Author's Note - Hi everyone! Hope everyone is safe and well, as always! :o) Well, this chapter came about quite quickly - it's part of the improved storyline I have been planning for a long while. It was originally going to longer then I realised it was too bloody long so I have cut it in two (so I do not think it will take me long to finish the next one). Anyway the proverbial is starting to hit the fan in Phile's world … but it also marks the start of her coming into herself. Enjoy!
After waiting for a while, I realised Hector was not coming so I decided to begin archery practice alone.
It was early morning, the time we usually met for my regular training sessions – that were not so regular anymore. Paris had been living as a Prince at the palace for four or five months at that point so I was used to being side-lined in favour of him. Now I only spent time with Hector every four or five days instead of every two. I had got used to it, although I did yearn for the way things were before.
However, Hector's absence that morning had further darkened my mood. I was feeling down, rather lost and not sleeping very well due to worry. You see, Mother was sick and she had been that way for a few weeks. It had started with a dramatic weight loss and night sweating. Then came the lumps - swellings under the skin rather than surface pox marks - that appeared in her neck, under her arms and near her hips. Soon, she lacked energy and had to take to her bed completely. Whatever was ailing her was beyond my skill to heal. Hector had commanded the best physicians in the City to examine her and they declared she had developed a disease of the blood. They had prescribed a few days of leeches to suck out any poisons but if anything, those horrible little black slugs did nothing but cover her skin in red welts and had made her body much weaker. I had never felt so helpless.
Most of my day was now spent at her bedside, nursing her - although I did take time away to ride Midnight, practice my archery, take brisk walks and to partake in the recent monthly Palace banquet and Symposium. When Hector did join me in my quarters, I welcomed his company and his comfort. I needed those short times away from her sickbed to keep my rationality. I especially found doing any physical activity like my horse riding, archery, walking and even making love with Hector a short-term release from the stress and worry I was feeling. My body had certainly benefitted from it too – my legs were firmer and stronger, my stomach tighter and my shoulders and upper arms more defined. I still had a large bust, wide hips and rounded bottom however, so it is not like Hector missed the curves of mine he prized so much. I think mother also enjoyed a break from me, I could be a little over-attentive at times and she always felt obliged to sit up in bed and chat to me when I was there, at least my absence gave her a chance to sleep.
As I thought about all this, I took a deep breath and closed by eyes against the fresh, salty breeze flowing from the sea. It was quite a relief. Although it had rained a little overnight, the temperature had remained rather hot, even that early in the morning. The mixture of the heat and the moisture in the air had made the atmosphere quite close and uncomfortable - I had worked up quite a clammy sweat just walking from my quarters to the training arena. Thankfully, the servants had already set up two targets in the arena in readiness for the lesson – or rather now, solo practice - so all I had to do is strap on my quiver and take up my bow.
I kept my feet slightly apart and parallel with the target, relaxing my grip on the bow handle. I positioned my hand so the bow string rested on the top crease of my first three fingers and held the arrow that I had just pulled from the quiver behind me with my other hand. I carefully bought the bow up so it was in line with the target and lifted my other elbow on the side holding the string and arrow so it was level with my shoulders. I turned my head so I was looking at a target and pulled the string of the bow back towards my face. I kept the string in front of my eye and looked down the spine of the arrow, keeping my focus on the middle of the target. I made sure my breathing was even and steady, cleared my mind and when I was satisfied my aim was true, I let go of the string and let my arrow fly. It hit quite close to the centre of the target which cheered me greatly. I let a few more arrows fly in quick but skilled succession until my quiver was empty, then I took a break to retrieve them from the target. I studied my accuracy as I pulled the arrows out, one by one. A couple had hit right to the edge of the centre and I was beyond pleased with how far I had come.
As I turned to walk back to my starting mark to begin again, I was unpleasantly surprised to see Jasper leaning casually against the arena fence watching, standing slightly behind and to the side of where I had been shooting. How long had he been there?
"If you think you will distract me, you are mistaken." I told him coolly, looking away from him as I tried not to let my face betray how flustered I was at his appearance but at the same time, hardly veiling how annoyed he was there.
"Why would I want to do that?" Jasper answered innocently and evenly: "I can see you have great focus and a good eye."
