Chapter 7

The whole camp had been staring at Achilles when he returned from the fight. Without a word to anyone, he had driven straight to his tent, dragging the unconscious prince behind his carriage. Once he had stopped, he had loosened the rope from the wagon and pulled the prince behind the shadow of his tent. There, he had pitched him.

Achilles glared harshly at the prince of Troy, before he turned to enter his tent. Then, he had heard a choked cry. It was Briseis. She had seen what condition her cousin was in and now she was hysterical. She tried to run to his side, but Achilles had roughly stopped her and pushed her to his men.

"Let go of me!" she screamed in fury and struggled violently. "Let me go to him! He is my cousin!"

"Keep her away," he had said, his voice cold. "Don't let anyone close to him."

"No, my lord," Eudorus had said quickly, unwilling to bring his master's wrath over his head again.

Then, Achilles had barked that he expected to be left alone and entered his tent. Without even pulling off his sweaty armour, he had sat down with his cheek resting on his fists and tried to bring his thoughts into some sort of order.

He sat for hours, trying to justify his actions as darkness fell over the camp. Once again, he had spared the prince of Troy. Why? The man had been in front of him, wounded and at his mercy. But still he had not killed him!

Just thinking about the fact that he had let his cousin's killer get away from his rightful punishment was sickening. The right thing to do would be to step out of the tent and cut Hector to pieces. But once again, something restrained him. What was that? Was he losing his mind?

Achilles hid his face in his hands. When he did, he could suddenly see her eyes before him. Her dark eyes filled with angst that begged him, pleaded with him not to let the sword fall down on Hector's throat.

He silently cursed himself. Once again, he had let his feelings get in his way. Once again, he had proved that he was a fool.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, brooding and waiting, when he heard a sound. When he looked up, she suddenly appeared before his eyes. He blinked a few times to rid himself of the ever-present illusion, but she didn't vanish. And when she slowly raised her hands and pulled back the hood that covered her hair, he realized that she was real.

Slowly, he rose to his feet and positioned himself in front of her, still in absolute amazement. For a moment, he just couldn't take his eyes off her. Seeing her at the top of the tower was one thing, but having her just a couple of feet away; in the shape of a living, breathing creature was enough to make him dizzy.

She had not changed a lot in terms of appearance. Most of her form was hidden under her long cloak, but he could tell that her body was just as slender and lithe as it had been the last time he saw her and she still carried herself with more elegance than any other woman he had met. Her hair, pulled back into a tight braid along her back, was still full and shining; her skin was pale and smooth and her eyes still had their rare colour and form.

Andromache was a rather beautiful woman, but beauty wasn't the reason why he had been drawn to her from the first moment of their acquaintance. It was something about her that he couldn't really identify that had attracted him. Perhaps it was something inside her that made her special, which differentiated her from other women; her strong spirit and determination, her intelligence and accomplishment, her heart and her soul. To him, she was intoxicating, captivating, fascinating...

He surveyed her wordlessly. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked flatly: "How did you get in here?"

She crossed her own arms like she was imitating him and answered coldly: "I should think that my father-in-law knows his own country better than you do."

Achilles didn't answer. He kept watching her closely. Her face was resolute, but absolutely calm and she didn't look the least bit scared, despite having literally walked into the lion's den. "Well," he said, somewhat mockingly. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Indeed you should not," she agreed sharply. "After all, things have worked exactly as you planned them, haven't they?"

Achilles' eyes narrowed, but it was pointless to object, since he realized that she was right. He had planned this. His decision not to kill the prince had not been haphazard; he had known exactly what he was doing.

"Where is he?" she asked him coldly.

He raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

"You know who I mean," she snapped. "Where is my husband?"

"Why should I know anything about your husband's whereabouts?" he asked her sarcastically and turned away from her to get a goblet of wine, but she grabbed his arm and spun him back to her with surprising strength.

"Don't play games with me; it's not the right time," she said in a low, chilly voice. "I want to know where Hector is and you will tell me."

