A Prince's Journey
A Troy Sequel by talking2myself
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters from Troy. They belong to Homer, Virgil and the writers of Troy
Chapter. 7 A Painful Lesson
The moon rose up above the field casting long shadows over them. Briseis lay there in the mouth of a cave feeling the cool breeze sweep over her body. She was the only one still awake. Andromache was fast asleep curled up with her baby near a dying fire. Helen was a short distance away sleeping with Paris's bow in her arms. She clung to it as though it were him. She carried it everywhere. In the past few weeks she had learned to use it and was quite a skilled archer. Andromache had chuckled," Our own Artemis." when Helen had successfully managed to hit a bird for them to eat.
Briseis moaned and rolled over. She was sick. She knew that. She had been hiding it for several days now. She could scarcely stand without feeling queasy. She couldn't say that though. What could be done? They were surrounded by wilderness!
She wept quietly hoping not to wake the other women. She missed her family. Her uncle Priam was dead. They had seen the funeral fires burn from the distance. Paris was gone. Hector dead. Achilles. She squeezed her eyes shut tight. She still loved him! Despite it all! It had cost her Paris's love and yet she still longed for him to return from the dead and hold her hand.
"Briseis?" Helen whispered in the darkness. Briseis silently swore for weeping so loudly. She wiped her face away quickly. She sat up slowly in the darkness her long hair flowed down her back. Despite the last couple of weeks which had caused dark circles under her eyes, and her hair blown into knots, Helen continued to shine with a strange tragic beauty. Helen inched closer to Briseis. "Briseis are you well?"
"Of course," Briseis said, too quickly to be believable.
"I know you're not, Briseis," Helen said," You've been walking slower lately. Eating less. Lying awake at night. Yes, I've noticed it."
A sudden wave of nausea threatened to overtake Briseis. She crawled forwards to the edge of the cave and retched. Helen followed her quickly. She pulled Briseis's hair away from her face. Briseis rocked back into Helen's arms crying softly. Helen pulled Briseis into her arms. "It'll be alright, Briseis," she whispered," It will be alright. How long have you been sick?"
"I don't know," Briseis mumbled," Days."
Helen lowered Briseis gently back onto her blanket and went to wake Andromache. Suddenly, a thought struck her. "Briseis. I know this will sound crazy seeing as you are an acolyte. But if I didn't know better, I'd say you were with child..."
The slave quarters was a tiny cramped barrack style room. It was filthy and only had a few pallets. They were forced to share aside from Evadne who was given her own. Paris gave Eugenios more room. His arm was stiff and paining him. Evadne had rebandaged it before they went to bed. Paris could still hear him grumbled before he went to bed," Should just slice it off and have done with it!"
"Don't even jest about such things," Nikias snapped irritably," I saw a man's arm separated before! He died three days later of fever."
Everyone was weary from the long travels. Paris shoved the sword of Troy under his pallet before attempting to go to sleep. Aeneas and his father were asleep in a few minutes. The twins as well. Paris sat up awake for a while. It was a beautiful clear night. Quite peaceful too. The only noise he could hear was the breeze and Evadne praying softly kneeling before her pallet. Paris looked up and spent several minutes staring at the stars through a hole in their roof. "You really are the romantic prince," Eugenios said," Stargazing?"
"Just looking the stars," Paris said softly," They remind me of a pearl necklace I gave Helen."
Eugenios sat up slowly holding his wounded arm," Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but... Kerberos. He was a total boar, but he did have a point."
"You don't think I'll find her again, either do you?" Paris asked.
Eugenios looked down and said not unkindly," I wouldn't count on it. It's just that... it's a big world out there. There's lots of other men and if she thinks you're dead... And we have our own survival to worry about right now..." he trailed off uselessly. He set his good hand on Paris's shoulder," You've been through a lot. I just don't want you to be heartbroken besides."
Paris met the soldier's gaze. He liked Eugenios. He reminded him a lot of Hector. "I know," Paris said," I guess I know that, but... I just can't give up the thought. It's the one thought that keeps me going."
Eugenios nodded," Very well then. Keep your Aphrodite in your heart."
"No, I don't like it there," Orestes said. Paris groaned and slid to the floor. He had just spent the past half hour moving a large golden statue of Apollo. It had stood in his father's room before. He had seen it many times before, he just never realized how heavy it was until now. "Move it across the room," he said," To that corner."
Paris let out a sigh, but began to push it again. As he did Orestes continued to talk," Evadne is a virgin isn't she? I heard somewhere that she was an acolyte..."
"She's not," Paris said quickly," She's had three children already." He knew what Orestes had in mind for Evadne.
Orestes grumbled to himself," Disappointing. She looks very good for having three children. Of course, I'm sure you've seen and bedded better."
Paris let out a snort of disgust and continued to push. "Don't want to share any tales of your conquests?" Orestes asked," Is it because you claim to be a changed man. Funny how affairs change people."
Paris stopped pushing and looked at him," Not two days ago you learned that your father died, and you're asking ME about the women I've bedded?!"
"Did you know my father?" Orestes asked," Would you miss him?"
"I wept for days after my father died," Paris said defensively," I didn't even get to see him buried."
