Revamped: 4/6/08

Chapter Four: Adventures in Senselessness

Had I not been utterly entranced by Prince Damacio, I imagine I would still have been pleased with my suitors. With the exception of Thadeus, who was grizzled and burly, and Orontes, who was younger than I and incredibly smug, my suitors were a fairly handsome and kind lot. They were certainly not the monsters I had created in my mind. Perhaps I could have been content with any of them; I will never know.

But it was Damacio who rendered me senseless. His shining wheat-gold hair and deep aqua eyes had the same effect on me that, I have no doubt, they had on dozens of maidens before and after me. His youthful beauty was almost divine, and before we had exchanged a single word I knew I wanted to be his wife. I laugh at my girlish stupidity now, but I cannot properly express how serious I was at that moment. For the first time, I thought I understood what the maids I admired in my childhood had spoken of. I did not doubt that Aphrodite had smiled upon me, and blessed me with a man I could love. Indeed, she had.

I was quick to find flaws with the other suitors, so as to eliminate any possibility of a marriage in my mind. At the feast Father planned to welcome them, I scrutinized each prince, moving on to the next when I was satisfied that we would be a terrible match.

Of course, I was ruthless and unfair. If my unfortunate suitors knew my thoughts, they would have thought twice about marrying a princess so critical. Xanthias, though very pretty, wore a vacant expression that betrayed his dimness. While he was polite enough, he struggled to answer even the simplest questions about his home and family. Megakles was entertaining, but I knew that his jests and grating voice would annoy me to no end. Poor Leandros was too solemn and too uncomfortable. When Megakles jested with him, his bewildered expression revealed that he took him seriously. Orontes was scrawny and arrogant, with a scowl affixed to his pointed features. He made no secret of his appreciation for the maids serving wine and food. And Thadeus, though jovial, was far too old for me to even consider. I even found fault with Hector, though I had to use somewhat irrational logic to rule him out. He was handsome and charming, but his muscled arms, still mostly free of scars, betrayed the hardness of a warrior. When my brothers turned the conversation to warfare, Hector, though reluctant, contributed more to the topic than any other man. I decided that I simply could not marry a man who knew nothing but war.

Damacio, I decided, was perfect. I could not marry anyone else. I studied him as well, though not with the critical eye I subjected the other men to. Had I not been so dazed, perhaps I would have noticed that his clear blue eyes drifted too frequently to the pretty maidservants. If I had focused on what he said rather than on his smooth voice, I would have caught his boastful words and the cruel remarks designed to cause the other suitors distress. The Apollonian prince was not stupid; he was wonderfully kind to me, and I chose not to see beyond his façade. And because of my selective blindness, it took a mighty effort to expose his true personality to me.

As our appetites dwindled and our goblets were refilled with wine, the formality of the feast disintegrated. Musicians were brought in to lighten the mood. My brothers, who had surrounded me all evening, relaxed their guard, wandering off to speak to the princes. I expected the suitors to swarm around me, anxious for my attention, but they each waited on an opportunity to sidle up to my father. It seemed they knew exactly how much choice I had in the matter of my marriage.

While Xanthias and Megakles vied for the attention of my father, Leandros worked up the courage to speak to me. After shifting nervously from side to side, he darted forward. "Thebe is very impressive," he informed me. Before I could thank him, he continued. "In fact, I know much about your city. I know your most successful export is grain, followed by livestock—mostly poultry—and pottery. I'm quite fond of Theban pottery," he gasped.

"Is pottery Thebe's greatest treasure, then?" I recognized the voice even before I laid eyes on the lean body and shining hair. Damacio had come to my rescue.

Poor Leandros did not know what to say. "Yes?"

Damacio stared into my eyes in a manner that I'm sure my brothers would have thought was inappropriate, had they seen it. "I disagree," he said softly.

Leandros struggled to regain my attention. "Oh? Then what, exactly, is Thebe's greatest treasure? Its livestock?" He let loose an awkward laugh.

Still holding my gaze, resplendent in his boldness, Damacio answered. "Its princess, of course."

My stomach flipped over itself, sending waves of heat to my face. I could have basked in that moment for an eternity. It was over too quickly, though. Leandros shuffled off just as Xanthias and Megakles left my father's side, and Damacio leapt at the chance to make a favorable impression on him. With a nod to me, he hurried away. I let him go, telling myself his time was better spent winning over my father. After all, he had already won my heart.

I watched him glide across the room, making no attempt to hide my smile. To my surprise, I found I was not the only one staring. Euklides' beautiful wife, Asenath, was glaring at him with a look of fury she normally reserved for my eldest brother.

