by JJ Hilton
Yet he had not forced himself upon her, and she felt steady though the ship swayed about her, for she thought that perhaps Neoptolemus was not as bad a man as she had feared. She was certain that he was a better master than Agamemnon or his ilk would be, and she felt her heart go out to Cassandra, who had become his concubine.
Helenus came to her then, his eyes fearful, but when he saw that she was not hurt nor in distress, he was surprised.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked.
Andromache shook her head and followed him down to the bowels of the ship where the slaves slept on the hard wooden floor, the sound of rushing water always about them, and she curled up beside her son as she lay down to rest, Helenus’ arms about her also, and she felt safe despite the circumstances in which she had found herself placed.
* * *
Neoptolemus had set a course for Epirus, where his grandfather’s lands would provide him with supplies and a fresh group of soldiers to replace the exhausted ones that travelled with him now after years of fighting in the war.
As the weeks passed on board, he grew increasingly fascinated by Andromache, for he had never met a woman who had such beauty and such fierce pride. He knew that he had been right to spare her and the boy she travelled with, though he did not ask of the boy. He suspected that the boy may be Astyanax, the heir of Troy, whom Agamemnon and the Greeks believed to be dead, and yet still he did not endeavour to find out. He did not wish the boy harm, for there was little he could do to rule Troy now, ruined as it was. More than this, he found that he did not wish to cause Andromache any more suffering.
The man she travelled with, Prince Helenus, did not like that Andromache was his concubine, and he often noted that whenever he summoned Andromache to his cabin, Helenus’ face soured and his eyes glimmered with barely controlled rage.
Though he often called Andromache to his cabin he did not lay a hand upon her. She aroused such desire in him, but she was too proud a woman that he did not wish to bring her so low as it would do if her were to force himself upon her. Yet his desire for her made him weak and he wondered if his men spoke of it when he was not around and he felt torn between appeasing the woman’s proud nature and asserting his dominance over her.
He called her one night to him and closed the door firmly behind her as she had entered. She wore her hair loose and he ran a hand through it, the other slipping around her waist and pulling her up against him. She did not think to fight him but he felt her body tense, though her eyes as he looked into them showed no fear or distress.
His lips went to hers and her lips parted for him, her mouth warm, and he felt the tension from her body slowly ease as she leaned into him. He wondered if he had awoken desire within her after she had endured so many years of celibacy.
He stripped her naked and carried her to his bed, where he lay her down and disrobed himself. Andromache did not offer any words or any resistance as he went to her, their naked bodies pressing against each other.
When he was finished, she lay against him and still did not speak. He wondered what she was thinking but he did not ask her, his arm around her, holding her close against him, and they lay like that until both drifted into sleep.
* * *
The journey had taken many years now and still they did not reach Epirus, though Andromache often wondered whether she truly wanted to reach these foreign lands that Neoptolemus spoke of, for surely when they did everything would be so different, and she had grown quite accustomed to life aboard the ship.
She was heavy with her second child by Neoptolemus now, and her stomach strained against the folds of the gown she wore. Astyanax was excited that he was to have another brother or sister, though Andromache insisted that he was not to tell anyone, for she still feared that Neoptolemus and his men would discover the boy’s true identity, though something in the way Neoptolemus looked upon Astyanax made her wonder if he knew the truth and remained silent anyway.
Neoptolemus was pleased that she was carrying another of his children, but Andromache feared that she would have to give birth on board the ship and, remembering how painful it had been to birth Molossus, she did not wish for such a thing.
She grew more exhausted with each passing month, and soon she only went on deck for a short time each day before retiring beneath the decks to lie on her bed and sleep.
Molossus, her golden haired boy, was adored by all and Neoptolemus was careful always to show that it was this child, and not Astyanax, who was the most important. Andromache allowed him this small act, for though she loved Molossus, and the child she carried within her womb, she loved Astyanax most of all because he was Hector’s son.
* * *
When the time came for childbirth, Andromache feared for her life and that of her child’s, but Helenus acted as midwife and delivered the baby safely, as he had done before with Molossus. Neoptolemus was pleased and adored this second son she had borne him, and he named him Pielus. As she watched him look with delight upon their son, Molossus peering eagerly at the new brother he had, she wondered if perhaps she had grown to love this man, the son of Achilles.
“You have done well, and you should rest awhile,” he told her when he visited her.
Andromache rested, and when days had passed and she was recovered, Neoptolemus sent for her to join him in his cabin. He came to her as he done so many times before and put his arms about her, his lips seeking hers, but she pulled away from him, still tired from her labour, and from looking after Molossus and Pielus, and yet he insisted.
She remembered, in that moment, that he was her master and she was but his concubine, a woman with whom he could satiate and satisfy his desires whilst aboard this ship, an amusement for him when darkness fell, and she dutifully let him have his way.
* * *
When at last the ship arrived in Epirus, Andromache was once more heavy with Neoptolemus’ child, and it was with relief that she left the ship and set foot on dry land. She felt unsteady on her feet, so accustomed had she become to standing aboard the ever swaying and rocking ship in the long years that their journey had taken.
