Foreboding kept an iron grip on my heart as we walked to the palace and I sensed that something fundamentally important had happened that morning. Normally, he would have asked about my cousin and his little son or teased me about my wild appearance. But the morose and silent man beside me little resembled the crown prince I knew and I was so concerned for his welfare that I brushed aside the wary looks thrown our way by people we passed in the streets. Hektor did not speak until we had passed the guards and were safely behind the heavy doors "you must remember the path that we are taking" he stated solemnly but kept his voice low as he often did when speaking of something that was not for the ears of others so I only gave a short nod, like a soldier acknowledging orders.
Noting the landmarks of the hallways and glancing behind me every so often to make sure no one was following us, I gradually became aware that he was leading me towards the palace cellars and my brow furrowed in confusion. However, there seemed to be something of great importance occupying his mind and so I kept my silence until we reached our destination: a door built into the stone that was only slightly taller and wider than he was. I scanned the area, engraving the place into my memory, for I had an inkling that my knowledge of it would be needed sometime in the near future.
"Do you know how to get here from your rooms?"
Again, I nodded, forming a map in my mind, and he was visibly relieved "Good"
"Hektor, why have you brought me here and where does this lead?" I inquired quietly, gesturing slightly towards the door. Even as the questions left my mouth, a little voice in the back of my head warned me that I might not wish to know the answers and, indeed, it was correct.
"This door opens into a tunnel that runs out towards the coastline. It is the only path out of the city aside from the gates. In battle this morning, I killed a boy who wore the armour of Achilles and fought like a man but was far too young to be he. One of the Greek soldiers said that it was his cousin. If that is indeed true; I do not know when but I know Achilles will come to avenge the boy's death. Our guards are loyal and so are my brothers, for the most part, but war and grief do strange things to men and I cannot depend on them to make sure my wife and son escape. You, however, I can trust. If I die and the enemy breaches the walls, I know that you will want to fight for our city and defend our people but I need you to get my family out of here first. To lead the way. I want you to promise me that you will bring them to safety"
Swallowing against the lump that had formed in my throat, I nodded "should that happen, for all we know, I could be murdered in my bed before I even open my eyes but, to the best of my ability, I will do as you ask, Hektor. That, I swear to you" I promised solemnly.
"I will show Andromache this passage after I return from reporting the day's events to my father because, if I tell her now, it will upset her for the rest of the day. She does not like to hear me speak of my death regardless of the circumstances. You, however, do not fear it and that is why I have shown you first. My father is not aware of this passageway, for I had it constructed in secret two years ago, but something tells me that he will die with his city, should the walls be breached" he told me and motioned for me to lead the way back up to the main hallway.
He was right. I could not see Priam voluntarily leaving Troy while he still lived and, only a day or so earlier, I would have said the same thing of myself. But I had a promise to keep and I would not fail the man who I often found myself calling 'brother'. "That sounds very much like him" I agreed.
Later, I would wonder how I could stay so calm when yet another of Cassandra's visions was about to become reality. I wondered about many things when Hektor left me to my own devices so that he could go and report to his father about the morning attack. Then, as my hand reached out to open my door, I was struck by a revelation that froze me in place. If Hektor died, the yet unmarried Helenus would become Priam's heir apparent until Astyanax became of age. While Paris would never even entertain the thought of harming his brother and his nephew, Helen was another matter entirely. A woman who had betrayed and abandoned her own family would likely think nothing of poisoning the princes to get them out of the way so that her husband could take the throne.
If this comes to pass...I shall have to tread very carefully and never let the baby out of my sight unless he is with my cousin or the king I thought, slipping into my room and bolting the door. Anger seized me then, and I glared at the wall as I removed my temple garb in haste and roughly brushed my hair then pulled on the first gown I could find, without a care towards appearing beautiful. One man's love of womanly beauty and another man's lust for power was ruining my life and ending the lives of countless others. I did not even know who to blame then, the gods for using us as pawns for their entertainment, Priam for sending Hektor and the army out in the night to attack the Greek camp instead of drawing the enemy to break upon our walls and shields yet again, or Paris and Helen for not keeping their clothes on in Sparta.
The latter seemed the safest option, as always, and so I seethed, forgetting what the younger prince had said to me before about me being lucky that I was not his wife, forgetting the kiss and my body's response to it, forgetting how he had come to my rooms for my blessing to go into battle. That he had come to me for strength and that, if he had died in battle, I – not his wife - would have been the last to kiss him. I also forgot about tutoring him in archery and the subsequent conversation and perhaps I did not want to remember because he had taken responsibility for his part in the war without being pressured to do so.
My subconscious knew that part of my anger was caused by my own powerlessness. There was little I could do or say to resolve any of the myriad of woes that the war had brought upon us. My fiery defiant character had attracted the attention of Ares, prompting him to demand me in exchange for a Trojan victory, but I could not change my character any more than whales could fly. For me to become docile and obedient would be akin to Hektor trading his sword for an embroidery needle. Ridiculous and impossible. My father was dead and Briseis had been kidnapped but for me to invade the enemy camp alone to find her would have been worse than suicidal. I also could not ease the pain of Cassandra's visions or do anything about Helen while Priam and Hektor still lived and I would not be able to stop Hektor from dying. The question of Ares' whereabouts came to the forefront of my mind but I furiously shoved it away. After all, humans only existed for the entertainment of his kin so what did it matter where he was?
