Chapter 1: A New Task
The festival had all but begun; I stayed in my dark corner where Hector had ordered me placed. I look for any trouble, anything that looked remotely suspicious. Dressed in a rippled dark blue chiton, another piece of white silk draped over my gown, fastened by two pins of the icon of the great city Tory. My hair is bundled in a curly heap atop my head, the pins straining my head, aching it to nothing that is desirable. Perhaps it is the way my olive oiled skin glistens in the torch light, or they way the cloth of my gown slips off my shoulder, giving me a drunken look, but either way the men still grin savagely at me. They wink, snicker and seem to fill themselves with wine as to gain the pleasure of their lust. Their eyes peck at me, but I do not falter. King Menelaus has risen, his cup aimed at Hector and Paris, in a toast to peace, for now. My green eyes gaze past the strands of sun brunt sandy brown hair that curls around my face, with the sections of blond gifted from Apollo, to the prince: Paris.
Hector drinks to Menelaus, but Paris drinks to Helen. Her beauty shines through the whole hall, dressed in a crimson and gold chiton, her hair bound in gold ribbon and crown. Her blue eyes fall to Paris, whose face catches so many girls with a witty charm. It seems the queen too has fallen for him. She seems to smile at him, but the golden goblet in her hands hides her lips. Paris stares at her with lust filled eyes. The music begins, tearing me away from the image of my prince and Sparta's queen in surprise. Women, dark ebony skinned and dressed in nothing more then silk that turns the men's eyes to their practically bear bodies enter, dancing around the table. A man's hand goes right to the lower body of one of the women, but she smiles with glee, as if she has nothing more to expect. I grimace at the nasty face the man wears, too much wine clouding his eyes. I look away; Hector meets my gaze, eyeing me with concern. I brush his thoughts away, not wanting to bother him with his brother's irrational actions.
He watches me for a moment, trying to test his strength against my tongue in cheek. Finally, he hops from his seat and escorts himself into the merry crowd. I watch Paris pick at his food, all the while his eyes spring up to the seated beauty across from him. I eye him with distaste, wondering why Priam treats him as a humble prince. But he doesn't realize my scorn, I ponder over whether Helen has really won his heart, or whether this is another charm lesson in his rules. Menelaus seats himself next to two gorgeous women, his arms wrapped around them fervently. He smiles and laughs, the women caressing his chest plated in Sparta's armor. Helen rejects him, turning away from him and glancing at other parts of the party, all the while refusing to meet Paris' dark eyes.
A man brushes past me, breathing a heavy stench onto my face. I choke in disgust, creeping back into the shadows to get away from him. He eyes me greedily; I walk past his broad body and into the crowd, my gown dancing around my ankles. Men smile at me, smoothing their untidy hair and leering at me. My stomach knots as I watch Helen stand from her place, no one noticing. Without a look back at her husband, who is overjoyed with himself, she creeps up the stone steps that lead to her quarters. I rest my back on a column that rises to the ceiling, swirling a cup of crimson wine in my hands as to not attract attention to myself. Moments pass and then Paris' cloak swings by, as he turns behind him to check for his brother's watchful eyes. Seeing Hector naught, he lumbers up the steps, I watch from the corner of my vision. My breath caught as he disappears. Traitor, my mind screams, using the King to bed the woman. Troy, a black, blank city in my mind. I think of all the curses I can muster, maybe one day they will reach Paris' ears.
"Watch over her. I want to know what they are up too." Hector's voice cuts through me like a dagger. I spin around staring into the eyes of the only prince I follow. No other king have I bowed down to. I avert my eyes, my pride not large enough to stare into the honest, honorable eyes of Hector.
"Yes my lord," I respond, my voice not quaking like those of the pitiful servants that listen to the lords of Troy. Hector's eyes bring my face up, as if he ordered in thoughts that I look at him.
"Aldreana, when we leave, I want you to stay and watch over Helen. Make sure her heart, soul and body lies with her true King and lover, not my brother." He regarded and considered me deeply, as if I was at all capable of what he asked. I nodded. Another task for me to embark on, I thought. One of the many tasks Hector and Priam commanded of me as the spy of Troy. Not only would men talk to women of their deepest secrets as if they were nothing more then a lifeless animal, but they also expected them to listen and respond. And that was exactly what I did. Love your woman… that was one of the rules Hector abided by. I however, did not have lovers waiting for me, to pour more of their soul into me to tell to others, but I had connections as the loyal servant and court member of the Prince's cousin, Briseis. Many leaders and kings accounted me as a guest with the royal girl, not a spy for Hector and the King. I saw the way Hector looked at me, not agreeable to what Priam declared of me. Too young for a spy, much less the only one my father actually respects and expects from. Those were Hector's words; I was too young, too inexperienced. Yet there a numerous times when I know that inside he jumps for joy knowing I am on his side. He knows that we both are following the king's orders, which is what we are meant to do.
I bow my head in reverence; he eyes the stone staircase once more before turning away. I look to the steep steps, another journey, adventure that I shall embark. I wonder with deep pleasures and worries where this adventure shall lead me…