Lilycup, Carlses, fele414, Priestess of the myrmidons, RC & Newmar fan: Thank you so much for you reviews. It is really great to know that you are so engaged in what I am writing. And for heaven's sake, don't apologize for not liking Lena and/or her relationship with Hector. I want my characters to provoke feelings in people, whether negative or positive. I have asort of thinkthat you'll soon have more justification however... (Author smirking evilly).
I am sorry that it took me some time to update. I have been away for a while and there wasn't time to write anything before I left. Anyway, I hope you'll like this chapter. For those of you who have been awaiting Andromache's arrival – here she comes.
Chapter 9 – Face to face
The sun sparkled from the cloudless sky this beautiful spring day by the beach of Troy. The light breeze made the waves of the majestic azure blue ocean dance and jump in a lively way before them. It was a perfect day as far as the weather was concerned. Still, Hector felt a chill down his spine and the wind suddenly seemed cold when he could finally make out the ship by the horizon.
A great mass of people had been gathered by the beach to receive their future queen. If it was out of curiosity or reverence, Hector didn't know, but they all seemed very enthusiastic and tried to get a better view as the ship approached their country.
Hector was standing with General Glaucus, Tecton and the apollonians who would be acting as guard of honour for the heir to the throne and his bride. His father the king and his mother were standing behind them, surrounded by their bodyguards. Hector still felt like he could sense his father's sharp eyes in his back. "It's time to do your duty, son," they said.
His mother's eyes seemed more compassionate. A few days before, she had found him standing by a window in the castle, gloomily staring out over the city. She had placed her delicate hand, which was covered with expensive rings on his shoulder.
"Sometimes talking about it can be comforting," she said gently.
But he had shaken his head. "There is no comfort, mother."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know." His tone of voice was firm.
His mother sighed. "Your wife will be arriving at anytime."
"I know..." He hesitated, but managed to gain the courage to ask her. "Mother, how do you survive?"
She frowned slightly, but it was obvious that she knew what he was talking about.
"You know what it is like," Hector continued. "How did you survive all those nights when father was not with you? When you knew that he was spending his nights with some other woman?"
He knew that this wasn't a suitable topic of conversation. It was compromising to his father and disrespectful to his mother, but he just had to know. Queen Hecuba's face had become pale, but she didn't turn her eyes away in embarrassment. She pondered her son's words for a moment.
"I have done what I must, Hector. Royalties are not like other people. We are born with a great number of privileges. But those privileges have a price."
Of course. Our duty, Hector sighed to himself. He was sick of the word and did his best to forget about it when the ship finally reached the Trojan landing-stage. A gangplank was placed between the ship's side and the bridge.
The first person to descend was Paris. Unwillingly, Hector felt himself grinning towards his little brother. He realized how much he had missed him. Paris raised his hand and waved at his brother, but to Hector's surprise, he didn't run to embrace him like he used to. Instead, he turned back towards the ship and held out his hand to help the person who came after him down.
It was a woman, who held on to the hem of her skirt as she carefully set her feet down on the Trojan land for the first time, with Paris' hand firmly supporting her. The apollonians raised their horns to their lips and signalled. The people on the beach cheered loudly and suddenly, Hector realized that the woman who had just stepped down had to be his future wife, the Princess Andromache of Thebe.
She smiled in gratitude to Paris and released his hand. She took a moment to arrange her clothing before turning her eyes to gaze upon her new country and her countrymen for the very first time. As she did, Hector was able to casually appraise her appearance.
She was tall. That was something you couldn't help but notice. As a matter of fact, she was taller than many of the apollonian warriors who were gathered by the beach. Not taller than himself though, Hector realized with a reluctant sense of relief. She was also very slender and her form seemed smooth and strong at the same time.
Her hair first seemed dark brown, but a few sparkles from the sun caught some red streaks in the thick, wavy tresses. Her features were marked, her cheekbones high and her skin was pale and creamy. The nuance of her eyes was difficult to establish. It seemed to be somewhere between brown and gold, almost like amber.
