For the Most Beautiful (37 page)

I was sitting in Achilles' hut, tending the small altar to Apollo – a bronze brazier for burning incense – when I heard the sound of the army marching back through the camp. I knew at once, from the silence, that something was wrong.

My fingers went cold. I dropped the incense and stood, walked over and pushed open the door.

The soldiers were returning to their huts, unlacing their bloodied breastplates and dropping their spears and swords, their shoulders bent, eyes turned to the ground as if they would not look each other in the face and see the recognition of what had happened there.

‘What – what is it?' I asked, my voice high and unnatural in the silence that had fallen over the camp, like a dense mist. ‘Did we lose?'

They would not look at me, any of them. I saw Ajax push open the door to his hut and disappear behind it into the darkness.

‘What happened?' I said again.

A soldier nearby – young, from his unlined brow and the light beard upon his chin, though his eyes spoke of years beyond his age – met my eyes at last. ‘Achilles,' he said, his voice hoarse. ‘He's—'

‘No,' I whispered. ‘No …'

‘He's dead,' the soldier said, and he turned away.

I looked around at the men, the men he had served with and led, whose lives depended on him. ‘It's not possible,' I mumbled. ‘He couldn't die. He wasn't meant to die.'

But the soldiers were wrapped in concern for their own lives, their own loss, and they did not listen.

I turned back towards the hut, numb. The deep, desperate ache inside me was more than grief. It was emptiness, desolation, as if Death surrounded me on all sides, encircling me with his dark, spreading wings, waiting, waiting to take all those I loved, and in the centre of it all, I stood on the shore, watching them fall away, waiting for when he would take me too.

The hut was dark and empty when I opened the door. On Achilles' bed, the blankets were still tumbled over the fleeces as he had left them that morning when he went out to war. We had not lain together since that first night, the night before the plague came and I was taken to Agamemnon's tent. Indeed, since I had returned, Achilles had hardly looked at me, or I at him. Patroclus' death had changed us both. He had become like a man possessed, a man without thought for anything but war and killing and blood-fury. Could I still have seen in him the man who had told me that he, too, was a slave to his fate?

No. Not any more.

That man had gone. He had been destroyed, like a ripe crop of wheat flattened in a summer storm, when he had laid eyes upon Patroclus' dead body. As something within me, too, had broken that day. We were, neither of us, what we had been.

I felt the tears start in my eyes and leant against the doorpost, brushing them away fiercely with the linen of my tunic. I looked around the deserted hut, at Patroclus' empty pallet, Achilles' empty bed.

Mynes.

Patroclus.

Achilles.

I said their names only in my thoughts: husband, friend, lover. All of them in the shadowy caverns of the Land of the Dead.

I let out a sob and cradled my head in my hands, the tears leaking through my fingers.

I could not believe that he, too, was gone.

That I was alone in the world of men once more.

Many weeks after Hector's death had rocked Troy to its foundations, Cassandra and I were in the herb garden, gathering fragrant lavender and marjoram leaves with the women of her chambers. My father had not yet returned from Didyma, and I had kept to Cassandra's rooms as much as I could, hiding myself from the king among the many serving women and slaves of the women's quarters. Cassandra was pale and quiet, and I often saw tears glinting in the corners of her eyes. I, on the other hand, could not grieve. I felt empty, betrayed. If only Hector had
listened
to me … If only …

I felt the frustration of it all building up inside me until it became almost unbearable.

‘Oh, what does it
matter
?' I burst out. I dashed the neat handfuls of marjoram to the ground, scattering them over the lines of ordered herbs, their names carefully marked on small chips of wood. ‘What does it matter, when nothing we do makes any
difference
?'

Cassandra set down her basket of lavender, her eyes wide. ‘Krisayis …'

‘No!' I shouted. It was too much to bear, after all I had done, that Hector should still have died. That he had refused to listen to me. That Cassandra had lost her brother and Troy its greatest protector, and that everything I had tried to do had not prevented it. ‘How can you suffer it? How can you bear that no one listens to you, that you cannot make any difference to the world but simply pass through it like a shadow, a slave to the passions of men and gods?'