Neoptolemus was eager to reclaim his lands and yet his grandfather did not welcome him and it was not long before word came of great trouble in the land.
“I must go to my grandfather’s aid at once,” Neoptolemus said, taking Andromache by the hand and leading her aside from the others. “I will leave you and our child in Helenus’ care. He will take care of you, I am sure of it.”
Andromache nodded, for she knew indeed that Helenus would take care of her, for on their long voyage she had grown certain that Helenus was in love with her. For how long he had held such feelings, she did not know.
She often questioned whether she had feelings for the prince, for it was true that she enjoyed his company and trusted him above all others, and she could not deny that he was a handsome man, but he was the brother of her beloved Hector, and she could not be sure that her feelings for him did not stem from her love for his brother and desire to share such memories of him with Helenus who had been so beloved of him.
Neoptolemus too she had warmth for, yet she knew that she did not love him as she had loved Hector. Though he had blessed her with two sons, and another that even now she carried, she knew that even though they had shared many nights together, it was not love that was between them. Neoptolemus held her in high regard, yet he longed for another, a wife who would bring him political sway, wealth or lands, and Andromache could offer none of these, for her lands were overrun with ruin and the people she would have influence over were dead or in captivity.
She kissed Neoptolemus goodbye and watched as he led his men to yet another battle. Helenus came to her side, Astyanax beside him and she noticed, not for the first time, that her son looked so like his father - Molossus and Pielus both already had the golden hair of Neoptolemus - as Astyanax stood holding their hands, adoring of his younger half-brothers. Neoptolemus allowed him this, for he had grown to like the young man, Andromache
thought, but she was always wary, always worried that one day he would proclaim Astyanax the heir to Troy and order his death.
It was with regret that she watched Neoptolemus leave them, not just for fear that he would not return, but for what might become of them when he did come back.
* * *
It had been months since he had gone to his grandfather’s aid, but Neoptolemus did return and Andromache greeted him with his new born son, Pielus, in her arms.
Now that he had returned, Andromache thought that things would return to the way they had been aboard the ship, and yet Neoptolemus brought back with him some unexpected news.
“I am to marry,” he announced, as he and his court sat down to dine. “The betrothal is most favourable, for Hermione, my betrothed, is the daughter of King Menelaus and Queen Helen of Sparta.”
Andromache and Helenus exchanged looks across the table, for Andromache had heard nothing of what had become of the golden queen since she had been left in the dungeons beneath the palace in Troy.
“Helen?” she asked, momentarily forgetting her status, which earned her a disapproving look from the men who sat about Neoptolemus and who had never warmed to her; they had feared that Neoptolemus was unwise to share so much affection with a woman who had been their enemy for so many years of war. “My apologies, I should not ask,” she hastily apologized, but Neoptolemus’ gaze softened.
“I forget that you are acquainted with the Queen of Sparta,” he said, and the men all knew that he referred to her traitorous time as a Trojan princess. “She and King Menelaus set sail from Troy days after we ourselves did. They have returned to Sparta and sit upon their thrones there once more, excited at the prospect of their daughter’s marriage.”
Andromache nodded, but she wondered how the golden princess had managed to save herself and persuade King Menelaus to forgive not one, but two marriages to Trojan princes. Yet she did not press Neoptolemus for further details, merely watched as the men surrounding him drank and celebrated the news of his betrothal.
She wondered what such a marriage would mean for her, for she knew well enough that once he had a wife to sire his children and fulfil his desires, she would no longer be required to share his bed. She found herself wondering if perhaps he would set her and Helenus free, to do as they pleased, perhaps start afresh in this new land far from the painful memories of Troy and the lands they had long left behind.
A sense of uncertainty also came upon her, for she knew that Helen had witnessed her escape with Astyanax, and she was one of few who knew that her son and true heir had survived the sack of Troy. It worried her to know that Neoptolemus and Helen would be in such close quarters and what may be discussed if Helen were to inquire after her.
That night she was disturbed from sleep as Neoptolemus crept into her small chambers and came to her bed. He reeked of wine as he staggered to her. She did not need to ask him what business he sought, and she dutifully threw the covers aside so that he may look upon her.
Her hope that she might one day be free began to dwindle as Neoptolemus’ hands caressed her skin, not rough but not gentle; she realised she had borne him children and he would not likely let her leave with them. She wondered what Hermione would say of her on her return from Sparta as his wife, when she were to learn that Andromache had borne him three illegitimate children and that he still thought to visit her bed in the night hours. She did not think Hermione would warm towards her and fear once more crept into her heart. Andromache longed for freedom, yet she doubted she would ever see it again.
Chapter Eighteen
The Last
The palace in Epirus was both excited and nervous as they prepared for the return of Neoptolemus and his new wife Hermione. Many had heard tales of Hermione and her cousin, Orestes, and Andromache, though she tried to pay no heed to such wanton talk, could not help but fear the woman that it was said had seduced her cousin and thought more of war and politics than she did of children and wifely duties.
