As surely as the wind brought the Greeks nearer, Hector knew he would get no sleep this night. With a long look at his wife and son, he left the confines of his chambers. The night was a warm one, thick with the smell of the flowers planted throughout the city. The great city was silent, and Hector was grateful for it. He could gather his thoughts and make sense of them all in the quiet.
He walked the lonely streets in deep thought. Pictures raced through his brain faster than any of the horses in his father's stable; so fast that Hector feared he might go mad. He leaned against a stone wall to catch his breath and sort out the strange visions that entered his mind. His thoughts turned to her, as they had every night since they had parted:
"Do you love me?"
"Do you doubt it?" Hector laughed. They had been together every day for two years. Surely she could not mean it!
"I do not jest," Melpomene uttered seriously.
Hector sobered immediately. "What makes you question my love?"
She turned away and looked into the west where the sun was setting. "You are away so often, training for battles and wars that I can have no part in."
"That is my world," Hector reminded her. "I have been brought up to defend my people, to make their wounds my own."
"I wonder, sometimes, if your love truly lies in your swords and shields." She met his eyes, unwavering.
Hector could see truth in what she said. He loved the feel of the sword in his hand, the feeling of strength – the kind of strength that conquers nations and makes mighty rulers cower. But each time he assaulted with his weapons, Melpomene's gentle face was there, taking precedence over everything else.
"Listen to my words," Hector spoke fiercely, taking her face in his hands, "for never have I spoken truer: I love you! Do you understand? I love you with all that is within my being! I cannot find the words to tell you of the depths I feel for you!" He sputtered for a few moments but then kissed her intensely. Her lips moved, not in protest, but in concert with his. Her hands wended their way around his neck and buried themselves in his thick, dark hair.
After several minutes, they pulled apart, each needing breath, but Hector still held her tightly.
"I love you," he whispered tenderly, his voice husky with emotion.
"I will never doubt again," Melpomene answered before drawing him into another passionate kiss.
Soft footsteps on the street awakened Hector from his reflections. He looked up to see a hooded figure walking slowly through the night. His suspicions were aroused immediately. It was a warm evening, what need was there for a cloak? He pursued the form quietly, not wishing to wake the citizens of Troy. The hooded person stopped beneath a fountain and dipped its hand into the cool water. The cloak suddenly slipped to the ground, and the cry left Hector's lips before he could stop it.
"Melpomene!"
She turned with a gasp. The years had not changed her face, but her eyes showed the ravages of sorrow and time. Her full lips formed his name silently, but she drew back as he approached.
"Do I frighten you?" he asked slowly.
She shook her head vigorously. "No, my lord."
"Then why do you shrink from me as though in fear?"
She could not bear the pain in his eyes. "I cannot be near you!"
He resumed his steps. "Why?"
Tears were raining down her fair face. "Please don't come any closer!"
Hector's pain was evident in his voice. "What have I done to cause you to despise me? Do you not recall that it was you who urged me to leave you?"
"I remember."
They were silent. Only the rippling of the water in the fountain could be heard in the dark night.
Hector took another step. "Do you also remember the vow I once made to you?"
"I remember."
"Tell me, then," he pleaded. "What promise did I make?"
Her voice became steadier. "You promised to love me until death would take you to Hades, but even there your love would not be quenched."
"Then know now that I keep my vow." Hector stood within three feet of her now.
With a sudden cry, Melpomene threw herself into his arms. Sobs racked her body, and Hector held her close while pressing kisses against her hair.
"My love," he whispered over and over. "My only love!"
The seconds passed by slowly, each cherishing the feel of their hearts beating as one. Melpomene clung to him as though she would die without his touch. She had hoped fervently that this day would someday come. What, then, was this guilt that washed over her?
She pulled away again suddenly as if she had been burned.
"No!" she shouted. "Think of Andromache! Think of your son!"
Hector was stung by her words. "You mean more to me than anything else in this world!"
She seemed to gasp for breath. "You are an honorable man. Do not throw that away for me!"
With a look that seemed to dash her heart into pieces, Hector walked away. Their exchange had awakened someone in a nearby dwelling, but that did not concern Melpomene now.
