Chapter 4

Standing at a hilltop, Achilles was watching as thousands and thousands of Greeks were marching towards their enemies. They were marching towards the high, thick walls where thousands and thousands of Trojans were positioned to protect the royal city.

He could see his countrymen marching there with their helmets covering their faces, carrying spears and heavy shields. Agamemnon and his brother were at the front, but of course they were not marching. They preferred riding in their fancy carriages. But somewhere among those uncountable soldiers were also Odysseus, Ajax and their men. Men he trusted, men he respected...

His own men, the myrmidons were watching the scene closely. Their backs were turned towards him, but even if they didn't know that he was standing behind them, Achilles could sense their looks of accusation. They thought he was behaving oddly and egocentrically to refuse to take part in this battle. Still, they knew better than to question his decisions.

"We stay until Agamemnon groans to have Achilles back!" he had spat.

"As you wish," the loyal Eudorus had answered simply.

But Patroclus wasn't as inclined to accept his decision. The young man had been deeply disappointed, not only because he wasn't allowed to fight but also because Achilles had refused to join the Greek forces merely because of his personal feud with Agamemnon. He seemed to feel betrayed, like his much admired older cousin had let him down. And he had not held his tongue.

Looking at Patroclus' stiffly erect spine, Achilles could tell that he was still upset and that he was burning with desire to join the battle. Achilles knew the feeling. As he was watching the lines of Trojan and Greek soldiers positioning themselves face to face with each other, he was filled by a familiar urge to grab his sword and lead his men in a valiant attack against the Trojans. But still, his anger and his wounded pride was stronger.

There was something inside him that told him that this journey had been wrong from the start. He was here for the wrong reasons. Like his mother had said, he might find glory in Troy, but if he could only have glory on Agamemnon's conditions, then he was better off without it. It would probably be for the best if he went back home as soon as he could set sail.

But there was still something that held him here.

Casually, he glanced towards the high walls. By now, she must have found out that he had come to fight her country. Was she looking for him from one of the towers? Would she ask herself why he wasn't there? Perhaps he was all wrong. Perhaps she didn't even remember him? Perhaps she just considered him one of the many Grecian warlords that threatened her home?

Achilles forced these speculations out of his head as he watched Agamemnon and Menelaus leave the crowd of Greeks and approach the Trojans. They were met by two Trojans riders. Achilles knew who they were.

----

As the enormous mass of Greek soldiers moved closer and closer, Andromache had to force herself to stay in her seat. She was positioned in one of the high towers above the gate. Andromache and Helen sat next to their father-in-law, king Priam. Helen's face was ghostly pale. Andromache realized that she had a reason to be afraid. Paris was determined to fight Menelaus and Andromache knew, as Helen probably did too, that his odds would not be great in such a fight. Paris wasn't a warrior; he was hardly more than a boy.

And if Paris died, what would become of Helen then? Perhaps she feared that Priam would give her back to Menelaus in a desperate attempt to make peace? Andromache knew that he would never do that, but of course, Helen didn't know the king very well and she couldn't be as certain.

Andromache was concerned for Paris too, but she had to admit that she was even more worried about Hector. She just couldn't imagine that he would stand by and watch Menelaus cut his little brother to pieces. Andromache knew that he didn't want to fight, like he had told her the night before, but maybe he wouldn't have a choice. And if he did...

Andromache pinched her lips closely together. Somehow she found it hard to tear her eyes away from the crowds of Greek soldiers. She hardly even wanted to admit to herself that she was looking for someone. Anxiously, frantically, she was trying to make out a familiar form among the lines of soldiers.

But strangely enough, she couldn't spot the myrmidons in their distinguishing black suits among the soldiers. Andromache would have thought that they would march in the front line, but they were nowhere to be seen. Andromache was partly relieved, but she somehow had a suspicion that there was a particular reason why they weren't there, why he wasn't there.

She forced herself to stop thinking about him and focused her attention on her husband and his brother who was riding out to face King Agamemnon and Menelaus of Sparta. It was too far away for her and the others to hear what was said, but Andromache could guess quite well what was going on.

After some insults and threats exchanged between Paris and Menelaus, apparently Agamemnon made some sort of offer to her husband. "Swear allegiance to me and I will spare your city." And of course, Hector rejected the offer without hesitation and claimed that Troy would never kneel down to a foreign ruler.

Naturally, that was just what Agamemnon wanted to hear and he prepared to make his men ready to attack when Paris interfered. This was not between two nations, it was between two men. He gave Menelaus his offer: They would fight and the winner would have Helen. After some discussions between the two Greek brothers, Menelaus accepted Paris' challenge.

Andromache guessed that Agamemnon vowed to leave Troy if Menelaus won, but she didn't trust him for a moment. Hector probably didn't either, but still he stepped aside and allowed his brother to fight.

The fight began and Andromache realized quickly that her misgivings had been correct. Menelaus had the upper hand from the first moment. He was an experienced warrior; strong, powerful and deadly. Paris could count his quickness and litheness to his advantage, but his uncertainties made him unable to use them properly.

When Menelaus managed to cut Paris' leg and strike him sword less to the ground, Helen gave a choked cry. She hurried towards the rail, as if she could somehow save Paris by moving closer to him. Priam was right behind her and only through great will force, Andromache managed to stay on her place.

In panic, Paris crawled back to take shelter behind his brother. Andromache swallowed. This was the moment she had feared. And she knew what Hector would do.

