Chapter 4: Voyage to Troy
The gates opened wide, chariots bearing the King's sons entered. Crowds of people gathered, cheering and showering flowers down to their Princes. Paris, with his gentle brown eyes and soft face, held onto the reins with worried hands. The people gapped at the woman next to him, pointed and then they applauded. Paris was not worried anymore. He smiled with happiness, stealing a glance at Helen, who was awestruck by her welcome. Hector rode on his horse with stern eyes, preparing for the words that his father would lay on him as the man in order during their leave. Perhaps Paris would explain for him, but Hector highly doubted it. He was the one whose scorn was placed upon. He was the one who had to keep his little brother in line. Everything he had worked up for to gain his father's pleasure was going to be destroyed in merely a few minutes. Yet he waved to the people, his people and smiled at the faces young and old, all happy to have their princes safe and sound. He could see the palace in the distance, growing bigger and bigger as they approached it. Dots of blue and bronze armor glittered the palace floor. It was Priam and his courtiers. Aldreana… Hector thought. What will happen when I come empty handed without my spy and the person that she was watching is now here with me? He tried to brush the thoughts away, yet they kept coming back. What had happened to her? She wouldn't just let Helen leave, something had to have happened. Then he wondered if the next time he saw Aldreana, her heart would not be with Troy anymore…
Priam stood, watching his sons come closer and closer to home, they were safe. His clear water eyes filled with tears, which he quickly disposed of. The wind caught his feathery white hair and hid his face of joy and gladness. He sat back down on his throne, coming into conversation with his men when a flash of blond hair caught his eye. Immediately he sat back up and walked to the end of his balcony. There, standing with Paris on the golden chariot bearing them home was the Queen Helen, her face bearing all the beauty of a goddess. Priam was struck down with astonishment at why she was here, riding with his son. He looked at Hector, hoping an explanation was painted on his heir's face, but there was nothing. There was another soul he looked for, only to find her gone as well. Aldreana, the girl he and Hector had…No matter, I will find out the meaning of these discomfiture things, Priam thought lightly. He watched with belying eyes as Hector, Paris and Helen dropped from their chariots and mounts and walked up the steps to him. Hector raised his eyes, trying hard to hide his thoughts but his father ignored it. Priam caught his son in a lovingly embrace, kissing his forehead in custom. The glance shared between father and son was one that passed with the need for discussion later. Then Paris, awaiting his father, stepped in his arms like he was a child again. He smiled with joy, still jumping inside that he had coaxed Helen into coming home with him. Priam kissed his son likewise Hector and then turned lastly to Helen. Paris' face beamed as Priam eyes went up and down the girl, tracing back all the memories that Paris had of when he first encountered this beautiful creature. Helen, her face full of warning and worry, faked a smile to the King. Priam wrapped his arms gracefully around the young woman.
"Helen," he said with a quiet voice. "Welcome to Troy." Paris still puffed out his chest in pride, his prize welcomed to Troy with warm and open arms, just how he imagined. Priam took one more look at the girl who stole his son's heart. "I've heard many great deals of your beauty and strength, Queen of Sparta." The name cut into both Helen and Paris like a sword from Menelaus himself, piercing both of their hearts as they realized the truth they had tried to forget on their way to the great city. "For once, the rumors were true," Priam finished. Still with an arm enveloped around Helen he steered her towards his courtiers, introducing her as if by no means that she and his son had caused the greatest conflict between nations ever. Paris, with a wide smile that boasted to everyone, turned to Hector to declare that he won, only to find his brother missing, rushing to a dark haired goddess of a woman, who was carrying a small infant in her arms. He chuckled at the sight of his son, who giggled and began playing with the strings dangling form his armor.
"Paris!" A call came from the hall, making the prince spin around. A young girl with auburn hair ran to him, throwing herself into his arms.
"Briseis!" Paris said. He scooped his cousin into his arms. The girl was wide eyed with excitement, wearing the clothes of royalty and a priestess. When he set her back down, she began looking around the balcony, through all the members of her uncle's court. Paris waited, looking confused and puzzled.
"Where is Aldreana?" she asked, but Paris was as dumbfounded as she. He glanced at Hector, who was mentioning something to their father. Priam's eyes fell on Paris, his face grim. They both walked over to the young people. Briseis again repeated her question. Hector heaved a sigh, his wife nested the babe in her chest as she walked over, wondering why he was so troubled already. Not able to glance at anyone but his cousin, Hector told Briseis what happened to her friend and courtier.
"She stays in Sparta, where I told her to watch over Helen." Paris' eyes bulged in anger.
"She didn't need to be watched," he hissed in a whisper. But Hector threw his anger upon his brother.
