Chapter 11: Answering to the Call
The shackles shook with my actions, the blood smearing down my wrists. I twisted the iron chains again, tearing my skin once more. Struggling, I cried out in pain as I threw my throbbing arm aside. Frustrated, I looked through the small window in the dank cell. The dark hallway sneered back at me.
"Help me!" I screamed. "Can anyone hear me?" I yelled frantically. Silence answered and I fell back into the deep despair, whispering for the aid that refused to come my way. "Help…" I drifted back to the dreams, the memories of my haunting past. My back stung furiously as I shifted against the cold stone. Boots suddenly rang and my head snapped up, too quickly. Blinking away stars, a face peered into the window, his body hunched over to look at me. The man still had my face burned into his eyes, my scream ringing in his ears.
"Hold on Aldreana, it shall not be long," he whispered distraughtly. I glared up at him, but nodded my understanding, my doleful expression cutting him deep. "I've brought food." His voice was dripping with hope on revealing my elasticity to the man, hoping to toy with my good side. My stomach growled, but I still glared at him.
"It might be the only good thing you have offered me." My flippant remark made the man regret whipping me. He sighed heavily.
"You're hungry, take the food." He began slipping it through the bars when slammed iron doors made him spin around, diverting his stare from me.
"What are you doing, the master said no one visits the girl till she obeys his wishes," the man with a gruff voice said to the other. I watched my savior's foot edge the bundle of food closer and closer. I was planted where I was in the moist dirt.
"I felt the need to taunt her," the feigned voice made me cringe. "After all, my whips should have made her obey, since they haven't I felt the need to torture her more." The gruff man sniggered softly, and then shoved the man aside. The food dropped down into the cellar. I dived for it. The shackles shook violently as my fingers came in inch too short for the food. The slamming door left me with inaccessible food and a gurgling stomach.
When the doors opened again I was beginning to wing in and out of insanity. I waited for the voice to speak but only heard the echoing of boots stepping down to my door. A jingle of keys and the door swung open. Father smiled with a contempt glare. He arched an eyebrow at my blank face, eyeing the food. He pointed at it with a gangly finger.
"Who gave this to you?" he hissed. I shrugged my shoulders. He ran to me, slapping me across the face. "WHO?" My stinging cheek told me to answer, but my pride stabbed me deep.
"Does it matter, you have let me to rot anyways," I answered bluntly. He cocked his head, his derisive face making me want to take back the words. He carelessly dropped the bundle, which opened to bread and cheese. I broke into a helpless sob when his boot stomped it into the dirt. He kneeled next to me, stroking my hair. I shrank back, the wall hitting my head. He grinned at me.
"Why yes Aldreana, you will rot till I have what I want," he played with a curl of hair and I struggled with the chain behind my back. My slippery hand crept its way out. He grunted and spat on the ground, right into the still palatable food in my eyes.
"And what is that, what is it that you want so desperately?" I said in between moans as I stifled my cries of pain when my wrist was free, half of the flesh torn from it. I began on the other hand. Father looked into my hazel eyes.
"Death of course." The answer was frank. I pulled my other hand out, free of chains. The dagger poked my back from where I had sat on it for days. I gripped the hilt, unsheathing it.
"I can give you that."
I woke in a scream, covering both my wrists. The blood was gone; the skin completely healed yet still showed vague signs of the shackles I was bound in. My hands went to my belt, the dagger still bouncing at my side. Breathing hard, I wiped away the sweat, the warm air and aroma of incense mixing with the air sending my head swimming. I sank back into the dense yet softened wood of the temple alter, the smoke curling around my face. The temple was dark, but all I needed was a bed for the night. The rest of the incense burned away and so did my prayers to the Gods. Apollo as my guide, Ares as my strong hold and Zeus as my healer, I prayed for the mind to make the choices, the guidance to make them and the heart to make it so.