I was pacing around the rows of plants now, my feet treading indiscriminately on paved gravel and fragrant green leaves. ‘I told you what Apulunas said, Cassandra! He told me that the war is nothing but a game to the gods!'

I turned to face her.

‘If Apulunas was telling the truth, and the gods are the same for us and for the Greeks, why should they care any more for us than they do for them? Cassandra – what if the gods have decided that Troy shall fall, and there is nothing we can do?'

‘Nothing you can do?' Cassandra said fiercely, taking me by the shoulders, her blue eyes blazing. ‘You risked your life in the Greek camp to pass information back to Troy. This is not nothing, Krisayis! Or do you think that the lives of even a few Trojans are not worth saving?' She glared at me, her fingers tight against my shoulders.

I held her gaze defiantly. Then I let out my breath and dropped my eyes. ‘No – you are right, Cassandra. One man returned alive to his wife and home is worth – is worth all that I have done. It is just that—'

There was a sound of running feet in the corridor beyond the herb garden. We both turned, our breath catching in our throats. What new calamity had now befallen us?

‘Princess Cassandra!' a voice called. A messenger was coming into view between the pillars that separated the garden from the corridor beyond. He was breathing hard, his face red and alight with excitement. ‘News from your father! You are to come to the walls immediately. Achilles has been killed!'

I turned to stare at Cassandra, and found her gazing back at me. ‘Killed?' I asked, my pulse racing at my throat. ‘How?'

The messenger was hopping on the spot in his excitement and barely looked at me as he said, ‘Prince Paris shot an arrow through his heel.'

I stared at him, then laughed aloud.

Cassandra took me by the arms and we whirled each other around.

‘He is dead! Achilles is dead, at last!'

We came to a stop, dizzy and panting, breathless with laughter and giddy with the sudden happiness of the news.

The messenger was still hesitating by the colonnade, clearly anxious to be gone. ‘Shall I escort you to the tower, Princess?'

Cassandra shook her head, smiling, still breathing hard. ‘Tell my father we shall be there in a moment.'

The messenger left.

Cassandra's eyes were shining. ‘Krisayis – Paris must have heard what you told Hector!'

I nodded. ‘He must have! No, wait – he
did
! Prince Hector told him! And I didn't even think … didn't think …' I trailed off into silence. An idea had come into my head. Others had suggested it before … but with what I knew, it might just be possible …

And if it works …

‘Krisayis?' Cassandra asked tentatively. ‘What – what's wrong?'

I hit myself on the forehead. ‘Of course! Why didn't I think of it before?'

Cassandra was utterly puzzled. ‘Think of what?'

I was pacing up and down the gravel paths now, thinking hard. ‘Yes,' I muttered to myself. ‘Yes, it's perfect.' I turned to Cassandra. ‘Cassandra – there
is
something I can do!'

She looked at me, stunned. ‘What?'

But I had already caught her arm and turned towards the arch into the corridor. ‘Come,' I said, pulling her towards it. ‘Come. We must go to the tower. I have to see King Priam.'

‘But what about my father's orders against your return?'

‘That doesn't matter now. There is one last piece of information I think he needs.'

King Priam and Queen Hecuba were sitting on their carved wooden thrones with the blue glass dolphins, surrounded by their sons and advisers, as Cassandra and I climbed out of the staircase on to the tower. The queen turned at the sound of the door closing, and Cassandra walked over for her blessing.

‘Stand, Cassandra,' King Priam said, as she moved to kneel before him. His old face was alight with a smile. ‘Stand, and see for yourself, my dear daughter, that Achilles is dead. Our greatest foe has been defeated. Do you doubt, now, that Troy shall stand for a thousand years and more?'

I saw Cassandra's pale cheeks flush slightly.