Paris accompanied her towards the beach and Hector thought she resembled a smooth, lithe cat when she moved. Her white silky skirts flickered around her form and showed off her feet, dressed in elegant sandals. She held her head high and if she was nervous, she concealed it well. Her eyes roamed across the masses of people, but they quickly stopped when they found him. He could tell that she had immediately apprehended who he was, even before Paris had escorted her up to him.
His brother cleared his throat. "My dear brother," he said, somewhat huskily. "May I introduce your future bride, the Princess Andromache, only daughter of his grace King Eetion of Thebe."
Hector bowed deeply and Paris turned back to Andromache. "My Princess," he said. "This is my older brother, the crown Prince Hector of Troy."
She looked at him calmly for a moment, before returning his bow. "My lord," she said. "It's an honour."
"The honour is all mine, my lady," Hector assured her.
"You have a very beautiful country," she continued. "And I am deeply touched to see that so many of your people have come to greet me."
"I am sure you deserve it." Hector said.
Their words had been polite, but the real conversation took place silently. He could tell that she was assessing him, like he was her, and that she was trying to make out what sort of man he really was, behind his fancy Trojan armour. He wondered what her verdict would be.
He couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. He was unused to this situation. Women would usually address him shyly and modestly out of reverence for his birth and station. Andromache on the other hand, had approached him confidently and her words were calm and firm. It was obvious that she considered herself his equal.
And why wouldn't she? He asked himself in annoyance. Even if Thebe was a realm of far less power and significance than Troy, she was still the daughter of its king. She had a right to be pride and she had a right to assume that she was on the same level as any other royalty.
Priam and Hecuba had stepped forward to greet their future daughter in law. "My dear Princess," Priam said, smiling his most amiable smile. "I am so very pleased to welcome you to our shores. It is my ardent hope that you will have many happy years in my country."
The princess bowed deeply before the king and his wife. "You are too kind, your grace."
Priam turned towards his subjects and loudly declared. "My fellow Trojans, I am honoured to acquaint you to her royal highness, Princess Andromache of Thebe, the daughter of the gracious King Eetion. This lady shall be the wife of my son and your future queen. She has come a long way and I trust you will be as generous and loyal to her as I am sure that she will be to you."
The people cheered again and Priam continued: "The wedding between the princess and my son Hector will take place within a fortnight. I am sure their marriage will be happy and fruitful. Join me and welcome a new daughter of my house!"
This time, the cheers were ear-splitting. The Trojans seemed to accept their new princess without any hesitation. Andromache flashed them a radiant smile and gave them a most lady-like wave from her hand.
She really knows how to carry herself, Hector couldn't help but think as he watched her.
The ship was being unloaded and the rest of the Theban party had joined them on the beach. Andromache's ladies were curiously glancing towards the apollonian guards. Priam decided that they should head back for the city right away so that the travellers could get some rest.
Two horses, a black stallion and a red mare with saddles and reins decorated by silver and jewels were brought for the Prince and his future wife. Hector gallantly lifted Andromache into the saddle before mounting his own horse. Priam and Hecuba had taken place in a palanquin. Slowly, the party were making their way back to the town, escorted by the apollonians in their armours.
She seemed like a good horsewoman, he noticed approvingly as he glanced at Andromache who was riding by his side. She had a fine seat and reined the tempered little mare with practised hands. Well, if she liked horses, then he knew that they had something in common at least.
He held his own horse in a little and awaited Paris who was riding right behind them. "Well brother," he said quietly, smiling. "She wasn't quite the horse face you had expected, was she?" He nodded at Andromache's back.
He expected Paris to laugh as he always did, but to his surprise, his brother just smiled bleakly. "No, she wasn't." He was silent for a moment, before quietly adding. "Nothing was what I had expected really."