Achilles tried not to show how much her touch had increased the pressure of his blood. He looked at her with superiority. "Suppose I would tell you that he is already dead?"

She became a little paler, but when she spoke again, her voice was firm. "It doesn't matter; dead or alive, he belongs to me and I want him back!"

"Yes, I guess you would," Achilles answered and looked straight into her eyes.

She slowly released him and moved back a little from him. He heard her sigh deeply. "So that's still the problem, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked flatly.

"You know what I mean," she said. She was silent for some time before she softly added: "Achilles... This is not about him."

"What is not about him?" he asked her provocatively.

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Stop pretending like you don't understand. Hector had nothing to do with what happened between the two of us."

Her calmness annoyed him more and more and he wasn't able to hide it anymore. "Oh, he didn't?" he snarled. "Well, except for the fact that he is your husband. He is the one who took you away, isn't he?"

She sighed again. "He didn't take anything," she said empathically. "It was my choice, my decision." She looked at him with slight incredulity. "Is it still impossible for your vanity to accept this? Hector has done nothing wrong and you have no reason to take revenge on him for what happened between you and me!"

A smirk crossed Achilles' lips. "Maybe I just like to see you suffer."

"So let me suffer then!" Andromache almost shouted. "Kill me, spear me, cut me to pieces, but leave him alone!"

Achilles face remained cruel. "I would do that, but you forget that there is something more to this than your infamous little affair with me."

Andromache silenced and pinched her lips tightly together.

"Your sweet prince killed my cousin," Achilles started, pronouncing the word prince as if it had been an insult. "He was just a young boy with his whole life ahead of him. And your husband ended his life with one single thrust from his sword." As he spoke, his eyes began to glow with a silent wrath. "Even if I could overlook the fact that Hector married you; I can never forget what he did to Patroclus."

Andromache snorted slightly and applauded him contemptuously. "That was the most genuine hypocrisy I have heard in my life," she coldly declared and moved close to him again. Standing in front of him, she looked directly into his blue eyes. She was more than a head shorter than he was, but her dignity made her seem much taller than she was.

"How many cousins have you not put to the sword over the years, mighty Achilles?" she asked him with ice in her voice. "How many men have you not taken away from the women of Troy? How many mothers out there have been left without their sons; how many sisters without brothers; how many daughters without fathers?" She pulled a deep breath before she continued: "How many wives without husbands?"

Achilles couldn't face the accusation in her eyes and he slowly turned his back on her. But her voice kept talking; she kept forcing those words into his ears that he didn't wish to hear.

"Is that what you want me to be?" she asked him quietly. "Just one of those countless, faceless widows left to cope with the death of their husbands? And my son? Do you want to leave him without a father?"

Achilles didn't move for a long time. He stood motionless and silent, staring at the wall. Finally, he slowly turned back to her again. "You have a son?" he asked her in a voice that was drained of all emotions.

She nodded shortly. "Yes."

For a moment, she thought she could make out a glimpse of pain in his eyes, but it vanished quickly and his face was smooth again. "One single child in seven years?" he asked her drawly. He shook his head, as if in pity. "Old Priam must think you a truly poor investment."

There was a glimmer in Andromache's eyes, and for a moment, she ceased to breathe. She had not foreseen this deliberate insult; she had forgotten how extremely provoking he could be. With all of her heart, she longed to do what he so clearly begged her to. She wanted to move close to him with two long strides and slap his arrogant face for all she was worth. But she refused to show weakness. He would not have that pleasure from her.

Instead, she crossed her arms across her chest and her face remained flat.

Achilles nodded slowly to himself. Then he sighed and pulled his hand through his tousled, blonde hair. "Let's take things from the start," he said. "You have come here because I took your husband as my prisoner. And you want him back?"

Andromache nodded resolutely.

"And it doesn't matter to you that he may never recover?"

"No."

