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MaryScot…
Paris noted, rather gleefully, that his big brother actually looked…nervous. Unable to do so very often, Paris took the opportunity to observe his older sibling experience anxiety. Usually the calm one capable of handling the most difficult situations, Hector was getting bent out of shape over a woman.
It's only a woman, Hector scoffed. Your brother's been fascinated with them for ages, and you can't pretend that you're exactly inexperienced either when it comes to fairer sex. But Paris spends all his time seducing them, and you cannot say that you are as terribly sure of yourself in that area. I cannot foresee a problem staying faithful, because I know I shall stay true to my word. But what if she would not do the same for me? What if I marry a woman who cares nothing about the ideals I cherish?
"What's the matter, Hector?" came the innocent voice of Prince Paris. The dark, fathomless eyes of Priam's younger son, which had charmed countless women in merely sixteen years of life, now twinkled with unsuccessfully contained mirth. Errant curls of lush brown hair fell repeatedly across his forehead, despite the youth's constant motions to brush them back. Flashing his brother a dazzling smile, Paris continued. "You look a bit…preoccupied, one might say. Care to tell me what you're thinking about?"
Hector ran his hand through his hair, sighing. He knew his brother was enjoying himself immensely. "You know exactly what I'm thinking about. Can't you just tease me outright and be done with it?"
"Now where's the fun in that?" asked Paris good-naturedly. "Dodging around the heart of the matter yields the most agreeable results, at least when I'm the one doing the dodging. Honestly, you're worried about nothing."
"How would you know?" asked Hector exasperatedly. "You're only sixteen."
"Yes, but I have been with far more women than you," Paris pointed out. "And you've just turned twenty two."
"Yes, but I've spent the last half of my life trying to develop a military career," Hector explained. "You've been gallivanting around with women. Married ones, might I add. It's not right."
Trying to shake off the sting of his brother's disapproval, Paris grinned. "I don't force them, now do I?"
"But deliberately setting out to seduce married women is wrong," said Hector firmly. "It's going to get you into trouble someday."
Paris shrugged. "But I'll definitely have a better time than you until then. I still can't believe it. The thought of spending the rest of my life with one woman is enough to make me shudder."
"One woman is all you need, as long as you love her," said Hector ardently.
"Yes, but this is an arranged marriage we're talking about," Paris pointed out. "This was set up when you and I were not even ten years old. I remember him, too…King Eetion…an old fellow, if I recall correctly. His daughter could be twice your age, realistically."
"I cannot see Father agreeing to that," Hector said shortly, trying to dissolve the discouraging image of an aging spinster. "He would not deliberately arrange for me to marry someone if he were certain it would not work. In fact, I'm surprised that he even arranged this at all."
"I heard that it was more of a favor than anything," Paris said casually. "I mean, Thebe is not nearly as protected as Troy, even though it's up in the mountains. There are far less people and they certainly don't have an army headed by someone as skilled as you, Brother."
Hector brushed off his brother's sincere compliment. "I still cannot see Father basing a marriage on his friend's desire of protecting his daughter from the possibility of a Greek invasion. It's too far-fetched, Paris."
"Say what you will, Brother," Paris said. "Personally, I think he wants you to have an heir and knows you won't get married on your own. You are always too busy with the army, never taking time off when you need it. At any rate, I still think that you're worrying too much about the whole thing. I mean, if she's hideous, you will still have to perform the duty of producing heirs, but all you need is one son. I mean, if things work out, it would only take one time, and that—Ouch, that hurt!"
"Get lost, Paris," warned Hector. "I don't need anything else to think about, you've given me enough as it is."
"Then my work is done," said Paris, grinning. "I shall see you later."
Grumbling at his brother's apparent glee, Hector decided he needed some fresh air. The crisp air ocean air carried with it the fresh scent of the sea, which beckoned him from the balcony ahead. Standing on that stone terrace overlooking the beach, Hector watched as a lone ship came into view. It could be her…his future wife, Andromache.