Another reason for my discontent was that I was essentially trapped. Before the war, my sisters and I often went hunting in the wilderness, practised archery, and dug and cultivated the temple gardens so, by the time I had returned to the palace, my nervous energy was spent and I had felt calm. Now, enclosed by stone walls and armed guards, there was no socially acceptable way for me to burn off the excess energy or keep my mind from wandering along the less than pleasant paths of my psyche.
So, frustrated near to the point of bursting, I screamed.
The sound seemed to echo off the walls endlessly and, by the time I sank to the floor with my hands clenched in my hair, someone was pounding at my door. Then I heard Helenus yelling my name and, in the back of my mind, it struck me as curious that he of all people would be the one to arrive at my chambers first. Especially when his own chambers were at the other side of the family wing and, as a warrior, he should have been with Hector and the king. "They will break down the door if I do not respond" I thought so I forced my body to rise, vaguely troubled that my muscles were protesting so much, and went to answer the door. When I opened it, it seemed like half of Priam's sons and guards were there, swords in hand, and I immediately felt guilty for alarming them. They had more important things to worry about than a priestess who was losing her mind. "You need not worry, I am not in danger and I am sorry for disturbing you" I assured them sheepishly and several of them appeared relieved then left but Helenus stayed.
He regarded me for many moments with dark piercing eyes that Cassandra, too, possessed "You are in more danger than you claim, my lady" he stated lowly then peered into my room and his jaw tensed "or you would not be bruised". He somehow reminded me of both his twin and of Paris in that moment and I shivered, "I screamed because being idle and helpless is not a state which I am accustomed to" I told him, trying to divert the discussion away from the marks on my skin "and it became overwhelming just now so I had to find some way to release the tension".
He seemed to realize something then, because his eyes turned nearly black "Hektor spoke to you about the battle this morning", I nodded and swallowed hard "he is going to die by Achilles' hand and he knows it so he wanted my reassurance that I would stand by his wife and son no matter what happens in the coming days" was my choked reply.
"You are marked by Ares but this is not yet known to anyone save myself and Cassandra"
"Paris knows" I admitted, surprised and yet not so by the fact that he knew this "he interrupted us and I had to convince the god that the prince was not a threat to his designs nor a romantic interest of mine". I refrained from telling him all that had transpired since Paris' wedding night. Helenus had likely learned most of it from the gossips anyway, if Paris hadn't told him personally. The two had a strange fraternal relationship, despite being close in age, as if they had never quite figured out how to approach each other. The more I thought on it, the more clear it became that Helenus was not very close to any of his many siblings, save his twin sister. That should have made me wary in itself but, at the time, I concluded that he simply preferred solitude and quiet as opposed to the squabbling of a large family.
He raised en eyebrow then nodded slowly, more to himself than me "that explains much" he remarked seriously "will you be at dinner?"
"Yes, of course"
"Very well, I shall see you then"
With another undefinable look at me, he left to return to whatever he was doing and my hand rose to the bruises on my neck as I closed the door. I must cover these before dinner I thought and rummaged about for a necklace that would do so without appearing overly elaborate.
The dining hall was abnormally quiet for the entire evening meal, which suited me fine because I was so deep in thought that I would probably not have heard anyone who tried to speak to me. Cassandra had not appeared for dinner so I took my normal seat at the table, musing over the absence of my supposed betrothed and the fates of men, and drinking somewhat more wine than was typical for me.
When my senses were humming pleasantly, I switched to water to avoid becoming drunk again then, once the meal was over, retired to my rooms after making sure that my cousin had no need of me that evening. Paris' eyes followed me as I left and he was frowning but, giving no outward indication of having noticed, I refused to meet his gaze and just continued on my way.
Later, I stood on my balcony, looking out at the vast starry sky while worrisome and rather annoying questions about the war and the immediate future crowded my head. Was I trying to do too much? Or had I done too little? Would my cousin survive the death of her husband? Or would she fade of grief and leave her defenceless son an orphan, with only me standing between him and the manipulations of a dozen men?
My cousin was strong, yes, but my father – her uncle – had been strong as well until my mother died. Then he had all but given up on life, become little more than a body going through the motions. It scared me to think of my cousin going the same way, turning into an empty shell where an intelligent and capable woman had once been. And what would happen to Cassandra, my sworn-sister, once her oldest brother was gone? Those women were two of the three most important people in my life and the third - who was dear to us all yet more so to them because he was related to them in different but equally important ways – was about to die.
I would be there for them, lend a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, and take care of Astyanax to help ease Andromache's burden so that she had time to properly mourn. But that was literally all I could do. One pillar cannot support an entire temple on its own I thought, hugging myself despite the warm night air. If Andromache died, I could not even marry one of Priam's sons and adopt the baby because Ares would kill whoever dared to take his bride.
