Dearest Cousin,
Are you not surprised to hear from me this early? Truth to tell, seasickness kept me from writing you during the first few days of my voyage, but thankfully, Hector brought an herbal remedy which cured my ailment in no time. The news is the same. For the first few weeks I saw nothing but water, water and more water across my horizon. We'd have fish in the morning, fish in the afternoon and fish in the evening to sustain us. Hector gives me a sparring session every now and then, but I'm afraid I still have a long way to go before becoming an expert as he. Not that I'd want to, anyway. And besides…sparring in a moving ship gives me a headache.
Well, do you envy me now?
You told me you'd give anything for a chance to travel but believe me when I tell you that I'd trade places with you just this once for a decent meal. I am quite tired of fish.
I'm afraid this is all I can tell you for now. I don't want to risk boring you with a description of the seas and islands surrounding Troy- they all look the same to me.
We should be reaching our destination in a month's time, so if you wish to respond to this letter be sure to send out the carrier pigeon at least 2 weeks from the day that you receive this. The clever little bird knows where to find Menelaus' palace, as it has relayed messages there before. I will inform his men to expect your note…but do not forget to address it to me.
Dutifully,
Your beloved Paris.
Dearest Paris,
What you call a burden sounds like an adventure to me. I wish I could visit Sparta! I've heard a great many things about it- that the king is generous and good, and that his wife is exceptionally beautiful. You should have no trouble accomplishing your peace mission, and I imagine Hector relieved and eager to go home. Andromache misses him already.
I do not have it as bad as you would think. I've been well received by Apollo's priests and have been spending more time at the temple as of late, getting used to my new role as priestess. My fear was great when I was presented before Khryses, the high priest, but he has been nothing but kind and tolerant of my first few mistakes. I am quite comfortable here now, and thankful for being allowed to visit the family. The temple will become my permanent home by the end of the week, but I promise to visit you no less than twice a month. In fact, I shall be one of the first to greet you when you arrive from your journey.
Do write soon, and inform king Menelaus' palace guards to expect the white carrier pigeon with the black spot on its chest.
Briseis
Dearest Paris,
The carrier pigeon I've sent came back just yesterday but with no note attached to its leg. I can only assume that my first letter was received but that you have not deigned to reply. I do not blame you. I am sure your crew has already reached Sparta at this later date, and that you are still getting used to the new surroundings within Menelaus' home.
My quarters are located at the temple now, and its inner chambers are larger than expected. This is well and good, as I have a lovely room and a comfortable bed, which remind me of the ones I left behind. Everyday is a ritual. We begin our mornings with an offering, after which Khryses gathers us together for daily instruction. We are required to clean the temple at least twice a week- but this task is far from difficult as there are plenty of us to share in the duties. Most of the day is spent in prayer and meditation and the evenings end with another formal ceremony.
I have also made a new acquaintance in the head priest's daughter. Her name is Chryseis, and she is a few years older than I. She is a well-mannered and virtuous girl. I have the distinct impression that she was trained since birth to serve the gods as her father had been. Perhaps it is her formal way of speaking. She approaches me only about the work to be done, and seems reluctant to talk about anything unrelated to our duties at the temple.
There is also another situation I wish to inform you of, and I fear that you will not like it, for it is delicate.
Oenone has been visiting me for the past week or two, inquiring as to your whereabouts. She told me that you promised to marry her, and is quite insistent that I make this known to you. I told her that you were to return by the end of this month, and that she should take the matter up with you herself, unaware as I am of your present standing. Do tell me what to do. I have no idea what to say to her when she comes calling.
Briseis
The temple of Apollo, across the shore from the sea surrounding Troy
Briseis sighed and stared out the window overlooking the beach of Troy. A month had passed, yet there were no replies to the letters she had previously sent. But that is the way with politics, she thought, and then frowned. Somehow, she found it hard to imagine Paris busy with matters of the state. He was always one to instigate gossip, if anything. The fact that he had not written, or fed her with marvelous descriptions of Sparta and the kingdom's royal couple gave her pause. Perhaps I am worrying too much, she thought. After all, he has Hector on his side.
The sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway outside alerted her, and in a few moments she beheld Chryseis on the threshold of her room.
Chryseis was an attractive girl of medium height and slender build. Her hair was as dark as Andromache's yet not as wavy, and her complexion was of the lightest olive, just like her father's. Briseis privately believed her beauty would increase tenfold, were it not for the permanent scowl on her face.
"That mule-headed wench is here again!" Chryseis snapped, her voice filled with disdain. "Can you not tell her that this is a sacred place, and that trivial matters are to be taken elsewhere?"