I was not going to be tricked by his apparent flattery - I turned to face him with my eyes narrowed distrustfully, my hand grasping the bow I was holding tightly as I was so tense. He was unaffected by my obvious irritancy. He still lent lazily against the fence with his strong arms braced over the top. The plain vest and skirt he wore was the most undressed I had ever seen him. I noticed that his skin was quite pale and where the sun had kissed it, it was a reddish brown rather than tan. With his arms bare, that tribal mark of a sun symbol inked on his upper arm was even more apparent and the morning sun made his bright eyes seem even lighter than I had seen them before. He was definitely not a full-blood Trojan.
I cocked my head to the side, considering him quite rudely: "So why are you watching me? To gawp now and gossip later?" I asked him suspiciously.
Jasper laughed a little: "You really have a low opinion of me!" He said, shaking his head in disbelief. "If you must know, Hector asked me to come and take the lesson in his place." He informed me, a little more stiffly: "However, I do not think you need any more teaching. Your form, technique and aim are just fine."
He sounded quite sincere when he said that, so this time I took the compliment and softened a little. I walked over to where he stood but did not stand too close. Jasper stood straighter and stopped leaning on the fence, not looking so casual anymore.
"Let me guess … he is caught up mentoring Paris?" I questioned cautiously, even though I could already guess the answer.
Jasper, strangely unguarded, sighed and rolled his eyes a little: "As always." He answered tiresomely.
I was quite taken aback by his sudden lack on discretion and I started to regard him with less hostility: "You sound a little salty about the returned Prince." I told him curiously, cocking my head slightly to the side again: "Is it because he has succeeded you as the biggest womaniser in Court?" I could not help to taunt.
Paris only apparent fault was his weakness for the fairer sex – and due to his batchelor status, beautiful face, athletic physique and basketfuls of natural charm, he had no shortage of willing lovers and he very often was not discreet about it, either. Of course, a lot of the menfolk of the palace regarded him as some sort of sexual hero for this behaviour, although I knew it frustrated Hector. It did not sit well with me either – I found that if a woman was presented to Paris that he did not find attractive or was out-of-bounds to be taken to his bed, he pretty much ignored them. The few times I had spent time in his company during Symposiums, he had disregarded me almost to the point of rudeness.
Jasper shrugged nonchalantly: "Most of the girls he has chased – or have chased him - have already been a notch on my bedpost." He smiled, a little to arrogantly for my liking: "Paris seems like a nice enough fellow. He follows the rules, has the bravery that runs deep in his family, he is good company and after a little training from Hector, he is also worthy fighter too - a credit to our King and army."
That statement seemed a little over-diplomatic to me and I sensed some doubt in him. I was intrigued. Everyone else seemed to love and admire Paris, I had felt I was the only one that concealed some qualms about him – until now.
"So why do I catch a hint of misgiving there?" I could not help to question Jasper.
He frowned a little which wrinkled his forehead and his gaze dropped from me to the ground as he thought carefully on how to reply. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if he was about to say something then thought better of it. He was obviously uncomfortable.
Then, both our attentions were swiftly diverted by shouting coming from down the hill: "Captain!" called the urgent voice and we both swung ourselves round to face it. We saw Lysander, in his army uniform, racing towards us, his face full of duty and concern as we both looked on mystified.
When he was close enough to talk rather than shout, Lysander said to Jasper a little breathlessly: "You must come now! An emergency Council Meeting has been called. Our Commander has sent me to fetch you!"
Judging by the way Lysander referred to Jasper and Hector by their official titles, his firmness and the uncommon order, something was gravely wrong. Jasper's dark brows knitted in concern and he stood straight, looking to his infantryman and message-bringer in Army Captain mode: "What is the situation?"
"Cilician Thebe has been sacked by the Achaeans." Lysander reported, still a little out-of-breath: "The King, Queen and six of the Princes are all dead."
I think the blood drained out of my face to hear such terrible news. Cilician Thebe were our allies and where Princess Andromache - Hector's wife - was born and raised. The King and Queen were her parents, the Princes her brothers.
"The seventh Prince?" Questioned Jasper and I was immediately struck by how fast his mind worked in such a crisis – of course, Andromache had mentioned to me once that she had seven brothers.
"Spared as a messenger." Lysander reported: "He rode here gravely injured to deliver the news. The poor man is barely alive. He lays in Hector's quarters whilst his sister tends to him."
Jasper nodded his comprehension at the situation, his mouth pulled into a grim, flat line. He then wasted no time in heading back to the palace to meet with his Commander and Council about the crisis. Lysander dutifully followed his Captain, leaving me standing there alone, shocked and bemused in the arena, quiver still strapped to my back and bow still in my hand. My mind raced over the few shocking things I had just heard. I could barely feel the muggy heat of the morning now as my blood ran cold just thinking about it. Then I had an idea.
