Think you these tears, this pompous train of woe,
Are known or valued by the ghosts below?

-Virgil. The Aeneid. Book IV

The foliage began to grow steadily more dense as the two of us galloped through the countryside leading up to mount Ida. In the cool shadows of towering cypresses we rode, shielded from the intense heat of the overhead sun. Before us, jutting out like domed spire, Mount Ida rose majestically through the Mediterranean forest. I was told once that Ida was where Rhea hid Zeus from the terrible wrath of Cronus. It was the favourite mountain of the thunder god and Zeus himself guaranteed sanctuary to all those who sought solace upon its lush summit. I was told that mount Ida was the peak from which the gods looked over Troy. But perhaps most importantly, it was foretold that from Mount Ida, Troy's destiny would emerge.

It took us a while to traverse the length of the river Skamandros and throughout our entire journey Hector remained reserved. Stopping once to let the horses drink and rest, he wandered out into the forest alone, returning just as abruptly to announce that we should continue our journey. I shrugged absently and followed. I knew we were walking towards possible death and yet I still followed. It was not in me to let Hector face an enemy alone. Going back to Troy knowing he faced an adversary seemed so unfathomable at the time.

Soon, as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, we spotted the white washed walls of Thebe. The old city had been constructed upon a conjunction where the mighty Skamandros split into its tributaries. Thebe was ruled by a wise prince seeking to further his city's relationship with Troy and thus, the two cities were growing closer. Nestled tightly between the rivers and the forests of Mount Ida, Thebe shimmered brightly in the distance as the two of us crested the final hill. Leading my horse next to Hector's, I slipped off the saddle and took in the fresh scent of the late afternoon air.

"Do you think Agenar knows about the mercenaries?" I asked. Agenar, prince of Thebe and distant relative to Priam was cunning and cold. It wouldn't surprise me if he had given sanctuary to the Hittites.

Hector mused over the question for a while. Sliding off his saddle, the young prince came to stand beside me.

"I don't know. But regardless, those mercenaries killed Trojan citizens. Their judgement rests with Trojan authorities, not Agenar" He said, looking out over the bright city.

"By Trojan authorities you mean us, right?" I ventured to ask.

"Yes, Aeneas. Us"

I looked past the city and into the mighty forest surrounding the base of mount Ida. The Hittite mercenaries had set up camp somewhere there and, being Hittites and mercenaries, the culprits we sought wouldn't be too hard to find. Hector was climbing onto his saddle once again, his cold eyes still expressionless.

"We make for the billows of smoke emitting from the forest" He said squinting in the distance.

I squinted too and saw the traces of smoke meander their way through the warm air. Like climbing snakes, they twisted their way through the trees and gave exact directions to the clearing in which the mercenaries rested. Reckless, and careless. Even if Thebe was founded by Hittite settlers hundreds of years ago, private armies had little right to invade neighbouring towns. And doing it so openly brought carelessness to a whole new level. Kicking into his saddle, Hector thundered down the gentle slope, heading directly for the forest. I smiled ruefully. It was now or never.

We rose past Thebe and headed deep into the quiet forest, the wisps of smoke acting as our guides. Hector led and I tailed behind. It was something we did by pure instinct. Even as children, walking the streets of Troy, the two of us fell into a pattern where fearless, courageous Hector led and faithful, cautious Aeneas followed. He'd get us into trouble, and I'd willingly admit to the guilt. I cannot recall once where I had let Hector take all the blame-even if I was totally innocent. It was a kind a of betrayal, and there was something rank and sour about betrayal, something I could never bring myself to do.

I was snapped back to the present as Hector slowed down enough to let me catch-up. His face was hard and his eyebrows were narrowed thoughtfully. Placing a hand upon my shoulder, my greatest friend smiled sadly.

"Aeneas, my brother. This is our first battle together, and we're alone. The men we face are battle hardened warriors and there is a chance we might not survive. I know you did not wish to join me so I thank you. It takes courage to fight another man's war, especially if you do not believe in its cause. You can still turn around now, I won't hold it against you..."