The rundown temple, attacked by the Greeks, was the perfect hideout. A bundle at my side contained all my items from Troy, the ones that I desired. I saw Hector not once after the encounter on the wall. No one stopped me from leaving again. Paris even had to grab Helen back, who was threatening to leave back with me to the Greeks once more. He gave me a grave look, but yet mine back reminded that all of this was his fault. Myles was the only man who tried to stop me. His begging did nothing to alter my steps. I promised him we would meet again, though the only image in my mind was myself crying over his dead body once Troy was finished.
I blinked away the sleepy fatigue that sent me spiraling back into my nightmarish past. The sun streamed into the temple, the rising blue sky peeking into the dark hall. I proceeded to the stay and rest, but an anxious heart made me stand again. I hefted my bag over my shoulder and walked to the back hall of the temple. The view was spectacular, the rolling waves of the sea, and the colored sky as dawn made its way onto earth. And then there was the black, desolate smoke of the deceased in battle yesterday, the fires curling into black smog. I bit back anger to Agamemnon, and sadness to the soldiers. My eyes trailed to the black sails, black tents, black everything. But this was my salvation, my tranquility, and the camp of Achilles. My luxuriant love for Patroclus, one that had never developed in my cold heart, tucked away the remorse over Hector to the back recesses of my mind. I leaped off the edge of the temple, tripping down into the sand and hard limestone, but smiling with a frankly content heart.
I walked openly to the camp. The faces of the familiar Myrmidons barely giving me second glance. I walked promptly to Patroclus's tent when Eudorus caught my eye. His face was grave and I knew instantly the news wasn't good. Suddenly my eyes caught the hitched sails unfurled in the wind, the barrels rolling with the men escorting them to the ships, the leather skin bags of clothes.
"What is all this?" My stunned tone made Eudorus back away, my temper at risk. "Where's Patroclus?"
Eudorus pointed a quick finger behind me. I spun around. The rocky cliffs that held the temple up in the sky had conveniently hid the coast, the waves brushing across the sand and clearing away the footprints of the young man crouching in the beach. Patroclus clubbed a rock across the sea, the waves catching it with an ungraceful plop.
"There is to be no fighting for the Greeks today, but none more for the Myrmidons. We are to sail home, by order of Achilles," Eudorus said the words bluntly, solemnly still. I turned back around. He eyed me up and down. "I see you made it to Troy," he pointed out my new blue gown unnecessarily, the cream colored silk swatch that laid over it clasped with silver swirled designed pins. I arched an eyebrow.
"Must you point out the obvious?" Eudorus managed a grin, chuckling softly.
"And the cloak?" he acquired. I patted my bag, bulging with the stolen chiton from days before, my cloak and all other items.
"Must I hide myself always?" I asked again in a sarcastic tone. I looked back over my shoulder. Patroclus had sunken into the sand, leaning his chin on his crossed elbows over his bent legs. "I will never see him again after today. You leave tomorrow?"
Eudorus nodded. "You know that he would give anything to bring you aboard. But the risk is too dangerous. We don't need all of Troy on our heels," he advised. I held my head proudly.
"Troy wouldn't follow me. I am Greek Eudorus. My heart never was with Troy." My heart swelled in pain. "Where I go is my own choosing, Hector has no control over me. He allowed me to leave, but coming back would be a risk all on my own. He gave me the wall as my only companion." I wished silently that Hector still needed me. I wished that he himself would come and pull me away from the beach. But my mind was made up. Eudorus snickered.
"Well then, all you will have to put up with is Achilles. But we all know you how you feel of the great man." He smiled at my elasticity to the new happenings around me.
"Of course, I can always save me the trouble and climb secretly onto Achilles' ship." I glanced back at Patroclus. "Do you think Achilles would let me go?" Eudorus was at a loss of words, and could only shrug his shoulders, his stare distraught again. He took his own peek at the young man.
"Go to him Aldreana. He needs you." I nodded in agreement and made my way over along the beach. Eudorus stood where he was, then grabbed a packed bag beside him and walked up the ramp to the ship.