He nodded to her and she spun on her heel, parting the crowd as she stormed toward the door. Euklides caught her wrist, clearly embarrassed by her rage, and she bestowed him with the same look of hatred. He dropped her hand and she vanished through the corridor. I pondered her hasty departure for a moment before forgetting it entirely. We had all grown accustomed to Asenath's temper.

I left the hall before the evening truly concluded. I had no more chances to speak with Damacio, and I grew weary of maintaining conversations with Megakles, Orontes, and Xanthias. Thadeus and Hector retired early, and Leandros was clearly too ashamed by our first conversation to attempt another. I pleaded fatigue and abandoned our guests, but in truth, I was deliciously awake. I wanted nothing more than to discuss the suitors, especially Damacio, with my brothers, but they stayed in the hall and showed no signs of leaving. I had no desire to wait for them with Asenath, and I knew my mother would be asleep, so I snatched up a cloak and ventured to the courtyard on my own to pass the time.

I strode silently to my favorite area, a secluded corner along the west wall, farthest from the palace. Our lazy gardeners almost never tended to the far bushes, fully aware that the royal family rarely wandered past the first line of fig trees. My brothers, save for Arias, did not have the patience to sit in the garden, and my mother preferred her private courtyard. I loved the overgrown corner. I used to spend hours there, curled up on the cracked bench, hiding from bustling palace life.

My mantle caught on the brush as I pushed my way toward the bench, rustling dry branches. I could make out the seat, pale in the inky darkness, but was startled by its appearance. It seemed shorter, disrupted by a shadowy form.

The intruder and I noticed each other's presence at precisely the same moment, but he was much faster. My scream had barely reached my throat when a broad hand was slapped over my mouth. "Please, do not call attention to me," the intruder breathed into my shoulder. Ignoring his request, I struggled. "Please," he said again. "I won't hurt you. Just do not scream."

Maybe I had known instinctively that I could trust the man who restrained me. I like to think that my intuition knew more about my suitors than I consciously did. Whatever the reason, I stopped struggling, and as promised, the man released me. "I apologize," he said, backing away. "I know guests are not supposed to sneak into their hosts' gardens, but I could not sleep. I am here courting the princess, and…" he sighed, turning. The dim starlight reflected off his hair as he ran one nervous hand through it, and I recognized one of my suitors. Hector, prince of some far-off land I hadn't paid attention to. "Really, this would be a terrible time to make a wrong impression."

I said nothing. He had not recognized me, and I intended to keep my identity hidden. He mistook my silence for anger and embarked on another round of profuse apologies. Perhaps he thought I was a maidservant, creeping into the garden for a secret meeting with a lover. Perhaps he simply thought I was crazed. Whatever the case, it seemed he was prepared to apologize until dawn. I decided I would await my brothers elsewhere. "I forgive you, and I will not alert the guards," I told him, securing my cloak tighter around my face. When backing out of the area, I failed to notice that the cloth was deeply entangled in the brush. The pin holding my mantle around me gave at the slightest tug, and quite suddenly, the fabric pooled on the ground and my identity was exposed in the starlight.

It could have been worse, I thought later. If the pins holding my gown were not so strong, Hector would have seen more of me on our first meeting than he anticipated!

"Princess Andromache," he gasped, and I wondered if he was blushing as fiercely as I was. In the darkness, it was impossible to tell. I was overcome with the same urge to apologize that had plagued him a moment before.

"This does not matter," I told him firmly. "No one need know of it. I won't tell my family of this midnight visit. You have not made an unfavorable impression." I retreated slowly, panic boiling in my veins. In truth, I had more to fear from this unplanned encounter than he did. If word were to get out that I had a secret rendezvous with one of my suitors, I would be disgraced, and neither Damacio nor anyone else would accept me as a bride. "No one need know of this," I repeated, somewhat desperate.

"I won't speak of it," Hector said, and a rush of gratitude swept through me. I bowed my head in thanks and hastened my retreat. Just before I exited the courtyard, he called to me, his voice low and soft.

"Princess," he said. "Will it be Prince Damacio?"

Was his power over me so obvious? "I have very little say in my father's decision."

"If you were allowed to choose?"

I hesitated, but decided against lying to spare his feelings. Were our situations reversed, I would appreciate an early warning. "I would choose him."

The silence that met my words seemed to fill the space between us, linking us through its weight. "Very well," came his answer, drifting from where my cherished broken bench rested. "I will not make a fool of myself by trying to woo you. Nor will I return home, though, so as to avoid questions from your family."

"Thank you," I whispered, genuinely appreciative of his sacrifice. The sudden departure of a suitor could have many explanations—a sick parent, unrest at home, the threat of enemies. We both knew that no matter the explanation he gave, I would be blamed for his disinterest. "Good night, Prince Hector."

