The Trojan Princess

by JJ Hilton

  “You need not have come,” Helen said, turning her back upon her. “I wish to be alone.”

  “I only thought to –”

  “You have had a wasted trip down here,” Helen interrupted her. “You can return to your luxurious chambers and your scented silk sheets, for you have nothing to say that I would wish to hear.”

  Andromache wished to impart some kindness to this woman, but Helen was already retreating into the dark recesses of the cell once more.

  “You will not be here forever,” Andromache repeated quietly to her retreating back.

  Helen laughed, not turning to face her.

  “I know,” she said, amused. “Though it will be I who decides when I shall leave, not your king or the poor man’s king they seek to send me back to.”

  Andromache stepped away from the cell and Helen was swallowed by the darkness. As she hurried back up the stone corridor, desperate to be out of such a horrible place, she could not rid herself of the unease Helen had made her feel.

  The air grew fresher as she neared the entrance and she climbed the steps to the door gratefully, rapping hard upon the door and almost pushing past the guard as he let her out. She drew in deep breaths of fresh air, shivering at the thought Helen far beneath her in her cell. She turned and Diephobus caught her arm, both of them registering surprise upon seeing each other and almost crashing into each other.

  “I apologize,” Andromache said, “I was not looking where I was going.”

  “Do not trouble yourself on it,” Diephobus dismissed her. Andromache retreated down the corridor, and glanced back to see Diephobus being admitted through the door she had just come from, and he disappeared down the steps to the dungeons. She wondered who the prince went to visit, but there was no doubt in her mind that it was Helen he sought.

  * * *

  King Menelaus arrived in the city of Troy the following day and it was with apprehension and excitement that the palace welcomed him. As part of the welcome that received him in the courtyard of the palace, Andromache set eyes upon this king who had called upon his wife’s former suitors and sailed upon Troy with war in mind. She thought he looked a tired man and she could not place this brown haired, unremarkable man as the one she had so feared, so hated for bringing about war.

  The Spartan king had come with only a few advisors and he had left his brother, King Agamemnon, behind at the camp. Andromache felt hopeful when she heard this, for Hector and then Helenus had both told her that it was Menelaus’ older brother who sought conquest not peace, and without him she was sure that negotiations for peace and an end to war would be more welcome to Menelaus’ ears.

  Andromache and her maids waited in her chambers whilst discussions took place within the council chambers, and she knew that her maids were as eager and as anxious as she was for King Priam’s success. She had hoped that peace would come quickly, but the negotiations lasted for three days, and Andromache feared nothing would be agreed upon. The palace grew restless, though when King Menelaus dined with them at the high table in the great hall, King Priam sought to lighten the mood and Andromache watched as the charade and discussions continued.

  At the end of the third day of discussions, when Andromache was beginning to fear that no terms could be agreed upon, the kings left the council chambers in a more jovial air than previously they had, and Andromache heard of such tidings at once, for Philomena had heard of it through a guard.

  Andromache dined at the high table with anticipation and it was not long before King Priam announced that he and King Menelaus had reached an agreement at last.

  “Our honoured guest,” King Priam said to the apprehensive hall, gesturing towards King Menelaus who sat beside him, “and I have reached terms that we both find acceptable. Queen Helen, his wife, will leave the city with him, and upon her return to King Menelaus’ camp, their ships will be readied for a return to Sparta with the utmost haste.”

  The king’s announcement was greeted with silence, for nobody dared to hope that peace had finally come.

  “Furthermore, King Menelaus will call upon the leaders of the other Greek nations and release them from the oath they swore,” Priam stated, and King Menelaus nodded in agreement as he read the terms. “And they too will set sail at first chance to return home.”

  Worried faces creased with smiles throughout the hall, Andromache amongst them, for everyone knew that this meant the war was over. It was with happy hearts that the hall dined and drank that evening, for peace was at last upon them and Andromache could not help but wish her husband still sat beside her to see such a wonderful sight.

