An Unlikely Union
Quick Comment: Wow, I'm really churning these chapters out, aren't I?! I created this one pretty quickly and I haven't had that much time to check it so I hope it's okay. It certainly makes my heart lurch anyway so I hope you'll like it! I also hope it answers a few questions I had about the last chapter.
Regarding the last chapter (4) I thought I made it obvious that Andromache was faithful to Hector, that was my intention (I described Agamemnon's comments as 'fictional' ). But I guess I couldn't have made it obvious as I had quite a few comments about it. Sorry! I also had a comment of time scale. I think I did write that the guards came into the cell four days after Hector's arrival but I guess I should have made more of that, too. Hope you are all not getting confused. It will all unravel as the story does, I promise.
Anyway, hope you enjoy Chapter 5 ... keep the reviews up, please guys!
5. Contempt Breeds Familiarity
Blood dripped. Sofia raised her hand to her face absentmindedly to blot the bleeding with her fingertips. Around the cut, her bottom lip was swollen an angry crimson. Hector registered the drops plummet to the floor and looked at the source, his eyes wide as if he couldn't quite believe that she wasn't unbreakable. Sofia face was blank; she was without sensation, as if the adrenaline created by her encounter with the guards had erased everything.
She had somehow managed to calm Hector down since the visitors had left a few minutes before. Perhaps she had managed to calm him down a little too easily. He had even allowed her to help him off the floor and onto the bench.
Perhaps things were progressing, a forced allegiance.
But now, as he watched her blood slowly and intermittently drip, his rage quickly reformed like angry storm clouds that can gather so unexpectedly. His eyes blackened again, his nose wrinkled. His whole body seemed to shudder with anger.
"With the gods as my witness, if I ever taste freedom again I will execute them, ALL OF THEM! The guards, Agamemnon, his bitch of a wife ... and that ... that blond haired ogre! I will hunt them down like DOGS!" He shouted, banging his fist violently on the wooden slats.
His pounding fist shook the wood and Sofia who was sat next to him. One slat had cracked audibly under Hectors wrath. She recoiled.
"Hector ... please. You are scaring me." She pleaded feebly.
Her tiny voice roused him from his rage, his face remorsefully softened.
"Who ... who was that giant?" She thought out loud in a whisper.
"Achilles, of the Myrmidons. He's the reason I am here. We fought a duel. I lost." He answered sternly.
"Achilles?! They say he is killing machine!" Much like they say of Hector she secretly thought.
"He is .... all he cares for is fame and glory."
"So why did he not vanquish you there and then during your duel? There must be immeasurable fame and glory to be had in killing Prince Hector of Troy, surely?"
"I don't know. By all rights I should be dead. Achilles desires revenge ... I killed his cousin Patroclus in battle; I slit his throat like a lamb. I thought it was Achilles ... he was wearing his cousin's armour ... he was just a boy".
Hector remembered the moment as 'Achilles' was unmasked on the battlefield, his crested bronze helmet pulled from the limp head. A low whisper spread around the disbelieving crowd that had gathered, a mix of Trojans and Greeks, all in unspoken truce as they thought unbeatable Achilles had been slain. The triumph Hector had felt soon turned to excruciating guilt as who he saw before him was a boy of about seventeen years old, not an experienced warrior as expected. The boy was still alive, his eyes wide with horror, horror that he could feel his life ebb away. He stared at the face of his slayer - Hector had caught the boy's vulnerable throat with his sword during the conflict, not quite decapitating him. Now the boy struggled for breath and as he lay there at Hectors feet, a gurgling noise emitting as air escaped from his severed windpipe. He could not be saved. Hector had no choice but to finish him off, to put him out of his misery. He drove his sword into the boy's chest in mercy, immediately releasing him from his pain.
"But today it looked as if Achilles despises Agamemnon more than he does you." Sofia shrewdly noted.
Hector was still traumatised by the terrible memory of Patroclus' decline. As a result he spoke a little too brusquely to Sofia:
"What does a village girl like you know of politics?"
Sofia frowned at him, belittled. But she persisted ... there was light at the end of the tunnel when it came to Hector, she could feel it. She tried to act indifferent to his comments:
"My Papa had his theories. He knew the war was not just caused by your brother Paris stealing lady Helen from Sparta. It was an excuse to wage war. Agamemnon requires you to live as you are his link to the Trojan army - and the prosperous copper trading routes controlled by Troy - am I right? But Achilles has no reason to want you to survive ... I mean, why did he speak out to stop the guards from beating you to death?"
