The Trojan Princess (28 page)

           
When Philomena entered the chambers, Andromache knew that she must have yet to
hear the good news, for she looked sullen as she crossed the marble floor to
them.

           
“A smile should be upon your face!” Ilisa cried to her, hugging her too, “How
is it that you have not heard this joyous news? You usually are the first to
hear of anything!”

           
Philomena’s frown did not alter and Andromache went to her.

           
“Is anything amiss?” she asked her maid, seeing that her maid seemed pale.

           
“I have heard the talk of peace,” Philomena said, her voice strangely flat,
“And yet I do not understand how it can be.”

           
“A truce has been reached,” Andromache told her. “Helen is to return –”

           
“I beg your pardon, princess, but that cannot be so,” Philomena interrupted
her, and Andromache was shocked that her maid would show such lack of manners,
yet her maid did not apologize, but continued, shaking her head, ignoring the
anger on Ilisa’s face. “For I do not know how Princess Helen can be returned to
her husband when –” She stopped.

           
Andromache and Ilisa exchanged bewildered looks, as Philomena bit on her lips
so that she may stop herself from crying.

           
“What is this you speak of?” Andromache urged her.

           
Ilisa stroked her arm, and Philomena turned to the princess.

           
“I have seen Helen, not in the dungeons as she was supposed to be,” Philomena
said.

           
“We must inform the council at once!” Andromache cried.

           
“I fear that it is too late,” Philomena said. “For the princess was accompanied
by Diephobus, the royal prince.”

           
Andromache felt fear wash over her, for she felt sure that no news concerning
the sly prince could be good.

           
“You saw Diephobus with Helen?” Andromache asked, remembering seeing Diephobus
entering the dungeons after she had departed them. “Did you see where they were
going?”

           
She shook Philomena by the shoulders, desperate for answers, so that all hope
might not be lost. Philomena looked into her face and Andromache saw she was
scared.

           
“I do not know where they were going,” she answered. “But I know where they had
been.”

           
Andromache and Ilisa looked at her as Philomena wiped at her eyes.

           
“They had been in the temple,” Philomena said. “Helen and Diephobus have been
married this night; so how can King Priam seek to send her to the Greeks and
bring peace?”

           
Andromache saw no lie on her face and fear gripped at her heart.

*
* *

           
Andromache knew that there was no time to spare if there was to be any hope of
salvaging the peace that King Priam and King Menelaus had come to. She sent
Ilisa to find Helenus at once, and the maid rushed out of the room, her face
serious, for she knew the importance of this grave matter, as did Andromache.
Philomena composed herself, for seeing the fear upon the princess’s face
brought her to her senses, and Andromache sent her to warn the guards at the
entrance to the palace that nobody was to leave the palace yet.

           
Alone in her chambers, Andromache took a short moment to take a deep breath and
steady her nerves, for she knew what she must do and where she would discover
Diephobus and his new bride. She too departed her chambers and hurried along
the corridors and up stairwells until she found herself outside of Diephobus’
chambers.

           
She had never had cause to enter the prince’s chambers before, nor did she wish
to do so now, for she knew what she would find upon entering. She rapped hard
upon the door and heard muffled voices from within. Without waiting for the
door to be opened, she threw herself inside and stared aghast at the sight
before her.

           
Diephobus had climbed out of the large bed, draped in silks of exquisite
colours, and was pulling his robes over himself for she knew that he had been
naked but a moment ago. Lying upon the bed in a tangle of sheets, Helen looked
at her with a curved smile upon her lips, golden hair washed and braided,
cascading down her neck to her bare breasts. If any doubt over Philomena’s
recounting had plagued Andromache, it was gone now, for she knew that the
prince and the golden widow must indeed have married and that she was too late
to stop them from consummating it.

           
“What have you done?” Andromache demanded, unsure of which of them she sought an
answer from.

           
It was Diephobus who answered her.

           
“I have made Helen my wife,” he said, and his voice held no hint of regret,
though surely he must know that in this selfish action he had dashed any hope
of peace with King Menelaus. He finished securing his robes about him, and sat
upon the bed beside Helen, clasping her hands in his. “She can no longer be
sent forth from the palace with Menelaus.”