"Fight him, son," she heard Priam's intense voice. "Fight him!"

At the dusty ground between the two armies, Paris was hiding behind his brother. Menelaus bellowed furiously: "This is not honour! This is not worthy of Royalty!"

Hector stood before his brother. He felt torn, but he knew what he had to do. After Paris' violation of the agreement, Agamemnon was preparing the Greek soldiers for battle. He knew that this could mean the end of Troy. But it didn't matter. "He is my brother," he told Menelaus simply and nothing else needed to be said.

Menelaus raised his sword, fully prepared to kill the unarmed and wounded Paris.

"Forgive me, Andromache," Hector thought. Then he pulled his own sword and ran it through the king of Sparta's body.

----

At the hilltop, Achilles stepped forward to have a better view. His men quickly glanced behind them before turning back to the scene before their eyes.

Achilles was not surprised at what had happened. One look at that little prince and you could tell that he was not fit to fight with swords. But he had to admit that he was slightly stunned by his older brother's willingness to put his life at risk for his sake. And he wasn't just risking his own life, but also his entire country.

Even at this distance, Achilles could hear Agamemnon's scream as he witnessed his brother being slain. He could foresee his actions.

"All right," he thought to himself. "Now let's see what stuff your prince is made of."

----

Things had happened so quickly, Andromache didn't really know how they had started or in which order they had taken place. Suddenly, Hector and Paris were riding towards the gates in gallop. The soldiers created a path for their princes towards the walls. Hector sent Paris in through the gates and gave a sign to the archers to fire. The Greeks had pulled forward and were within shot range. The masterly Trojan archers fired and their arrows flied down and buried themselves in hundreds of Greek bodies.

Then, Hector drove his men forward and suddenly, the Trojans and the Greeks were blended in a mass of spears, swords and shields.

Andromache could tell that the Trojans had the advantage. Their desire to defend their country seemed to be stronger than the Greeks lust to conquer it. The skilful archers continued to shoot their arrows and they were excellent when it came to hitting their target. Their arrows fell like rain over the Greeks and made them scatter. The Greeks didn't seem to have the power to resist the Trojan rage. Or perhaps it was the absence of the myrmidons?

"Get them back into line!" Achilles muttered in frustration from his viewpoint.

As if he had read his mind, Odysseus ordered his men back into the lines. But like the experienced strategist he was, Hector took the opportunity before the order had been carried out. He pushed his front line forward and forced the Greeks apart once again.

The Greeks seemed to be about to give way, but there was one of them who refused to succumb to his enemy. Andromache's eyes followed one of the Greeks. Even from the tower she was able to make him out. The man was a giant, more than seven feet tall and he was single-handedly fighting a group of Trojans. Despite his size, he was surprisingly quick and the soldiers fell by his feet.

Andromache pulled a sharp breath when she saw Hector charging towards the giant on his horse. Her husband raised his spear to finish the man, but the giant managed to block the attack with his shield. Hector was flung from the saddle and fell to the dusty ground.

He was quickly on his feet again with his sword ready to take on the giant and the heavy club he fought with. Andromache's eyes didn't leave the two men as they engaged in their battle. She knew that Hector was strong and extremely skilful, but would he really manage to defeat this giant man?

From his hilltop, Achilles watched coldly as his ally, Ajax fought against the Trojan prince. Achilles knew that the prince would have to show that he was indeed the best warrior in Troy if he was going to defeat him.

Ajax managed to hit Hector in the face with his club and the prince stumbled to the ground. Ajax raised his weapon to kill the Trojan prince, but he managed to get his hands on a shield and cover himself with it.

Ajax was momentarily taken aback and Hector took advantage of his surprise. He grabbed a spear and attacked. But even a spear halfway across his belly was not enough to break Ajax. The giant man spat blood, but somehow, he broke the spear and pulled it out of his body. Then he punched the Trojan prince who once again fell to the ground.

Ignorant of each other, Hector and Andromache were intently watching the scene from their viewpoints. Their minds were filled with completely different feelings. Andromache gasped when she saw that Hector had fallen again. She was grasped by an insane impulse to jump from the tower to aid him. "Come on, my love, you must get back on your feet," she thought in panic.

Achilles feelings were slightly more mixed. Somehow, he knew that he should be disappointed if he wouldn't have the opportunity to kill Hector on his own. After all, that was the main reason why he had come here. But still, he suddenly wished that it would all be over and done with. "Go on," he told Ajax silently. "Go on and finish it, once and for all."

But Hector managed to grab a sword and get back on his feet again. When Ajax had parried one of his attacks, he wasn't quick enough to prepare for the next charge. Hector managed to drive his sword through his chest.

The giant tried to push the prince away, he tried to grab his neck to strangle him, but his strength was faltering and Hector's powers were too much for him. Finally, he couldn't do it anymore. The Trojans cheered loudly as Ajax fell.

Andromache's heart was filled with an immense relief and joy. Hector was alive and she somehow knew that the Trojans would win this battle now. She glanced at Priam and spotted the pride and contentment he took in his son's strength and character. She smiled warmly back to him. Their problems were far from over, but at least they seemed to have managed to overcome this trial.

At the hilltop, Achilles watched the cheering Trojans with a flat face. The Greeks were pulling back. Once again, the Trojan prince had proven his worth.

Grimly, Achilles turned away from the scene.