The water lapped up and around my feet, the salty spray tingling my warm legs. My gown billowed around me with the gust of wind, my carelessly combed hair blowing with it. The waves crashed along the land, but with each inch closer were made quieter till finally a little pool came to greet me. The edge of dress dripped and the sand stuck in-between my toes, rubbing the soles of my feet with my sandals. The gulls called overhead, circling the water before diving for a fish. Patroclus still remained mesmerized by the sea, till he looked up with surprise when my bag was thrown to the dry beach. He quickly stood, taking me in with fervent eyes and then rushed over to me, catching me in his arms, the splashing water soaking us both.
Our lips met, the sun hot on my shoulders while the waves rushed around us. The kiss was vigorous, passionate. His zealous lips grazed over mine, his lusting tongue tantalizing my own, till the compulsion was too great. He lifted me up in his arms tightly before dropping me into the cold water and holding me still. My breath was fast, too fast for the normal and I realized that never had he kissed me that dynamically before. He brushed away the hair the wind pulled into my face, caressing my cheek.
"Why do you keep coming back?" he asked. I refused to let the diatribe get to me, and immediately retorted back.
"Why do you keep answering to my call?" The answer was sly, catching him off guard. He opened his mouth and then closed it sharply. He smiled and kissed me again.
"Well," he whispered. "I can't say anything to that?" I giggled and much to his delight kissed him again, trailing my lips down his neck till I buried my face in his chest. He cradled me back to the beach, the warm sand welcoming as we sat down. He leaned his back against an idol rock, my head grazing past his shoulder and resting on his half exposed chest. I played with the ends of his black tunic, the trimmed edges wrinkled from use. The silence was soothing, till he could hide back his ebbing thoughts no longer.
"How do you keep escaping from Troy?" I sat up, his arm not letting me from his grasp from where he lazily laid. I tucked away a knotted lock of hair, Patroclus captivated by my green eyes.
"I didn't escape. Hector let me go free." Patroclus seemed startled by my answer.
"He just let you go?" I nodded, showing my own criticism to Hector's decision.
"Spying for the prince and king was never official, just an offer that I took up. The real service I gave up by departing was a courtier and maid to Briseis, the cousin of Hector." Patroclus hummed his understanding, though I knew history had to be explained. I took a deep breath as I began to share my past, the one that ran into my dreams and woke me in a cold sweat.
"I know that I haven't been honest with you, I'm sorry." I shifted my eyes up to him. His face was full of understanding. "What I have told you is what I believed to be true. But half of it was a story my father cooked up for me. Achilles didn't kill my mother or my brother, my father did." Patroclus inched closer, wrapping his arm around me to comfort me. "I lived in Greece, on the coast near the oasis. The children always believed of the Goddess that lived there and were afraid to go. Legends said that those who went never came back. I never believed it, but I have yet to go there. My father kept me close to him. One day he kept me so close I never got to say goodbye to my mother. She left to visit her father, but never came back. The Myrmidons had visited. Instantly my father placed upon them the guilt of my mother's death. They denied it, but my father continued to quarrel. That night our house was set aflame, we were forced to leave, my brother, father and I. My father, was his brash attitude and insolence, was looked down upon by the city, so we moved to Troy. There my father began teaching my brother and I sword on the hilltop ruins. H prepared my brother for war; I was just a spectator that got in on the action. Many wars came our way, my brother joined Hector's army for one of them." The words were hard, like sand scrapping my tongue. Patroclus listened solicitously, attentive eyes wrapped in my tale.
