The Trojan Princess (8 page)

           
Andromache was not used to such things as the dark powder the Trojan women wore
around their eyes, and she did not understand it though she saw, when she
looked upon her reflection, that it did indeed have a certain allure to it and
that her eyes now stood out, dark and dazzling, in the paleness of her face.
She blinked rapidly to stifle any tears and pursed her lips, hoping that she
would not be overcome with emotion over the coming days.

           
The first day of her wedding had dawned and she could not find it within
herself to be nervous at the prospect of becoming Hector’s wife. The wedding
ceremony would last for three days in the Trojan tradition; the first of which
was for Andromache to visit the great temple in the centre of the city and make
her sacrifices, so that the gods and goddesses might look favourably upon her
in her married life and bless her. It was a ceremony only for women on this
day, and she would be accompanied to the great temple by her maids, her new
royal sisters, and Queen Hecuba herself. Her own mother was expected to be in
attendance, but her health was still fading and she had been deemed unable to
make the journey.

It
hurt Andromache, for she longed for her mother to see her married, but she knew
that her mother had eyes and thoughts for her husband and sons alone, so she
set off – almost an orphan - without her mother from the royal palaces, Iliana
and Ilisa trailing behind her in their own finest robes, and with the other
women of the royal household looking elegant and bright in their most elaborate
headdresses and boldest gowns.

“You
must be excited,” Polyxena whispered, as they climbed atop the litter that
would carry them from the palace to the temple, which stood on a low hill in
the centre of the city, so that from the top of its pillars one would be able
to see all of the city spread out from it in every direction. “I do so long for
a wedding of my own!”

“You
will not have one before I do,” Laodice said, seemingly affronted that her
sister would say such a thing. “I am older than you, it will be me that marries
first.”

“Perhaps
neither of you are ready for marriage,” Creusa pointed out, her voice stern and
her lips pursed in disapproval, “If this childish squabbling is what you think
befits two royal princesses on this most important of days.”

Polyxena
and Laodice fell quiet and still upon the murderous look their elder sister
gave them, but Queen Hecuba put a placatory hand on Creusa’s arm.

“Today
is a joyous occasion,” she said, giving her daughters, and then Andromache, an
indulgent smile, “It is about none of us, but Princess Andromache.”

Creusa’s
hard look softened and she too smiled upon the new princess.

As
the litter made its way towards the temple, the streets were lined with people,
all waving and weeping and calling for their new princess. Andromache waved
from the litter, savouring all the well wishes that were being heaped upon her.
She caught Queen Hecuba watching her, and though she said nothing, Andromache
fancied that she had seem a glimmer of approval in the queen’s eyes.

The
temple rose above them as they neared and cast them into shadow as they reached
it. The citizens of Troy were not allowed to enter the temple to share in this
ritual, so Andromache led the royal ladies up the smooth, marble steps and into
the cool shadows of the temple alone. Attendants robed in gold stood at the
foot of each mighty pillar, their heads bowed; whether in reverence to the gods
or in greeting to the royals, Andromache did not know and did not ask. She
walked the length of the mighty room and knelt before the altar, bowing her
head and the rest of her party did the same.

She
prayed then.

To
Hera, Queen of the Gods and the goddess of marriage and fertility, she prayed
for a long and fruitful marriage, filled with joy and happiness, and for the
power to be a loyal and blessed wife to Hector, the man who would be her
husband and also her king one day.

To
Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, she prayed for her desire for Hector to continue, and
grow stronger with each passing day, and for the passion of their union to be
blessed with a child.

To
Athena she prayed for wisdom; and to Demeter she prayed for fruitfulness and
growth as a woman; and to Artemis, she prayed that she would bless her with a
child.

With
the prayers concluded, Andromache lifted her head, hoping that the goddesses
upon Mount Olympus had heard her prayers and sought fit to answer them.

*
* *

           
On the second day of the wedding ceremony, Andromache felt excitement once more
flutter in the depths of her stomach. This day, perhaps more than either of the
others, was the most important of the marriage ceremonies, for it was when she
and Hector would join hands and enter into their marriage.

           
The day began with the nuptial bath; and Andromache slipped naked from her robe
and climbed into the icy cool water in the gold tub, which had been adorned
with flowers, as her attendants and the women of the royal household looked on.
She sank beneath the water and did not feel the cold; for she knew that this
ritual was to purify her, ready her for the marital bonds she was to enter
into, and it would also sanctify her, blessing her with children and happiness
in the future with Hector.

           
When she resurfaced, she felt invigorated by the waters cool depths, and she
stepped from the golden tub feeling as though the gods had truly blessed her
and her marriage.

           
The nuptial bath complete, she allowed Iliana and Ilisa to dress her in her
finest robes and they placed a shimmering silver veil over her head, so that it
fell to her waist on all sides, covering her face and upper body completely
from the eyes of others. To keep it in place they put the elaborate
peacock-feather adorned headdress that had been presented to her as a gift from
Hector atop her head.

           
Veiled as she was, Andromache felt freed from the watchful eyes and stares as
she and her maids went once more to the great temple. The streets were heaving
with citizens and it looked to her as if perhaps every citizen of the city had
turned out to celebrate the nuptials. Everywhere she looked, from the streets
to the balconies and even to the rooftops, she saw people clamouring to get a
glimpse of her in her ornate finery, and of Hector as he rode atop a white
stallion, looking for all the world as if he were already a king.