  * * *

  Andromache left the great hall with a spring in her step as she swept down the corridors, feeling more elated than she had dared to feel for such a long time.

  Ilisa was waiting in her chambers for any news and Andromache’s smile elicited a squeal of hopeful excitement from her maid.

  “The kings made a truce,” Andromache told her, joy thick in her voice. “Helen is to return with Menelaus to the camps tomorrow, and they will set sail at once.”

  Ilisa threw herself into the princess’s arms, tears glistening in her eyes, and the two women held each other, letting the wonderful news seep over them, for Andromache knew that tonight would be one neither of them were likely ever to forget.

  “Shall I wake Astyanax to tell him the news?” Ilisa asked.

  Andromache shook her head, for she did not wish to disturb her son’s peaceful dreams, and besides, it would be a wonderful way to start a fresh day; with the hope of freedom.

  When Philomena entered the chambers, Andromache knew that she must have yet to hear the good news, for she looked sullen as she crossed the marble floor to them.

  “A smile should be upon your face!” Ilisa cried to her, hugging her too, “How is it that you have not heard this joyous news? You usually are the first to hear of anything!”

  Philomena’s frown did not alter and Andromache went to her.

  “Is anything amiss?” she asked her maid, seeing that her maid seemed pale.

  “I have heard the talk of peace,” Philomena said, her voice strangely flat, “And yet I do not understand how it can be.”

  “A truce has been reached,” Andromache told her. “Helen is to return –”

  “I beg your pardon, princess, but that cannot be so,” Philomena interrupted her, and Andromache was shocked that her maid would show such lack of manners, yet her maid did not apologize, but continued, shaking her head, ignoring the anger on Ilisa’s face. “For I do not know how Princess Helen can be returned to her husband when –” She stopped.

  Andromache and Ilisa exchanged bewildered looks, as Philomena bit on her lips so that she may stop herself from crying.

  “What is this you speak of?” Andromache urged her.

  Ilisa stroked her arm, and Philomena turned to the princess.

  “I have seen Helen, not in the dungeons as she was supposed to be,” Philomena said.

  “We must inform the council at once!” Andromache cried.

  “I fear that it is too late,” Philomena said. “For the princess was accompanied by Diephobus, the royal prince.”

  Andromache felt fear wash over her, for she felt sure that no news concerning the sly prince could be good.

  “You saw Diephobus with Helen?” Andromache asked, remembering seeing Diephobus entering the dungeons after she had departed them. “Did you see where they were going?”

  She shook Philomena by the shoulders, desperate for answers, so that all hope might not be lost. Philomena looked into her face and Andromache saw she was scared.

  “I do not know where they were going,” she answered. “But I know where they had been.”

  Andromache and Ilisa looked at her as Philomena wiped at her eyes.

  “They had been in the temple,” Philomena said. “Helen and Diephobus have been married this night; so how can King Priam seek to send her to the Greeks and bring peace?”

  Andromache saw no
lie on her face and fear gripped at her heart.

  * * *

  Andromache knew that there was no time to spare if there was to be any hope of salvaging the peace that King Priam and King Menelaus had come to. She sent Ilisa to find Helenus at once, and the maid rushed out of the room, her face serious, for she knew the importance of this grave matter, as did Andromache. Philomena composed herself, for seeing the fear upon the princess’s face brought her to her senses, and Andromache sent her to warn the guards at the entrance to the palace that nobody was to leave the palace yet.

  Alone in her chambers, Andromache took a short moment to take a deep breath and steady her nerves, for she knew what she must do and where she would discover Diephobus and his new bride. She too departed her chambers and hurried along the corridors and up stairwells until she found herself outside of Diephobus’ chambers.

  She had never had cause to enter the prince’s chambers before, nor did she wish to do so now, for she knew what she would find upon entering. She rapped hard upon the door and heard muffled voices from within. Without waiting for the door to be opened, she threw herself inside and stared aghast at the sight before her.