She watched him depart, each of his steps causing her to flinch. She longed to call out for him and beg him to return, but wisdom stayed her tongue. He could never be hers, and it was her own fault. She had sent him away:
"What is wrong?"
Hector kept on beating the wall with his fist. His knuckles were now bleeding from the effort. His anger seemed to grow instead of diminish, despite the heavy blows he showered upon the undeserving stone.
Melpomene would have smiled if she had not been so distraught. Only a man would think of fighting a wall. But now was not the time for her humor. She cautiously snatched his arms and held them.
"What is it?" she murmured soothingly into his ear.
Hector clenched his teeth, his chest heaving with emotion. He shook his head. "It is too terrible."
She led him into her dwelling and wet several cloths. Her mother had died several months ago, but Melpomene still expected to see her come out of the back room and help dress Hector's wounds. She shook herself and began to clean the blood off his hands.
Once his hands had been bandaged, Melpomene felt brave enough to try again. "Please tell me what's wrong."
He gazed at her adoringly. "I cannot live without you." He stroked her cheek, and she closed her eyes, reveling in his attentions.
"Please tell me," she whispered.
Hector's eyes burned with anger again. "Father wishes me to marry. He has made an alliance with some other country and wants me to marry their princess."
Fear gripped Melpomene's heart, and her eyes widened with disbelief. "What country?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. Does it matter?"
"But you can't!" she cried in desperation.
"I know!" he shouted, and then more gently, "I know."
Melpomene knelt at his feet and placed her head on his knee. "What are you going to do?"
He smiled gently. "I'll just have to refuse Father."
Melpomene smiled, relieved, and Hector left to talk with King Priam. The king was a wise and good man, and Melpomene felt sure he would listen to Hector's plea.
But Melpomene's thoughts turned that night as she tried to sleep. What if this country waged war with Troy if the marriage did not happen? What if, in refusing to do his father's will, a rift was caused between father and son? A thousand questions rushed through her head. She couldn't bear to be the cause of so many problems. With resolve, Melpomene left her house and made the trek to the palace.
She met Hector in the gardens. His face was flushed with anticipation. He ran to her as he saw her approach.
"I have not yet spoken to Father," he murmured, "but I will at dawn's first light. He has been meeting with a group of his counselors all day, but soon. Soon."
Melpomene placed her fingers over his lips. She had to force the words out of her mouth, "Do not protest your father's will, my love."
Hector stepped back in confusion. This was not what he had expected. "What are you talking about?"
Tears dotted her pale cheeks. "Marry the princess. Do what your father wishes."
Hector stared at her incredulously. "This is madness! Do you wish to see me give my life to a stranger?"
She did not answer him. He grasped her shoulders firmly and looked hard at her face. "You asked me this question two years ago, and I demand it of you now: do you love me?"
She wished in that moment that she had not decided to take this course. "I love you more than anything."
"Then why do you say these things?" Hector wondered, frustrated. "If you love me, then I must speak with my father tomorrow."
"If you refuse your father," Melpomene continued steadily, "then so shall I refuse you."
"You cannot mean this!" Hector exclaimed loudly. He sank down upon his knees. "In the name of all that is sacred, I beg you! Please do not do this!"
Melpomene's breath caught in her throat. "Goodbye." She gave him one last kiss and was gone.
He stayed there on his knees until the sky in the east had turned golden orange. The palace was beginning to come alive with the noises of people. Hector still did not move. In disbelief, he whispered her name over and over. He longed to run after her, but he could not seem to make his limbs move. It was as if a part of him had died. She had ripped herself from his life, and he knew not why, but she was gone. And he knew that she didn't want him to chase her.
Melpomene had run until she was out of breath and collapsed in the empty street. She had hoped he would not chase her, but she had also hoped that he would. She knew right now he would be torn with anguish. Had she made the right decision? Or was she letting go the only love she would ever know? She let her grief overcome her, and she cried in the still night.
Melpomene shuddered. She still was not sure if she had been right in her actions, but it didn't matter anymore. He had married the princess Andromache, and nothing could change that. She prayed every night that her life would be ended soon, but each day she awoke with the sun and went about her daily business. She smiled with the other young woman, and she laughed with the children, but her heart still beat for the Prince of Troy – and it would until it ceased to beat at all.
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