After Troy
Chapter 2 – The Escape
"Paris, when does this tunnel end? I cannot go on." Briseis pleaded as they ran. She didn't hear what Paris heard; constant and heavy footfall and occasional whispers of the vengeful Myrmidons. Apparently some of them had seen their captain fall, and followed Paris eager for his blood.
Paris knew it was gambling all their lives coming down the secret path with the Myrmidons so close, but he could think of no alternative. They would have been killed in the city, and to stop now and fight them could well be suicide. He had no idea how many followed, but he was sure they would not stop until their captain had been avenged.
Paris pleaded for the gods to show mercy. Someone must have been listening because the footfall stopped and he heard the voices no more.
"Paris, please, how much farther?" Briseis asked again.
"It can't be far." Paris replied. "We have surely cleared the walls by now." He spotted one of the many crates along the tunnel lying open. With no one now in pursuit he paused briefly to rifle through it. He pulled out a few cloaks and found a dull dagger at the bottom.
"Listen, my dear cousin." He addressed Briseis as they resumed their path. "Once we're out of the city no one must know who we are, do you understand?" He threw a cloak over himself and one over Briseis, and hid the dagger in his belt.
"Yes," she replied amid tears of distress that continued to flow after the death of her love.
"We'll travel as peasants with the others who escaped via this route. Travel as refugees, disguise ourselves, and use what we carry with us to feed and shelter us." The plan formulated as he ran. It would not be the first time he had lived as a commoner.
When he was born, his mother had a dream that told of Paris' future destruction of Troy. His parents left him outside to die by the elements, but he had been adopted by a passing farmer, and lived as a shepherd for years after. Eventually he had been returned to his birth right and now the dream's prophecy had been fulfilled.
At last a light could be seen. A torch had been lit and stairs led abruptly up and out of the passage. Paris and Briseis fled up the stairs and just as they emerged both necks were met with blades.
"What is your name and who do you fight for?" Asked a woman's voice, strikingly familiar to Paris' ears.
"I fight for Troy, my name I will give upon receiving yours." He replied, careful not to give his identity. A hooded figure stepped out from behind him.
"Lower your blades." The woman commanded those behind Paris. At last she lowered her hood to reveal Andromache, Hector's widow. A grim look was upon her face.
"Paris, my dear brother." She said, embracing him and then turning to his cousin. "Briseis, my dear, I never thought I'd see you again." She said, a smile briefly gracing her face.
"Andromache" Paris spoke finally. "Where is my love? Where is Helen?" He looked around eagerly as he asked, not finding the extraordinary beauty among those gathered. Returning his gaze to Andromache he realised what a fool he looked, he knew now why she was aggrieved.
"She thought she could end it." Andromache said, her voice broken. The baby in her arms began to cry. "She didn't think you'd return, so she went to see what she could do." She stopped, tears breaking her speech at last.
"No," Paris laughed, still not willing to admit. "She wouldn't do that, she had faith in me where no other did." A dull pain was rising in his stomach. He turned to disappear down the tunnel again. Andromache handed the crying baby to Briseis and grabbed her brother-in-law's arm. He turned to face her, ready to argue.
"Paris, please. She turned back shortly after you left us. She has been in the city for some time now. You cannot do anything more."
Paris stopped struggling now. The truth hit him like a brick at last. The pain in his gut now rose to his throat and tears began to tingle behind his eyes. Andromache embraced him and felt him tremble in her arms. 'Hector had been right,' she thought, 'this boy is not ready to face the world alone.'
"Come," she spoke up, "there are no more in the city who know of this path. My husband discovered it from Priam and they told none bar Paris and myself. Let's seal it and get going. We have a long way to go and we cannot risk being caught." She pulled Paris' sobbing form away from the trap-door and had those present seal it and cover it with sand.
"Come Paris." She spoke softly to him. "We all here know your grievance. Each of us has suffered great loss in these last few days. We must keep going. Hector would not have you die here tonight, and wherever Helen is, she would have you live too. Let's go." Andromache was born to be a leader, and now she would take control of this little party.
Paris allowed himself to be dragged away and only once did he glance back at the trapdoor. Never again would he see his love. The face that launched a thousand ships was, according to legend, recaptured that night and returned to Greece within the year. There she would apparently live happily ever after, never forgetting her one true love, Paris, for whom she was willing to die that night.
