, sweet Troilus!” Ilisa cried, and Andromache knew that
Troilus, with his beauty had been a favourite prince of the maids and maidens
in the palace and throughout the city. “And poor Polyxena!”

           
“How can the king think of entertaining such discussions?” Philomena asked,
shaking her head. “The man has killed two of his beloved sons and –” She
stopped at once, looking fearfully at Andromache. Andromache did not need to be
reminded that her husband too had fallen at Achilles’ blade.

           
“It is not our place to speak of such things,” Ilisa said wisely, and led
Philomena from the room to give Andromache some peace.

           
Alone in her chambers, Andromache did not find peace nor could she bring
herself to relax or forget what she had seen and heard downstairs upon
Polyxena’s return. She had left when King Priam had sent an armed guard to
collect Achilles and bring him to the council chambers; it was unfathomable to
her that he could so easily forget Hector and Troilus’ deaths at the warrior’s
hands, so as to meet with him to discuss marriage.

           
She thought of going to Polyxena’s chambers to see how the young, fragile
princess was faring with such sad tidings and the events of the day, but she
could not bring herself to do so, for she knew that the other royal sisters
would be there and she no longer sought their company, for they were cautious
in her presence, for fear of bringing memories of Hector back to the forefront
of her mind and hence upsetting her.

           
With her mind so unsettled, Andromache paced the room until nightfall and it
was with apprehension that she left the sanctuary of her chambers to join the
family at the high table that evening. Tension pervaded the air as she arrived
and she sat eating silently. Polyxena was still pale, watched cautiously by
Creusa and Cassandra, as if they feared their sister might collapse. Laodice
seemed to have already forgotten the events of that morning, and now her
countenance was sulky as the attention focused on her younger sister rather
than upon her.

           
The royal princes looked grave and Andromache felt her mind would burst if she
did not soon learn how the discussions between King Priam and Achilles had
gone. King Priam gave nothing away as he ate, though she thought perhaps that
the queen’s eyes were tinged with sadness. Of course for the death of her
beloved son Troilus, Andromache thought, but perhaps that her daughter was to
marry his killer as well?

           
Andromache did not have to wait long to learn what had been decided. After they
had finished eating, King Priam rose to his feet and cleared his throat, so
that the hall, already so quiet and uneasy, fell deathly silent. Andromache
swallowed down her fear and listened, readying her face in composure so that
she may not disgrace herself if she heard him speak words that may be upsetting
to her.

           
“I have great news to announce to you all,” King Priam said. Polyxena’s lips
trembled, and Andromache wondered if she already knew the outcome of the
meeting. “Though it is with great sadness that we must mourn the death of my
dear son Troilus, it is with hope and joy that I announce that Polyxena, my
youngest daughter, so beautiful and radiant, is to marry Achilles.”

           
At these words, Polyxena burst into tears and was instantly enveloped by
Creusa’s arms as she hugged her sister close to her. Queen Hecuba looked about
to weep, and the princes looked down at the table. King Priam paid no mind to
such a reaction.

           
“This is great news,” he continued, “For this marriage will bring Achilles, the
famed warrior and skilled fighter, to the side of Troy, in our continued battle
against these invaders.”

           
Andromache knew that his words were right; Achilles would now fight on the
Trojan side, even though he had been responsible for the slaughter of so many
of them. With a single union there was hope that the war could be won and the
Greeks driven from their shores.

           
Yet Andromache could think so easily to welcome Achilles, the man who had
slaughtered her family and her husband, destroyed everything she held so dear
except for Astyanax, and now Achilles was to marry a royal princess! He would
surely live and dine in the palace with them, and how could she allow Astyanax
to live in such close quarters to the man who had slain his father? How could
she sit and eat whilst the man who had brought her so much grief over a
lifetime feasted across the table from her?

           
King Priam was still speaking of the great advantages of such a marriage, as if
he knew that he must persuade the people, indeed even his own family, that he
was making the right choice in sanctioning this marriage.

           
No! Andromache could not listen to any more. She rose to her feet and King
Priam stuttered, for nobody had dared to interrupt a speech given by the king.
All eyes flew to her, yet she did not see those who stared, for her heart was
hammering and tears clung to her eyelashes. She did not speak, but left the
table and walked, with as much dignity as she could muster, from the hall, the
silence and stares pressing down upon her. Once out of the hall she fled down
the corridors and up to her chambers, fear and anger swirling within her. No
doubt she would be reprimanded, but she could not show support for such a
marriage! Achilles and Polyxena’s marriage might indeed bring peace to the city
and an end to the fighting, but she had already lost her husband to him, and
for that, she would never forgive the man, nor the king for so readily
forgetting such things and thus seeking allegiance with him.

*
* *

           
As she had anticipated, her abrupt and defiant departure from the high table
had not passed without consequence. Andromache was summoned before the council,
for King Priam was a kindly and just king, but he did not suffer slights easily
and he was furious that Andromache had so blatantly defied him before not only
the royal family but the noblemen and women who had been dining with them.

