by JJ Hilton
In the sunshine upon the steps of the temple, Andromache wondered if her words had been too harsh for the woman. Yet her husband was out on the battlefield risking his life, whilst Paris wallowed in his own self-importance safely ensconced in his chambers, and Helen had the temerity to pray with them for the safe return of the soldiers. Perhaps Helen was growing tired of her lover now that she had seen Paris for the coward he was, Andromache thought, wondering if the woman just sought a friend. She would not find one in Troy, she thought. If Helen truly was so lonely, so unhappy – and growing tired of Paris’ cowardice – then maybe she would do the right thing, the honourable thing, and cross the shore to her rightful husband and take the armies and this war away with her.
* * *
It was from the ramparts that Andromache and the other noble ladies watched the first day of battle draw to a close. The Trojan army returned to the walls, flooding through the gates and the city echoed with the sound of armour and shouting. She saw from her high vantage point that men had fallen – the bodies were carried between two or three men, blood staining the sand crimson where they had died.
She could not see her husband – where was that golden armour? – and she felt her heart beating faster, her palms getting slick with sweat, as each moment passed and still her husband did not return.
Thankfully, Helen had not come to the ramparts after their altercation at the temple, for Andromache would have been compelled to strike the golden queen in her state of agitation. Iliana and Ilisa too shared in her worry. Philomena sent word that even Astyanax would not settle in his crib, crying and writhing as she had never seen before.
Polites returned with Diephobus; then Troilus, his beautiful face unscarred by the battle, though sweat clung to him and sand fell from his hair as it blew in the wind. The daughters of Troy fell upon their brothers with relief, hugging them close and kissing their cheeks. Andromache asked of her husband, but they did not know; since he had given the command to return to the walls, they had been separated.
At last, Hector emerged onto the ramparts, his armour battered and his brother Helenus beside him. Andromache ran to him, engulfing him in her kisses, as she clung to him, her arms thrown about his neck, so that he might never leave her again.
As they dined that evening, Andromache heard the battle stories relived by Hector and his brothers at the high table. She listened rapt, as did the other women, for the tension had eased over the halls and corridors of the palace with the princes’ safe return. Paris and Helen sat too, silent and ashamed, as the stories were later to be told.
“We lost men,” Hector admitted sadly, “But the Greeks lost far more than us.”
“That is a good sign,” Priam nodded, delighted at the news. “You were right to seek a battle with them, Hector. That is why I appointed you my general.”
Hector smiled courteously and bowed his head, though Andromache sensed her husband’s delight at the praise, though he was too gracious to show it.
“There are many more Greeks than there are Trojans,” Diephobus pointed out, spearing a hunk of meat on his plate. “We may have enjoyed a victory today, but there will be many more days, weeks - perhaps months - of fighting before this war will be won.”
“Indeed, you are right,” Hector acknowledged. “But it is a favourable start.”
“That it is,” Diephobus nodded.
“They have many warriors of note,” Helenus said, talking to his sisters, who listened with unbridled interest. “Kings of all the Greek nations; their princes and lords and heroes too, have come here in support of King Menelaus and his brother.”
At these words, Helen bowed her head, a blush rising up her cheeks. Andromache felt satisfaction at her discomfort, and Creusa smiled wickedly.
“I heard that Achilles was amongst the greatest of fighters in battle today,” Polites said, and Andromache gasped. Beside her, Hector sensed her shock and put a warm hand upon hers, knowing the dark thoughts that invaded her mind.
“Do not worry,” Hector said to her, whispering so that only she could hear. “He cannot harm you.”
Andromache nodded, but she still felt a chill about her at the mention of Achilles’ name. He had slain her brothers, her father, and her mother had died from the grief he had inflicted upon their royal house. His name scared her more than any other; she wondered if the bodies of Troys fallen soldiers she had seen being carried back into the city had been slain at Achilles’ hand. The man was a skilled fighter, brave and fearless they said, and it was a dire blow to her that he should have come to war against them once more.
She forced a smile for her husband, who still looked at her with concern in his eyes. The conversation was still ongoing as the brothers spoke of their fights within the battle, but Andromache heard little of their words. Her thoughts lingered on the sack of Thebes, the slaughter of her brothers and father, and she wondered if Achilles would deliver yet more heartache and loss to her before this war was over.
Chapter Six
A Royal Wedding
Battles and skirmishes soon became a part of everyday life and Andromache woke every day dreading the moment Hector donned his golden armour and set off beyond the city walls. Though his royal brothers always accompanied him, Hector was always the first out of the gates, for he was the general and took it upon himself to be brave, to inspire his men, his army, to follow his lead and fight courageously for the Troy. Yet still there was one prince who never strayed beyond the walls, though many implored him to do so, and though even Helen, the golden queen, seemed shamed by his actions – Paris refused to pick up a sword and fight alongside his brothers and his people.
Some people told stories that he had deliberately brought about the war, in vengeance for the king sending him to his death as a child – and others whispered that Paris did not wish for a Trojan victory nor a Greek one, and that he had brought about the war in the hopes that both armies would be decimated, so he and Helen could rule the vast lands to the east unrivalled.