"I'm impressed! You know your politics better than some of my father's advisors!"
Sofia gave a little victorious smile at his praise. The light at the end of the tunnel was in view. Distant, but in view nonetheless.
Hector continued:
"It is no secret that Achilles loathes Agamemnon ... perhaps there is more dissention in the Greek ranks than I first realised. I have a strange feeling in my gut that Achilles will have a larger part to play in my fate. But I also feel I will be dead before the week is out, whatever happens."
Her smile dropped as she listened to his defeatism:
"Don't say that ...your fate is not yet set in stone, Hector...."
"And yours is?"
"Yes. I am to be a concubine for King Menelaus; A concubine until he grows tired of me, anyway.... did you not hear what Agamemnon said? Or did they box your ears too hard?! " She was angry at him, as if he was ignorant to her situation.
She had spoken a little too brusquely, too. But he didn't take the bait, not yet.
"I heard. You seem to have accepted your fate easily." He answered calmly.
"So have you! What has happened to that stubborn determination you so readily displayed a few days ago?!"
Now he took the bait, voiced raised.
"And where is your idiotic bravery that has irritated me for the last four days?"
His voice carried round the cell, still echoing moments after the prisoners fell silent. Their bickering halted, the both suddenly realised how ludicrous it was to argue with each other - they were not enemies after all. Both stared into space for a few moments, slightly embarrassed. But then Sofia spoke, breaking the inertia
"What Agamemnon said ...about your wife ...." She began to ask, the question continually played on her mind. She had to know.
"How dare that swine drag her name around in the dirt like that? Those lies! She was a good woman, everything a man could want. I know she was faithful. That bastard!" Hector raised his voice again as he recalled what Agamemnon had said. Sofia began to wish that she hadn't reminded him.
Hector could picture his wife Andromache as he talked of her, as if she were standing right there, smiling at him. It had been an arranged marriage – something that he was hesitant about at first. At the time, his mind was full of horses, chariot races, sword training and pretty girls. But he was told in no uncertain terms that he must marry to improve relations and ultimately produce an heir. His father had sat him down one evening after dinner to tell him that they had the perfect girl in mind. The deal had been set up, all Hector had to do was meet her ... and to please be polite.
He had travelled for days to Thebe, tired and irritable. Feeling daunted as he was introduced to the Theban court, he had expected some dumpy, dim-witted girl to be presented to him. But the woman who had greeted him was nothing of the sort. She was quite tall and slim which gave her an awkward look. She was obviously nervous - her large brown eyes did not dare look at him and she could not stop fidgeting her feet, she tapped on the polished floor continuously. At that moment, all Hector wanted to do was hold her in his arms and take care of her.
Although initially shy, Andromache had settled into life at Troy well. They would spend most evenings together, walking in the gardens or talking to the early hours in their chamber. She would encourage him to lay his head on her lap, then she would stroke his hair gently whilst he told her all about his day. She did not conceive quickly, although not through the lack of trying - they had, in fact, tried at every opportune moment. But Hector was required to leave Troy's shores often, in the beginning to create bonds with other nations, later to fight them. He remembered how happy they both were when they discovered she was with child. Andromache cried with joy; she wanted nothing more than to produce him an heir. Hector, the proud father, did not mind if it was a boy or a girl, he was just overwhelmed with love and that they had succeeded in creating a precious life between them.
"What happened to her Hector? Did the Greeks kill her?"
He did not look up at her, his eyes still glazed:
"No. No, I guess she was fortunate in that way ... and fortunate enough not to see these dark days." He sighed despondently.
Sofia looked puzzled at his mysterious answer but did not want to push the matter. He rubbed his face with both hands, like he often did, finding it difficult to explain. . But after the events that had just unfolded he knew he owed it to her.
"She ... Andromanche - she died all but a year ago. Complications in childbirth. My son, our first born, died also. He ... he came too early. She lost a lot of blood. They said the stress of war affected her so ..."
He stumbled over his words then it seemed as if he could not physically talk any longer. As his voice trailed off, Sofia was stunned into silence.
He could also remember that moment. He could still hear her screams as she endured early labour. She sounded so frightened and alone. He wanted to be with her, to comfort his beloved wife but he was not allowed into the birthing room. He was told it was not a man's place.