"My brother one day came up to me. He talked about my father, his deception. He gave me the dagger in hopes that he would be spared of a life of war and that with the weapon I would learn of my father's lies. I didn't understand at the time, but almost wished I had, because then I could have saved him. That same month, he didn't return home. Father claimed, as he was a member of Priam's court, that Achilles killed my brother. But that, of all things was a lie. We received word from a maiden that my brother was murdered in the streets of Troy, nowhere near the battlefield. I drew myself away from my father, the condescending man frightening me. Eavesdropping, I learned of a plot that he had planned consisting of me, kill the princes of Troy to get to the throne himself. I also heard that the lives of my loved ones were killed by his hands." I fingered the dagger. Patroclus tore my hand away from it and held it tightly. Tears had begun to well in my eyes. I stifled the sob and continued. "When he met my mother, he was a stable boy, she a maiden to a man at court. Her father and friends degraded him, made fun of him. He stayed though, for my mother. But his desire for the throne dispatched him of his love, his son. He killed them because they did not believe in his plots, his plans for cold-blooded murder. His dream, his hope, was that I would believe. He caught me listening in and he punished me. I refused to go with it. I wanted nothing to do with it. In court, where I was courtier to Briseis, Paris made up cruel rumors of my father's past, though what he said were the memories of the man himself. At first I denied them, but could hide the truth for only so long. I grew to dislike the stuck up, narcissistic prince. Hector ordered Paris to stop his claims and charges and leave me alone, but the ranting words are still ringing in my head. My father whipped me when I disobeyed him, hurt me whenever I threatened to rupture the plan."
Patroclus's hand traveled down my back, rubbing across the scars of the lashes I received. I shivered slightly. He carefully took his hand away. "Finally I acceded to his wish, I promised that I would do it. In the dead of the night I crept to Hector's chambers. But he woke, with me hovering over him with a dagger behind my back. Instantly, for the sake of my life, I told him everything. My father stood at the doorway, heard all my words and came crashing into the room, grabbing me and rushing back out. He stole me away into the tunnels underground, locking me in a cold cell for me to rot. The man who whipped me gave me food and I believe it was him that informed Hector of my location. Knowing my limitations, my father visited me rarely, only to spit at my feet and laugh. He taunted me and one day I gave him what he deserved…
"Death of course." The answer was frank. I pulled my other hand out, free of chains. The dagger poked my back from where I had sat on it for days. I gripped the hilt, unsheathing it.
"I can give you that," I sneered. The dagger flashed out, breaking flesh and tearing away veins and organs. My father gasped expansively, his eyes bulging with surprise. He stumbled backwards, the dagger, my brother's dagger, sticking out of his heart. The look I received was ineffable, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open and gathering blood. He looked to the impassable door and back to me. Tears welled in my eyes as I began sobbing, the blood from my wrists and his chest stinging my open skin. My demeanor was unexplainable. I sat and watched him die slowly, painfully. He rolled onto his side, gasping for breath.
"Aldreana! Aldreana…" he whispered mildly, croaking for breath and splattering blood onto the dirt before him. I stood up and tossed aside the chains, exposing my freed hands. Without a smile, without a tear, I wriggled my fingers at him, showing him that his plan had failed. He, on the other hand, watched my moving fingers, my unreadable face and grinned with pride. His own flesh and blood had fooled him. "My daughter…" I looked into cold, unfaithful eyes that filled my life with death, hatred and evil.
"Appearances can be deceiving," I said, answering to his pants and wheezes as death took over his own rule of life that had been uttered to me years ago. His body grew stiff. With one last breath, he died. The silence rejuvenated my soul. I closed my eyes from the ghastly sight. "It is finished," I whispered, the words I would have said to the dead man had the dagger been covered with Hector's blood. Vexed, I crawled my way over with wobbling legs to corpse, the demise of my father not pleasing nor savoring. Crying bitterly, I yanked out the dagger, another bone cracking violently as the blade grazed past it. The sobs became louder and more frequent, till I sat against the cold stone, gulping for air, my chest heaving in great sobs. My stomach flip-flopped as the doors in the hallway above echoed loudly. My head snapped up as I heard my name.
"Aldreana!" Hector's voice called. Another series of men came behind him. I heard the soft treaded steps of the man who had inflicted me with a scarred back.
"Here my lord, he kept her here." A jingle of keys was picked up from the ground. With a shock I realized that my father had left the keys behind, locking himself in the cell with me. I looked back dazed to the cold glazed eyes. Did he know what I would do? The door slammed against the wall and torches lit up the dark area. I barely noticed any of it.