"What do you mean?"
"Well..." Paris hesitated, as if he wasn't sure what he was going to say. "The Theban court is so different from ours. They are much more open, much less stiff. And there was such a bond between the family members." He sighed. "Sometimes I just wish I wasn't a prince, Hector."
Hector was very surprised. That was what he used to think himself at some times when his duties felt too heavy to bear. But he had never heard Paris saying anything like that. After all, his brother wasn't the heir; he didn't have to deal with the responsibility of a country. He was young and free of restraints and Hector had always believed that he enjoyed his easy life.
He didn't know what to answer, so he just said the words he was expected to. "Don't deny your destiny, Paris."
Paris smiled and shook his head. "There you are again, big brother. Always singing the same song."
"I am just saying that you can't change who you are."
Paris nodded. "You are right. I can't. But that doesn't mean I can't wish."
There was a strangely grim look in his usually happy and cheerful face. Hector glanced at his brother in confusion.
"Would you care for a bath, my lady?" a young servant girl asked her new mistress.
The princess turned away from the mirror and smiled. "Maybe later, I think I need a little bit of rest at first."
"Of course," the girl said and bowed. "Just call for me if you need anything."
She left and the young princess was alone in her new realm. She casually glanced at the chamber she had been given. It was spacious and beautifully decorated and the balcony provided her with a lovely view over the city. Still, she knew that this wouldn't be more than a temporary residence. After the wedding, she would share her quarters with her new husband.
Andromache of Thebe sighed and pulled a hairpin out of her long hair. It felt good to be free of the great bun which made her feel like she was balancing a rock on her head. She had also been removed of her clothing and was dressed only in a thin dressing gown. She was indeed very tired after the long journey, but she still felt some tension in the pit of her stomach.
Don't be a fool, she told herself sternly. There was nothing to be nervous about. This was her fate; what she had been born to. Her father had told her that enough times.
"A prince is the least you deserve," he always used to say, with affection. "A prince with a queen's crown to offer."
Andromache cringed, somewhat cynical. Maybe her father really wanted what was best for her, but she knew that her marriage was about more than her personal happiness. Thebe was not a great nation; her lands and wealth were limited. And in her father's game to expand his realm, his daughter was no more than a piece.
However, she had never objected when her father had declared that it was time for her to wed. And when he promised her to Prince Hector of Troy, she had thanked him for making her such a splendid match. Troy was a great and powerful nation and an alliance would increase the influence and the prestige of Thebe.
Being sent away from her family and her country like a sack of flour could be considered both painful and very degrading, but Andromache had always known that this was what she was meant to do. It was her duty as it was for every other young princess. She was expected to be strong and so she had been when she said farewell to her loved ones and left her home. She wasn't sure of why, but she was fairly certain that she would never see them again.
She had been brave for the whole journey and defied her seasickness with courage those long and empty nights when she was resting alone on her bunk. She had held her head high as she set her feet on the Trojan shores for the first time and she had received the ovations from her new people with dignity. But what made her nervous had been...
Andromache sighed and twisted a fat curl around her finger, absent-mindedly. She had immediately been able to decide who her future husband was; anyone with eyes could make out the leader of the wolf pack. Her father had told her a lot of spectacular things about him and she couldn't say that he had been wrong.
Hector of Troy was considered the best warrior in his country. He was also called "The horse tamer," because of his skill with the great animals. The heir to the throne was considered an extremely promising young man who gave the people of Troy a great hope for the future.
Andromache was well aware of this, but she still couldn't keep those silly feelings from creeping up at her, when she spotted him for the first time. Those feelings were of disappointment. In some childish way, she felt dissatisfied with this tall warrior and his solemn face. She was disappointed that he wasn't as fine-looking as his younger brother Paris, whose smile could cut through ice. She also felt displeased that he didn't seem to share anything of Paris' lively and charming personality.