"I tried to during her last visit," Briseis said apologetically, knowing exactly who Chryseis was referring to, "but she was in a foul mood and would not listen-"
"And are we to suffer now for your cousin's lechery? The morning prayers are about to start and this rude shepherdess won't leave unless she has your word on something."
"Really, Briseis," Chryseis sneered. "You've been nothing but trouble since you arrived. Don't think that your royal blood will save you from anything, for we are all equals in the eyes of both my father and Apollo himself!"
"I never meant to imply superiority of any kind," Briseis said, quietly. " But I do not know how to handle Oenone. I own that Paris is to blame for all this, yet he is away now and I cannot help it if she chooses to believe otherwise."
"I don't care what your excuses are," Chryseis countered, "but you must get rid of her at once or I shall do it myself!"
She left the room in a huff.
Briseis closed her eyes and tried hard not to cry. Homesickness washed over her and it hurt not being able to seek comfort from her relatives. Being a priestess was fulfilling enough, but she could not help but wonder if she had made the right decision. There were moments when she longed for home, and Chyseis' grating dislike of her made it all the worse.
Suddenly, a loud scream was heard from the outside, followed by scuffling noises. Briseis jumped in fright when an enraged Oenone entered her room, with Chryseis attempting to hold her back by fastening her arms around the shepherdess' waist.
"I MUST KNOW WHERE HE IS RIGHT NOW OR I SHALL KILL MYSELF!" Oenone cried, reaching for Briseis with frantic hands, her eyes mad with pain and fury.
"I…I…" Briseis faltered, unconsciously flinching back from the hysterical girl's touch. She feared Oenone's anger, yet she pitied her as well. There was no contending with a woman who had temporarily lost her sanity and was willing to do anything to regain the man who had duped her. With dark circles under her eyes and her straight black hair wild and unkempt, Oenone looked as if she had not had much sleep in the past few days.
"Stop staring at her and DO SOMETHING!" Chryseis screeched, bending over with effort to keep Oenone from clawing at Briseis.
"I will," Briseis cried, standing up to call for help, "but for the love of Zeus, promise me you won't strike her as you did last time- it only serves to heighten her anger."
"I'll promise no such thing!" Chryseis snapped, and hissed into the shepardess' ear. "Do you know who my father is? He's the head priest of this temple and if you don't cease this whining I'll have you included as part sacrifice in our next hecatomb offering!"
This vain threat was interrupted by the timely arrival of a group of priests headed by Khryses himself. The old man observed the scene calmly, giving a look of exasperation and sympathy in Briseis' direction, and a look of concern and amusement in his daughter's.
"Father!" Chryseis cried. "Would you be so kind as to help me in controlling this shameful hussy? She's here to make trouble again, and wants to consort with our little princess- who is, quite frankly, another troublemaker. We've never had so much to deal with since she arrived. If you ask me, these two deserve each other!"
At Khryses' prompting, two priests ran to Chryseis' side and took the struggling Oenone, one arm each, and led her out of the room.
"I WANT MY DIGNITY BACK! AND I WANT PARIS!!!" The shepherdess wailed, her voice echoing across the hallway as she was dragged out.
Heavy silence followed the intruder's hasty ejection.
After a long minute, the head priest motioned for his remaining companions to leave him with the two girls.
And once they had their privacy, Khryses turned to Briseis, eyeing the guilty tide of color on the beautiful girl's cheeks. "Well, that was a rather disturbing visit, was it not?" he began. Briseis could not bring herself to look at him, embarrassed as she was by the predicament of her cousin's wrongdoing. She opened her mouth to make a shaky apology, but was interrupted again by Chryseis' mocking.
"Father, you can very well sense what has transpired," Chryseis said, moving over to Khryses' side at the opposite end of the room, where she could observe her victim with unconcealed dislike. She then glanced at the younger woman condescendingly, as if she were an insect that required immediate removal. "And why shouldn't you? This is not the first time such a riot has occurred. And all because of her. So I beseech your wisdom in this matter…or are we to suffer another visit from that…that madwoman?!!"
"My dear, you must calm down," said the old man, patting his daughter on the shoulder. "What you say is true. The shepherdess must not be allowed entrance to this shrine whenever she wishes- lest the sun god rain arrows on us for such disrespectful behavior." Khryses looked at Briseis, a stern expression on his face. "However, I own that none of this is her fault, either."
Chryseis gaped at him in surprised displeasure, as if a dozen snakes had suddenly emerged from the crown of his head.
Briseis sank down on her bed, dazed at his statement. She was so sure of her dismissal that the priest's words were like a balm from heaven.