Achilles was silent for some time again. Then he nodded. "All right," he said, without taking his eyes off her. "I will give him back to you." Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "But not unless I get something in return."

Andromache was extremely relieved. "Priam assured me that he will pay whatever you want," she said quickly. "Or if you want him to make an arrangement with Agamemnon..."

But Achilles just shook his head. "I don't care about gold and I really don't give a damn about Agamemnon's war. That's not what I want."

There was a peculiar emphasis on his words. Somewhere deep inside Andromache's soul, a small suspicion was starting to form, but she refused to acknowledge it. "Well, what do you want then?" she asked him, somewhat puzzled.

Achilles laughed: a harsh, husky laughter. "Don't try to play me for a fool, princess Andromache," he drawled. Slowly, his eyes roamed across her body. "You know what I want."

Andromache's already pale complexion was drained of all colour. She looked at him in astonishment as she knew in her heart what her mind was eagerly denying.

"I want you."

His words sent a shiver down her spine. All of a sudden, she couldn't bear to face him anymore. Her head fell forward slowly and she swallowed tightly. "Me," she repeated meekly and it wasn't really a question.

"Well, that's a fair deal, isn't it? One life for another?"

Andromache slowly raised her head again and was met by his sparkling eyes. He was in control now and she could tell that he enjoyed it immensely.

"So that's what you want?" she whispered weakly. "You want me to stay – with you - for good?" Somewhere inside her mind, she saw the image of Astyanax, and quickly repressed it.

But Achilles shook his head. "Not exactly," he said as he moved even closer to her, so that their faces were just inches away from each other. "I ask only that you stay the night. One night, here with me." His eyes narrowed and his tone of voice became mocking. "And when morning comes, you can stay or leave; whatever you please."

Andromache stood absolutely still and looked into his beautiful, blue eyes.

"One night, Andromache," Achilles continued. Then his tone hardened. "And then, to me, you will be like all the others. Nothing more." His eyes were just slits when he finally added: "But I will assure myself that you will never ever be able to forget about me."

Andromache closed her eyes for a moment. Then she met his eyes again. "Do you really hate me that much?" she asked him quietly.

"Who has said anything about hate?" Achilles asked her nonchalantly. "This is about getting even."

Andromache pulled a deep breath and nodded shortly. "All right, I agree to it."

"Agree to it?" he asked her suspiciously.

"You have my word," she said, her voice unsteady. "But you must allow me to send Hector back to the palace first. His wounds must be taken care of."

"Of course. We wouldn't want anyone to disturb us, would we?" Achilles asked her sarcastically as he guided her towards the tent flap. "This way."

----

The stars shone down upon them from the velvet sky when Achilles led Andromache behind his tent. He pointed to the ground and at first, Andromache didn't understand anything. The darkness made it difficult to see and she could only make out something shapeless on the sand.

Then she realized that it was her husband.

Andromache pulled in a sharp breath. Her legs shivered as she sank down on her knees next to him. He was alive, she realized when she sensed a faint pulse on his neck, but he was in a very bad condition. The spear was still shooting out from his shoulder and blood had coloured his Trojan armour in red. Andromache realized that he had been left there to die and she had to restrain the fierce anger that rose inside her.

As she carefully started to examine his wound, Hector's eyelids began to flutter and suddenly, he managed to open his eyes. He stared at her, like he couldn't believe that she was really there.

"Andromache...?" he asked weakly. It was clear that he could barely stay conscious. The pain and his loss of blood had taken all of his strength away.

"Yes," Andromache answered gently and caressed his cheek. "It's me."

"But... but how...?" he asked her throatily. "What are you doing here?"

"I am going to take care of your wounds," Andromache explained.

"But that man... He..."

"Don't worry about anything," Andromache quickly interrupted him. "I am here now and everything will be all right."

Hector closed his eyes tightly. "It hurts, Andromache," he gasped and tried to control himself, despite the inhuman pain.

"I know," Andromache said soothingly. "I just need to look at it a little bit more..."