The ship arrived to find a warm welcome awaiting them, and Andromache and Helenus stood with the rest of the household to bid them greeting. Sensing her anxiety, Helenus held her hand and Astyanax, now a grown man of twenty, took up her other hand so that she could feel reassured within their loving grasp.
Neoptolemus embarked from the ship clutching his bride at his side, and upon his arrival he swept Molossus, Pielus and Pergamus into his arms and held them close to him, delighted by the healthy appearance of his golden haired sons. He looked upon Andromache warmly as the mother of his children, but did not embrace her in the presence of his new wife.
“My darling sons, how I have missed you all!” Neoptolemus exclaimed, and he had a warm smile too for Astyanax, who bowed his head to him.
Andromache smiled, for she was glad to see him safely returned, and then looked upon his wife, the formidable Hermione, who met her warm look with a cold glare.
“You are the woman of which my mother has spoken,” she said, as she greeted Andromache. “She said that you had a certain beauty, but I see no trace of it.”
Andromache bowed courteously, and as the woman passed she looked at this daughter of Helen’s. Hermione looked much like her mother, though she was not as beautiful, yet she had shining golden hair and a slender, alluring body. Her eyes, too, were the piercing blue of her mother's, and yet there was no warmth there - only ice. Andromache felt her own pleasure at seeing Neoptolemus waver under his new wife’s look.
As the festivities to welcome them commenced, Andromache felt the woman’s gaze constantly upon her and she knew that Helenus and Astyanax felt it too, for they stayed by her side and did not greet Hermione as warmly as the rest of the household did.
“I trust you will find my household as accommodating as I have always found them,” Neoptolemus said to his wife, gesturing about at the people smiling towards them.
Hermione’s eyes fell upon Andromache and she did not smile.
“Some are said to be more accommodating than others,” she said, and Andromache knew it was of her that she spoke. “Yet now I am here, they shall not be so called upon.”
Andromache wished to assure the woman that she posed no threat to her or her marriage, for she was sure that Neoptolemus, married now to such a wife as she, would no longer feel the need to come to her bed.
Yet as the days passed, Neoptolemus did indeed seek the comfort of his concubine, and Andromache felt dread upon the sound of door opening in the night and the sight of her master as he came to her across the darkened room.
“You should be in the arms of your wife,” she chastised him, her voice quiet so as not to wake her sons in the adjoining room, nor Helenus who slept in the same room as them. “She already has a dislike for me, and it will be the worse if she discovers you have been here.”
Neoptolemus tugged at a strand of her hair playfully, not heeding her warnings.
“You should not care of my wife’s concerns,” he said, stroking her face. “How I have missed you,” he whispered, pulling her close to him so that their bodies were pressed against each other, but Andromache struggled against him.
“Please, you should honour your wife, she is only just arrived in Epirus,” she pleaded.
“Enough talk of my wife,” he said, a sterner note to his voice now, and Andromache knew that it was no use trying to dissuade him from the passion he felt.
When Neoptolemus crept out of the room later, Andromache knew that his wife must know where he disappeared from her bed to go, and she did not enjoy the thought of what Hermione must be thinking as she lay alone in her new home, waiting for her husband.
* * *
Hermione did not seem to take kindly to her husband’s frequenting of Andromache’s bedchamber, and though he had other concubines in Epirus, Hermione reserved her spite for Andromache. Andromache did not know whether it was because she had borne him three sons, or because of her history with Hermione’s mother, but she did not know how to ease the woman’s anger or how to direct it
away from her and her sons.
As the months passed, Hermione and Neoptolemus’ marriage became volatile. Andromache was afraid of such a thing, for she knew that Hermione sought to blame her. It was whispered that Hermione was barren, and as each month passed and she showed no signs of pregnancy, Andromache knew that such talk grew in foundation.
“Perhaps I would have more chance of carrying your child if you did not spend so much time in that whores bed rather than mine own,” Hermione raged at Neoptolemus, and nobody who heard her words could be in any doubt as to who she blamed for her barrenness.
Andromache tried to urge Neoptolemus to spend less nights in her bed and more in Hermione’s, however she was but a servant and he did not heed her advice and nor did he seem to show interest in his new wife.
As such, Andromache grew to fear Hermione, who found the most odious of household tasks and would summon Andromache to fulfil them, whether it was cleaning up after the dogs or mopping the floors after a member of the household had been taken ill.With such tension within the palace, Andromache felt ashamed. Astyanax and Helenus could only watch as she was demeaned by such a woman, and Hermione seemed to note her humiliation and strive to make it worse.
It was when guests came from Neoptolemus’ grandfather to discuss political matters that Hermione sought Andromache in her chambers as she readied herself for bed.
“My lady, I did not expect you would desire me at such a late hour,” Andromache bowed, startled and worried by the woman’s presence in her room.
“I have need of you,” Hermione said, looking at her with distaste. “Our guests need entertaining and it seems they have grown tired of music and dancing.”