It had only taken me a few moments to hastily drop my bow and arrows in my quarters and pick up my medical kit from my closet before I was at Hector's door. I probably looked a bit of an unusual sight than I usually appeared in polite company – wearing a plain gown, sweaty with my hair simply tied back at the nape of my neck and unadorned - but my appearance was not important. I rapped gingerly on the door to announce my presence:
"Princess Andromache?" I called gently: "It is Phile. I think I might be able to help."
I could hear voices behind the door, probably discussing my admittance and I fully expected to be turned away but I had to try. After a short while and to my surprise, one of Andromache's handmaidens, the one that usually accompanied her to the Gynaecium, opened the door, hastily ushered me in and quickly closed the door again.
"Phile, thank goodness you have come. She is just too raw with grief to be much help to him. A physician has been called for but he cannot get here for a while. We do not know what to do." She told me in a desperate whisper.
I looked out to the room at the scene. All the drapes were drawn for privacy's sake and despite some lamps having been lit, it still felt murky and foreboding. As my eyes became accustomed to the lack of proper light, I looked over at the bed and I could make out the shape of a man, unclothed save for a loincloth covering his modestly. He was moaning and whimpering in pain which I took as a good sign – he was not yet unconscious, at least. Andromache was sitting on a chair beside the bed, holding one of his hands, weeping and praying for him almost incoherently in her desperation. It was heart breaking.
"What is the man's name?" I quietly asked the handmaiden.
"It is Podes." She answered in a similar volume: "He is the brother she has the closest bond with."
Even though I was an only child, hearing that somehow struck a chord with me. Andromache had lost her family in one terrible day – it was crucial that Podes survived, if that was possible. I could see someone needed to take charge of this awful situation and nobody had stepped up yet – would it be improper if I did? There was not any time to consider the rights or wrongs of doing so due my social standing, in all honesty.
I gingerly approached the bed. I noticed there was a smell – not just of Podes' stale sweat and blood or the dirt he was covered in but something else – a kind of rotting, putrid smell. That was not right. I crouched before the Princess and gently took her free hand in mine. My touch seemed to rouse Andromache from her acute anguish for a moment and she lifted her head and tried to look at me through her tears:
"Princess Andromache. You have had a huge shock. Please sit over there and take some deep breaths." I asked her gently as I gestured to Hector's desk chair: "I will do all I can to save him, I promise you." I meant that, from the bottom of my heart.
Andromache could do nothing but nod and I was relieved she accepted my help, not that I truly knew what I was doing of course - I had read and studied extensively about healing but only put the very basics into practice myself when tending to minor injuries on Hector. Now was the real test, I thought with some trepidation and it was not the time to make mistakes. As one of her handmaidens helped her to the desk chair and stayed with her, I beckoned to the one of the others.
"He needs to be clean, Podes will have a better chance of fighting infection that way". I told her. "Can you fetch a basin of water, some soap and cloths?"
She nodded in the affirmative and rushed off to do just that.
"Podes – my name is Phile. I am going to try to help you." I told the sick and injured man laid before me.
I had no idea if he even registered my introduction, he was only semi-conscious after all. Through the filth that covered him, I could see the family resemblance to his sister – he had the same high cheekbones and tall, willowy frame. I proceeded to diligently check Podes over. The first thing that was apparent by the dryness of his eyes and lips and the elasticity of his skin was that he was badly dehydrated - he would need water urgently as that would be the first thing to finish him off. He had hit his head quite badly judging by the gash to his forehead although I knew the front of the skull was much stronger than the sides or the back so I was not too concerned about that. His breathing was quite laboured so I felt his chest gently with my fingertips. He moaned in pain quite loudly as I did so which was not surprising as he had some broken ribs. There was a dirty bandage covering a wound in Podes' right thigh. I removed it to take a look and was almost knocked out by the odour – that was where the putrid smell was coming from. It was a sword wound so deep it had cut down through the muscle almost to the bone and it was definitely infected – it was full of yellow puss. It would need to be fully cleaned to stop the infection spreading and I had learned about a quite disgusting but effective method of doing so. Dare I try it now? I called the other handmaiden over, asked her to fetch some drinking water for Podes and whilst she was at the kitchens, see if there were any maggots on waste food there. She looked totally confused by my very unusual request but took off to quickly carry it out anyway.