"You shouldn't be here," he said with great effort. "I lost that fight. I don't deserve to be..."

Andromache stared at him. "Stop that nonsense," she said sharply. "Besides, you shouldn't be talking at all; it will only drain your powers even more."

She took a small bottle from the leather bag she had brought to the camp and held it up to his lips. "Drink this," she ordered him. "It will ease the pain."

Hector was so weak that he couldn't hold the bottle and Andromache was forced to pour the liquid down his throat. Hector coughed a couple of time, but it seemed like he had managed to swallow it.

Andromache continued to examine his wounds. Behind her back, she heard Achilles' voice ordering some of his myrmidons to escort the Trojan prince back to his palace. Andromache was relieved that he was true to his word; she had been afraid that he would change his mind. And it was obvious that Hector needed to get back to the palace. Andromache had some knowledge about healing, but not nearly enough and Hector needed to see an experienced physician.

However, Andromache realized that he couldn't go back to the city in his present state. The blood loss would kill him on the way. She would have to pull the spear out so that she could dress his deep wound.

Quickly, she turned around towards the myrmidons who where gathered outside the tent with their master. "You there," she said with authority and waved to a couple of the men. "Come over here!"

It was a difficult thing not to obey a command from the princess of Troy. The men glanced unsurely at their master. He nodded shortly and they hurried to carry out her orders. When they approached her, Andromache casually realized that she recognized one of them. It was Eudorus, Achilles' second in command who had been among the warriors who had come to Thebe all of those years ago.

"My lady, what do you want us to do?" Eudorus asked her respectfully.

"I must pull the spear out of his shoulder," Andromache explained and indicated the protruding weapon. "I need you to hold him while I do it." She turned back to Hector and slowly squeezed his hand. "Will you be all right?" she asked him softly, well aware that the painkilling liquid she had given him wouldn't be a particularly great relief.

Hector nodded slowly, but she could tell that he was shivering slightly.

"Very well," she said and gestured to the myrmidons to take their positions. The two men carefully grabbed Hector's arms and legs. Slowly, Andromache closed her hand around the spear. "Are you ready?" she asked him, somewhat nervous. Hector nodded slowly.

Andromache pulled a deep breath and with one single, hard tug, she managed to pull the spear out of her husband's shoulder. Hector didn't have to suffer very long. Immediately, the pain was too much for him. He groaned loudly and fell out of consciousness.

Andromache breathed fiercely. She had used more strength than she knew she possessed to pull out the weapon. The thought of Hector's pain almost brought tears to her eyes, but she forced them away. Resolutely, she handed the broken spear to a myrmidon. "Here, get the accursed thing out of my sight" she muttered.

Then she turned back to her now lifeless husband. She pulled the remains of his already torn armour off from his body, which made her able to get a closer look at his injury. The blood was still streaming out of his wound. Quickly, Andromache pulled off her shawl and pressed it against the wound to stop the blood fled. The shawl was quite long and she managed to wrap it tightly around Hector's shoulder. It would do until he got back to the palace. She just needed something to secure it with to make sure that it stayed in place...

She quickly looked around and found what she was looking for. Unfortunately, it happened to be the bandana that Eudorus had tied around his head to keep his hair out of the way. The experienced warrior looked somewhat shocked when Andromache unceremoniously pulled it off and used it for bandage.

She tied the bandana over the shawl and inspected her work critically. She could only hope that Hector would make it back to the palace on those bad and bumpy roads. If he was lucky, he would stay unconscious for most of the way.

On Achilles' orders, the myrmidons brought a cart and two horses. With mutual powers, they lifted the prince onto it. "Careful," Andromache said nervously. She looked at her husband's face with worry. He was ghostly pale. Andromache gave Eudorus another small bottle from her bag.

"If he should wake up along the way, give him some of this. It will ease his pain."

"I will, my lady," Eudorus assured her.