           
Andromache shook her head, mouth agape, as she struggled to comprehend it.

           
“Do you not care that your father has secured peace for the city?” Andromache
asked, her voice rising with her anger. “Do you wish to see this city utterly
destroyed?”

           
Diephobus rose to his feet and walked around the bed so that he might approach
Andromache, though she took a step backward, fearful of him.

           
“You fear me?” Diephobus asked, shaking his head sadly. “No, Andromache, you
must not fear me, or Helen. We do not seek to harm you, nor this great city of
ours.”

           
“Then why have you ruined any hope of peace for us?” Andromache asked.

           
“King Agamemnon will never allow peace,” Diephobus said, his voice gentle and
reproaching, as if he were disappointed that Andromache did not already know
such a thing to be true. “And King Menelaus is weak and foolish, for who else
would wage such a long and costly war just to reclaim a wife he does not love
and only seeks out of pride? Menelaus may talk of peace, but he will be easily
swayed by his brother, and Priam’s truce will mean nothing to him. Why else do
you think Agamemnon is not here?”

           
Andromache did not know what to say, or how to reason with such a man. She was
saved the need when the door burst open again and Helenus entered, face flushed
from sprinting through the palace to the chambers. He took in the scene before
him with widening eyes and looked crestfallen as his eyes settled upon his
brother.

           
“You absolute fool!” Helenus declared his brother. “You selfish man, you seek
to fulfil your own carnal pleasures over the safety and future of our entire
city?”

           
A leer came to Diephobus’ lips.

           
“You, my brother, are the fool,” he said. “I did not marry Helen for pleasure,
though her beauty brings me great joy. I did this to save our father from
making a mistake, and so that our city may hope to seek allegiance with
Sparta.”

           
“You have married yourself to the wife of Sparta’s king!” Helenus shouted. “How
can you hope for an alliance with such a man?”

           
“It is Helen who is the rightful ruler of Sparta,” Diephobus reproved him.
“King Menelaus is a false king – merely her consort - and he has no claim to
the throne now that Helen has discarded him. Her father, Tyndareus, though aged
and abdicated, will no doubt support his own daughter’s claim to the throne and
dismiss Menelaus’, do you not think?”

           
Helenus’ eyes narrowed.

           
“You mean to wage war for a throne in Sparta?” Helenus asked, shaking his head.
“Have you forgotten, brother, that we claim no victory in the war at our city
gates?”

           
“You do not understand the importance of this marriage,” Diephobus said,
gesturing to himself and Helen. “You are a soldier, brother, and not a thinker.
Paris was a fool not to think of such a thing when he married my dearest Helen.
I will not make the same mistake.”

           
“You have not thought of anything but yourself!” Helenus said. He turned to
Helen, who showed no embarrassment at baring her naked breasts before her new
husband’s brother. “And you?” Helenus asked, “Of what benefit is this marriage
to you?”

           
Helen laughed, and Andromache imagined it vindictive and cold.

           
“What benefit to me, you ask? Look around, Helenus, for I lay here in these
mighty chambers, my husband a royal prince and my future secure within this
palace until such a time as we reclaim my crown in Sparta,” Helen said, her
eyes flickering between Helenus and Andromache. “Only hours ago, I was in a
dark cell far beneath our feet, with nobody caring for my life nor my
interests, and my future certain to be grim and painful when your father passed
me back to Menelaus as if I were not a princess and a queen, but an object to
be bartered!”

           
Her eyes glimmered with malice now, Andromache was sure of it, and she felt at
once a fool for believing that this woman was a victim, that perhaps she needed
a friend or  support. She wondered how long Helen had plotted and schemed
with this odious prince and if she herself had somehow been manipulated by this
cold woman who lay before her.

           
Andromache knew that there was to be no treaty, for surely King Priam could not
send Helen away with Menelaus now that she was married to Diephobus. Helenus
seemed to have thought this too, for even now, faced with their defiance, he
sought to find a way.

           
“Who was witness to this marriage?” Helenus demanded. “And which priest
performed such a rite without the king’s consent?”