Andromache did not believe these stories, though many did, for she thought that Paris’ reluctance to fight was down to one thing and one thing alone; he was a coward. Hector shared these thoughts with her, and at the high table he often chastised his brother for not coming forth with him to fight against the invaders. His brothers, too, mocked him for his cowardice, yet still Paris did not pick up a sword and shield.
Though both armies had suffered casualties, Andromache wished only for one man to be slain: Achilles. Yet each time her husband and his brothers returned from battle, they spoke only of Achilles’ skill in warfare, and to inform her that still he lived.
Whilst battle raged outside the walls, it was becoming a very different kind of warfare within the city itself. Andromache and the royals did not suffer hunger, nor want for anything, for their own stores had not yet dwindled, but in the streets there were cries from the starving, from the sick and from the dying.
The four main gates in and out of the city had been sealed, and were guarded heavily night and day, remaining closed except for when Hector led his army out to fight. Yet there were smaller entrances in the walls; passages that ran beneath the perimeter, concealed by trees or rocks beyond the walls, and emerging in temples or the homes of the wealthy. These passages were not common knowledge amongst the people, for they were kept secret. Thus it was through these passages that food was smuggled into the city, unbeknownst to the Greek armies, who still hoped that laying a prolonged siege to the city would bring about a Trojan surrender, while they could fish on the shores of Troy. Andromache now understood how the city could withstand such long sieges, and the cause for Philomena’s trust in the strength of the city – yet still the people went hungry. The farmlands and orchards, olive yards and fisheries, had been burned or captured by the Greek armies who sought to cut the city off from any source of food. There were still the passages, yet only small amounts of food and wine reached them – and the resources were reserved for the soldiers, for the nobility and
the royals, and with the city so overcrowded already, it was not long before the people began to die of starvation.
Andromache did not leave the safety of the palace now, though Hector had told her that the people no longer felt such animosity towards the royals. They knew that Hector and his brothers fought hard in each battle so that peace might return, and they loved their princes for that. There was little talk outside the palace or walls of the noble houses of Paris’ cowardice, for King Priam sought to hide his second son’s inactions from the public for fear that it would change the tide of feeling towards them should his behaviour be known.
With such imbalance between the rich and the poor now emerging within the city walls, Andromache knew that the royal family was treading a thin line, and as such she constantly feared that public opinion would swing against them. She remained on constant alert, keeping Astyanax and her maids close to her at all times.
The days dragged on to weeks, then months, and still nothing changed. Battles were won, battles were lost, and the Greek army remained, and the Trojans did not surrender. Andromache grew tired of such an impasse; she prayed often for victory, for Achilles’ death, or for Helen to return to her rightful husband and be gone from their shores.
It was half a year after the ships had appeared on the horizon when, with great fanfare and delight, allies of Troy began to arrive to support the Trojan army in defence of the east against these invaders. Hector told his wife that his father had sent messengers to each King, Queen and nobleman in the east and beyond, pleading with them to come to Troy’s defence - they had begun to lose hope that any would come.
King Memnon of Ethiopia arrived aboard ships, cutting his way through the Greek encampment to land and make it up shore to the walled city. His men were fierce, their skin black as charcoal and their bodies lean and powerful; Andromache was in awe of these men and welcomed them warmly as the rest of the city did. Memnon was a skilled fighter and a good friend of Priam’s, and he had no love for the Greeks.
Queen Penthesilia brought her army of Amazonians down from the mountainside, and was received with warmth but uncertainty by many of the Trojan soldiers, who did not believe that an army of women, no matter how fierce they might look, would be of much help in this war. After the first day of battle in which Penthesilia led her troops against the Greeks, however, the men were in awe of these goddess-like warriors; for between them they had slain more than any others on that day, and Penthesilia fast became a hero to the Trojan people; she intrigued Andromache even more so than did King Memnon.
Others came too, bringing with them news of the Greeks ransacking up and down the eastern shores. It was with heavy heart that Andromache learned of the destruction of Thebes, her birthplace, and the deaths of its people. Some, she was told, had been taken as slaves and concubines by the Greek soldiers, the rest had been put to death. These were the casualties of war, Andromache knew, so she accepted such news though it pained her to do so.
Although such sad stories were told to the people, the Trojan hope was renewed by the arrival of the allies; it was a happy, optimistic mood that swept over the city and the palace. Andromache hoped that the Greeks would hesitate now that such distinguished warriors had joined the war against them, but they did not.
Hector told her that spies within the Greek camp had let it be known that Menelaus was tiring of war, having come no closer to reclaiming his wife all these months later than he had been on the first day he had stepped ashore. All of this gave Andromache cause for hope; and she saw the way Helen now looked upon her lover, for she could surely no longer disguise her disapproval in Paris’ cowardice. Perhaps, she thought, Menelaus would seek to negotiate for peace, and Helen would sail away with him, no longer so in love with Paris as she had been upon her arrival in the city.