A little while later - between myself and Andromache's handmaidens - Podes had taken some water, had something to dull his pain (I am not proud to admit I had stolen a vial of poppy milk from a physician's bag for my own medical kit when he had been visiting my mother – I would have tried to make some myself but it was not the season for those annual flowers unfortunately) and he was clean via a bed bath. I bound his ribs with bandages and propped him up in the bed with pillows to support their healing and started to treat on his nasty thigh wound. By this time, Andromache had thankfully calmed down and was quietly sitting at the desk, sipping some wine that one of her handmaidens had fetched with her to calm her nerves. I cleaned the thigh wound as best I could before I asked for the maggots I had previously requested. The handmaiden bought over a small bowl of around fifteen to twenty of the little white writhing larvae.
"What are you going to do with these?" She asked me, half-disgusted and half-engrossed.
"I am going to put them in the wound. They will eat the dead and infected flesh, completely cleaning it. After that, he can be stitched shut."
She was a little horrified and to be honest, I was a little revolted myself. She watched as I put them, one-by-one, into the wound and recovered it in a clean dressing.
"How long do they need to be kept there? Will they not just keep eating and eating him?" she asked me, shocked.
"A couple of days I would think and no, they only have the ability to eat dead flesh, not live." I replied, sounding more confident than I was actually feeling.
Podes, relaxed by the painkiller, fell into a much-needed deep sleep – I was pleased, not just that he seemed to be better but also that my treatments went exactly as planned. Just as I was finishing up and washing my hands, Lysander was at the door, asking to speak with me.
"Phile, Hector has requested your presence. He awaits you in your chambers."
When I got to my room, Hector was standing by the dining table – he looked tense and serious, stern even. I knew by the fact he did not take a seat that it was just a fleeting visit and he did not mean to stay long. He did not greet me, he simply just launched into what he had to say:
"I am taking my army to Cilician Thebe, we leave as soon as the horses are ready and the arms have been distributed." He told me expressionlessly: "You and some of the other Hetaerae are to follow, a guarded caravan has been arranged to transport you all. You will be leaving at first light tomorrow morning". He instructed.
I was not only shocked at his command but with the cold manner he had delivered it.
"Hector, I cannot leave here! Mother is sick!" I desperately implored of him.
He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath of frustration, acknowledging what I was saying but ultimately refusing to relent. It was if he had expected my resistance.
"It is an order from your King, not a request." Hector replied firmly and he stalked off out of my quarters as if he were upset that I had tried to defy him.
I went over to my bed and sank down on to it, feeling totally bewildered by the events of the day so far and more than a little hurt by Hector's treatment of me. My world had suddenly turned so crazy. Not only that but I could not fathom why it was deemed necessary to bring Hetaerae to a military campaign – surely the men could survive without female company for a few days? Most of all, I hugely resented the fact that Hector was making me go when mother was so sick and needed me, more than he did anyway. He was usually so thoughtful and kind but now it seemed like something had changed in him. I did not like it.
A little while later I was with mother, helping her as she sat up in bed and was trying to eat a bowlful of nourishing chicken broth for her midday meal. She did not have much appetite but she was really making an effort for me, bless her. As she slowly ate, I told her then grim news about Cilician Thebe and that I was to accompany the army with some of the other Hetaerae there. I also told her, with some distress, that Hector had not asked me but ordered me to go and that I was so disgruntled by this and the 'off' way he had spoken to me that I planned to refuse as I needed to take care of her.
"Phile." She said, resting her spoon into the bowl on her lap - and I think you could agree when your parent starts a sentence with your name, you must listen: "I know you two are you as close as man and woman could be but at the end of the day, he is our Prince. You must do as he requests." She advised me, as if it were obvious. I know she spoke the truth, even though it was the last thing I wanted to hear.
"Hector may have spoken a little sternly to you earlier but you need to forgive him for that – he must be under immense stress at the moment." Mother continued wisely.
I considered her advice – a close ally of Troy had been attacked and undoubtedly a lot of innocent people had died, amongst them his beloved wife's family. Hector understandably must have been very upset. I realised I needed to balance my compassion for him and my concern and care for my mother – but I had no idea of how to start.
"Who will take care of you if I go?" I asked her desperately. "I could ask Korina to visit to check on you?" I suggested.
"No, do not do that … she has a young family to take care of." Mother countered considerately: "I am sure the servants can manage me whilst you are gone. Do not worry about me, dear daughter. Focus on Hector – he is your future."