‘Ah, daughter,' the king said, taking her hand, ‘I was only jesting. You take your prophecies seriously, I know. And yet I cannot help but defy them, when I see Achilles lying down there on the plain, his knees loosened by your own brother's arrow!'

Cassandra did not say anything in reply. Instead she turned to me where I was standing, still by the tower door. ‘My lady mother, my lord father,' she said. ‘Krisayis has something she would tell you.'

The king and queen turned towards me, seeing me for the first time as I walked across the tower towards them and knelt down.

‘
Her!
' Queen Hecuba exclaimed.

King Priam's forehead had deepened into a frown. ‘How dare you return to the city, daughter of Polydamas?' he asked, in a low, rumbling voice. ‘How dare you look upon me, when my son died because of your unworthy seduction?'

I moved to stand, my hands cold with fear but determined to say what I must, and opened my mouth to speak, but Cassandra spoke before me.

‘She was not to blame,' she said, in a high, clear voice.

King Priam stared at his daughter, disapproval etched all over his face.

‘Troilus asked her to meet him by the South Gates,' Cassandra continued. ‘I heard the messenger who delivered his request to her. Troilus wanted to run with her from Troy and had horses brought for the purpose. I have already asked the groom and Axion, the guard of the gate, and they informed me that this was entirely Troilus' plan. Ask them, my lord, and they will tell you. Krisayis had nothing to do with Troilus' death. In fact, she tried to stop him.'

Cassandra's eyes were bright as she turned to me. I smiled at her, overcome with gratitude. Then I turned towards the thrones. ‘My king,' I said, my heart beating very fast, ‘when I was in the Greek camp, I believe the herald Idaeus was bringing you information from the tent of King Agamemnon, or as much as I was able to pass him.'

The king's expression sharpened. ‘
You
were the spy among the Greeks?'

I nodded. ‘Yes.'

Queen Hecuba took a breath in, glancing over at her husband. ‘You took such a great risk, for us?'

I nodded again. ‘For Troy – yes.' There was a long pause, and I felt the eyes of the king and queen upon me, distrust and astonishment radiating from them in equal measure. ‘There is more,' I said quickly. ‘When I was with Prince Troilus in the woods outside the walls, we overheard the Greeks.' I swallowed, my throat dry. ‘They said that they had decided not to post guards within the woods, for fear that our bowmen might torch the trees. I told Idaeus as much. But it is of far greater consequence now than I thought it was when I first heard it.'

‘And why is that?' Queen Hecuba asked, her voice sharp with disapproval.

I looked directly at her. ‘My queen,' I said, ‘I know that Achilles' death makes our victory seem near. But I, too, have seen and spoken to the god Apulunas, and he has told me that Troy is fated to fall. And it is coming soon. We must do all we can to save the city.'

The king and queen exchanged glances that were heavy with suspicion.

‘You saw the Great God Apulunas?' Queen Hecuba asked, glancing from Cassandra back to me. ‘You saw him, too?'

I bowed my head. ‘Yes, my queen. It is happening. The city is about to fall. Indeed, the god Apulunas told me it has been fated to fall since before the Greek ships sailed.'

The king leant forwards upon his throne. ‘Daughter of Polydamas,' he said, and I was surprised to see that he was smiling, ‘Troy has not been captured for a thousand years. Our walls are the strongest in all the world. Our greatest enemy is dead. What makes you think that I should believe the foolish imaginings you and my daughter have conjured together in her chambers, when everything tells me that we can and
will
win this war?'

‘I do not ask that you believe me,' I said steadily. ‘All I ask is that you take precautions. I have seen how captives are treated in the Greek camp. The men are killed without mercy, the women enslaved in the beds of their lords or sent to work the silver mines in Thrace. My king, should we lose –'

King Priam shook his head in disbelief.

‘–
should
we lose,' I continued firmly, ‘the men and women who make the city of Troy what it is must be saved. For Troy is far more than its buildings and its walls. It is its
people
.'

The frown had returned to King Priam's face, but I would not be stopped.