  Diephobus had climbed out of the large bed, draped in silks of exquisite colours, and was pulling his robes over himself for she knew that he had been naked but a moment ago. Lying upon the bed in a tangle of sheets, Helen looked at her with a curved smile upon her lips, golden hair washed and braided, cascading down her neck to her bare breasts. If any doubt over Philomena’s recounting had plagued Andromache, it was gone now, for she knew that the prince and the golden widow must indeed have married and that she was too late to stop them from consummating it.

  “What have you done?” Andromache demanded, unsure of which of them she sought an answer from.

  It was Diephobus who answered her.

  “I have made Helen my wife,” he said, and his voice held no hint of regret, though surely he must know that in this selfish action he had dashed any hope of peace with King Menelaus. He finished securing his robes about him, and sat upon the bed beside Helen, clasping her hands in his. “She can no longer be sent forth from the palace with Menelaus.”

  Andromache shook her head, mouth agape, as she struggled to comprehend it.

  “Do you not care that your father has secured peace for the city?” Andromache asked, her voice rising with her anger. “Do you wish to see this city utterly destroyed?”

  Diephobus rose to his feet and walked around the bed so that he might approach Andromache, though she took a step backward, fearful of him.

  “You fear me?” Diephobus asked, shaking his head sadly. “No, Andromache, you must not fear me, or Helen. We do not seek to harm you, nor this great city of ours.”

  “Then why have you ruined any hope of peace for us?” Andromache asked.

  “King Agamemnon will never allow peace,” Diephobus said, his voice gentle and reproaching, as if he were disappointed that Andromache did not already know such a thing to be true. “And King Menelaus is weak and foolish, for who else would wage such a long and costly war just to reclaim a wife he does not love and only seeks out of pride? Menelaus may talk of peace, but he will be easily swayed by his brother, and Priam’s truce will mean nothing to him. Why else do you think Agamemnon is not here?”

  Andromache did not know what to say, or how to reason with such a man. She was saved the need when the door burst open again and Helenus entered, face flushed from sprinting through the palace to the chambers. He took in the scene before him with widening eyes and looked crestfallen as his eyes settled upon his brother.

  “You absolute fool!” Helenus declared his brother. “You selfish man, you seek to fulfil your own carnal pleasures over the safety and future of our entire city?”

  A leer came to Diephobus’ lips.

  “You, my brother, are the fool,” he said. “I did not marry Helen for pleasure, though her beauty brings me great joy. I did this to save our father from making a mistake, and so that our city may hope to seek allegiance with Sparta.”

  “You have married yourself to the wife of Sparta’s king!” Helenus shouted. “How can you hope for an alliance with such a man?”

  “It is Helen who is the rightful ruler of Sparta,” Diephobus reproved him. “King Menelaus is a false king – merely her consort - and he has no claim to the throne now that Helen has discarded him. Her father, Tyndareus, though aged and abdicated, will no doubt support his own daughter’s claim to the throne and dismiss Menelaus’, do you not think?”

  Helenus’ eyes narrowed.

  “You mean to wage war for a throne in Sparta?” Helenus asked, shaking his head. “Have you forgotten, brother, that we claim no victory in the war at our city gates?”

  “You do not understand the importance of this marriage,” Diephobus said, gesturing to himself and Helen. “You are a soldier, brother, and not a thinker. Paris was a fool not to think of such a thing when he married my dearest Helen. I will not make the same mistake.”

  “You have not thought of anything but yourself!” Helenus said. He turned to Helen, who showed no embarrassment at baring her naked breasts before her new husband’s brother. “And you?” Helenus asked, “Of what benefit is this marriage to you?”

  Helen laughed, and Andromache imagined it vindictive and cold.

  “What benefit to me, you ask? Look around, Helenus, for I lay here in these mighty chambers, my husband a royal prince and my future secure within this palace until such a time as we reclaim my crown in Sparta,” Helen said, her eyes flickering between Helenus and Andromache. “Only hours ago, I was in a dark cell far beneath our feet, with nobody caring for my life nor my interests, and my future certain to be grim and painful when your father passed me back to Menelaus as if I were not a princess and a queen, but an object to be bartered!”