"Yes, Briseis. I know that you did not want any part of this messy affair, and that your cousin, Prince Paris, is entirely to blame," Khryses continued. His daughter attempted a second interruption but he silenced her with a wave of his fingers. "I will not dismiss you from your duties Briseis, and you will remain a priestess of Apollo… However, I want you to absent yourself from the morning prayers today, while you gather your bearings. You may rejoin us for the meal this afternoon. In the meantime, I suggest that you use this spare moment for reflection."
"But father-" whined Chryseis
"Hush child, and let me finish," Khryses said. "Rest assured, I will see to this matter personally and inform the augurs that a watch guard is needed to prevent the, uh, lady, from returning. Both of you are to carry on as always, mindful of your work. I do not want you worrying about her ever again. Come to think of it, this is entirely my fault. I should've assigned someone on the lookout a long time ago, as the lady was already quite mad during her first visit. It was only a lack of foresight that prevented me from anticipating her second."
He made to exit the room. "With that settled, I must now convene with my fellow priests. Chryseis, I want you to follow me in a few minutes, so that we can make preparations at the altar for the morning prayer. Briseis, I'll expect you to join us at supper."
He left in a flurry of blue robes.
When she was certain of her father's absence, Chryseis bore down on her dazed companion. "Well, that was pretty amusing, wasn't it? But don't be too sure of yourself. My father only tolerates you because you're descended from royalty. Had you been a peasant, you would've been dismissed long before your friend could make a second visit."
For once, Briseis was only too happy to be affected by Chryseis' stinging words. She had just been blessed by the realization that there was a very comforting similarity between the head priest and her uncle Priam. Was this blessing a gift from the sun god himself? She wished it were so. Having Apollo's protection was of utmost importance to every maid who dedicated her life to him. Briseis was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she did not even notice her tormentor's departure.
After a few moments of hopefulness however, another cloud of gloom settled over her. She would have to continue living a lie, pretending that all things were well at the temple. She would have to go on, depending on Khryses' firm belief in her competence, which prevented her from being dismissed from service. She would also have to continue writing other letters to Paris, inventing falsehoods about the head priest's delightful daughter.
Briseis lay back on the bed, closing her eyes. Somehow, she could never bring herself to complain against another person, for she hated confrontation and went through great discomfort just to avoid it. A pity it always came looking for her, despite her efforts!
Paris, on the other had, always seemed to get away with almost everything. Briseis felt a familiar sting of wetness in her eyes at the thought of him, and homesickness filled her for the second time that day. If only she could be more like her adventurous cousin. Carefree, unmindful, less worried…she wiped at the tears on her face.
Little did she know that, thousands of miles away, her beloved Paris was already adding to his list of transgressions, claiming a woman that was not his to take.
Phtia, Greece.
In the ruins of an old temple, two fighters clashed in a sparring match, unmindful of the sea's roaring waves below. The ivy-covered temple was situated on a cliff, which overlooked Phtia's vast ocean, blue as the waters of the Aegean itself.
Patroclus swerved to the right in an attempt to jab his cousin with the tip of his wooden sword. Achilles saw this coming however, and easily dodged the younger man's attack. Patroclus then quickly raced up the stone steps of the temple, with Achilles pursuing him, ever ready with his makeshift sword. A few quick steps here and there, and Achilles finally spied an opening. He lunged forward and tapped his cousin's collarbone. "Never hesitate," he said, smiling.
Patroclus grinned in understanding, and ran of to renew his assault. A moment later he tried for the offensive again, his sword spinning with incredible speed. His sword moved in a downward arc, but Achilles quickly ducked, and the weapon sliced into thin air.
"Nervous?" Patroclus asked, grinning. His training was paying off and he wasn't afraid to show it. Just when he thought he had the upper hand, Achilles suddenly swung him around and held him at an arm's length, his sword situated at the tip of the boy's throat. "Petrified", the warlord countered.
Patroclus was a good swordsman, better than most grown men; but he still had a long way to go before becoming a master of swordplay, much yet a seasoned Myrmidon. Like most young fighters, he was talented and energetic. Still, he was a little too eager and a bit hesitant when decisiveness was called for.
Achilles on the other hand, was the epitome of the efficient warrior, wasting no energy with his lightning quick reflexes, adept in discovering his opponent's weaknesses.
Achilles raised his right hand for a blow and Patroclus lifted his sword to parry it…but to his surprise the sword was suddenly transferred to Achilles' left hand, and it managed a quick thrust at his chest. "You told me never to switch sword hands," Patroclus started accusingly, staring down at the wooden blade at his chest. He then lunged and tried for another tactic.
