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"Here we go," Cassandra whispered, steeling her face. Andromache resolutely set her jaw, ignoring the fear in the pit of her stomach, and let out a silent prayer. Grant that I may see my husband again.
"You there!" Cassandra called out imperiously. A nearby man looked over at them, frowning. "We must take care of our needs."
"You were just taken," he snapped, looking away again.
"Not for a few hours," she retorted. "And nature calls."
"It's dark," he said, disinterested.
"Amazingly observant of you," she said sarcastically. "But I fail to see what effect that has on our basic needs." Andromache closed her eyes, praying that he would grant their request. If he didn't, their plan would fail. Everything depended on his decision.
He glanced at Cassandra, annoyed. "Piklades, take these women into the woods," he said to a younger man nearby.
"It's dark," the man pointed out.
"I noticed, take them regardless," he snapped.
Piklades came over, sighing. He untied their bonds and led them towards the bushes nearby. As they walked through the camp, Andromache swallowed nervously. Trying to keep her face calm- and act as though they weren't about to escape- she took a deep breath to calm her heart, which was beating at an alarming rate. I'll escape only to have a heart attack, she thought, inwardly laughing. Her fear had made her almost giddy, though her mirth quickly vanished as they reached the bushes.
"You have two minutes," Piklades told them, walking a good distance away.
They watched as he walked back over to a group of men near the perimeter of the clearing. The fire in the center burned bright, casting an eerie light on the faces of the men. All around them there was silence- save for the soft hum of the men talking- and Andromache could hear the crickets. As Piklades finally reached his destination, Andromache took a deep breath. There was a pause as they watched him stop, settling down to wait for the appropriate amount of time to pass. The pause was only a second but it seemed to last a lifetime. And so it begins. Gods be with us.
"Let's go," Cassandra said softly, breaking the still moment. Wordlessly, Andromache followed her. Their sandals made only the softest of noises as they walked quickly but evenly. They would not run; that would only attract attention. Piklades had said two minutes but he most likely would not come in search of them for five.
Cassandra led the way confidently and Andromache followed, still swathed in her dark cloak. No moon was there to light the way and the only light they had was from the stars. But their eyes quickly adjusted and Andromache was able to pick out bushes and fallen trees around them. The pace was quick- but never so quick as to be loud and cause unnecessary noise. Neither spoke, not wishing to attract the attention of the guards.
The stillness of the forest was almost oppressive, it engulfed them and encompassed them. Their footsteps- though no more than little patters- seemed to echo loudly through the trees and Andromache was sure that any minute a guard was going to leap out in front of them.
Neither of them had discussed what they would do if a guard intercepted them, and Andromache wasn't sure they could do anything. The guards would be armed, and they had nothing- no weapon to defend themselves with.
The minutes ticked by and Andromache took deep breaths to try and cool herself. Swathed in her wool cloak, a heavy sweat had broken out on her forehead. Damp strands of hair clung to her head and her breathing was getting labored. She felt certain that the five minutes was up and anxiously awaited the shouted alarm that would quickly be heard as Piklades found the hostages to be missing.
"Cursed night." A voice in front of them to the left spoke, disrupting the stillness. Andromache nearly jumped out of her skin and almost collided with Cassandra, who'd come to a quick halt. They stood there, tense and not moving.
"With no breeze to cool us," another voice agreed. "The gods have cursed us."
"They will bless us soon enough," the first voice replied. "The night is cursed but its pleasures are not."
"What do you speak of?" the second man asked.
"Two women in the camp," the first answered.
"Nay, friend, they cannot be touched. In his foolery the man kidnapped the Princesses Andromache and Cassandra."
"Releasing them is not an option, therefore they must be killed. And if they are to be killed, what's to stop us lonely men from enjoying them before they die?" the first replied, his voice cruel and harsh.
They shared in laughter and Cassandra cautiously crept forward, so slowly she made no sound. Andromache followed, just as silently, praying that the gods would veil the eyes of the two guards. They had only them to pass- for these men guarded the perimeter of the camp- and once past them freedom awaited.
The two men continued talking and Andromache felt disgust rise in her as she heard them. She silently breathed a prayer of thanks, however, for as they talked they became careless. Their loud voices covered any noise the girls might make, and their laughter prevented their eyes from seeing them.
Each step was agony as Andromache waited for the guards to notice them, though. Sweat was pouring from her entire body and her eyes stung from it. Her mouth felt dry and she would have given her soul for a cool glass of water. Her breath came in quick, silent gasps and she felt sure she was going to collapse from the strain. But Cassandra courageously plodded on, never faltering and never wavering. Slowly but surely the passed the loud voices, now contrasting the different women each had known, and they cautiously continued until the voices were behind them, in the distance.
Only then did Cassandra stop and turn around. She could see Andromache's face, though it was dark, and the sweat pouring from it. Quickly pulling her into a hug, she whispered in her ear,
"It has been five minutes, they will have sounded the alarm. From this point on, we run. Do not stop and no matter what happens, continue running in this direction. You will come to the canyon. Remember this, Andromache, do not stop. Not for me, nor for anything else. Remember that."