Andromache thought that she could make out a glimpse of sympathy in the man's eyes. He obviously knew some things about her and his master. But Andromache didn't want his pity. She realized that she had to say goodbye to her husband. Slowly, she bent over and stroked his cheek tenderly, not caring who was watching.

"Andromache!"

She flinched and raised her head when she heard her name being called out. A female form came running from the beach. Her brown hair hung in loose curls around her small form as she ran. She was only a few feet away when Andromache was able to recognize her.

"Briseis!" she gasped. For a moment, she forgot about everything else and embraced the younger woman tightly. Briseis held on closely to her, laughing and crying at the same time.

"We thought you were dead..." Andromache mumbled, still dazed. She pulled back to look into the girl's eyes. "In the temple..."

"Well, at least I wasn't killed," Briseis answered meekly and shrugged.

Andromache's eyes rounded in horror when she discovered the cuts and bruises on the girl's face and neck. "What have they done to you?" she whispered in shock. "Did they...?"

"No," the girl assured her immediately. "Don't worry about me."

"Don't worry?" Andromache repeated in disbelief. In fury, she glared at Achilles, who had the good taste to look somewhat embarrassed.

"I am fine," Briseis said quickly to avoid any arguments. "But Hector..." She spotted him on the cart and silenced. Her eyes were filled with tears.

"It's all right now," Andromache said calmingly. "I have taken care of him. I think he will recover."

"I wanted to go to him when he was brought here," Briseis answered with a voice filled of tears. "But they wouldn't let me. They wouldn't let me see him..."

"You don't have to feel guilty," Andromache assured her again. "He will be sent back to the palace now and everything will be well."

"I am so glad you are here," Briseis whispered and hugged her again. "I didn't know what to do..."

Andromache held the girl for a while. Then she gently made herself free. "Briseis," she said gently. "There is something I must ask from you."

Briseis' eyes automatically found Achilles' who nodded his approval. "You are free," he told her mildly.

"I want you to go back with Hector to the palace," Andromache continued. "Take him back to his father and make sure that he has the proper care that he needs."

Briseis nodded, somewhat puzzled. "I understand. But what about..."

"It is extremely important that you leave immediately," Andromache said firmly. "The journey will be difficult for Hector, but he must get to the healers as soon as possible. That is why you must hurry."

Briseis stared at her cousin's wife. Her face reflected fear and confusion. "But... but what about you?" she finally asked.

Andromache pulled a deep breath. "I am staying here," she answered.

Briseis blinked, unable to understand. "Here?" she repeated dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I must remain here," Andromache explained gently. "You will have to take Hector home for me."

Briseis face paled and she glared with hate at Achilles who was standing with his myrmidons, who were all trying to pretend like they weren't listening to the conversation between the two women. "You can't do that," she stated slowly.

"I must," Andromache answered simply, hoping that her voice seemed calmer than she felt.

Briseis just shook her head. "But why?" she whispered. "How could he..."

"Briseis," Andromache interrupted her softly. "It's time for you to leave now,"

Briseis closed her eyes for a moment. Then she slowly took Andromache's hand. "May the gods be with you," she whispered.

"And you," Andromache said, smiling bleakly. "And please... Don't let Hector find out."

Briseis let go of her hand and pulled a deep breath. Then she nodded and got into the cart, taking her place by Hector's side. Eudorus ordered the men to drive off. The cart caused a great cloud of dust as it began its journey back to Troy. Andromache kept staring at it for a long time, as it slowly disappeared out of sight.

Finally, she heard steps behind her. She knew who it was even before she had turned around and looked into his magnificent eyes. Achilles looked flatly at her with a cool little smile on his lips.

"Go to my tent," he ordered her in a deep, melodic voice. "And wait for me there."

Then he turned on his heel and left her. Andromache glanced at the myrmidons who were gathered a few feet away. She saw a mix of pity and confusion in the men's faces.

Slowly, Andromache turned away from them and headed for the tent that belonged to their commander. She did not look back.

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