  Her eyes glimmered with malice now, Andromache was sure of it, and she felt at once a fool for believing that this woman was a victim, that perhaps she needed a friend or support. She wondered how long Helen had plotted and schemed with this odious prince and if she herself had somehow been manipulated by this cold woman who lay before her.

  Andromache knew that there was to be no treaty, for surely King Priam could not send Helen away with Menelaus now that she was married to Diephobus. Helenus seemed to have thought this too, for even now, faced with their defiance, he sought to find a way.

  “Who was witness to this marriage?” Helenus demanded. “And which priest performed such a rite without the king’s consent?”

  If Diephobus or Helen felt any remorse they did not show it. Andromache went from the chambers then, hardly able to breath – such a short time ago she had been ecstatic that peace was to descend – and now she knew that even more war loomed ever closer.

  * * *

  Andromache did not sleep well and she could not face leaving her chambers when morning came, for she knew that King Menelaus was to learn of Diephobus and Helen’s unsanctioned marriage and that his rage would be terrifying to behold, and that all hope would be wiped from the faces of those who eventually witnessed him storm from the palace.

  Indeed Philomena and Ilisa saw King Menelaus from the windows as he raged across the courtyard, barking orders to his advisors in a furious voice. When returned to Andromache’s side and told her of this, Andromache knew she had been right not to go down to the great hall, for she felt enough sadness that she did not wish to add to it further.

  At once news spread of King Menelaus’ angry departure from the palace and none who had seen his exit could fail to realise that the peace talks had gone sour and that the city was still in a state of war.

  Diephobus and Helen did not venture forth from his chambers, and Andromache thought it wise of them, for there were surely hundreds within the palace and thousands in the wider city that would gladly have ripped the husband and wife limb from limb for the renewed grief that they had caused the city as word spread of their marriage.

  Andromache too remained in her
chambers, not for fear of reprisal but for the simple fact that she could not bear to look upon so many disappointed faces. Looking at her two maids’ grieving looks alone was enough, and she did not wish to add her own misery to the thick cloud of despair and exhaustion that lingered in every corner of the palace on this day.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A Palace in Discord

  In the aftermath of Diephobus and Helen’s marriage, Andromache and the rest of the city waited for the consequences of such an unsanctioned action and fear was rife that King Menelaus’ wrath would be ferocious.

  Helenus thought to strike at the Greek camp fast, before Menelaus had time to attack first, but King Priam and the council did not wish to suffer further casualties, nor provoke further enmity from the king, so they dismissed such proactive measures and were satisfied to wait behind the safety of the great walls and wait to see what would befall them.

  Though no Greek army descended upon the walls, Andromache watched from the ramparts as activity filled the camps in the distance, for she could see that something was happening, though what it might be she did not know. Some ships were being hauled out of the sea and dragged upon the shore where teams of men seemed to be dismantling them and using the wood to build another structure.

  “Perhaps it is a great wooden tower?” Ilisa asked, voice quivering. “So that they might enter from atop the walls instead of seek to go through them?”

  “No, it looks nothing like a tower,” Philomena chastised her, shaking her head.

  “So what do you think it is, then?” Ilisa demanded of her.

  Philomena had no answer and neither did Andromache.

  Whilst the Greeks upon the shore continued with their mysterious activity, Andromache sought ways to distract herself from her thoughts on what was happening in the camps. Astyanax seemed to age before her eyes, and Andromache felt renewed fear that he would soon be called upon to fight or to take a place in the council, even though he was still young in her eyes. He no longer sought her to soothe his fears, and Andromache knew that this was a dangerous time for them both. He was as yet too young to understand the innermost workings of the councilmen and the city, but he was of an age where he was overconfident and believed himself smarter and more knowledgeable than he truly was – even if Andromache conceded that he was smart for a young boy.