And so they continued with their session, parrying and dodging in splendid repartee, until Achilles finally had his opponent's sword where he wanted it- lowered at a weak angle. He kicked Patroclus' sword away and was about to strike him lightly on the shoulder when the sound of horses' hooves interrupted them.
Achilles knew exactly who had come to visit. He quickly headed for a pile of armor in the corner of the temple, where his spear lay. In fast motion, he lifted the spear with a nudge of his foot, caught it in the air with his hand, and threw. The bronze warhead flew a short distance away, striking right into the bark of an old fir tree. A chariot emerged from behind it, its occupant a startled man who cast an alarmed look at the spear, which landed only a few inches above his head. The man's alarm slowly gave way to amusement, and a knowing smile spread across his bearded face.
"Your reputation for hospitality is fast becoming legend," Odysseus said, grabbing the offending spear from the tree. He threw it right back and Achilles caught it, throwing it over to his side.
"Patroclus, my cousin," Achilles said, ushering Patroclus forward in introduction, "Odysseus, king of Ithaca."
Odysseus nodded, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Patroclus, I knew your parents well. I miss them." He then turned to Achilles. "And now you have this one watching over you, eh? Learning from Achilles himself. Kings would kill for the honor."
"Are you here at Agamemnon's bidding?" Achilles bluntly asked, though he already knew the answer to that question. Odysseus hesitated, rubbing his chin. "We need to talk." They moved forward and walked down the temple steps.
"I will not fight for him," Achilles began, and Odysseus sighed, knowing that his task would not be easy.
"I'm not asking you to fight for Agamemnon. I'm asking you to fight for the Greeks."
The blonde man shrugged, lifting his broad shoulders indifferently. "Why? Are the Greeks tired of fighting each other? Besides, the Trojans never harmed me."
"They insulted Greece."
"They insulted one Greek" Achilles said, sarcastically. "A man who couldn't hold on to his wife. What business is that of mine?"
"Your business is war, my friend."
"Is it?" Achilles asked, raising his brows. Odysseus knew him too well, but his dislike of Agamemnon's warmongering was bound to get in the way. "The man has no honor, Odysseus. You know my regard for him."
Odysseus shook his head. "Let Achilles fight for honor, let Agamemnon fight for power and let the gods decide which man to glorify."
"For the Greeks!" Patroclus cried, interrupting their discourse by attacking his cousin. They resumed their swordplay while Odysseus continued on with his cajolery.
"Forget Agamemnon." Odysseus said, watching their mock fight. Achilles was the only warlord who could carry on a conversation with another man, while dueling with another at the same time. "Fight for me. My wife will feel much better if you're by my side. I'll feel much better."
The fight was finally concluded when Achilles disarmed his cousin and playfully struck him in the rear, shoving him away.
"We're sending the largest fleet that ever sailed." Odysseus said, quietly. "A thousand ships, in fact."
"Is Prince Hector as good a warrior as they say?" Patroclus eagerly asked, undeterred by his defeat.
"The best of all the Trojans," Odysseus replied, looking at Achilles from the corner of his eye as he bent to pick up a water jug. "Some say he's better than all the Greeks too."
Achilles snorted, then spit his water out. Odysseus may have learned a thing or two about him, but in return, he could always tell when the wily king was up to something.
"Even if your cousin doesn't come, I hope you'll join us, Patroclus," Odysseus said, reaching out for the boy, "We'll need a strong arm like yours."
Achilles swiftly brought his sword between them. "Play your tricks on me, but not my cousin."
"You have your sword, I have my tricks," Odysseus reminded him. "We play with the toys the gods give us." He walked up the temple's stone steps and began to head back to his chariot, then he stopped and looked back at them.
"This war will never be forgotten" Odysseus said, gazing steadily into Achilles' eyes, giving emphasis to his argument. "Nor will the heroes who fight in it…and we sail for Troy in three days."
Achilles watched the departing man, and he felt a familiar surge of anticipation at these words.
Moments later, he found himself walking along the beach of Phtia, but his mind was not on its beautiful scenery. A ship passed by, carrying goods for trade across the blue water, and a flock of sea gulls flew right overhead. Yet the need to fight had been reawakened in Achilles, and his appreciation for the peacefulness of his surroundings was diminished. Surely, his need for a serene life could wait. As of now, there was that inner longing…that restlessness, which required instant gratification. He then spied a woman walking at a distance, picking up seashells near a cave by the beach.
It was his mother.
He approached her as she bent down to pick up a white stone, but she recognized his presence without turning around. "I knew they would come for you," she said, her back still facing him, "long before you were born." She turned and looked into his eyes.