           
Helenus sought her in her chambers to bring her to the council room. His
expression was not one of anger, and Andromache knew that though he could not
condone what she had done, he shared in her disapproval of the matter at hand.
How like Hector he was, Andromache thought, as he informed her that the council
awaited her in their chambers.

           
“Is the king still as angry as I hear tell he was?” Andromache asked. Though
she was not afraid of the king, she did not wish to suffer his wrath. He could
yet change his mind about Astyanax remaining Heir Apparent and he could grant
Hector’s inheritances to someone else. Her maids had told her the night before
that the king could be heard shouting and raging from his bedchambers into the
early hours, and Andromache had hoped that by morning he would have calmed
himself.

           
Helenus gave her an understanding smile.

           
“His anger has…lessened, somewhat,” he assured her. “Though his pride has been
wounded, that is certain.”

           
“I do not regret my actions,” Andromache insisted, as Helenus led her out of
her chambers. “It is unthinkable that Achilles should be welcomed into this
palace, this family, after slaying not one but two royal princes.”

           
“Your thoughts are shared by many,” Helenus said quietly, and Andromache knew
that he too did not relish the thought of welcoming Achilles to their family.
“Yet it is unwise to object so boldly, especially where the king is concerned.
Perhaps, it would be wiser to feign…indifference…upon meeting with the king.”

           
Andromache thought on his words. It would serve her better to make her
apologies and follow Helenus’ advice, rather than to further provoke the king.

           
Helenus paused outside the council chambers and turned to her.

           
“Andromache, your position is uncertain,” he said, his eyes full of concern for
her. “I do not wish to see my beloved brother’s wife treated so, but now he is
gone and there are few who can protect you should the king turn against you.”

           
Andromache bowed her head and entered the chambers.

           
King Priam turned at her approach and the other councilmen remained still,
watching the scene unfold, and Andromache wondered who, like Helenus, wished
her well, and which of them wished her ill.

           
“My king,” she bowed, going to her knees before the king and kissing his ring
hand.

           
He gestured for her to rise, which she did, keeping her head bowed.

           
“You must know why you have been summoned here,” Priam said.

           
“I do, my king, and I apologize for my poor and ill-judged conduct,” Andromache
said. She thought of Astyanax and his inheritance, and continued. “I am still
grieving for my husband, the royal prince, and as such my actions are not my
own, and I beseech –”

           
Priam waved a hand at her, and she fell silent.

           
“I understand your reluctance to accept Achilles must become a part of our
family,” Priam said slowly, and Andromache looked at him. “He is more warrior
than man, and a great many have lost fathers, sons, brothers and husbands to
this warrior. Yet he is also skilled and he commands great respect from his
men. If he was to fight on our side, then it will be of great benefit to us and
of great consequence to these invaders that remain on our shore.”

           
“I understand this,” Andromache said humbly, though she felt hatred for the
warrior thick and ever-present within her.

           
“Yet still, your actions were bold and caused much talk within this palace and
no doubt beyond,” Priam said sternly. “For those who do not wish to see
Achilles and Polyxena wed, you could become a figurehead for protest, and I
know that neither of us wish to see Hector, our beloved prince’s name and his
family dishonoured by such a thing.”

           
Andromache wondered what he spoke of. She had known that talk must have spread
of her abrupt departure from the high table, yet she had not expected so much
to be read into such an act. As for those who did not wish to see Achilles wed,
she would happily support them, though that was not what the king, in his
reprimands, wanted to hear.

           
“We both share a desire to preserve the honour and dignity of my husband’s
name,” Andromache said quietly. Priam nodded, thinking.

           
“It appears that your apologies are genuine, and that grief is behind your
behaviour,” Priam said, and Andromache felt hopeful. “Yet still, I cannot be
seen to show such mercy to someone who acts in such a way. If you were to leave
unpunished, it would only serve to encourage and embolden others to disagreement.”

           
Andromache swallowed hard, fearing for Astyanax’s position.

           
“Though I must punish you, it is clear to me that grief is the cause of your
behaviour and of your insolence,” Priam said, his voice kindly but stern. “I
hereby suggest, by order of the council, that you are confined to your chambers
until such a time as your grief is passed.”

           
Andromache bowed her head and thanked him for his mercy.

*
* *

           
The palace had been informed that Andromache had retired to her chambers until
such a time as her grief for Hector’s death had passed, but it was whispered
that the princess had been imprisoned in her rooms until Priam was satisfied
that she no longer held such opposing views to his own and of course, until
after Achilles and Polyxena had been wed.

           
Andromache, who had so craved isolation in the days and weeks after Hector’s
death, now longed for freedom and company now that she was not allowed to
venture beyond her chambers. Ilisa and Philomena felt the strain of
imprisonment too, for neither were they allowed to leave; for Priam knew, as
did all, that maids gossiped with each other, and he wanted no news to reach
Andromache, nor for her to pass messages to others who might share in her
disapproval of the impending marriage.

           
Though she could not summon people to her, she was not without visitors.
Helenus came often in the weeks that followed her sentencing and he brought
news with him of Achilles and Polyxena and of life outside of the chambers.
When he came, Andromache and her maids would gather about him, desperate to
hear tales from beyond the walls within which they were confined.