"Apparently she did if she is now here in Troy, you snuck her from underneath Menelaus' nose, and Aldreana will be the first to pay the price. I know not of the arguments raised between you two about her past but you might as well have cut her head off yourself. She is as good as dead out there and here Helen sits, safe and sound." Helen rose at the sound of her name, Hector's wife, Andromache, gasped, a hand covering her lips. Helen forestalled her eyes, down casting them from the world around her. Paris clenched his jaw. Hector had a vein in his chin pulsing as he tried to control his anger. Briseis nodded, and then walked back into the palace the way she came. Priam rested a hand on his elder son's shoulder.
"There is much you need to talk about," he mentioned to Andromache and Hector and then to Paris said, "Come, I have words to discuss with you and Helen."
I tied the cloak around my neck, it was tailored for a man, traveling just past my feet and dragging behind me. Only a dim lantern that rocked back and forth with the waves that knocked into the ship's sides lit the dark spacious room below deck. For awhile I felt myself bobbing up and down like a cork in the water, I heard the splash of the anchor being thrown into the sea. I was so filled with excitement that when the man opened that latch and lifted up the door to the deck I jumped in surprise. Sunlight poured down from above, like the heavens were opening up to me. The man motioned for me to follow up to the deck, explaining that men were still scouting to find Achilles. I nodded in reply and felt the spray of salt air wash itself on me as I walked to the front of the ship. Odysseus stood on the pier shouting orders and at the sight of my entrance to the outside world once again he climbed back on to the ship.
"We've found Achilles and his cousin. We'll leave soon." He walked back to the ramp that led to land, I by his side. "Hopefully, I can coax him into bringing his men, the Myrmidons, to sail with us to Troy." He looked at me, wondering which side I could really be on. Over the nights he had asked me to share my story, and I had openly shared every moment since Hector assigned me to watch over Helen. Twisting the truth to convince him, he still pondered over my destroyed loyalty to such a great city. It is for the best. I had told him. He seemed convinced enough to allow my presence. Now he looked at me sidelong, making me rotate my head to the side of the shore. "Why are you so fascinated with Achilles?" he asked. I spied him from the corner of my eye, still following him as he led me down the ramp and onto dry ground. My stomach lurched as my feet hit the dirt, my knees buckled from the steady land. Odysseus swept me up into his strong arms, waiting till I gained used to the ground before letting me go.
"He…he killed my mother and my brother, or so I've been led to believe," I responded, thinking of the dreams I had begun witnessing again, a past I had wished to forget. Odysseus eyes bulged as I told him the simple statement, and he shook his head in disagreement.
"Achilles has been known for inhumane things, but killing for the sake of killing is not one of those things. Who did you hear that from?" he acquired. I saw him out of the corner of my vision, holding steadily to the devastating story I could give, ones that he heard everyday on account to war life.
"I heard it from my father, the only man I trusted." I tried to hide that fact my hand went right to my weapon, but he saw. We walked on, and as we neared the crest of hill, Odysseus called on a group of men and told us to start walking. We stayed on the beach, moving east to another pile of ruins not far from us. I pulled on the hood of my cloak, concealing myself in the black fabric. Odysseus asked no questions, but looked at me with suspicion and misgiving. I didn't know who I'd run into, and I didn't want to be troubled at the moment.
"Trusted…as in he is dead?" Odysseus continued in question. When he saw my head dip up and down beneath the cloak he finished with, "I expect that was from whom you learned weaponry. I'm sorry for your loss." I chuckled at his pity that he felt he should not give but did so out of kindness.
"By then it was no loss to me, I grieved more at my mother's and brother's deaths. And as time wore on, I learned that my father's stories hid what he didn't want me to learn. I only wish to look at Achilles and assure myself that the man didn't do what my father said he did." I already felt beads of swear gather on my forehead but did nothing to stop it. The sun was not even in its fullest, I would learn to tough it out. Odysseus kept silent, proposing the hushed pact that the conversation was over as of this moment, but I took the soundless time to speak once more. "I believe that the reason he made the story up was so he had more power over me. He wanted me to believe it was him and only him that could ever achieve greatness. He was a power driven man, Agamemnon reminded me of my father, which is why my dislike grew so quickly for the "King of Kings". No my lord, when I buried my father I was in high spirits." Odysseus said no more, but I saw he was surprised. It was as if he was whispering to me in the hushed stillness: What an interesting woman you have turned out to be, yet indescribable and blasphemous are your ways.
We came to the ruins, sitting on top a hill where bushes and tress of dead growth threw out their wiry branches to hide the two men sporting. They bore strong wooden swords for practicing, each deflecting the other with perfect sweeps of their arms and perfect styles. I was dazzled at the way they moved, running about the ruins. It was a style of sword fighting I knew would take years to learn. And I yearned to learn it. One man was muscular then the other, with thick arms of trained years. He had bright blond hair, more golden than the younger man. The younger man was slightly taller and because of that his body muscle evened out, making him light, graceful and quick.
