The Trojan Princess (30 page)

           
As she joined the gathering crowd in the courtyard, from where they would make
the journey to the temple, she heard much muttering of the great horse that
remained outside of the gates.

           
“King Priam has made his decision,” one nobleman said, upon Andromache’s
questioning look. “The horse is to be brought into the city, and presented as a
mighty gift to Helen and Diephobus upon the conclusion of the ceremony.”

           
Andromache did not like the horse. It aroused unease within her. Yet she paid
little mind to it, for Diephobus and Helen had arrived in the courtyard and the
procession was to begin. Diephobus caught sight of her and nodded towards her,
his smile showing pleasure and his eyes acknowledging that she had withheld her
side of their agreement.

           
As the procession made its way from the palace and through the streets,
Andromache could not help but notice that the crowd did not cheer and rejoice
as they had done for her own wedding, or even as they had for Helen and Paris.
This was a tired and weary city, and she wondered how long it would take for
the war to be forgotten.

           
Diephobus and Helen waved to the crowd, yet she thought they too must realise
that they were not beloved of the people. Andromache did not speak, although
she played the part that was expected of her, hoping that Diephobus would hold
up his side of their agreement.

*
* *

           
King Priam watched as Diephobus and Helen knelt at the altar of the temple and
made their offerings to the gods in the hopes that their marriage would be
blessed. He hoped the gods were listening, for he knew that there were enough
within the city who thought to curse such a marriage.

           
He heard rumblings in the palace, though he tried not to hear them. The people
were discontent, though war had finally come to an end, and even his nobles,
who were always so quick to follow his lead and accept whatever he deigned to
accept, were muttering of such a marriage. Some he was told, even dared to
question whether the king might not be too old and that perhaps he should
abdicate. Priam indeed was old, yet who was there to rule if he were to leave
his throne, he thought sadly. Hector was dead, and Paris too, though he would
never have thought to give Paris his rule. Astyanax was still young, and he
dare not grant power to him, for Andromache was sure to influence his rule and
what good could come from a grieving widow ruling a city such as this?
Diephobus did not endow himself to the people, and Polites had not the charisma
to lead. Helenus was brave and so like Hector, yet dare Priam leave the rule to
him, when the city was in such a state as this?

           
Yet still the mutterings continued, though he tried to quell any unease within
the palace. He had hoped the end of the war would bring with it joy, yet it
only seemed to exacerbate tensions, for the people knew he had been willing to
discard peace in favour of his sons - not once but twice - in letting Helen
marry Paris and now Diephobus.

           
He watched as the priest proclaimed Helen and Diephobus married, yet it
aggrieved him that so few had come to pay their respects. Andromache had come,
though he had felt certain that she would not, but she had not brought with her
Astyanax, the Heir Apparent. The sooner she was married, he thought, the sooner
he would find some peace. Yet Helenus had not come, nor Polites. Laocoon had
absented himself from the city and the other councilmen were dead. His
daughters, too, had remained in the palace, and so only he and his wife had
shown their support for such a marriage.

           
With the ceremony over the procession left the temple, yet he felt no release
in the building tension as they made their way down the streets. A few people
clapped and cheered, but many threw dark, angry glares in the direction of him
and his family. He knew that no longer did they adore their rulers, but
distrusted and despised them. The nobles, too, seemed to sense the atmosphere,
for many detached themselves from the procession and slipped through the crowd
with their wives and children, no longer fearing the wrath of the king who saw
their insolence.

           
He longed for peace, to be able to sleep without his dreams turning to
nightmares, and yet it was the duty, and the burden, of a king to suffer as his
people suffered.

*
* *

           
Andromache too sensed the atmosphere that had settled upon the city and she
regretted having attended such a wedding and showing her support for such an
unholy and unwelcome marriage. Yet Diephobus had made her promises and she
could not bring herself to slip away as so many others did from the procession,
without a care if the king saw them. She had heard the rumblings of discontent
since Diephobus and Helen’s secret marriage, but now she saw King Priam’s face
pale and wondered if he too noticed it.