"I cannot turn around now. To do so would be to turn my back on a friend. And you know I can't so that. So, I'll watch your back, and you watch mine. We'll be fine. No Hittite on earth can match skills with those of Troy's finest" I grinned and nudged my horse forward. True, I did not want to be here, but I did not want to be anywhere else. And anyways, how many mercenaries could there possibly be?

As we neared the scent of cooking meat and animal ranker, the thought of killing men seemed to grow upon me. It was a vile thought, one of little pleasure. I did not understand then how heroes were heroes because they killed people. It all seemed to cold-blooded to me. During my thoughts, Hector had once again taken the lead and now we rode with careful concentration. Soon the sounds of quarrelling men and rowdy singing seemed to envelope the area around us. One voice in particular rose above the others.

"C'mon you rotten lot, get up! This is no time to get drunk or bawdy. We'll 'ave plenty of that when we get them women and food. The Trojan villagers are probably waitin'!"

His voice seemed to fall on deaf ears as after a few more curses and squabbles, the voice seemed to die down and things began to return to normal. In front of me, Hector was smiling.

"They're drunk" he remarked. "The idiots are drunk!" he almost laughed out loud. So not were these mercenaries dumb, stupid and ruthless, now they were drunk too. And drunk men with full bellies never really fought well, if sources were to be believed. I was grinning too and all thoughts of slaughter began to fade away.

Hector had drawn his sword and I did the same. The camp was now before us and we both could tally the number of men. As I had expected, there weren't a lot of them; thirty at the most. Half of them were drinking and swapping tall tales while the other half seemed to be doing chores. A small portion of them were armed. It was this portion we head to concentrate on.

Hector stopped and turned to face me, the fire in his pale eyes burning with intense rage.

"Don't get off your horse. We'll make sweeping raids and disable the armed ones. Never stop to make sure the enemy is dead, just keep riding and slashing. If one of us falls, the other with collect him and run off. Remember, don't stop until every single man is lying on the ground. Got it?"

I nodded and looked forward.

"And Aeneas, stop clenching your sword like that. Let it loose"

I looked sharply at him. "Thanks"

"On my word..."

He tensed and for a moment all eternity seemed to stand still. Then his voice cut through the quiet and sent me galloping into the clearing.

"....now!"

Suddenly, everything became a blur as the two of us thundered into the enemy camp. Our enemies, men barely understanding the enormity of what was going on, seemed perplexed as our swords came down upon them. The first man I killed, tall and massive, shrieked wildly as my blade cleft his cheek and sliced through the upper portion of his skull. A spray of blood erupted and soon, I was bathing in a shower of crimson. Drawing my sword clear, I continued to deftly move through the camp, slicing and hacking away at mostly unarmed men.

Hector was doing even better. The master horseman had already disabled most of the armed guards and was swiftly working his way through the bellies of three drunken swordsmen. I tried hard no to retch as the foul smell of blood and guts swamped around me. From the corner of my eye I saw a man, sword in hand, charge me from behind. Spinning Chloris around, I turned to face the vile foe.

The red haired man was covered in leather armour and seemed to be carrying a massive scimitar. This he pointed in my direction and bellowed.

"Son of a Trojan whore! Face me like a man, if ye dares!"

His voice, strong and authoritative, washed over me. Even Hector stopped for a brief second to look at me. My friend's eyes seemed wild and suddenly alarmed.

"No, Aeneas!" he yelled as his sword imbedded itself into a Hittite chest. "Don't do it!"

I looked at him with a cheerless smile. The red haired man had challenged me. To kill him riding upon a horse would be dishonourable and would give me the definite advantage. But on the ground, I knew I was an inferior swordsman, one he could easily kill.

I slipped off my horse and came to stand before him. All around me, the battle had grown quiet and all eyes were upon us. The red head sneered and banged his scimitar against his iron shield. I continued walking towards him. He wore the finest armour in the camp and clearly, by the way everyone was silent, he was their leader.