The screams stopped and a baby did not cry.
Sofia watched Hector trying to distract himself, studying his hands, the knuckles scraped raw. He hid any emotion well, always taught that emotion meant weakness. Sofia sighed, her heart heavy. Agamemnon was clever and wicked; he knew how to hurt Hector with lies.
All the pieces fell into place ... why he had been so angry, so volatile. It was grief. Hector's heart had been broken.
"I am so sorry. I can see that you loved her very much ...."
Hector ruefully nodded and smiled sadly in answer. She had the sudden urge to take his hand, to hold it in her own. She didn't know why. But before she could act on it, he suddenly looked up at her face, studying her injuries old and fresh.
"Did they badly injure you? Your mouth looks very sore."
She touched the cut on her bottom lip again as she thought about it. It had stopped bleeding and had begun to scab over. She couldn't tell if Hector was truly concerned or he was just trying to change the subject.
"Superficial. I can't feel a thing any longer; I am numb to it all." Sofia sighed wearily.
"I don't believe that, I can see it in your eyes ..."
His observation made Sofia's heart inexplicably jolt. She didn't realise he had paid so much attention. She brushed it off as a flippant comment and prayed that she wasn't blushing.
"I hope I did not hurt you the other day ... when I grabbed you like that...."
He lifted his hand to her neck to demonstrate. His fingers were so close they accidentally brushed her skin. Registering this, he tucked his hand away again, a little embarrassed. But his touch made Sofia smile.
"You must think I am a beast ...." He continued.
"I think you are many things, Hector but I do not think you are a beast! I am fine. "
"I have never struck a woman before. I abhor the idea of it." He meant it. Sofia could tell. His face looked so stern as he thought about it.
"Are you trying to apologise Lord Hector?" she teased.
"No ... well yes." He stuttered. He obviously could not tell if she was jesting or not.
She finally reached over and took his hand in hers. It was a bold move. His warm, rough palm flinched slightly as she touched it, not used to familiarity. But then it relaxed into hers. Her hand looked so small and her skin so pale against his - and she noticed that his thumbnail seemed like a large disc compared to hers.
"Apology accepted"
"Thank you for trying to help me today." How humble he seemed. "... It was stupid but brave." he then added suddenly with a roguish smile.
"Stupid and brave? I guess that we have more in common that we first thought!" Sofia laughed.
He smiled and shook his head in mock disbelief.
They sat for a long while in the stillness. Their hands were still connected, lying on his lap comfortably.
The cell grew dark as night descended. Sofia could hear Hector breathing, it sounded a little more laboured than usual - his torso would be black and blue in the morning thanks to those guards. Then the pattern of his breathing changed slightly, deeper, slower. He appeared to be falling asleep where he sat, back against the wall.
"She is waiting for you, your wife. She waits for you in the next life. Make her proud." Sofia whispered.
He squeezed her hand in response.
- -0- -
Morning sunlight illuminated the cell, giving it a fresh appearance in the way that a wave licking on the shore makes the pebbles shiny. Hector was not yet awake. Sofia was not surprised. He had slept fitfully the night before, limbs occasionally jerking, features contorting - probably suffering nightmares. He had woken her once or twice throughout the night shouting out in indiscernible anguish, talking in his sleep.
What did he dream of? His mind seemed like a maze. Unable to sleep herself, her own mind was restless – somehow, occupying her mind with Hector saved the agony of comprehending her own future. Hector was sort of half-sat, half-slumped in the opposite corner of the bench, but he didn't appear to be physically uncomfortable. The muscular chest slowly rose and fell, his breaths deep. But he was not at rest. The frown never left his brow, even when he was sleeping.
Hector - at first Sofia thought him to be an arrogant bully ... but now ... she realised he was a troubled soul. He had held her hand last night as if he believed she could anchor him to conviction. She deliberated over some of the things he had said ... he had shown kindness like he had never displayed before.
Sofia hoped this change in him wasn't a sign that the Greeks were slowly breaking his resolve. She also hoped he had heard what she had whispered, about making his wife proud. It was a key to keeping him strong. And if he diminished, she would too.
How could she be so dependant on him, a distant man whom she hardly knew?
Lone footsteps approached, they sounded certain and large. The door swung open. Hector awoke with a jolt at the sudden noise, sitting up immediately, bleary-eyed.
It was Achilles.