           
Her sense of foreboding was great as the procession neared the palace and so
concerned was she that she barely glanced upon the mighty wooden horse that had
been dragged through the streets of the city to stand in a courtyard until the
king had time to present it to the newlyweds. Upon reaching the palace,
Andromache made her excuses and left the procession for she felt growing unease
and she knew that something was amiss for so many noblemen to depart.

           
She did not go to her own chambers at first and instead sought Astyanax in his
rooms. He was alone upon his bed, and when she entered he rose to bow his head
to her.

           
“What is wrong Mother?” he asked, for he could see the look upon her face. “Did
something happen at the wedding?”

           
“No, no,” she said, trying to be reassuring. “There is nothing to worry about,
yet I sought your company and wondered if you would care to join me in my
chambers?”

           
Astyanax smiled, for Andromache knew that he loved his mother above any others.

           
“It would be my pleasure,” he responded.

           
Andromache smile with relief and led him from his rooms, not just grateful that
she would spend the evening with her beloved son, but because she wanted her
precious boy close to her. The  discord in the palace was high and she
wanted him safely in her sight.

           
It did not take long for her fears to be proven. Philomena burst into the room,
closely followed by Ilisa, both out of breath and faces flushed.

           
“There is much fighting in the palace,” Philomena said, looking upon Andromache
with trepidation. “Helenus has launched an uprising with the army, declaring
Diephobus a traitor to the throne!”

           
“It is not safe for you in the palace any longer,” Ilisa shook her head, tears
coming. “I do not know where would be safer, yet I fear for you as long as you
remain here.”

           
“Helenus would not harm me or Astyanax,” Andromache said firmly, and the maids
seemed soothed, as did her son.

And
yet Andromache could not help but think that if Helenus sought power over the
city for himself, he would not wish for Astyanax, Heir Apparent, and his royal
mother to remain alive to oppose his capturing of the crown and throne.

*
* *

           
Axion, her loyal guard, called out when Helenus approached down the corridor
towards the entrance to Andromache’s royal chambers. He readied his sword for
combat though he did not wish to raise his blade to a man such as Helenus, who
he had so admired, yet if it was in protection of Andromache and her family he
would slay the prince if needs be. Helenus was flanked by two guards, but he
did not seem anguished by Axion’s presence.

           
“Step aside, I wish to see the princess Andromache,” Helenus commanded.

           
Axion stood blocking the doorway and called into the chambers. Ilisa looked
upon Helenus with fear and her face paled, but Andromache’s voice sounded from
within the rooms.

           
“Allow him entry,” she said. “But only him – no soldiers are to accompany him.”

           
Andromache whispered instructions to Philomena and the maid and Astyanax hid
beneath the bed, in case Helenus did seek to do them harm, with the intent of
fleeing the city should Helenus have their harm in his thoughts. Helenus
entered alone as she had bidden and she felt relieved at least that he had not
shown disregard for her wishes.

           
“I do not wish for you to fear me,” Helenus said as he stood before her.

           
Andromache found she did not fear him now that he was standing here, yet she
knew that to trust anyone in such a time was foolish, so she kept silent.

           
“You have heard of what is going on within this palace?” Helenus asked, “For
you have placed a guard outside your door and no doubt have considered fleeing
to sanctuary.”

           
“I have heard tell and nothing more,” Andromache answered, “And as for fleeing
to sanctuary, may I ask perhaps if that should be a precaution that is
necessary for such as I?”

           
“You will come to no harm,” Helenus said. “And nor will Astyanax or any of your
household.”

           
Andromache felt relief, yet she did not call for Philomena and Astyanax to come
out from their hiding place.

           
“I wished to see if you are safe and comfortable,” Helenus continued. “I could
not find Astyanax in his chambers, and I hoped that he might be with you.”

           
“He is safe,” Andromache said guardedly.