"Good night, Princess," he answered. I waited for him to emerge from the brush, but there was no sign of movement. It seemed my favorite place to think was now our shared haven.

I peeked into the hall on the way to my chambers, and was disappointed to see all my brothers still there, with no intention of leaving. Dagamede and Periphas were involved in an animated conversation with Megakles, while Podes dozed on the table next to Orontes. My remaining brothers, along with Xanthias, were playing a dice game on the floor. "My turn!" Xanthias cried gleefully. I doubted they would retire for several hours, and I realized, yawning, that I could not wait that long.

So I walked to my rooms, vowing to discuss the suitors with my siblings as soon as I woke the next morning. At the moment, I only wanted to fall into bed. When I reached my quarters, I saw that I would have to wait to enjoy my cozy blankets. Asenath waited outside my door, her fiery eyes scanning the hall.

For a moment, I panicked. Had she seen me with Hector, and if she had, would she misinterpret the situation? Would she tell anyone of our meeting? I reminded myself that nothing shameful had occurred. I kept my face carefully blank, but I was worried. Why was she here?

She did not speak until we entered my room, and even then, she checked to make sure the door was locked. Then she whirled to face me.

"Prince Damacio is evil," she hissed.

I calmly asked her to repeat her words, blaming her thick Egyptian accent—surely she had not accused my future husband of evilness. But she said the same thing again, with even more conviction. I stared at her, bewildered, wishing she would depart to her own chambers.

"Well, I thank you for the warning," I said politely. "But it has been a tiring day…"

"Please, Andromache, I am trying to help you," she insisted, clasping my hand. "Do you think you are the first maiden he has courted? Apollonia is in a weakened state, with its king ill and pirates constantly attacking. Damacio will do anything to strengthen its military and regain its riches."

Again, I did not see the problem. I was not so foolish as to think that Damacio courted me out of love, and I hoped our marriage would strengthen his city, if only to keep him happy.

"Apollonia has been troubled for years," I replied, relying on casual mentions my father had made, since I knew little of other cities, especially Achaean ones. "It will never reach its former glory, but if my marriage can make the city safer, so be it."

Asenath shook her head, clearly growing more frustrated. "That isn't the point! You are not the first maiden Damacio has charmed! He has stolen your senses!"

"Please, be reasonable," I murmured, the weight of exhaustion slowly creeping into my limbs. "He has not stolen my wits."

Gripping my shoulders with both her hands, the Egyptian glowered into my eyes. "Your darling prince was betrothed," she snarled. "Less than two years ago, he was mere days away from wedding an Egyptian noble, family of the High Priest. I knew her well. I would have been among those to prepare her on her wedding day."

I glared back, resenting her dramatic airs and the information she forced upon me. Why was she so intent on ruining my happiness?

Yet my fury was no match for her own; she continued, utterly unaffected by my anger. "A month before the wedding, though, the High Priest died peacefully in his sleep, taking the family's power and influence with him to the afterlife. No one thought of calling off the wedding, for the arrangements had been made, and the pair seemed like a good match—indeed, the bride was never fearful, but excited to be wed."

She looked down the hall again, though no footsteps had betrayed any other presence in the corridor. "She was found dead in her room, a few days before the ceremony," she whispered. "The prince set sail that same day. She was not a sickly maiden, but she was found in a puddle of vomit." She raised her eyebrows.

"Surely you are not suggesting that she was poisoned," I said. "Her death was tragic, yes, but not suspicious."

"One of her handmaids found wolfsbane in her wine."

I tried my best to control a shudder. My mother had told me of the gruesome death of her younger brother, who had eaten the toxic plant on accident as a child. I knew warriors often used wolfsbane to contaminate their enemies' water supply—indeed, the Trojans later worried that the Achaeans would use that tactic on them during the war, but ultimately decided that the enemies needed Troy's streams as much as they did. The poison was well-known; it could not have ended up in the noblewoman's wine by accident.

"Perhaps she was not excited for the wedding," I concluded. "I am sure plenty of brides would rather end their lives than start anew with a man they loathe."

Asenath's glare faltered, and she caught her breath. Had I unknowingly struck upon a personal truth? Suddenly I feared that she had her own dark collection of escapes from her loveless marriage. Her face crumpled, and her rage evaporated. "I have warned you," she said miserably. "It is in the gods' hands now."

And with that she slipped away, her proud Egyptian neck hanging low on stooped shoulders. Leaving her morbid tale in the shadows of the corridor, I entered my chambers and gladly sank into bed, where I dreamed of a dazzling golden-haired prince until dawn.