           
If Diephobus or Helen felt any remorse they did not show it. Andromache went
from the chambers then, hardly able to breath – such a short time ago she had
been ecstatic that peace was to descend – and now she knew that even more war
loomed ever closer.

*
* *

           
Andromache did not sleep well and she could not face leaving her chambers when
morning came, for she knew that King Menelaus was to learn of Diephobus and
Helen’s unsanctioned marriage and that his rage would be terrifying to behold,
and that all hope would be wiped from the faces of those who eventually
witnessed him storm from the palace.

           
Indeed Philomena and Ilisa saw King Menelaus from the windows as he raged
across the courtyard, barking orders to his advisors in a furious voice. When
returned to Andromache’s side and told her of this, Andromache knew she had
been right not to go down to the great hall, for she felt enough sadness that
she did not wish to add to it further.

           
At once news spread of King Menelaus’ angry departure from the palace and none
who had seen his exit could fail to realise that the peace talks had gone sour
and that the city was still in a state of war.

           
Diephobus and Helen did not venture forth from his chambers, and Andromache
thought it wise of them, for there were surely hundreds within the palace and
thousands in the wider city that would gladly have ripped the husband and wife
limb from limb for the renewed grief that they had caused the city as word
spread of their marriage.

           
Andromache too remained in her chambers, not for fear of reprisal but for the
simple fact that she could not bear to look upon so many disappointed faces.
Looking at her two maids’ grieving looks alone was enough, and she did not wish
to add her own misery to the thick cloud of despair and exhaustion that
lingered in every corner of the palace on this day.

           
In the aftermath of Diephobus and Helen’s marriage, Andromache and the rest of
the city waited for the consequences of such an unsanctioned action and fear
was rife that King Menelaus’ wrath would be ferocious.

           
Helenus thought to strike at the Greek camp fast, before Menelaus had time to
attack first, but King Priam and the council did not wish to suffer further
casualties, nor provoke further enmity from the king, so they dismissed such
proactive measures and were satisfied to wait behind the safety of the great
walls and wait to see what would befall them.

           
Though no Greek army descended upon the walls, Andromache watched from the
ramparts as activity filled the camps in the distance, for she could see that
something was happening, though what it might be she did not know. Some ships
were being hauled out of the sea and dragged upon the shore where teams of men
seemed to be dismantling them and using the wood to build another structure.

           
“Perhaps it is a great wooden tower?” Ilisa asked, voice quivering. “So that
they might enter from atop the walls instead of seek to go through them?”

           
“No, it looks nothing like a tower,” Philomena chastised her, shaking her head.

           
“So what do you think it is, then?” Ilisa demanded of her.

           
Philomena had no answer and neither did Andromache.

           
Whilst the Greeks upon the shore continued with their mysterious activity,
Andromache sought ways to distract herself from her thoughts on what was
happening in the camps. Astyanax seemed to age before her eyes, and Andromache
felt renewed fear that he would soon be called upon to fight or to take a place
in the council, even though he was still young in her eyes. He no longer sought
her to soothe his fears, and Andromache knew that this was a dangerous time for
them both. He was as yet too young to understand the innermost workings of the
councilmen and the city, but he was of an age where he was overconfident and
believed himself smarter and more knowledgeable than he truly was – even if
Andromache conceded that he was smart for a young boy.

           
“I will let no harm come to him,” Helenus persistently reassured her, though
Andromache still thought of how Diephobus had sought to dismiss Helenus and
seek power for himself, although at least he seemed distracted in his marriage
to Helen, for the time being.

           
Diephobus and Helen, though married, had not sought the approval of King Priam,
and as such it was a secret that was kept within the palace walls, though
Andromache was sure that talk must have spread beyond to the city at large.

           
Helenus was insistent that King Priam could still name the marriage as
unsanctioned and send Helen back to Menelaus to end the war, but King Priam, in
his age and at the behest of his wife, he did not seek to do so and instead
wished for Diephobus and Helen to be married in the eyes of the public and set
about throwing a marriage ceremony in which the city could share in the
celebrations, so that no more rumours may continue.