           
“I would not harm him,” Helenus said, and Andromache heard hurt in his voice
that she could think such a thing of him. “Yet there are others who would seek
to do so; Diephobus makes moves against the king, I am sure of it, and my father
does nothing to curb the man’s scheming and murderous intent. I could no longer
watch and take no action.”

           
“You seek the throne for yourself?” Andromache asked.

           
“No,” Helenus answered. “The throne is for your son.”

           
Andromache looked upon the man and felt fear replaced with excitement, for
though she did not approve of such a coup, she could not claim to be displeased
that he sought all of this in order to place her son on the throne.

           
“Yet he is still young,” Andromache said.

           
“He will need you and I to guide him wisely then,” Helenus agreed.

           
Andromache thought on such a thing and found that she was not displeased. She
would be the king’s mother and she could ensure peace and prosperity came once
more to this great city. Helenus smiled, for he saw that she was tempted by
such a proposition.

           
“It is not safe for you to stay here tonight, ” Helenus said. “I will leave two
of my guards with you, and they will accompany you to the temple. You must seek
sanctuary there, for you cannot be harmed within temple walls. Wait there with
Astyanax until I come for you; leave the sanctuary for nobody else, for I feel
sure Diephobus will seek vengeance.”

           
He looked hard at Andromache then and she wondered if this prince before her
thought more of their friendship than she had allowed herself.

           
“I bid you good luck,” Andromache said. She leant forward and kissed him
lightly upon his cheek, and his cheeks flushed pink as he bowed and left her
chambers.

           
Philomena and Astyanax crawled out from beneath the bed and looked to
Andromache. Ilisa too waited for her instructions.

           
“We shall do as he bids us and seek sanctuary in the temple,” Andromache said,
trying to ignore the shouts and cries about the palace. “Let us keep close, and
keep safe.”

           
The palace was in disarray and Andromache held Astyanax close to her as Axion
and the two soldiers that Helenus had left with the charge of protecting her
led the way down the corridors towards the temple.

           
If she had hoped for a bloodless uprising, Andromache’s hopes were quickly to
be dashed, for blood splattered walls at the foot of the stairs and some
soldiers lay dead upon the floor of the corridors, blood staining the marble
beneath them. She did not wish her son to see this, but it was for his ascent
to the throne that these men died, so she did not shield his eyes. Ilisa and
Philomena, a step behind her, held each other tightly, fear overcoming them.
Axion held his sword aloft and did not let his guard down.

           
Andromache feared for Helenus, and wondered what was to become of the royal
princesses; surely Helenus would not harm his sisters, but uprisings such as
these inevitably had their tragedies, and she forced such thoughts from her
mind as they rounded a corner.

           
Four armed soldiers were drawing near, and they looked weary at the sight of
Andromache and her household.

           
Axion stopped and pointed his sword at the men. One of them raised his hands in
a gesture of surrender, but Axion made no effort to lower his sword, for this
was no time for complacency or trust.

           
“Whom do you serve?” Axion demanded.

           
“Helenus,” the man answered.

           
Axion narrowed his eyes, but did not move.

           
“You will let us pass unharmed?” Andromache asked.

           
The men nodded.

           
“You must turn back, princess, and seek refuge in the palace, I fear,” the man
said, and Andromache saw that these men looked fearful. “You cannot leave the
palace.”

           
“Why not?” Andromache demanded. “Helenus bid me seek sanctuary in –”

           
“Helenus has not yet been told of what has happened,” the soldier said. “The
Greek armies are upon us and within the city walls, slaying all who cross their
path.”

           
Andromache trembled.

           
“You cannot mean such words!”

           
“I fear all who do not hide will be slaughtered,” the soldier said. “Now, pray,
let us pass so we may inform Helenus of what has befallen us once more.”

           
Axion lowered his sword and the four men ran past, one shooting a fearful
glance back over his shoulder. Axion turned to Andromache, and she felt all
eyes upon her for a decision as to what should be done.

           
The screams and cries that reverberated around the palace took on a new, woeful
meaning, and Andromache rushed to the nearest window so that she might look out
upon the city. She did not need to look closely to see that the city was indeed
under attack. Houses were aflame, the screams and clash of swords pierced the
night and filled the air, so that her blood ran cold with fear and she knew
that the city was to fall that night.