Oh, to be Helen and have not a worry in the world, except for whether my husband wants me on my back like a whore or on all fours like a dog I mused and my nose wrinkled in disgust. No, not even if the entire world had crumbled to pieces around me would I have wanted to be her. She was beautiful but seemed so frail and...lifeless. Like a well-executed statue that served no other purpose than to simply exist. Her smiles were wan and short-lived, her eyes dull despite their bright colour, and her voice was soft but flat. There was no passion, no fire, in her and she never laughed. She was just there.
In retrospect, it amazed me that I had considered her mentally capable of conspiring to kill anyone and it seemed ridiculous that I even bothered to think of her at all, aside from that her arrival had sealed the fate of my city.
Paris should not have requested she come, she should have refused, and I should stop worrying needlessly about something that is in the past before I give myself wrinkles. No one can do anything about it now, save killing her – which is not an option as long as Priam lives, so it is best to reserve my strength of body and mind for what is to come.
Resolutely, I returned to my room and stared into my closet but nothing really stood out until my eyes honed in on a dress typically worn to more formal ceremonies at the temple. It was deep green but longer and looser than the hunting dress I typically wore, bound with a braided sash tied around the waist, and edged with silver thread about the neckline. The rest of the family would be in royal colors but I was not related to any but Andromache and, thus, my wearing a garment that reflected my position in the temple would not be seen as disrespectful.
It would also remind others of the goddess I served while my bare hands and severe hairstyle would declare my status as a temple virgin. At formal events, the married and widowed women usually left their hair unbound while the maidens secured theirs back from their faces in either a braid or severe bun. The vestals, in addition to their bound hair, wore a leather armband on their right triceps signifying their choice not to wed but I possessed no such adornment.
I set out the gown and pins then changed into my night-clothes, said the nightly prayers to my lady and her kin, and doused the lamps before slipping into my bed. But my body was restless and my mind full of anxious thoughts that first refused to let me rest then caused me to have awful and confusing dreams. Several times I woke, gasping for air and fearing that I was being suffocated, before finally falling into a deep sleep.
Morning came far too quickly and I felt like I had not slept at all as I rose and prepared myself for what was certain to be a gruelling day. After dressing, I combed my hair back from my face and looped it around into a bun on the back of my head then secured it with silver pins. The face that stared back at me was stern, the green eyes dark and hard like polished emeralds, the full lips pressed into a straight line as I applied kohl so that the glare of the sun would not diminish my sight. I rubbed oil on my lips then hooked silver leaf earrings into my ears and donned my bracers, though I would not be using my bow that day. Despite having received no signs or omens from my lady, or the other gods and goddesses for that matter, I had the distinct feeling that I needed to appear strong that day. If only to show that I would do justice to Hector's faith in me.
My gown, make-up, and ornaments were my armour and, as a final reassurance, I lifted my skirts and strapped a knife to my thigh before putting on my sandals and leaving my room. I had just closed my door and was walking to the stairs when Hektor emerged from his and my cousin's rooms, clad in full armour, with his sword at his waist and his helmet tucked under his right arm. With a sigh of resignation, I straightened my posture and went to greet him, absolutely certain that it was the last time I would speak to him while in the living world.
With a long sweep of his eyes, he took in my attire and his brow furrowed in consternation "you are dressed more for a battle than a funeral. Do you intend to join me on the field, Ismena?".
"I wish I could" was my honest answer and my eyes flickered to his blade before rising to meet his. Then, not wanting his last memory of me to be full of sadness, I smiled as bravely as I could manage and placed a hand on his armor-clad shoulder "but I have a promise to keep". Suddenly, I was enveloped in a strong embrace and tears stung my eyes as it sank in fully that Hektor, Crown Prince of Troy and Tamer of Horses, was going to leave us that day. "Thank you" he said and cupped my face then kissed my forehead "live well and we will meet again when it is your time". Hot tears stung my eyes and, as he turned to go to his doom, I made the same promise to him that I had to his sister.
"Fare thee well, Prince Hektor of Troy, and may the gods receive you gladly. I shall not forget you".
It took me a small eternity to make my way to the observation area because grief had made my limbs stiff and uncooperative and my body heavy. My heart felt like a lodestone in my chest when I joined my cousin and, as I took the baby from her, I avoided looking at Paris and his wife.
Hector's name boomed out and the sheer force of the voice that said it made me wince. I handed the baby to Polyxena and walked up to the railing, placing my hands on the warm stone, determined to watch. Then the gates opened just enough to allow Hektor to emerge, in full armour, and, with great strides, he went forth to meet Achilles. Two great warriors, evenly matched in height and breadth, engaging in one last battle and I felt sick to my stomach. Yet, though endowed with the terrible knowledge of who would win and how, I could not look away. When Hektor cast aside his helmet, our archers drew their bows and I looked over at the nearest one but my lips would only form a single word.
"No".
As if of the same mind, the crown prince looked up and signaled with his hand for them to withdraw and, with great reluctance, they obeyed. Achilles got out of his chariot and released the horses then tossed his own helmet aside, allowing us to see that he was indeed blond – as the rumours had said.
Then he stepped forward and the battle began.