"If I beat you" I began. "Your men will leave these lands never to return. No more blood shall fall upon Trojan soil. Am I clear?" I was surprised by the authority in my voice. I never realised how potent my vocal skills could be.

The hulking Hittite scoffed his reply. "I make no deals in battle, swine. Get ready pig, by tonight my dogs will be feeding on your throat" He concluded with a piercing battle cry and charged towards me, his colossal form tearing across the clearing. I stood my ground and brought my sword to the ready. His size belied his nimble movements and soon, the towering brute stood over me, his sword arcing down towards my head.

I leapt a few paces back as the sword harmlessly passed before me. Thrusting with my own blade, I stepped to my right then cut in left to deliver a near fatal stab at the Hittite's armoured belly. The leather held and all my attack managed to accomplish was to prick my opponent's skin. He roared in anger and elbowed my chest, hurling me backwards and onto the ground.

I rose swiftly and turned to face his charging attack once again. This time, as he bore down upon me, I parried his thrust and side-stepped to provide a deep cut into his muscular thigh. The Hittite screamed in pain. My small victory was to be short lived as the Hittite rounded to stab backwards, cutting across my leather armour and nicking the skin between my unprotected sides. I groaned and fell back, moving away from my wounded enemy and struggling to catch my breath.

"Give it up, dog!" My opponent wheezed, staggering towards me. He was smiling once again and there was murder in his eyes. Towering over me as I tried to ignore the wound, he brought his sword up. Taking this opportunity, I spun around him and stabbed my sword into the back of his throat. My surprised enemy immediately fell to his knees and gurgled on his own blood. Falling face first onto the ground, the massive mercenary died chocking in his own blood. I fell to my knees and clasped my arm around my injury. Clenching my teeth in pain, I brandished my sword and showed it to the Hittites.

"Collect his body and leave" I said, rising shakily to my feet. "Honour the rules of engagement and give him a proper burial"

Walking back to my horse, I painfully mounted the mare and rode towards a silent Hector. He was still poised to attack but it was clear that the battle was over. The remaining few men, around seven in total, began to move amongst their comrades checking the wounded and preparing for the return journey. Hector called out to them.

"I give you tonight to leave. By tomorrow, I will send a legion of Trojan soldiers to comb these areas. If anyone of you Hittite mercenaries lingers, he can consider himself dead. I wish to see you as far away from Troy as possible" With that said, Hector gave me a fleeting glance and rode off. Being too exhausted and in too much pain to feel angry, I rode after him.

It was not until we safely passed the forest and glittering Thebe that Hector turned to vent his rage upon me.

"You think yourself a hero, Aeneas?!" He shouted, pulling his horse before mine. "You could have been killed!"

"Hector I-"

"I specifically told you not to dismount and you went ahead and disobeyed my orders. What more, you faced off against what could potentially have been a better adversary even when I tried to stop you"

"He challenged me!" I shouted back, outraged. "You want me to betray all my codes of ethics and unfairly kill a man who challenged me? It was a matter of honour and I didn't mean to disrespect your orders"

Hector paused and looked at me, still clearly fuming.

"It wasn't a matter of honour, brother. Did those men have honour when they killed unarmed farmers? Honour is used by men as an excuse to justify an action or as a convenience to mask one. Do not fall into that tap, Aeneas. Stay devoted to things you can touch and feel, not some notion of reputation you aspire to achieve" With that said he slipped off his horse and bade me to do the same. "Now, lets get that wound fixed"

As he pulled off my thin leather vest, I winced in pain. The wound had been cut around my armour's strings and a few latches were imbedded in the festering wound. I almost screamed as the vest was ripped off. Hector closed in to examine the wound.

"We better get to Troy before the wound grows septic. The healers will be able to do something then" Taking a strip of cloth torn from my cotton toga, he tied it tightly around the cut and helped me back onto my horse. Straddling his own stallion, Hector turned to me once again.

"Even though you disobeyed me and almost got yourself killed, I'm proud of you, Aeneas. You showed real courage back there..."

I smiled weakly and nudged Chloris into a slow trot.