           
She gathered her maids and soldiers about her, shivering with apprehension.

           
“I cannot ask you to die for me,” Andromache said. “The city is under attack,
it is true, and many I fear will die tonight. I must tell you that you need not
stay with me; I bid you go to your families and wish you all hope that we will
see each other when this dreadful night of ruination is over.”

           
Philomena and Ilisa wept as they clung to her. The two soldiers who had been
tasked by Helenus with defending her turned and left, no loyalty to her.

“I
pray you are safe,” Ilisa said, kissing Andromache first and then Astyanax. “I
would not go if it were not for my nephews, I cannot leave them, young as they
are –”

“You need
not apologize,” Andromache insisted, hugging her close. “Just go.”

“And
I too would not leave, but for my husband,” Philomena wept.

Ilisa
and Philomena left together, and Andromache watched them go, robes billowing
behind them, praying for them and their families’ safety.

           
Axion alone did not leave her and Astyanax.

           
“You are free to save yourself too, sir,” Andromache said. “You have been a
most honourable guard and loyal friend, but I release you from your service to
me.”

           
Axion bowed his head but still did not move.

           
“I thank you for that, Princess,” Axion said, “But I must insist upon
accompanying you, for I could never sleep again if I were to let you and the
prince go undefended about the city on this night. Whether as a free man or
your guard, I will stay by your side.”

           
Andromache considered him a moment and nodded, and Axion gave a hint of a
smile. He soon became alert once more as footsteps echoed down the corridors.
He raised his sword and drew Andromache and Astyanax behind him so he could
defend them.

           
“Come, princess,” he said, “We cannot stay here where it is not safe.”

           
Andromache remembered the supply channel that ran beneath the walls of the
city, so that the city could receive food even in times of a siege. It was used
to bring in food, but surely people could leave the city by that tunnel also.
She strained to remember what Hector had said of it and knew it was their only
hope.

           
“We must flee the city,” she said, knowing at once that she was right.

           
Axion nodded, glancing towards Astyanax.

           
“I shall lead the way,” Andromache said, gripping her son’s hand tight. “Stay
close.”

*
* *

           
Ilisa fled through the courtyard of the palace, Philomena close behind her.
Only hours before it had seen the rich of the city gathered here for the royal
marriage, yet now it was dark and soldiers shouted, swords clashed and blood
stained the ground beneath their feet.

           
Beyond the gate, it was time for the two maids to part ways.

           
“I hope you find your nephews,” Philomena said, before disappearing down a side
street and into the darkness.

           
Alone, Ilisa swallowed her fears as she hurried down the streets she knew well,
but seemed almost unrecognisable. People fled about her, men wielding swords
dragging their wives and children behind them; women screamed for missing
children, scratching their eyes and pulling their hair out with terror and
desperation, while others seemed to be in shock, wandering the streets with
blank faces, as if resigned to the fate that would befall them.

           
Ilisa too came across bodies lying about the streets. She looked down with
horror at the sight of a child, lying lifeless alongside his mother, blood and
wounds hiding his identity, and she forced herself to look away, the thought of
her nephews driving her forward. She could not abandon them, for her sister
Iliana was dead and somebody needed to protect the darling boys.

           
Greek soldiers ran about the streets in small groups, kicking down doors and
screams echoing from the windows of the houses they plundered. Fire had already
taken hold of some houses, and the inhabitants fled, faces blackened with soot,
only to be cut down by soldiers with swords.

           
Nobles and the poor alike ran through the streets seeking refuge from the
invaders, and Ilisa knew that no wealth or power could save any of them now.

           
She reached the street she desired, her heart racing and sweat slick on her
skin. She was reassured to see that the house was not aflame, nor did it yet
show signs of being looted by the invaders. She heard angry cries from a short
distance and knew that it would not be long before they descended upon this
street as they had done with the others.