Though I could already guess the man with strong, toned body muscle who whipped and swiped at the other was Achilles, I marveled at the younger, who had taken an agreeable amount of years to learn the fighting ways of his cousin. I hung back as Odysseus moved on, then snuck away to get my own view of the men. The younger man's hair was bleach blond, shinning in the sun and plastered to his face from sweat. He looked so much like the older man that when they spun around in a blur of moves I could barely tell one from the other. I stared uncontrollably at the boy, guessing already what the connection between me and him that Odysseus mentioned. The boy was caught, his cousin's sword by his throat, then they mumbled some words I couldn't catch, and then the boy jumped, dodging what could have been a death's blow. Moving with elegant grace, he trapped his cousin in the same position, whispered again, this time they both chuckled.
I saw Odysseus and his men creep closer and closer, but I stayed back. Suddenly the older man grabbed a spear leaning on a fallen pillar, and hurled it through the air, scarcely aiming at a destination. The spear zoomed through the air and wedged itself in the trunk of a mangled tree, only inches form Odysseus's head. He snapped his head in spontaneous surprise, smiled at the man when who acknowledged his presence with the thrown weapon. The men around the charming Odysseus held up their weapons, but Odysseus ordered them to let the weapons down with a gentle wave of his hand. He trudged through the trees and came up to stand next to Achilles. I traipsed back through the trees to the group of gathered men and pushed past them to have a better look. The young man noticed me right away, but I was too hidden for him to see my face. Achilles and Odysseus began conversation instantly, leaving me to stare at the boy and he standing there, arms folded neatly in front of him, though he still clutched his makeshift sword. Then Odysseus turned around, Achilles staring straight at me with curiosity. I took the opportunity to spring form the bushes and walk my way up the steps to the men.
"This is Aldreana." Odysseus's voice reached my ears as I approached the men. "She says she came from Agamemnon's court, wishing to dismiss herself from it and come with me and my men. Her claim: To meet the great Achilles." I took the introduction to life my hood off. The boy gapped for seconds at me, then looked away, his cheeks turning a light crimson. Achilles looked me up and down as Odysseus allowed himself to continue. "She favors you more then Agamemnon and from the stories she tells, she meant be able to find out things for you."
"Oh! As in a spy?" Achilles interrupted curtly, but ingenuously. Odysseus didn't say no, but didn't say yes. I seized the moment to speak for myself.
"Would you rather have me sail back to Troy and tell them of you or for that matter back to Agamemnon? I have my reasons for coming, but like most secrets, they are better kept hidden," I said slyly, full of irony. Achilles sidestepped from one foot to the other. Though he was full of too much pride to smile, inside I knew he was. The boy behind him faked a cough, his lips curving as well. Achilles leapt upon me with mocking words.
"You are too headstrong for Troy, yet perfect for Agamemnon's fury. I can see why you found distaste in him and he in you. Whether you spy or not is your choice, I just pick the fates of those who wrong me." The boy's smile faded as Achilles curved to take a fleeting look at him, following my gaze. "This is my cousin Patroclus." The name stayed in my head forever. The boy bowed his head to Odysseus, only looking at me with sharp, clear blue eyes. Achilles saw the whole thing. "You are going to try to spy through my cousin?" he asked with ridicule and scorn. Odysseus brushed Achilles off me.
"Come now, this isn't the time for hasty words and charade. The girl has her life and as do you. What happens in the middle happens. Now then, to the point I came for, not the introduction and debate of Aldreana." He without delay went into conversation about Agamemnon and his pitch for Achilles. Achilles' face grew more serious and momentous with each word. Patroclus inside grew restless, but stayed put. I on the other hand, allowed my impertinence to show to the point where Achilles walked off in a huff by Odysseus's words and my actions. He stood in silence, looking out at the water, clear yet choppy.
"What if I don't go?" he asked. Odysseus signed deeply, knowing how far Achilles' tolerance with the King would last because of their enduring friendship over the years. Patroclus had begun to pick up the weapons, eager to be off now that he had the chance. He stopped when Achilles posed the question, looking from me back to his cousin and then to Odysseus.
Odysseus threw his arms in the air, with nothing more to say that would convince the man but, "I don't think you have the maximum amount of choices. Greece needs your help and I know Troy hasn't done anything to you…" He momentarily looked at me, waiting for secrets I'd be willing to contribute to. I shook my head. Achilles sighed deeply, spun around, his decision made.
