by JJ Hilton
“Andromache, the pyre is built and the time is right,” he said softly. “It is time to let him go now.”
Andromache nodded and kissed the back of Hector’s hand and returned it to his side, stepping back from her husband. Helenus smiled gratefully at her, and then summoned forth his brothers and guards. Between them they lifted Hector and carried him above their heads out of the crypt, Andromache following behind them.
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,” Poly
xena 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.”
Chapter Nine
Achilles’ Proposal
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 wo
men 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.”