"He knew, he knew…" the whispered made idiotic sense, the men glancing quizzically at each other. Hector kneeled next to me, barely taking a second glance at the icy carcass across from us. He held my head in his hands, making me look at him. His face was blurry, almost surreal. He whispered my name, but I only repeated the words again and again. "He knew…he knew…"
The waves were the resounding beat of the silence that took over. Patroclus stared deeply at the ground, watching the sand move into a twisted design underneath his bare toe. He glanced at me, but I had practically forgotten about his face, his presence, and his warm touch around me. All I heard was Hector rushing to my side, my mumbled words that made no sense to the others. Patroclus looked at me when I let out a sickly sob. He licked his lips passively and wiped the tears drilling down my cheeks.
"I know that the death of my friend by my hand doesn't come close to your father's, but believe me when I say I know how you feel." I welcomed his comfort and didn't delay his actions when he rested my aching head on his chest. My tears soaked his stomach, rolling down his bare skin and toned torso, but he cared not. "Aldreana, no matter what you think, I take no pride in killing. It is something that sometimes has to be done. It is compelled by our raw anger, no matter how much we hate it or want to be rid of it. Our manner and conduct towards war will never change. You will see it as you do, and I will continue to see it as I do. The sword reaches my hand Aldreana, is taken within my grasp and it is like all that matters in the world disappears. I frightened you yesterday, when I showed no feelings for the lives lost. None of us do after it happens, but most of us do not take the time to set it right, to change what could be undone. I ask you to forgive me whenever I drop a sword on flesh, when my blade flashes crimson. You know of the feeling I speak of."
Patroclus prayed the words were not ill heard. He rubbed my shoulder, his hand moving up and down my warm arm. The feeling was soothing. I lifted my head, sitting up slightly and brushing away the last of the tears. Patroclus fiddled with the string I had pulled out of his tunic and he let the wind catch it as he spoke up. "Is that where it ends?"
I looked up into his blue eyes, the bright stunning color taking my breath away. My lips curved into a smile and I chuckled softly, happiness flowing through me. The story was finally lifted from my shoulders. The cold dreaded feeling of anyone acknowledging my past was a least worry. Loitering in the silence, I allowed the memories to flash back into my head.
Hector laid me softly on the cushioned bed, my delirious mind unable to take in my surroundings. My mind drifted in and out of insanity and sometime in the night the sickening feeling finally set in and I vomited viciously. A maid who cleaned my wrists and cared for me reported Hector had stayed by my side most of the night, mentioning how dreadful he felt of my experiences. She however had nothing to say for it, knowing nothing short than my absence. I mumbled my own condolences to myself as I stepped in the warm watered bath she had prepare for me, sinking into tub with a refreshed soul. The maid walked in and out of the small room, the air sweeping in from my bedchamber balcony. She handed me soap and fragrance for my hair, helped wash my face of dirt and grime. She quickly ushered herself out of the room, leaving a towel and new soft wool clothes. I floated soundly in the water, my skin soaking in with the cooling liquid. A soft closing door made me raise my head, sharp ears listening for the sounds of voices.
"How is she?" the voice was a crisp feminine, I instantly recognized Briseis.
"She will be fine, hopefully…" the next was Hector. He shuffled his weight from one foot to the other. "Father, she was dazed, mumbling incoherent words when I came in."
"Oh and no doubt." Priam had walked to the balcony, the sound of his feet drifting to the other end of the room. "After what she has been through, it will take a long time for her to heal, spiritually. She never looked up to and loved a man like her father." His demurely voice was full of pity, a tired tone that gained in convalescence made me shameful knowing the king had spent the night up by Hector's worry.
"What happened?" Briseis curiosity got the better of her. Priam walked briskly back to her.
"Nothing my dear. Now why don't you help Aldreana get dressed?" A knock rapped on the door, but Briseis took no moment to wait and entered. Her wavy ebony hair draped over her shoulders in neatly brushed waves. She smiled sweetly at me as she offered me the towel. Spinning on her heel, she waited for me to wrap myself in the itching fabric, dry myself and slip into the light wool cream colored gown before turning back around to face me.