She must be exhausted after such a voyage, Hector thought. All Father told me was that she would turn twenty on the date set for the ceremony. I have three months to become better acquainted with her before we are joined together forever in the eyes of the gods. I can imagine that she would be very sheltered living in the mountains, and I don't have the slightest clue how she might react to living in a massive city such as Troy. Women are my brother's area of expertise, and though I can act sensibly around them I've never had to deal with one so familiarly.
Hector sighed at the sound of foot falls approaching. The steps to heavy to belong to Paris, Hector knew them to be those of his father's messenger. Indeed, only a moment later he was summoned to his father's chamber. Respectfully he addressed his father, whose kind blue eyes radiated warmth and intensity. Though not physically imposing, the strong presence of King Priam was always a source of comfort for Hector. Strength had many forms, and his father proved that the tenure of wisdom could indeed surpass that of muscle.
"Hector, I wanted to let you know that your bride's ship has arrived on the beaches of Troy," King Priam revealed. "She is heading to the entry of the city."
Hector bowed his head. "Then I shall go greet her at the gate," said Hector, bowing. As he turned to leave, his father stopped him.
"Hector, my son, there is a very urgent matter that you must attend to before meeting her," King Priam said. "As commander of the Trojan army, there is another task you must deal with before meeting Princess Andromache."
"I mean no disrespect, but does it really require my presence?" Hector asked. His heart felt conflicted. "I understand my duty to Troy, but I do not wish to offend my future bride."
"I understand, my son, but this predicament needs to be resolved as quickly as possible," King Priam promised. "We are having problem with the Greeks in the Dardanelles. A band of rogues from Lésvos is plundering the merchant vessels and killing the civilians on board. These attacks threaten all of our trade in the Aegean and they need to be stopped."
"Yes, my king," swore Hector solemnly. "I shall do as you ask. The attacks will cease."
"Hector, I apologize for sending you on such an important day, but you know that I cannot dispatch Paris in your stead," Priam apologized. "He is too young and lacks the skill and strength to end these attacks. I love him dearly but I fear he will be the downfall of us just as the gods' prophecy forewarned. But if exposing him on Mount Ida is not enough to quell his spirit, then I suppose I must endure his recklessness until that day comes."
"Father, there is nothing you can do about Paris," Hector advised simply. "One cannot help acknowledging his faults yet one cannot help but love him."
Priam smiled. "That is true, I suppose." He chuckled. "King Eetion, so many years ago, knew that Paris was not a suitable candidate for marriage to his daughter Andromache."
"And I am?" asked Hector, simply curious. It was a duty to the state and his family, and he did not question it, yet he often wondered why the arrangement was made for him in mind.
"I would not have deliberately prearranged a marriage for you unless I was absolutely sure it would be a successful one," King Priam pledged. "For you are to be the future ruler of this city and you will need a queen to produce a legitimate heir. Left on your own, you would not seek a wife, and without one, the legitimate line of rulers would be broken. Chaos would erupt if your brother tried to assume power. Paris will not be a suitable leader nor does he follow the strict line of firstborn heirs, and many will scramble for power and eventually kill him. Internal strife can tear a country apart."
"I see," Hector replied. He contemplated this carefully for a moment. "Then if a queen is what Troy needs, I will oblige. I love this city and have sworn to serve it. Please inform the princess that I regret not being able to meet her today. Farewell, Father. I shall assure the safety of our vessels in the Dardanelles."
King Priam watched the exit of his eldest son, the son he was the proudest of. Beyond intelligence and physical power, Hector was also a pillar of strength for the city of Troy. Young, brave, and honorable were the words used to describe Prince Hector, and he had the respect of men, the admiration of women, and the awe of children.
And maybe while you are gone I can attempt to understand this most assuredly headstrong woman, thought King Priam.
As the loud music of horns and lutes welcomed her when the gates of Troy opened, Andromache was surprised to find that she had no reception party awaiting her arrival. Feeling awkward and humiliated that her future husband did not receive her at the gate, Princess Andromache stared straight ahead as her chariot proceeded at an agonizingly slow pace. Ladies in the streets that watched the procession whispered to one another, apparently shocked that she did not ride under the protection of a parasol.
It does not matter what they think of me, Andromache told herself firmly. Prince Hector has slighted me. An umbrella to shield me from the sun is of no consequence. The musings of a crowd of simpering ladies does not matter.