She kissed her forehead and released her, pulling her hood over her face and quickly breaking into a fast jog. Andromache followed, considerably comforted but still frightened at Cassandra's words. It was almost as if she expected something to happen to herself, but Andromache quickly realized the foolishness of this idea. She will die a maiden, she promised me, Andromache thought firmly. Stop being a fool.
The two sprinted through the woods, no longer concerned with the noise they were making. Throwing her hood off her head, Andromache inwardly sighed as the air touched her hot forehead. The air was still stifling, but not as stifling as her cloak. Both girls wished they could remove the heavy coverings, but that would give the kidnappers a clue as to which direction they headed. So the cloaks would remain with them.
Andromache's lungs began to burn and she gulped in large breaths of air, praying she would not cramp. She hadn't run this far in years and her legs were beginning to tire. Deciding to distract herself, she thought of what they were running for.
Troy, she thought blissfully, picturing its great walls. The banners waving in the breeze, the merchants calling out to each other, the people hurrying everywhere. Hector, tall and strong and most of all, safe. Safe, she smiled ruefully. It seems so long and yet it was only a few days ago that I felt safe. She concentrated on the image of Priam sitting on his royal throne and Hecuba sitting beside him, tall and elegant. She thought of Paris, chasing the women through the streets and Briseis, kneeling at the statue of Apollo. The memories ceased and she concentrated on keeping pace with the figure in front of her.
Cassandra, assured and confidant, kept her pace quick and even. You are every bit your brother's sister, Andromache thought, smiling. It was almost funny, one would never guess it and yet it was true. Had Cassandra been born a man she would have been almost exactly like Hector. She was noble, upright, and honorable. She feared and yet she was never afraid to face those fears. Ah, Cassandra, you should have been born a man. The world needs more men like that.
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They ran for hours, barely taking any rests, and after awhile all the trees began to look the same. Andromache felt bewildered and confused, and her sense of direction was completely gone. Fortunately, Cassandra knew the way and continued towards their goal, never wavering right or left.
Andromache was so tired she was numb. Hours ago she'd ceased to feel anything. Her legs moved in a methodical motion and she felt no control over them. Adrenaline had kicked in and made her emotionless, both physically and mentally.
Suddenly, her foot caught on a tree-root and she fell, crying out as she quickly put out her hands to take the impact. She hit the ground hard, panting from lack of breath, not able to move. Cassandra came back and knelt beside her.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, concerned.
Andromache shook her head. "I cannot go any further," she panted, closing her eyes. The heat of the night was oppressive and Andromache would give anything for a drink of water. "We need to stop for the night."
"We cannot stop here, it's too much in the open. We've only a little further to go, nearby is a lake. We'll rest there for the night and continue in the morning."
Andromache nodded, resting for just another moment then stiffly getting to her feet. Cassandra pulled her up and set off at a slow jog again. Andromache set her jaw and resolutely followed, being careful to watch for obstacles that could cause another fall. If she fell again, she knew she wouldn't be able to rise. Her hands were stinging and she realized that they'd been cut by the sharp rocks on the ground. Concentrating on the pain, she managed to force her body to go faster. The pain helped her, giving her something on which to think about, and she felt the familiar numbness as adrenaline kicked in again.
Nearly a half hour later, they reached the lake. The two girls dropped to the ground, exhausted. Both of them drank deeply from the cool water, ignoring the muddy taste. They rested in silence as their weary muscles slowly relaxed. Andromache cast a glance at Cassandra and only then realized how tired she was.
Cassandra's brow was dripping with sweat, and her hair was stringy. Unlike Andromache's face, which was red from the heat, she was deathly pale. She was silently gasping for air, trying to calm her racing heart. Concerned, Andromache stiffly pulled herself over to her.
"Are you alright?" she inquired, frowning.
Cassandra nodded, still not able to speak. Andromache kindly removed her cloak, allowing the girl to cool off more quickly. She then removed her own, placing them down on the ground to be used as beds. She watched Cassandra warily, making sure she really was uninjured. Cassandra had set the pace, therefore it was understandable that she'd be more tired, but Andromache was still worried. A few minutes later, Cassandra was finally able to speak, having gotten her breathing under control.
"We're nearly twenty miles from the camp," Cassandra said shakily, taking a deep breath. "The canyon is only another ten or so."
"We've traveled twenty miles?!" Andromache gasped out, cleaning her hands in the lake.
Cassandra nodded. "We should be safe from the bandits, they've got much ground to search and the darkness will not help them."
"So we're safe then?" Andromache asked, hardly daring to believe it.
"From people, we are. Animals are another story, however."
Andromache cast a suspicious glance around. "Wolves?"
Cassandra nodded, closing her eyes and lying down on her cloak. "Among others. But pay it no mind, we've no control over it. Worrying won't help."
"We've no weapons," Andromache reminded her.
"Then thinking about it won't help either, will it?" Cassandra replied pointedly. "You might as well get some sleep, we'll start at daybreak."
Andromache closed her eyes, listening to the stillness of the forest. For some reason, the stillness was no longer soothing. But exhaustion quickly took hold of her and she soon fell into a deep sleep as her body prepared itself for the rest of the journey. I'm coming, Hector, don't worry.