"I'm sure your father was kind man," Orestes said," Mine was a fool. An arrogant fool. Completely obsessed with building an empire. I should thank him really. Building me an empire." Paris muttered some unintelligible response. Orestes got up sweeping his robes around himself. "Come," he said," It's time for dinner. I have something quite special planned."
Paris stood next to Aeneas and his father. They were backed against the wall when they didn't have the job of serving trays. Paris had brought a fish dinner out to the table. His stomach had growled fiercely as he placed it in front of Orestes. Orestes ate it daintily savoring each bite before swallowing while the rest of them stood around the table watching every movement from plate to mouth. Kerberos wolfed down his meal all the while avoiding eye contact with his former comrades.
Orestes wiped his mouth before looking up and declaring," I need entertainment. I have heard great tales of the duels during the Trojan War. And since we are graced with the presence of one of the mighty warriors, Prince Paris..."
Paris groaned inwardly. Gods strike me dead now! He pleaded.
"Paris can play himself of course," Orestes said," Now we'll need someone to play Menelaus since he has sadly left us. Now Octavian you can do that." A hefty man came forwards, one with more muscle than brain cells. "Now we need one last player," Orestes said," The Hero of course. The man who runs to his little brother's aid. Hector. Now Kerberos you were there. I think you'd do the best job." Kerberos looked up from his meal and swallowed hard. He nervously walked out to the floor. Paris was sick. Disgusted at the thought of this oaf playing his brother. "Excellent!" Orestes said," Now let's review. Paris is dueling for everything. His honor. His family. His lover. Everything rests on this duel. First things go alright. Paris gets a few punches in, but then Menelaus truly starts to fight and beats him to the ground. Proceed Octavian. Octavian pulled his arm back and slugged Paris across the jaw. That definitely wasn't a stage punch! Kerberos stood there shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Now, Paris lies there beaten," Orestes said," But quick! Paris crawl to your brother and beg for help! Go on, crawl!"
Paris pulled himself upright," No."
He heard the crack of a whip behind him. "I wouldn't argue with me," Orestes said fiercely," Go. Crawl. Beg."
Paris couldn't remember a more humiliating moment in his life. Even the original fight, which was forever burned into his memory, hadn't been this embarrassing. He crawled across the stone floor and found himself groveling at Kerberos's feet. He sat there closing his eyes shut tight struggling to pretend it wasn't real. "Now Hector goes and kills Menelaus we all now that ending," Orestes said," But what if Hector had been smart? What if he had admitted that Menelaus was far greater? I want to see that ending, Kerberos." Kerberos shrugged and knelt before Octavian while the ground cheered and yelled out. "Bow! Hector! Bow! Hail all mighty Hector."
Maybe it was the weeks of sea, maybe it was repressing anger so long, maybe it was simply seeing his brother ridiculed like that, but something inside Paris snapped. He leapt to his feet. He jumped over the table and tackled Orestes to the ground. "I'll kill you!" he screamed punching him," You monster! You pompous arrogant monster!" He was about to reach for a knife from the table when the guards yanked him off and threw him to the ground. They all pointed their spears at him while his advisors helped Orestes to his feet. "Don't kill him!" Orestes ordered suddenly. He glared at Paris with hate filled eyes. "I want to watch him suffer! Whip him till he stops moving!"
Paris suddenly felt scared. Two guards dragged him outside. "My brother was a hero!
Paris screamed as they dragged him away," A far greater man then you'll ever hope to be Orestes!" Storm clouds were moving in. Lightning lit up the sky almost as furious as the king. One guard threw him flat. The other tore out the back of his tunic. He felt two other guards pin his arms flat. The whip was raised and brought down again hard. Paris screamed as it hit him. Over and over. Up and down. The white hot pain seared across his back. Paris sobbed with pain unable to control it. Unable to hide it. Until finally his world faded into darkness.
"Paris!" he could hear Aeneas calling him. Paris moaned. His back felt like fire. He couldn't move. Could scarcely breathe. Paris sobbed his tears cutting through the dirt caked on his face.
"He lives!" he heard someone else cry. Anchises. "Thank the Gods. Paris can you hear me?"
"Hurts!" Paris sobbed the only intelligible word he could get out," Hurts so bad!"
"I know, I know," Anchises said gently. He knelt besides Paris in the dirt. He gently pushed his dark curls out of his face. Paris's back was a bloody mess. Aeneas was crouched there next to him looking pale at the sight of it. "Come on, Paris," Anchises said soothingly," We need to get you inside. This rain won't help. I need you to get up."
"No," Paris moaned. He couldn't even imagine the thought. It would hurt so bad. "No, I can't."
"We'll help you, Paris," he heard Aeneas pipe," But you're getting soaked! We can't just leave you out here! You'll die!"
Anchises reached around Paris's wounded back and lifted him upright. Paris screamed at the light touch and nearly fainted again. "Easy!" Anchises whispered.
"Father, you're hurting him!" Aeneas snapped.
"He can't walk," Anchises said temporarily ignoring his son," He won't make it. He took Paris's hands and lifted his arms around his back. He gripped the back of Paris's legs and lifted him off the ground so he wouldn't touch his back. He could hear Paris murmuring over and over again. "Didn't want to cry. Didn't want to cry."
"I know, Paris," Anchises said gently," I know."