Indeed, it seemed to her that Hector hoped to bring about such a treaty with Menelaus, for they both knew that should Menelaus reclaim Helen, the majority of the Greek army would leave the shores with him; many had only come to fulfil the oath they had sworn upon Menelaus and Helen’s marriage, and they longed for home, no longer sharing Agamemnon’s dream for conquering the eastern lands.
The hope for a treaty gave Andromache a renewed strength; but it was during a feast to celebrate a particularly well-fought battle that day, that the hope was torn from her breast and trampled upon, grinding her longing for peace into dust beneath her feet.
Paris had made an announcement, standing and raising his goblet high above his head. Silence had descended over the room, and everyone had looked expectantly to him – was he to announce that Helen was returning to her husband? Or was he to finally pick up a sword and ride into battle with his brothersAndromache at once felt concerned, seeing the blush on Helen’s cheeks. She did not look scared, though her eyes flickered nervously to the other royal women.
“I have some good news to add this great victory,” Paris said, his voice carrying across the hall, over the heads of all those in attendance, whose eyes were upon him. “For I, your noble prince, am to marry Helen, my beautiful golden queen.”
There was shocked silence throughout the room. Andromache’s heart sank and she felt Hector tense beside her. There would be no hope of a treaty with Menelaus now; no hope for a peaceful resolution to this long, tiresome war.
Paris gave Helen his hand and she too rose to her feet. The couple, soon to be man and wife, stood before the silent room, Paris beaming about at them all as if he took their silence for delight. Helen had the decency to look uncomfortable, Andromache thought, though not the true decency to return to her true husband, who waited in his camp upon the edge of the shore.
Queen Hecuba at last clapped, smiling blindly at her son and his betrothed. Others joined in upon seeing the queen do so, but it was out of politeness for her opinion and with trepidation and disapproval that they did. Others, Creusa amongst them, stared in open scorn at the couple, arms folded across their chest so that their enmity was clear.
Andromache did not applaud, for her hands were trembling too much from rage, frustration, despair, and what else she did not know. She thought of the delicate balance that the royal family must tread, to keep the citizens of the city, so burdened as they were, at peace with them and one another.
Whilst war was fought and people starved, Paris and Helen, the unwelcome couple, the coward and his whore, were to throw a royal wedding, and Andromache could think of no greater insult to those men and women, starving beneath them, mourning their husbands and sons who had fallen on the battlefield.
* * *
Though Andromache’s concerns were shared by many in the royal palace, Queen Hecuba had given the wedding her blessing and as such, King Priam offered no objection to the marriage. Hector, so battle-weary and tired from such tensions, had tried to speak openly with his father about what the marriage would mean for the war, but Priam did not refuse his wife anything and so the preparations for Paris and Helen’s royal wedding began. There was to be no objection.
Whilst the betrothal seemed to renew Paris’ arrogance, it seemed to Andromache that Helen seemed quieter, more withdrawn, in the days and weeks following the announcement. She no longer joined the royal ladies in their frequent walks along the ramparts, nor did she attempt to accompany them to the temples.
Andromache, though she wished she could hate the golden queen, found herself wondering if perhaps she had judged the woman too harshly. It was true that she had caused this war, but when she thought of what the queen must be feeling – to be so isolated in this palace, whilst her husband’s people fought against her own – surely she deserved compassion, rather than hatred?
Despite Hector and the council’s concerns, Queen Hecuba wanted a lavish wedding for Paris and Helen, and as such King Priam wasted no expense. Andromache felt constantly afraid that the people would object to such wasting of the precious food that found its way to the city, yet they did not. If anything, a royal wedding seemed to enliven the masses, give them hope that things could retu
rn to the way they had once been.
It was in the Temple of Apollo, alone with her thoughts, that Andromache came across Helen. Her golden hair was braided and knotted behind her head, in the Trojan fashion, and she wore a headdress of sparkling silver, adorned with plush white feathers that glistened with crystals. Her eyes had the traditional black kohl painted around them, and she knelt in prayer, eyes raised upwards to the roof, tears glistening upon her cheeks.
Andromache hesitated at first, for she did not want to disturb the queen at her prayers, nor did she have any great desire to spend time alone with the woman. Yet despite her uncertainty, she took a step forward, her gowns rustling with the movement, and Helen turned at the sound, eyeing Andromache with caution. Andromache felt a renewed remorse for her treatment of the queen, and approached her, glancing around to make sure that they were alone, that nobody lingered in the shadows behind the pillars to eavesdrop.
“You are crying,” Andromache said, kneeling beside the golden queen. “You are to be married soon, you should not be so sad.”
Helen wiped at her eyes and remained defiant.
“It is not for my marriage, nor my choice of husband, that I weep,” she said, as if daring Andromache to contradict or question these choices. “It is fear and regret that bring these tears to my eyes.”
“What have you to fear?” Andromache asked, softening towards the queen. “You are safe within these walls, and you are to marry the man you love, whatever people may say of him.”