           
Running to the front door, she banged hard upon it but the door swung forward
to admit her. She raced inside and saw no sign of her sister’s family, or of
her nephews.

           
She went up the stairs, dreading what she may yet find, and checked in the
bedrooms, but there was nobody. She hoped that her nephews had been taken to
safety, perhaps having escaped the city somehow, when a cry came from beneath
the bed.

           
Daring to hope, she dropped to her stomach on the floor and saw her two nephews
huddled together, eyes wide, shaking with fear. When they saw it was her, they
seemed only a little eased in their minds. She pulled them out and held them
close to her, weeping with relief that they were not harmed, and with fear that
they would be.

           
“Fear not, we will escape the city,” she said, as she held them.

           
They still trembled with fear so she took one each by the hand and led them
from the bedroom and down the stairs. Shouts and jeering came from the street
outside the house and she felt her heart sink, for the invaders had come upon
the street and there was to be no escape for her or her nephews.

*
* *

           
Philomena entered her home and found her husband dead upon the floor, blood
seeping from his wounds that she slipped in as she ran to him. She fell, the
pain coursing through her body matched only by her grief and despair.

           
A noise sounded behind her and she turned, fearful. A soldier stood in the
doorway, blood dripping from the point of his sword, and he bore down upon her
swiftly. She tried to crawl from him but the floor beneath her was slick with
blood and his hand grabbed her hair and pulled her back hard, throwing her upon
her husband as if she were a doll.

           
Philomena screamed and wept as the man tore at her gowns and his rough hands
grabbed at her breasts, a horrific leer upon his face. She fought him but he
was strong, and so a woman born so high was brought so low, and her body ached
where he had been so rough with her.

           
She wept afresh when he climbed off her, adjusting his tunic, and picked up his
sword. Philomena prayed upon her husband’s body as he brought the sword down on
her.

*
* *

           
Andromache would have wept for the city if her desperation to keep her son
alive had not been so strong and had not driven all but preservation from her
mind.

           
She forced herself not to look upon the bodies that were strewn about the
streets, nor the ash thick upon the air or the wails of the terrified and
grieving. She kept close to Axion and gripped Astyanax close to her as they
fled the palace and down the streets, for Andromache knew that it was not far
to the passageway and it was to here they went.

           
She feared for so many; her maids, and for Helenus and the royal princesses who
would be debased and brought to ruin and despair if the Greeks should take hold
of the palace. Even as she thought it, she saw a band of men breach the
courtyard to the palace, and the clash of swords erupted, echoing down the
street to chill her.

           
The street was clear but for the dead, and Andromache dared to hope that
perhaps they may reach safety without detection.

           
Torches came into sight at the end of the road and Axion readied his sword. The
band of men were upon them and Andromache dragged Astyanax back against the
wall, into the shadows, as Axion engaged the men, sword cutting through two of
them before a third took his advantage and thrust his sword deep into Axion’s
stomach.

           
Andromache watched her loyal guard drop his sword and fall dead upon the
street, and she ran then, pulling Astyanax with her, for she had no sword to
protect them.

           
The men came after her and they were faster,  lifting their swords to her.

           
She had only one form of defence, she knew, and she used it then.

           
“I am Princess Andromache of Troy,” she declared. “And this is my son, the
royal Heir Apparent of Troy. Do us no harm, I beg of you.”

           
She threw herself to her knees before them, dragging Astyanax with her, arms
around him so that he may not see the men’s faces or the swords coming down
should her words fail to move them. The men hesitated and one of them lowered
his sword.

           
“We shall take them captive,” he decided. “The King should decide what will
become of them.”

           
Andromache breathed a sigh of relief, for she had saved their lives for now.

*
* *

           
The Greek soldiers led the princess and her son through the streets at the
point of their swords and Andromache knew that they made a path to the palace,
where she felt hopeful that Helenus and his men may yet rescue them. Yet she
also feared that, if they did indeed made for the palace, perhaps it had fallen
into the hands of the Greeks, which did not bode well for her or her son.