"How long do you think Aldreana will have to stay here?" he inquired. I whirled around, looking to Odysseus to put out the fact I was coming. But Odysseus knew no more than I and asked Achilles for his advice.
"Well do you think it wise for her to stay? At least send her back to Agamemnon's or pay for her to go back when it's safe." Patroclus had stopped and looked at me, knowing I thought differently. I rounded up to Achilles.
"I'm coming with. When you sail to Troy so do I!" I protested. But Achilles had more anger up his sleeve then sarcasm. He buffed up his chest and pointed a finger at me.
"You must really want to die don't you? You are not coming with us. War is no place for a girl, even one such as you," he contradicted. My fury and annoyance rose to a nasty degree. Unaware, but by habit, I pulled my dagger out and lunged for Achilles, knowing full well that he could slay me easily. Patroclus threw himself on me, wrapping his arms around me gingerly yet firmly as he held me back. Odysseus did the same for Achilles, who had leapt for a spear, but the other man caught him. Patroclus gave me a warning glare and to sooth my rage softened his hold on me. My body melted from his touch, I became dazed, looking at the dagger and pocketing it in bemusement. Patroclus peered over his shoulder; Achilles had already let the matter go with simply shrugging Odysseus off. Patroclus held me for a moment longer, and then slowly uncurled his arms from around me. I fixed my eyes on him with one last mesmerized stare then, looked down, temporarily showing my hurt. Achilles finalized the discussion by hissing, "She is not coming along." Though at that moment, I believe it was centered more towards his cousin then Odysseus. In a huff, I pulled the cloak back around my face and ran down the hill, back to the ships. I let Odysseus and Achilles eat the dust that swirled up from my path.
It was insane, not allowing me to come along. Why if not for me they wouldn't get half way to where I could led them. I looked back behind me as I slowed my gait. The group of men and the two new recruits were not far off. Knowing they were watching me, I stepped up to the ramp and slowly boarded Odysseus's ship. The docks and piers were now busy, buzzing with life and even more ships then I wanted to take time to count. I took one more glance to Patroclus and I swear at that second the skin where his hands had laid prickled. So, this is to be the end of my so called "journey"? Men barking orders made me lift my head back up, a ship with black sails just docked, letting the anchor fall with a splash into the water. Men hopped off the ship's edge, not using the ropes dangling from the sides. I could only hope that these men were the Myrmidons, readying Achilles' ship. I looked back around, estimating the distance they still had to cover to reach me. I wasted no time. Edging to the ground, I made it look like stairs was what I was ascending down. The ship was vacant, not a soul noticed me. I crawled to the edge, my body hidden behind the revealed flapping mast. The fabric was thick and dark enough to hide my body. I took a deep breath then rolled over the edge, splashing into the water.
I swam as far as I could before lifting my head up for air. The ships covered me up from any overseers. I felt instantly refreshed by the cool water and waded in it for some time before comprehending how much faster they could walk then I could swim. I kicked my legs and waved my arms in and out of the water, my thick clothes dragging me under but I dared not let anything go, for I had uses for all the things. My body was tired by the time I made it to the ship with the black sails. My arms were like lead, and I examined the ropes with much consideration, wondering if my body was even strong enough to carry me up the ropes and into the cellar. I felt his touch even beneath the cold water and took the risks. Grapping hold of a dangling rope, as if it was laid there for me, I climbed up the side of the ship, checking behind me, I scanned for Achilles. But the ships now hid even him and the rest from view and them from me. Two men had stayed behind on the docks, but they were in such deep discussion that they noticed me not. I swayed over the edge of Achilles' ship, sucking in deep breaths as my body gave way of all strength.
Huffing and puffing for breath, I silenced them with my hand, noticing that voices were getting slightly, slowly closer. Then the closing distance stopped, the men's footsteps did so too. Enough time for me to make it. I crawled my way past the oars, to the latch that leads to below deck. A metallic smell met me when I opened it. The bottom of the ship was littered with all kinds of weapons. I clambered down the stairs, my knees buckling from under me. I picked the corner where shields were kept, moved them to the side and sat down next to them. Water dripped from my face, my clothes soaked the wood around me, but I cared not. My body was so tried I could not believe I made it, for right when I sat down, footsteps came from up above. I waited for some time before I heard Achilles come on, howling orders. The sound of the anchor startled me as it bounced off the side off the boat next to me, echoing loudly in my ears, I heard men heave a sigh as they pulled it up. Then it was the rhythm the men drove to, the beat the only way they rowed the ship. The oars clunked against the side of the ships. Not once did the latch open, I swelled with glee and pride at such a stealthy way I'd be traveling my voyage back to Troy. As the rowing lulled me into fatigue, I could imagine his gentle touch that only he and I shared. Achilles knew nothing of it.