"It's good to have you back Aldreana," she whispered politely and instantly pushed me down in the chair to comb my sopping hair. The curls in my light hair were already bouncing back, much to my dismay. Briseis began speaking again, but my mind was still trapped in the conversation in the other room.
"What exactly happened father?" the derisive, non-caring voice made me cringe as Paris inquired the meanings of my presence. "The kingdom is still in search of her father."
"They won't find him," Hector retorted back with, lifting my heart as he defended me once more from Paris and his accusations towards my family. Paris shifted away from his brother.
"Are you saying she killed-"
"Hush Paris!" Priam hissed with a shushing voice. My head dropped with the king's quick replies to silence my crime. "The child has been through more than most people."
"She kills in cold blood and you let her come back. Hector, you should have left her where you found her, where she can rot with her blasphemous father." His contemptuous tone made me spring up from my seat and run out the door. Paris came into full view and before the men registered the action, even Briseis open mouthed in the other room, I had Paris pinned against the wall.
"You speak of me like I'm nothing more than a pig in the stocks. I killed my father to save your lives." I pushed him with all my strength, but the force took away all my adrenaline and I as well fell backwards. Hector caught me before I met the cold floor. Tears had come to my eyes, but my heart was so hurt and full of disbelief and confusion I let them fall. Hector shushed my sobs, glaring at Paris. The young man fixed his wrinkled shirt and huffed out of the room. Priam folded his hands behind his back as Hector helped me to my feet, Briseis looking down at the floor but offering her help as she paced with me back to the soft bed.
"My feelings for Paris never changed after. I will always consider him a stuck up, selfish prince. Briseis remained by my side, I as her handmaid. Hector seemed to worry for me and soon brought me along where he could keep a watchful eye on me. That was how I was brought up into the trade of late as a spy. Hector went against it when Priam offered me more than just dark corners to watch from, but I told him that I was happy doing a service for Troy. And now that service has been severed, my life is now not laid down for any princes or kings of any country. I'm free to do what I wish." I finished the story short, leaving out the confrontations with Paris, the cautious need he had to see me where my father was, laying on dirt floor with a dagger wound in my chest. I left out Myles and Hector, that one that the prince and I shared creeping back into my mind. Patroclus made sure I was over and done with. He smiled slightly.
"So that's it, the mysterious Aldreana is solved." My brow crinkled at his mock attitude. He kissed my forehead. "One day that story will be legend, I swear. And I will protect you from any dangers and make sure the legend lives on, forever." I playfully pulled on another string, my fingers curling around the clasp of his jerkin and opening it. The thick fabric blew away in the wind, exposing his toned chest. I ran my fingers down the creases in his skin. He twirled a curl that escaped my hair.
Patroclus suddenly became serious. "Hector was a great man to you then?" I nodded.
"After my father, I looked to him as my hero, the man I grew to love. He cared for me like no other man. I grew to love him with all my heart, the coldness of my transgression and misdeed melting away because of him." I inclined my head and watched Patroclus confused slightly, but grinning still. "I will never forget Hector once I leave." Patroclus's head snapped back.
"Leave?" he asked quickly, sternly. I nodded again, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Eudorus told me Achilles' orders. You live tomorrow, and I go with you. Troy is a past that never should have happened. I do not want that to be my future either. I go with you Patroclus, you and only you." I couldn't resist any longer and quickly kissed him to spur up the moment. Patroclus cradled my head in his strong hands.
"This is a war the world will never forget. I have angered Achilles and startled you with my constant will for battle. But this war would have been bleak, miserable in my eyes had not been for you." My heart melted, touched by his words. Patroclus took a deep sigh, licking his lips with nervousness. "Achilles asked me when we first came here who I fight for. I told him I fight for him, my leader and my king. But Aldreana, of all the people he could have asked for, I would have responded with you. I fight for you Aldreana, and you alone."