"Paris, when does this tunnel end? I cannot go on." Briseis pleaded as they ran. She didn't hear what Paris heard; constant and heavy footfall and occasional whispers of the vengeful Myrmidons. Apparently some of them had seen their captain fall, and followed Paris eager for his blood.
Paris knew it was gambling all their lives coming down the secret path with the Myrmidons so close, but he could think of no alternative. They would have been killed in the city, and to stop now and fight them could well be suicide. He had no idea how many followed, but he was sure they would not stop until their captain had been avenged.
Paris pleaded for the gods to show mercy. Someone must have been listening because the footfall stopped and he heard the voices no more.
"Paris, please, how much farther?" Briseis asked again.
"It can't be far." Paris replied. "We have surely cleared the walls by now." He spotted one of the many crates along the tunnel lying open. With no one now in pursuit he paused briefly to rifle through it. He pulled out a few cloaks and found a dull dagger at the bottom.
"Listen, my dear cousin." He addressed Briseis as they resumed their path. "Once we're out of the city no one must know who we are, do you understand?" He threw a cloak over himself and one over Briseis, and hid the dagger in his belt.
"Yes," she replied amid tears of distress that continued to flow after the death of her love.
"We'll travel as peasants with the others who escaped via this route. Travel as refugees, disguise ourselves, and use what we carry with us to feed and shelter us." The plan formulated as he ran. It would not be the first time he had lived as a commoner.
When he was born, his mother had a dream that told of Paris' future destruction of Troy. His parents left him outside to die by the elements, but he had been adopted by a passing farmer, and lived as a shepherd for years after. Eventually he had been returned to his birth right and now the dream's prophecy had been fulfilled.
At last a light could be seen. A torch had been lit and stairs led abruptly up and out of the passage. Paris and Briseis fled up the stairs and just as they emerged both necks were met with blades.
"What is your name and who do you fight for?" Asked a woman's voice, strikingly familiar to Paris' ears.
"I fight for Troy, my name I will give upon receiving yours." He replied, careful not to give his identity. A hooded figure stepped out from behind him.
"Lower your blades." The woman commanded those behind Paris. At last she lowered her hood to reveal Andromache, Hector's widow. A grim look was upon her face.
"Paris, my dear brother." She said, embracing him and then turning to his cousin. "Briseis, my dear, I never thought I'd see you again." She said, a smile briefly gracing her face.
"Andromache" Paris spoke finally. "Where is my love? Where is Helen?" He looked around eagerly as he asked, not finding the extraordinary beauty among those gathered. Returning his gaze to Andromache he realised what a fool he looked, he knew now why she was aggrieved.
"She thought she could end it." Andromache said, her voice broken. The baby in her arms began to cry. "She didn't think you'd return, so she went to see what she could do." She stopped, tears breaking her speech at last.
"No," Paris laughed, still not willing to admit. "She wouldn't do that, she had faith in me where no other did." A dull pain was rising in his stomach. He turned to disappear down the tunnel again. Andromache handed the crying baby to Briseis and grabbed her brother-in-law's arm. He turned to face her, ready to argue.
"Paris, please. She turned back shortly after you left us. She has been in the city for some time now. You cannot do anything more."
Paris stopped struggling now. The truth hit him like a brick at last. The pain in his gut now rose to his throat and tears began to tingle behind his eyes. Andromache embraced him and felt him tremble in her arms. 'Hector had been right,' she thought, 'this boy is not ready to face the world alone.'
"Come," she spoke up, "there are no more in the city who know of this path. My husband discovered it from Priam and they told none bar Paris and myself. Let's seal it and get going. We have a long way to go and we cannot risk being caught." She pulled Paris' sobbing form away from the trap-door and had those present seal it and cover it with sand.
"Come Paris." She spoke softly to him. "We all here know your grievance. Each of us has suffered great loss in these last few days. We must keep going. Hector would not have you die here tonight, and wherever Helen is, she would have you live too. Let's go." Andromache was born to be a leader, and now she would take control of this little party.
Paris allowed himself to be dragged away and only once did he glance back at the trapdoor. Never again would he see his love. The face that launched a thousand ships was, according to legend, recaptured that night and returned to Greece within the year. There she would apparently live happily ever after, never forgetting her one true love, Paris, for whom she was willing to die that night.