           
Andromache sensed Helenus’ frustration with such a decision, and she knew that
many within the palace shared in his disapproval of King Priam’s actions.

           
It was a long month as Diephobus and Helen’s public marriage ceremony was
prepared and Andromache could not bring herself to soften towards them, for
even as the city despaired they shared a bed in Diephobus’ chambers and Helen,
free from her cell and with royal titles returned to her, appeared more
conceited than even she had before.

           
With so much to occupy her mind within the palace, Andromache spared little
thought to what was being constructed within the Greek camps on the shoreline,
but as the mysterious object took shape she could not help but discuss such
matters with her maids, for it was clear to all who looked upon it that the
Greeks had built a great wooden horse, far larger than any statue, wooden or
otherwise, that Andromache had ever seen.

           
She went out upon the ramparts with what seemed to be the entire royal
household as a swathe of Greek soldiers dragged the huge wooden horse up the
sands towards the city, ropes fraying and men cursing. It was three days before
the horse finally stood before the gates, for all of the city to see.

           
A messenger called through the gates to the people within the walls.

           
“King Menelaus seeks to offer this great statue as a token of his regret for
this war, which has claimed so many from both sides and has so shadowed the
lives of so many,” the messenger said. “It is a gift for all within the city;
for King Priam and the royals, and for the people who have offered their lives
to fight for this city. It is a gift for all.”

           
 The men departed then, returning to their camp, leaving much discussion
behind them as to whether or not the huge gift should be accepted. Andromache
felt uneasy, for she had heard of King Menelaus’ rage and did not understand
why he would grant such a gift.

           
“It is for the council to decide,” King Priam proclaimed.

           
The horse remained outside the gates, but before the council could converse in
their chambers, a great, excited clamour arose from the ramparts. Andromache
held her breath as if she dare not believe such a thing was happening.

           
Greek ships were sailing from the shore, sails flying in the wind, not one nor
two but the whole vast army seemed to be leaving. The camps had been dismantled
or simply abandoned, and Andromache watched as they sailed across the sea and
out of sight.

*
* *

           
There was much to be discussed in the council chambers and yet Diephobus
remained quiet as the other men spoke of the mighty wooden horse left at their
gate and the departing ships that signalled an end to the war. Though he
thought much on both matters, he did not wish to draw attention upon himself,
for he knew that he stood on dangerous ground. Having married Helen, he had
made himself much hated within the palace, and though his father had strived to
stop word of the marriage from spreading out beyond the walls to the city, he
knew that people whispered of it in their homes and in the streets.

           
He did not regret his marriage; for surely it was advantageous for him to have
a wife who could claim the throne of Sparta for her own, and if he had not
freed her from the dungeons and married her when he had, she would surely have
been sent back to the camps with Menelaus and his hopes for power would have
turned to ash. Yet Helenus, already so opposed to him after his attempts to
overthrow him and dismiss him from the council, seemed further angered by his
actions; and though Diephobus tried to assure himself that it was simply
jealousy that Helenus felt – for he too had offered his hand to Helen – he knew
that his brother was suspicious of him and he did not like such attentions upon
himself.

           
“We cannot refuse such a gift,” Polites said of the horse. “Let us accept it;
for the Greeks have sailed from our shores, and can now do us no harm.”

           
“Yet why do they leave?” Helenus asked. “King Menelaus’ rage was immense when
he left the city,” he said, glaring pointedly at Diephobus. “So why would he
not wish to avenge himself upon us and look to return home without his wife,
whom he has fought for so many years to reclaim?”

           
“Let us not try to fathom the mind of such a man,” Laocoon said. “It is surely
enough that they have left, is it not?”

           
And so the discussions went on for hours more. Antenor was quiet, and Diephobus
knew that he did not wish to impose his views upon the council until they had
spoken in private, for Antenor spoke only of what Diephobus paid him in gold to
speak; his views were whatever Diephobus told him they should be.

           
Noting Diephobus’ silence, King Priam turned to him.

           
“Have you nothing to say on this matter, as you have been so forthcoming in
other matters of late?” he demanded of him.

