Chapter Five – Trojans and Greeks

I had been returned to Troy for three days when Helen discovered the truth.

I was settling back, albeit slowly, into life in the citadel. Some people had been kind, Andromache and Helen in particular. Hector's widow, strangely composed, taught me things about Theo that I never had a chance of learning amongst the Greeks. He was beginning to lift up his head now, and he would spend hours with his cousin's toys, much to Astyanax's displeasure. He would smile when he recognised me, and scream when we were parted. He was growing up, and I only wished that A–

Helen retaught me the art of weaving, a skill I had learnt long ago but had since forgotten. She spent hours at her loom every day, creating pictures of long forgotten stories and myths. Her image of the apple at the judgement of Paris could make your mouth water with desire.

Food was scarce now, or at least scarcer than it had been in the Greek camp. Because of their ships, Trojans could not sail across the Aegean, and a bad winter had made many of the crops inland fail. Most people in the city now talked of food and happiness as if they were distant memories, fleeting remembrances of long ago. Most people in the city remembered Hector and Paris' return from Sparta as what seemed like twelve years ago, rather than so little over twelve moons.

I was late. I was supposed to go with Andromache to greet the princes, home from across the sea. She and everyone else were wearing their best, their most lavish clothes, and the whole of the citadel had been richly decorated for the welcome, but I had found a rip in my robes and needed to quickly sew it up. Andromache left me to it, alone with my thoughts.

I was happy about my cousins coming home. Ever since I was a tiny child, they had always looked out for me, Hector especially. The elder of the two enjoyed being a protector – indeed now he was the city's best, but he still held space in his heart for me.

I entered the hall to join the reception committee; a few moments later, someone called "Briseis!" There was too much activity to find the source for a second, but when I did, my smile only widened.

"Paris!" I rushed forward and the younger of my cousins kissed both my cheeks in turn, then stepped back.

"Beloved cousin, your beauty grows with each new moon." I grinned even harder when Hector joined us, fresh from greeting Andromache. "Briseis." He too kissed my cheek, and remarked, "A servant of Apollo now."

I had been waiting for them to notice, and was surprised when Paris didn't straightaway. My new robes for my new place in Apollo's temple.

Priam, who had appeared seemingly from nowhere, spoke next, starting to make me slightly overcome with attention. "The young men of Troy were devastated when Briseis chose the virgin robes." The old king leant in to kiss my forehead, and Paris nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure."

"Some of those men looked at our dear cousin in a way no man should look at a woman until he has received her dowry." Hector smiled.

How naïve I was to think that that Troy, full of smiles and laughter, would last forever.

It was a stark, stark contrast to the Troy left there now. Hector's death, the war, the simple weariness of the situation had made the fabled greatest city in the world crumble to little more than a shell. Even if the Greeks breached the walls now they would find little inside worth taking, other than glory.

Three days inside Troy and not one man had looked at me in the way they used to, the way my beloved cousins so disapproved of. Whenever I walked past a mother in the street she would shoo her children ahead and hang back to glare at me. Wherever I ventured I was followed by badly concealed whispers. After the second day I reasoned that perhaps I should just not leave the palace at all.

I knew the reason for the looks and the gossip, and he lay peacefully in my arms, unaware that the city was in turmoil around him. It would have been bad enough to have returned from the enemy camp by myself, but carrying a child? Even the ones when accepted to story that it was beyond my power – and there were many who were more suspicious – even they knew that Theo should not be in the city. No matter the circumstances, he was part of the enemy. Greek blood ran through his veins, Greek cloth had wrapped his body, Greek hands had brought him into this world. I was afraid to ever turn my back for fear that some man or woman, a loyal Trojan, would snatch him and try to throw him from the city walls to rid us of the tainted flesh. When I thought of that all I could do was hold him closer and let the warmth of his tiny body wash over me. What these people forgot was that he was also part Trojan, and the Trojan blood mixed freely with the Greek in him.

It was late afternoon, and the stifling heat of the day was slowly subsiding. I had just finished feeding Theo when a young maid, probably no more than eight or nine summers old, knocked on the door and spoke in a quiet little voice.

"Prince Paris requests the pleasure of your company, my lady. He says to leave the child with me."

I frowned at her, reluctant to leave Theo with anyone, let alone a girl.

"I have three younger brothers, my lady. I am skilled in the care of children."

"Even so," I paused for her name.