Thetis was a beautiful woman, regal in bearing, untainted by age. The appearance of white hair and fine wrinkles on the corners of her eyes-only resulted in a distinguished appearance, but as of that morning her face was etched with worry. She knew what had just transpired between her son and the king of Ithaca, as she knew that what the oracle prophesized was true…when she visited it all those years ago. Her son would either die in the peak of his manhood, in glorious combat…or he would live to grow old as any other. Old, infamous and forgotten.
"I knew they would come," she repeated. "They want you to fight in Troy."
Achilles crossed his arms and said nothing, studying her with interest. With her hair moving in the breeze and her long blue robe floating on the water's surface, she reminded him of a sea nymph frolicking amidst the waves. When his father died years ago, his mother made the grueling decision to return to the land of her maidenhood. She loved her son, and made it a point to visit him now and then… but it was no secret that it pained her to see him grow into that invincible warrior who fought war after war, year after year, his reputation spreading across the land.
Yet this had happened, and Thetis had no choice but to accept it, as she accepted the will of the gods and the capriciousness of fate. But there still remained that prophecy, which could only have one of two outcomes. Thetis hoped that she could convince him to give up this voyage, for it may well be his last.
"I'm making you another seashell necklace, like the ones I used to make when you were a boy…do you remember?" she asked softly, her hands skimming the waterbed to add to her collection of trinkets.
"Mother," Achilles finally uttered, giving her a serious look. "Tonight I decide."
"If you stay in Larissa, you will find peace," Thetis slowly said, playing with the seashells on the palm of her hand. "You will find a wonderful woman. You will have sons and daughters, and they will have children- and they will love you…when you are gone they will remember you. "
Her expression darkened. "But when your children are dead, and their children after them…your name will be lost."
She then moved onto the part of her speech that she had been dreading. "If you go to Troy, glory will be yours. They will write stories about your victories for thousands of years." She walked up to him. "The world will remember your name."
"…but if you go to Troy, you will never come home, for your slaying of the Trojan prince walks hand in hand with your doom." She raised a shaky hand and caressed his cheek, marveling at how hard a man her son had become. "I may never see you again."
An ordinary man might have been moved by this speech, but Achilles was far from ordinary. The respect and affection he bore for his mother made his decision difficult, but his mind had already been made up before that.
In the pursuit of a goal, there were times when sacrifice was necessary. And the king of Phtia believed that that time had finally come.
The kingdom of Troy, in the 20th year of King Priam's reign.
The day was far from ordinary. The streets of Troy were filled with its citizens, onlookers waiting to catch a glimpse of the royal ensemble. Housewives left their duties to open their windows, gathering in circles on rooftops with their friends. Maidens wore their best robes, adorning their hair with wreaths, throwing flower petals of every color from their large, straw baskets into the air. Children ran amok with their friends, their minds not on their playthings but on the excitement surrounding them. Men pushed one another amidst the crowd, only to be checked by the throngs of soldiers lining the main road, which led to the palace.
It was a festive occasion, one that king Priam declared a holiday…and Troy had never looked more beautiful with its white washed walls, lush gardens, and its towering statues of Zeus, Apollo, Aphrodite and Poseidon, standing 80 feet high in each of the four corners of the city's main square.
It was the day the Trojan princes arrived from Sparta.
Briseis had taken care to wake up extra early that morning, for she was to visit her family and be one of the first to greet Paris and Hector, as was promised. Her fingers shook as she fastened the gold pins that held her priestess robes together, and she reached for a radiant headdress on a nearby table. When the tedious task of dressing was accomplished, she rushed out and took her leave of Khryses, ignoring the look of envy from his daughter. "Do not forget to return in three days," the head priest kindly said, kissing her forehead. "And you must remind your cousin of that little predicament he left us to deal with."
"I will, sir," she said, and turned to hug Chryseis, ignoring her nemesis' inward flinch as she did so.
Determined that nothing should ruin this day, Briseis fled out of the temple, swift as a swan in flight.
Her chariot arrived at the palace in a little more than an hour, and soldiers surrounding the main gates escorted her up several high staircases, which led to a third level overlooking the city's landscape. On opposite sides of the platform, ten soldiers were stationed side by side, awaiting the royal arrivals.
"Briseis!" came a joyful cry. Andromache suddenly came into view, stretching her arms out in greeting. Briseis ran to hug her older cousin.
"I didn't think you would come," Andromache smiled. "Astyanax will be out in awhile. The nurse is preparing him."
"I wouldn't miss this event for the entire world," Briseis replied, gazing at the crowds and festivities below. "You look beautiful, by the way," she said, admiring Andromache's blue gown, which glistened like the ocean's surface in the morning.
"It's my best dress," Andromache leaned into her ear and whispered, "and it was also a present from Hector."
