Chapter Eight
In history there are a few unexpected, unsung heroes that were never recorded, until now.
My name is Argonus. When my mother left, my father said that it was my duty to serve Troy and to have a purpose in life. He was without a doubt saddened by his wife leaving the family, what with two children to look after on his own, it would be hard for him.
I was sixteen then.
Now I am seventeen. The war has begun. I know in my heart that I am not a little child anymore. I have a thirteen year old sister who can still enjoy the freedoms of youth. But I had to serve the family and Troy by joining the army. Sometimes I blame my mother for my troubles. Really, no one is left to blame for this war. What is there, in pure clarity, is one's purpose. When I left home months ago, my father told me: "If you take nothing else to the battlefield, take your beliefs with you. It'll be stronger than any weapon."
His words inspired me to fight hard everyday. I recall the last tearful goodbye between us. He gave me his sword- his one prized possession. We weren't exactly peasants, but we weren't rich, either; we must farm and survive on sheepherding. Sheep is the way we go about our lives. The moment father's sword reached my fingertips I treated it like a piece of delicate glass. The handle had a dragon's head on it, and designs were engraved on the blade. This belongs to the bravest Trojan mortal, it said on the blade.
"By the time you come back, it'll be so stained with blood that it shall never wash off." I smiled sadly. "Thank you, father, for your sword. I shall use it well."
With one last flick of my wrist I said goodbye to Mount Ida. My sister actually wept. She fought to hide her tears, but a big brother sees everything- the good moods and the sad moods of his sister.
"Come, Chloe, say goodbye," I begged.
"No. What if you die? Why do you have to go? I miss Mother more than you, you know that. Why do you have to leave us? I told you not to join the military. You don't have to be a soldier for glory and all that other men's stuff. You have a home, don't you? Isn't that enough?"
"Now, now, you know I'll come back. Who knows, even in a few months. Don't say I don't miss Mother. We all do. I'm going because that's what men are supposed to do. Protect our family."
"I can protect myself better than any man can."
"Oh, I know you can. But that is our role."
Chloe started to cry. "Stupid roles. They just have to be wicked and they have to take away brothers, cousins, husbands, fathers…It's not fair…"
I patted her on the back, hugged her. "I know it's not. You're going to miss me? Seriously? All this time you were complaining that you didn't like having a brother."
"I lied."
"Oh, now did you?"
"What do you think?"
Poor Chloe.
"Goodbye, Chloe. I promise I'll come back. If I do not, which I doubt, remember that I chose to do this. Please, Chloe."
"Goodbye, Argonus."
Mount Ida became smaller and smaller as I walked away.
Our armies advanced to the Hellespont River. By mid-afternoon the hot sun burned our bodies. We waited until we heard the charging sound of the Greeks. Their war cries sounded like animals in outrage. All of them marched toward the Trojan lines like specks of dust. The specks became larger, and I was able to make out human heads getting bigger with every second that passed. Adrenaline started to pump inside me.
Ten seconds… Our archers shot the first daredevils that ran towards us. It only prompted them to come quicker. I whispered a brief prayer to Apollo before running to do my duty. Was that the legendary Agamemnon and Odysseus, leading them? Or Menelaus? Menelaus was the one with red hair, that's right…
Five seconds. With my gut instinct, I launched my arrow in the air. I closed my eyes and begged for it to pierce a heart.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. Oh, it did! It went right through Menelaus' heart.
Menelaus?
Damn.
Menelaus, I remembered, was the brother of Agamemnon. Burly and red-haired, I didn't expect him to be that bulky.
It all happened so quickly. I took Menelaus' life. I killed a human being. I watched in horror as he shriveled up in pain, in weakness, and finally death. What haunted me the most was his last words that only I might have heard: Helen, may you burn with the Trojans in the Underworld when this war is over! Mercy, O Gods! Have mercy on me, an inferior mortal to your superior being. I know you have gifted me with your godly powers for me to tackle such a feat…
The Greeks beat their chests like gorillas, ready for more. Menelaus' life was one among thousands. It didn't matter to them. It didn't matter that the King of Sparta was dead! Agamemnon roared like a lion at the loss of his brother and the thought of losing. They fought, but we fought harder, and we gained more strength as more soldiers fell dead on the battlefield. The Greeks kept losing their ground.
We Trojans fought bravely that day. We didn't lose many men. On the contrary, it might have been a record for surviving soldiers. The Greeks lost many, however. Finally, as an honorable man should, they capitulated. We had won the Battle of Hellespont.
The Trojans gave a mightier cheer than the Greeks. I, in the mist of the dead, rotting bodies, knelt down to thank Apollo. I was reminded of his duty in our victory when the Greeks had come to drag away the dead and to set up the funeral pyres.
I thanked Apollo. Perhaps I would get home sooner than I had thought.