"Callisto." She proffered.

"Even so, Callisto, I think I shall take Theo to see Prince Paris. They are cousins, after all, and they've never even met." I said, looking around for a blanket to wrap around the baby.

"I will inform the prince, my lady." Callisto replied, but she did not retreat down the corridor. Instead, she stayed in the threshold, staring at the little bundle in my arms.

"Yes?"

"Well, it's just that they say…" she trailed off, as if unsure if she should be telling me.

"Who say, and what do they speak of?"

"My mother and aunt." Callisto continued, seemingly encouraged by my question. "They say that your baby is the child of the great Achilles himself."

I felt myself take in a sharp breath, and my heart missed a beat, but my mouth managed to pull itself into an unnatural smile.

"What a silly story!" I said, knowing I sounded anything but convincing. "Now, Callisto, run along and tell the prince that I will be arriving shortly. And tell him that Theo will be with me."

Paris, sat awkwardly on the bed, glared at me as I entered. I assumed he was attempting to make me feel guilty for bringing Theo against his will, but I would not. That was something I decided on very soon after I returned to Troy: I would not feel guilty, and I would not regret, for I had done nothing wrong.

But not in Paris' eyes.

He was devastated by his brother's death, one could tell as much just by looking at him. Some of that youthful vigour had gone; he had aged ten years in a few days. He just about accepted me, but he refused to accept Theo into Troy at all, anyone who'd listen, "The son of a Greek has no place in this city." I liked Helen too much to remind my cousin that she, too, was Greek.

Next to his bed was a chair, which I sat in carefully and waited for Paris to speak. He seemed unsure of what to say; he would come out with chains of words that didn't mean a thing and then stay silent for minutes. When he finally found a coherent sentence, Theo was already starting to stir.

"Briseis, when we heard that the Greeks had taken the temple of Apollo, we assumed they would kill everyone in it. We thought…" he paused to look over at me, choking on his words. "We thought you were dead. Take my word: had we known you were alive and well we would have rescued you faster than an arrow flies." Paris sighed sadly. "I feel terrible knowing now that they could have done anything to you in that camp while we sat safe inside these walls."

What Paris was saying took me by surprise. Yes, I was his cousin and yes, one year ago I would have expected him to rescue me, but in a war things change. I had been in that camp, I had lived with those soldiers and I knew they would easily kill anyone on a rescue mission. With hundreds of soldiers it would be different, but attempting to retrieve a priestess who was most likely dead already? No one would agree to it.

Paris continued, a microtone more upbeat. "Well, at least we can say none of them took a fancy to you and tried to take you back to Greece." He half smiled and looked outside the window at the fading sun. "I told Mother I'd check on the King. He's been terrible since…" Trailing off, Paris looked at me and sighed. "At such a time it is lovely to have at least the small comfort of knowing you are safe." My cousin looked at Theo for a moment, who, as if by miracle, had woken without crying, and the slightest flicker of a smile passed his face. Then he left, passing Helen at the threshold.

She said something, but I didn't hear or respond. I was too lost in what Paris had said… None of them took a fancy to you and tried to take you back to Greece… Because I knew deep down that if a certain enemy soldier had attempted to take me back to his homeland I would have gone with too little thought. And that made me feel guilty, even though I had promised myself I wouldn't.

"Briseis?" Helen's voice broke through my thoughts. "Briseis, we must talk about this. If Theo's father–"

"Helen." I interrupted, pausing to slow my breathing and arrange my words before continuing.

"You of all people know how it is to fall in love with the wrong man."

Paris' princess took a while to register my words, but when she did she raised her eyebrows disbelievingly, and breathed, "Love?" There was a pause. I looked down.

"Who?" Helen whispered. "Which man, Briseis?"

But I could see on her face that she was starting to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Theo's hair; she had seen those golden strands before…

I placed my hand on my son's head and started to babble like a madwoman, unable to keep the words from spilling from my mouth. "Oh, Helen, he's a good man underneath the armour. His heart beats like any other's. He–"

Sweltering heat, two men alone on the plain…

Helen knew. But she stayed silent.

"Cousin, please. Do not tell Paris, or think less of me for this."

The princess smoothed down her dress and stood, looking calmly down into my eyes. "I will pray for you tonight, Briseis, and for Theo. The Gods know you shall need it."

And with that, she swept out of the room.

Theo, squirming in my arms, began to wail.