           
At the temple, Andromache and Hector knelt before the altar and made their
offerings to the gods. Andromache, her face hidden behind the veil, looked
sideways at the man who was becoming her husband on this day. His face was
serious as his lips moved silently in prayer, and she longed to reach out to
him, stroke his handsome face, run a hand through his dark hair, but she did
not. She remained kneeling until the offerings were made, and Hector rose to
his feet. He offered her his hand, and she grasped it, allowing him to help her
to her feet. On her feet, Hector gave her a smile - one that she knew only she
could see - and squeezed her hand gently before he released it from his grip.

           
Heart soaring, Andromache followed him from the temple, where the procession
through the streets once more resumed as they returned to the royal palace.

           
The feast was a mighty one – weren’t they all, in this city, Andromache mused –
but this one was by far grander than any she had seen before, and perhaps would
probably ever see again. The men and women dined at separate tables, and
Andromache, still veiled in the silver cloth, did not eat nor drink, though her
royal sisters urged her to. Only when Creusa, sat beside her and sensing her
uncertainty, had discreetly shown her how she could, with dignity whilst
wearing the veil, did Andromache manage to relax and enjoy the feast. She drank
wine – the most beautiful wine in all the world! – and allowed the musicians
and singers to entertain her as they did the whole hall.

           
As the sun began to set upon the city and the skies turned from brilliant blue
to a fiery, dazzling orange, King Priam rose from his seat, silence descending
over the room in anticipation of what was to come.

           
Hector joined his father before the whole room, and Andromache followed suit,
feeling her legs shaking with nerves and excitement. She wished her mother was
here for this; for the lifting of her veil, which would signify the completion
of the wedding, and that Andromache was now a true part of the royal family,
the wife of Hector in the eyes of the gods and of the people.

           
She stood before the silent room and faced Hector, who clasped her hands in
his, the smile upon his face assuring her that he, as she, felt no doubts about
their union. Priam uttered a short prayer, and turned to his new daughter, a smile
upon his ageing face, and with still hands he lifted the veil, and Andromache
looked upon her husband, Hector. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the
lips and the room erupted in cheers and joy.

*
* *

           
That night was filled with the sounds of revelry still reverberating about the
royal palace as Andromache went to Hector’s chambers. Now that she was his wife
she had no longer any need of her own small private rooms and it was with
anticipation and longing that she made the as yet untravelled route to his
bedchambers.

           
The rooms were large and opulent, the bed adorned with fresh petals and the
curtains and silk sheets threaded with gold and silver for this most special of
nights, though Andromache knew that her husband did not find pleasure in such
lavish furnishings and decorations. He was waiting for her on the large balcony
that led from his rooms and this was where Andromache joined him.

           
He sensed her approach but he said nothing and so it was with silence that she
looked down upon the darkness of the shore and the black ocean beyond. Orange
flames burned far below them on the ramparts of the wall, and only the faint
tinkling of laughter and hum of the lutes could be heard from their places high
above.

           
“You look beautiful,” Hector said, breaking the silence. Andromache turned to
him, and saw that he had drawn closer, his eyes on her face, whilst she had
been distracted by the view. “I thought I would have become accustomed to such
beauty, but you surprise me each day when I think to myself that you are more
beautiful than the last.”

           
Andromache blushed a little from the flattery, though she knew he meant his
words. This man, now her husband, was not a man to speak of things he did not
mean.

           
“Are you happy?” Hector asked.

           
“Very happy,” Andromache replied, knowing it to be true. “And you? Are you
happy, my prince?”

           
“I have never been happier than I am at this moment,” Hector said. “And I may
be your prince and you my princess, but for tonight, let me just be your
husband, and you my wife. Titles are for the daylight, and it is in the
moonlight we now stand.”

           
Hector closed the distance between them and brought his face to hers, kissing
her warmly. His body pressed against hers as his arms slid about her waist and
she leaned in against him, the heat from his body scorching her as a fire
might, although she felt only pleasure at such passion. His kiss deepened and
she ran a hand through his dark hair, his body responding to her touch.

           
He lifted her from her feet, his strong arms easily holding her to his chest as
he carried her from the balcony and into the bedchambers. Silken hangings blew
in the breeze, but Andromache barely glanced at them as he laid her atop his
sheets.

           
She watched as he undressed in the moonlight and then, naked, began to undress
her too, pulling the pins that held her robes together so that she too lay
naked on the bed. He lay beside her and kissed her hard on the mouth, his arms
wrapping around her, and though his kisses were hungry, urgent – and his body
taught and hard at the intensity of their passion – he was gentle with her, his
hands caressing her breasts and her skin tingled with pleasure at the touch of
his fingertips as they traced contours of her body.

           
He entered her with a moan and she clasped at his back with shaking hands,
feeling the muscles beneath his skin straining with the pleasure, and she held
him to her then, their moans of pleasure intertwining as their bodies did,
locked together in passion until dawn.

*
* *

           
The third and final day of the marriage ceremony was a joyous one; Andromache
tired but exhilarated, sat in a huge, ornately carved wooden chair, reminiscent
of a throne, beside her husband, who sat in one matching, and from the dais of
the great hall the husband and wife received the gifts and congratulations of
the people.

           
Andromache had not thought of the gifts that would be bestowed upon them, for
she had thought only of becoming Hector’s wife, but hundreds of people came to
the palace.