Briseis caught sight of her uncle a few feet away from them, standing in an inner court protected by a high roof. Priam was conversing with his peers and advisors. To his right stood Glaucus, comrade in arms and leader of the Lycians. To his left, stood Archeptolemus and Velior; the former, a seer of great wisdom, the latter, his majesty's personal counsel.
"Uncle," she said respectfully, and he looked up and took notice of her, his eyes twinkling. "Briseis, I'm glad you could make it this early…your robes suit you." She blushed and curtsied for the benefit of his companions.
"They're here," Andromache said excitedly.
The royal entourage made a slow descent from the bottom of the stairs at the end of the main road, and when they finally reached the top, Briseis could scarcely contain her glee. She held back however, as it was customary for the elders to make their greetings before the rest.
Hector was the first to ascend, and King Priam hugged his eldest son tightly. "Father," Hector whispered, and Briseis noticed a hint of tiredness about him, emphasized by the dark circles under his eyes. She assumed it was due to the stress of traveling.
Paris soon followed, and Briseis was surprised to find an extraordinarily beautiful woman by his side. This lady had hair the color of golden wheat on a summer day, and her eyes were blue as the sky. An uneasy feeling came over Briseis at the sight of her, so beautiful to look at, yet so…
"This is Helen," Paris said, ushering the goddess forward.
"Helen of Sparta?" Priam questioned. The goddess gave Paris an uneasy glance, and he intercepted on her behalf. "Helen of Troy," he corrected. "Ah Helen," Priam said, "I've heard rumors of your beauty". He bent to give her a kiss on the cheek. "For once, gossips were right."
Briseis was at a loss. So this was Queen Helen, famed throughout the land for her beauty. But…why had she come to visit? And where was her husband? A feeling of dread came upon the young priestess. It was not the first time Paris had cavorted with a married woman…but Helen was not just any other married woman. She was sister in law to King Agamemnon, son of the house of Atreus, high king of all Mycenae. So preoccupied in her thoughts was she, that she did not notice Hector and Andromache's touching reunion.
The couple had locked themselves in a tight embrace and when they parted, Andromache presented little Astyanax, who was being carried by a nurse nearby. "Look," she said. Hector's eyes widened in surprise. "He's grown!"
"He's strong," Andromache quipped, and the baby burped in agreement. They both laughed at their son's antics.
"Briseis."
Briseis instantly composed herself. Seconds later, she received Paris' call with open arms, and he kissed her on both cheeks.
"My dear, beloved cousin," he said, in that flattering voice of his that she loved, "your beauty grows with each new moon."
Before she could come up with a suitable reply, Hector and King Priam approached them from behind.
"You make a charming priestess," Hector said, taking in her new attire.
"The young men of Troy were devastated when Briseis chose the virgin robes," Priam teased, and Briseis smiled widely. It was good to be home.
She would not be smiling a few hours later.
"Father…I know this is the last thing we need," Hector said, his voice filled with exasperation. The great hall was now empty, save for the two men, along with Briseis and Andromache who sat by the main table, silent throughout their discourse. Paris lounged in an upper bedroom with Helen, his new bride.
"'Tis the will of the gods," Priam countered. "Everything is in their hands. But I'm surprised you let him bring her."
"If I'd let him fight Menelaus for her, you'd be burning a son's body instead of welcoming a daughter."
"We could send peace envoys to Menelaus."
Hector shook his head. "You know Menelaus. He'd spear their heads to his gate."
The king sighed. "What would you have me do?"
"Put her on a ship, and send her home."
Briseis looked up, and her eyes met Andromache's. Hector's plan was a sound one, but from what they had seen of Paris, they knew that its execution was nearly impossible. They had only spent a few hours with the happy, new couple, but it was already quite obvious that Paris was in love…and that he would die before letting Helen go.
Priam seemed to understand this much. "Women have always loved Paris and he has loved them back, but this is different," he said, looking out a large window at the end of the hall, deep in thought. "Something has changed in him. If we send her home to Menelaus, he will follow her."
Hector scanned the vast plains outside. "This is my country and these are my countrymen. I don't want to see them suffer just so that my brother can have his prize." He rubbed his temples in frustration. "And by now, it's not just the Spartans who come after her…by now, Menelaus has gone to Agamemnon and Agamemnon has wanted to destroy us for years!"
"Enemies have been attacking us for centuries and our walls still stand."
"Father, we can't win this war."
"Apollo watches over us," the king retorted. "Even Agamemnon is no match for the gods"
"And how many battalions does the sun god command?" Hector snapped, at his wits end. In moments like this, he could very well perceive the similarities between his father and younger brother. They could both be stubborn to the point of being unreasonable.