           
Diephobus took a moment to gather his thoughts.

           
“I apologize, father, for my mind has been preoccupied of late,” he said, bowing,
and ignoring Helenus’ dark looks. “I think it would be wise to be cautious of
anything that Menelaus bestows upon us.”

           
King Priam nodded.

           
“Let us discuss such matters later,” Priam declared. “I am tired of this
meeting.”

           
So the council was dismissed, but before Diephobus could go to Antenor, Helenus
caught his arm and drew him close. Diephobus looked around, but they were quite
alone in the council chambers and he looked upon his brother’s scornful eyes,
and panic flickered.

           
“Take your hands from me,” Diephobus said, his voice unwavering, despite the
nerves that he felt at his brother’s look. “I have business to see to.”

           
“I have no doubt that you do,” Helenus said, “Is it only Antenor that you bribe
with gold to add his vote to your own? Or is Laocoon too on your payroll?”

           
Diephobus tried to keep his face expressionless, but his arm trembled and
Helenus, still holding it in his grip, felt the tremor for he smiled wickedly.

           
“Perhaps I shall see what Antenor has to say about such matters,” Helenus said,
removing his hand from his brother’s arm and walking away. “I could bring our
father with me, for maybe he will be as interested as I am in what Antenor
might be willing to divulge?”

           
Helenus departed from the room and Diephobus took a deep breath to calm
himself, though his mind flew to dark thoughts at the possibility of King Priam
learning of his duplicity. He had no doubt that Helenus, in his anger towards
him, would seek to have him thrown in the dungeons.

No,
Diephobus thought, he could not allow Helenus to question Antenor.

*
* *

           
Andromache watched Helen approach her upon the ramparts and dismissed her
maids, for she did not wish Ilisa and Philomena to hear what may be discussed
between them. Helen watched the women pass her, ignoring the looks they gave
her, and came to Andromache with head bowed, though Andromache knew she meant
none of the respect she sought to convey.

           
“Do you have a moment to talk with me?” Helen asked.

           
Andromache looked at the woman once more a royal princess and did not know what
to make of her. She had tried to reach out to her, yet the woman had done
everything in her power to bring about destruction and discord to the city.

           
“I have only a moment,” Andromache answered, not wishing to be in the woman’s
presence for long. It made her angry and she did not wish her day to be
spoiled.

           
“You have heard, I do not doubt, that my marriage is to be celebrated as befits
that of a royal prince and a queen?” Helen asked. Andromache did indeed know
that there was to be a public ceremony, so that the unsanctioned marriage might
be covered up to save the royal family from scandal. At her look, Helen took
her assumption to be correct. “The royal princesses do not wish to attend,
though I feel sure that they will feel compelled to do so when Diephobus and
the king implore upon them the importance of such harmony amongst us.”

           
“I do not follow your meaning,” Andromache said. “If the royal princesses do
not wish to attend your ceremony, I fail to see what business that is of mine.”

           
“I simply wished to convey my hopes, in person, that you will consent to being
present at such a public ceremony,” Helen said. Andromache then knew what the
princess wanted; she wished for her to attend the ceremony so that the people
might know that she supported them, for as mother to the Heir Apparent she represented
not only herself but  her son, who would one day be king.

           
Andromache saw that Helen was anxious, for she needed this marriage to be
sanctioned and to be accepted or else she had betrayed the people once more for
no gain.

           
“I cannot consent to be present at such an occasion,” Andromache said.

           
Helen’s lips pursed and anger flickered within her eyes, though Andromache was
not afraid of such a woman, not when the palace held her in such disregard.

           
“You think to shame me and my husband for our haste,” Helen said.

           
“No, not for your haste,” Andromache answered. “And I do not seek to shame you,
nor your husband, for in marrying as you did you brought the shame wholly upon
yourselves. I do not consent to attend for I believe it is a great dishonour
and I shall play no role in deceiving the people of this city into thinking
otherwise.”

           
Helen was shocked by her words, but Andromache did not care, and she swept past
the golden princess and did not look back, though she felt Helen’s furious gaze
upon her back as she departed.