As the chariot approached the palace, Andromache allowed herself the luxury of a deep breath. A flash of irritation tore through her as she registered its shakiness. Grudgingly, she acknowledged her anxiety.
I cannot believe I'm restless to meet him, Andromache admitted, annoyed at the revelation. I do not want to be nervous! I do not want to meet him at all! He's a rude, arrogant warmonger who did not see it fit to escort me into the city.
Ignoring the mortification she felt burning her cheeks, Andromache fluidly stepped from the chariot and onto the palace steps. A light breeze picked up the white drape of her robe, lifting the folds gently so they rippled in the wind. Her hair intricately styled and pinned atop her head; her ornaments that rivaled those of the goddesses.
"Princess Andromache," a voice addressed softly, an older man emerging from the palace's grand entryway. Stark white hair was immediately apparent, even though Andromache knew him to be younger than her own father. The most intense blue eyes regarded her carefully, looking for signs of anger or agitation. Andromache was determined she would not give him the satisfaction of losing her temper.
"King Priam?" she asked tentatively, although she knew immediately it was him. Her father had sung this man's praises to Mount Olympus itself. Eetion had told her stories of Priam's wisdom and love for his people as well as his children. A judicious ruler and a devoted father, Andromache could think of no higher compliment for a man.
"Forgive the absence of my son, Hector," King Priam appealed. "This very day a very important issue required his attention. I trust no other man to do it. He was determined to greet you until I explained the urgency of the matter, and even then he was still hesitant to leave. He wished me to relay his sincere apologies for what her perceives to be abandonment."
"Even the most prosperous kingdoms must deal with such matters," Andromache conceded graciously. "If I may ask, what has he been asked to do?"
King Priam looked unconcerned, which Andromache found odd given the circumstances he had just revealed. "In the Dardanelles, a dangerous group of brigands has been hijacking our boats and stealing their cargo. The passengers are slain, whether they be merchants or their families. Hector is the only man I trust to stop these attacks."
"Why is that?" asked Andromache before she could stop herself.
"He is man who inspires the loyalty and love of all Trojans," King Priam replied simply.
"I am not Trojan," Andromache pointed out. "Can he stir love and loyalty in me?"
Equally taken aback by straightforwardness of her question as well as the earnestness of her voice, King Priam eyes met hers for an endless moment. Peaceful pools of blue met the infinite gaze of eyes whose poignancy matched Paris. The colors of a quiet ocean collided against the colors of a restless night. Against those untamable depths King Priam felt a prisoner to the kind of painful sincerity that he felt he had no responsibility to divulge.
"You are a very brazen woman," King Priam said squarely, breaking the gaze. "I cannot think that many men tolerate such an demanding trait. If you were not already obligated to marry my son Hector, is there anyone you would have married back in Thebe?"
"No," Andromache replied evenly. "But my courage will not be crushed in marriage. If it is domination over my spirit that your son seeks, I promise he will not conquer me."
"Do you not fear what might happen to you if you remain so forward in an unfamiliar place?" Priam questioned. "Are you not afraid?"
Andromache paused, carefully preparing her response. "I am not afraid of what he might do to me, only what I let happen to myself. Attempts to break me can be made but until I allow myself to be broken, I not lose my identity. I have watched many women my age forced into submission by their husbands. The faces of these women once reflected the radiance of Apollo's sun but are now covered by the shadows of Hades' despair. I pride myself on being strong, and I am to wed a man whose destiny is battle. The only thing he can wrest from me is my self-respect, but if he and I are ever fated to clash, I fear I will lose."
King Priam regarded the woman sympathetically. A nineteen year old woman, practically a girl, really, forced to leave her home and family to live in a strange city three hundred miles away. Set to marry a man whose formidable reputation was known throughout all of Asia Minor as the finest warrior of the greatest army of the strongest city. Prince Hector was a man who, at the age of two and twenty, had commanded the loyalty of thousands of men since his youth.
"Hector will not seek your defeat, I can promise you that," said King Priam. "However, everyone has fallen to him. You may keep your self-respect, but I'm sure you shall find that there are more important things a person has to lose."