"Do not mock the gods!" Priam scolded, and Hector bit his lip. With his father in such a mood, there was simply no arguing with him. Considering his second plan, he turned towards his wife and cousin, who had been uncomfortably silent during their argument.
"Briseis?"
The girl stood up, tension etched on her smooth brow.
"You were summoned to this private gathering because we need a favor of you," Hector said, getting straight to the point. "I need you to convince Paris to return Helen."
"Return Helen?" Andromache echoed, gaping at him. "Did you not hear what father said? If Helen goes back to Sparta, Paris will follow and they will both meet an instant death at the hands of the Mycenean king."
"I know, love, I know. But this is the only plan we have, other than looking forward to war itself." Hector stared intently at his cousin. "Briseis, if there's anyone who can convince Paris, it's you…he shares secrets with you that he wouldn't with the rest of the family." He tipped her chin up. "Perhaps you could convince him to return Helen without following her."
Briseis closed her eyes and her face contorted. She was afraid this would happen. "Alright, I'll speak with him… But I must tell you that…that the chances of me succeeding are lower than you might think. I, too, believe that Paris is in love, and if it were with any other woman I would be perfectly happy to embrace them both in friendship. But, as with the rest of you, his present marriage does not comfort me one bit. I know the dire consequences his actions may bring…she's a married woman."
After his initial bout of moodiness, Priam finally contributed to the conversation. "The sinfulness of this union has not escaped me…but the fact that she is related to Agamemnon makes it all the worse. Yet I think we do stand a chance against him, with Apollo on our side."
It was Hector's turn to be silent.
"Is Agamemnon as powerful as they say he is?" Andromache asked, her face troubled.
"Yes, and he owes much of his success to the son of Peleus," Hector replied.
"Achilles?" Priam's forehead creased with worry. "Glaucus said he was a madman who would attack Zeus himself, if the god so insulted him."
"And it's probably true," Hector said, grimly. "Back in Sparta, I was told that no one wielded a sword or spear better than he could. Achilles has also killed more men than anyone I've heard of."
"I do not want you to confront him, then," Andromache begged fearfully. "I can't lose you."
"If war reaches this kingdom, you can be certain that Achilles and his Myrmidons will be a part of it."
Briseis stared at her hands, which were folded neatly across her lap. "I'll do my best in trying to convince Paris. But please don't get your hopes up about me. I've seen the way he looks at Helen. The probability of my succeeding would be…"
"…Highly doubtful," came a voice from the entrance of the room. Paris was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, and a scowl marring his handsome features.
"Paris…" Briseis pleaded, feeling guilty because she had been caught plotting against him. He walked forward, and squeezed her arm reassuringly.
"Fear not cousin, I know this isn't entirely your fault. " He glared accusingly at the rest of them. "But I'm glad Helen wasn't here to witness the vileness of this plot. It amazes me how you could embrace her as part of the family, then even think of sending her back!"
"This isn't just about you or your marriage, Paris!" Hector snapped. "This is about Troy. Have you any idea…any idea at all what form of vengeance Menelaus and his brother would bring upon us? They have the largest army ever known to man!"
"You needn't worry," Paris said, dismissively. "I've already thought of it…when the Greeks arrive, I will challenge Menelaus for the right to Helen. With that said, there is no need for war or worrying on our part."
"You? Challenge Menelaus?" Hector stared at him disbelievingly. "Have you lost your mind? You haven't even completed your training, yet you wish to fight this man…this seasoned warrior, whose experience far outweighs your own?!!"
"I do not fear him," Paris said stoutly. "What I fear most is losing Helen. I love her, Hector…as you love Andromache, and as father loved our late mother. I'd gladly die for her if needed."
"I know that," Priam said, touched by his son's passionate speech. "But the question is, are we willing to lose you over her?"
Paris smiled. "Father, if you desire my happiness, and I know you do- you would let me make this decision."
"Paris, you know your worth as part of the family," Hector said, his voice softening, "but this decision doesn't involve you alone. What of the men under my command? The Appollonian soldiers have fought bravely for Troy but should we expect them to rally for one woman's sake?"
"And am I to send Helen back without a thought to her well being?" Paris asked, "Menelaus will kill her. When she dies, I die. Brother, I love you but do not force me to give my wife up. Helen is my life!!!"
"Excuse me," Briseis whispered, rising from her chair. "It's half past eight. I think I'll retire now, if you don't mind." She bent down to kiss Andromache on the cheek.
So engrossed was her family in the discussion, that they did not pay heed to her hasty retreat.