Their meeting had not been comfortable. They had both done their best to be amiable and polite, but the prince had clearly been just as bothered as she was. She didn't understand why. She was used to being around men. She had seven brothers and her father had raised her almost like one of them. But this formal, serious prince did not seem to be the kind of man you could feel at ease with.
However, Andromache knew better than judging someone after just a moment's acquaintance. Her first impression of Hector could turn out to be completely wrong. Maybe she was the problem? Maybe she wasn't the kind of woman he preferred. She shrugged. That was his problem, not hers. She would never change simply to meet his wishes.
Sighing, she pulled back the covers on the bed and lay down on her back, completely exhausted after a long day. She closed her eyes slowly and against her will, she felt the emotions moving inside her.
She longed for her father, for her mother, for her brothers, for her home, her country. This was not were she belonged. This was a stranger's room, a stranger's place. But she knew that she could do nothing to change the path her life had taken. This was where she would make her life. This would be her place and her home now. This was where she would marry and where her children would grow up.
She just wished that she had been allowed to choose something on her own.
Hector was standing by the window again. He just couldn't help himself; he was pulled there like a magnet. The city was dark and only a few lights lit up the houses that were spread around the palace. What he was looking for, he didn't know. He just felt the need to look.
He forced himself to think about his future wife for a moment. She was a handsome woman; there was no doubt about it. She wasn't pretty in that doll-like sort of way that characterized many young girls. Her beauty was more worthy, more discreet and despite her age, she seemed surprisingly mature.
He didn't know why she had made him feel so uncomfortable. She was undoubtedly pride, yes and maybe she was somewhat haughty. But that wasn't startling. She was after all a princess. You could not expect her to bear herself like a beggar girl when she was in fact the daughter of a king. Her behaviour was not different from his own or any other royalty's. They were usually sure of themselves; usually very well aware of the high position in life they had been born to.
Their brief introductions at the beach had not been enough to make Hector able to tell much about her personality. But there had been an intelligent look in her eyes and it must have taken quite a lot of courage to approach her new people in the way she had done, seemingly calm and unmoved. He didn't doubt that she was representative and knew how to act in greater societies. She would probably be a good support and honour him in the same way his mother honoured Priam.
Her confident way of addressing him might have surprised him, but on the other hand; what did he want from her? He didn't want some timid and easily frightened little ninny for a wife. A future Queen of Troy must be able to conduct herself with authority and dignity before her subjects. Hector had no doubt that Andromache of Thebe would make an impressive queen.
Then why couldn't he take pleasure in her arrival?
He sighed. The answer was quite easy: Because every time he looked at her, he felt guilt, because he wanted her to be someone else.
Lena, Lena, Lena, Lena... He cursed silently. His mother's well-meaning words had not been any help. She constantly followed him like a shadow and no matter how he tried; he couldn't help thinking about her.
All the time, he kept asking himself if she had made it to her village in safety? Would she be able to make a living there? What would happen to her; what would become of their child? He thought about Briseis for a moment. Her mother had been abandoned by her child's father. He had left them both to their own fate. And now he had done the same thing.
What if Lena wouldn't survive the birth, just like Briseis' mother? He shuddered. He knew that it had been her wish to have his child, but it didn't make any difference. If she would die, he would have killed her, as surely as if he had ran a dagger through her throat.
Why did I let her go! The question burned in his soul and tormented him. It kept him awake this long and cold night and kept spinning through his mind.
And in his chamber, Paris tired of his insomnia and called for a servant.
"Yes, my prince?" the older man said, yawning.
"Get me something to drink," Paris ordered him shortly.
"What do you want, my lord?"
"It doesn't matter; just make sure that it's strong."
The servant brought a bottle of the liquor and Paris settled down by the table. Ignoring the man's strange looks, he poured himself a cup and drank, in a desperate attempt to escape his dark thoughts and fall into the sweet forgetfulness of slumber.