Briseis sat on a stone ledge facing the royal garden's largest lake. Sleep eluded her that night, and she had walked out of the palace for a breath of fresh air. It was hardly the place for contemplation but it was safe enough, what with the night guards protecting the garden walls' outer gates.
Paris, what have you done? Briseis moaned inwardly, wringing her hands in frustration. She certainly did not begrudge his happiness, yet there were other things to consider. Sheltered as she was, she knew that Troy had little hope of facing an enemy as powerful as Agamemnon, with the rest of Greece right behind him. Her uncle seemed optimistic, though.
A rustling nearby caught her attention. "Who's there?" she asked, peering into the darkness with apprehension. To her astonishment, Helen emerged from the bushes behind her.
They stared at one other for a minute.
"They despise me, don't they?" Helen asked, finally breaking the silence. "They despise me for coming here and putting Troy at risk."
"I…I would be lying if I told you all was well," Briseis said, unsure of how to proceed. "But our family does not hate you…this situation isn't entirely your fault."
Helen shook her head. "Yes, but I'm partly to blame." She sat on the ledge beside Briseis. "When your cousin came into my life and told me he loved me- it was the happiest I had ever been since my youth. My former husband was a formidable man, a great ruler. But my life was empty with him. Paris made me live again…at which cost saddens me." She grasped Briseis' shoulders with both hands, leaning into her, as if she could make her understand.
"I hate myself for coming here and causing so much trouble…but I would do it again if he asked me to."
"Please don't worry," Briseis said, haltingly, "what's past is past and…regardless of your mistake…you are part of our family now- nothing can change that."
"Are they going to send me away?" Helen asked, fearfully. "I won't refuse, if that is what they decide."
"Paris won't allow it." Briseis knew it was the wisest plan, but she was drowning in guilt. How could she look this woman in the face and admit that she was assigned to convince Paris of the awful task?
"Do you hate me, Briseis?" Helen asked suddenly.
"No…never hate you," Briseis said, softly. "I worry for Troy's future, but I've already accepted you as my cousin's wife."
"Truly?"
"Yes, and if you bring him such joy, then your marriage cannot be that bad."
Helen smiled and stood up. "My dear girl. That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me since I arrived here. I thank you."
Briseis nodded. "Is Paris asleep?"
"Yes, and I'm off to join him." Helen gathered her skirts and headed for the palace.
Alone once again, Briseis raised her knees and hugged them to her chest, staring sadly at the moon's reflection on the water's surface. She made a forlorn picture, sitting on the rock, a virgin in twilight. Out of the blue, an old memory came to her, of her childhood, when her parents had recently died of the plague that swept her homeland. Uncle Priam spent hours comforting her, and on one occasion when she was feeling particularly melancholy, he mentioned that there was simply no controlling one's fate. The lesson comforted her back then.
It did nothing to relieve her of this present concern.
Miles away, a thousand ships sailed in one direction.
Agamemnon, high king of the house of Atreus, brought with him a hundred ships for battle, a testament to his supremacy and might. His brother, Menelaus, sailed close behind him, along with sixty ships from Sparta. Way off in the distance, Odysseus sailed with twelve ships from the kingdom of Ithaca. And before him, Nestor, ruler of the Pylians and royal advisor to Agamemnon himself, commanded a fleet of ninety ships. More vessels joined this following…from a number of less than ten, to a count of more than ninety; it was a spectacular display of power.
But far ahead of them, sailed a force of fifty ships, made distinguishable by their sails of midnight black. The Myrmidons of Phtia were just like their leader…brave, ruthless and eager for the upcoming battle. Achilles, their young king, stood on the helm of his vessel, his cold blue eyes surveying the distance before him.
"How long 'til we reach Troy?" he asked his first in command.
"Only fourteen days to go, my lord," Eudorus said. "The winds favor our journey."
Achilles nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He had fought many wars in Greece and in other foreign lands, but this was his first in the east. The Trojans would soon bear the brunt of his vigor, and know the deadliness of his sword.
A thousand ships sailing across the sea, like a flock of birds headed for greener pastures.
Author's notes: Please be forewarned that this fanfic's rating of PG-13, will be raised to an R in the next few chapters. That's where the violent battles and sexual situations come in.
Also, the fight scenes I wrote above were based on Troy's original script, combined with scenes from the movie. Once again, I'd like to remind those who read this that by the time Achilles and Briseis meet, the events here will not be following that of the movie.
Some extra notes for those who haven't read the Iliad:
Hecatomb: an offering that consists of 100 cattle or oxen.
Khryses/Chryses: The head priest of Apollo and father to Chryseis. I decided to use the original spelling, 'Khryses' to make a distinction between his name and that of his daughter's.
