“As am I. I see now why Odysseus has such love for you.”
Penelope sighed. “We have been lucky. An arranged marriage that led to joys I could not have dreamed of. Others are not so lucky. But love is to be cherished wherever it is found. Sometimes, though, love can lead to great heartache and pain beyond imagining. You understand what I am saying?”
Andromache flushed. “I think that I do.”
“When you reach Troy again, bring my greetings to Hektor, a man I have always admired. A good man, a man of no malice or deceit. Tell him Penelope wishes him well.”
“I will tell him,” Andromache answered coolly, but there was anger in her eyes.
“Do not misunderstand me, my dear,” Penelope went on. “I do not judge you, but we have spoken now, and I know you better. You are not sly or capricious, and the path you are walking will eat away at your spirit. Odysseus told me of Helikaon’s love for you. He tells me everything.”
Andromache’s anger faded. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“Come inside. We will sit and talk,” Penelope told her.
In the queen’s apartments a fire had been lit, and they sat together on a couch. Andromache talked of her first meeting with Helikaon and of the battle in Priam’s palace. She spoke of Halysia and Dex. She told Penelope of Helikaon’s sickness and the wound that would not heal.
“Then, one night, his fever broke,” she said.
“And you were with him?”
“Yes.” Andromache looked away.
“And no one else?”
Andromache nodded, and a silence grew between them. Penelope did not break it but sat quietly, waiting. Andromache took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hektor is a good man and my friend,” she said. “He loves my son.”
The shock of the words struck Penelope, though she did not show it. He loves my son.
“Does Helikaon know?”
“Know what?”
“That he is the father of your child?”
Andromache’s eyes widened as she realized what she had given away. “No, and he must not! He cannot! All his life he has been racked by guilt, first about his mother, who killed herself in front of him, then because he could not save little Dio, then Halysia. This news would only cause him more torment.”
“Be calm, Andromache. We are friends, you and I. No word will come from me. Not even to Odysseus. I promise you. Does Hektor know?”
“Yes, I told him from the very first,” Andromache replied, the words barely audible. “But only he and I know, and now you. But it is vital that it does not get back to Priam. He would kill Astyanax and me and hunt down Helikaon, too, if he could. It is better this way. It is the only way. But it is so hard,” she whispered.
“Oh, my dear, I am sorry for your heartache. But you must make a decision, and there is only one to make. You know what it is.”
Andromache nodded, and tears began to fall. Penelope leaned in and put her arm around the younger woman’s shoulder. There was nothing more to say.
On the beach below, Helikaon’s crew was loading supplies.
“You are heading for the Seven Hills?” Odysseus asked. Helikaon looked at him but did not answer. Odysseus understood his friend’s reluctance to speak of his plans. Despite the rescue of Penelope, they were still enemies.
“I’ll not betray you, lad,” the older man said. “Surely you know that.”
Helikaon nodded. “I know. The madness of war affects us all. Yes, I am going there. What will I find? Are my men still alive, Odysseus?”
“Of course they are. It hurts me that you need to ask. When this war began, I gathered all the people together and told them I would suffer no enmities, no feuds. There are brigands and nomadic bands of tribesmen moving through the land. There are raiders of the sea. They have enough enemies to fight without warring among themselves.
“All is well there, Helikaon, and you will be welcomed as a friend by all the people. I take it you seek tin.”
“Yes. We will need all we can find.”
“There are stores there. Take whatever you can carry.”
As they spoke, Bias came walking up to them. Helikaon looked up as he approached, recalling the hatred in the man’s voice the last time they had met.
“I hope you burn, and your Death Ship with you.”
He did not look at Helikaon but spoke with Odysseus. “We have loaded most of the supplies you ordered,” he reported, “but the pirates have left us with scant reserves.”
“Tomorrow you can sail for Pylos,” Odysseus said, “and trade for more with Nestor’s people.”
Bias nodded but did not leave. The silence grew; then he took a deep breath and looked at Helikaon. “I do not take back what I said, Helikaon. But I thank you for coming to our aid.” Without waiting for a reply, he walked away.
“A good man but unforgiving,” Odysseus said.
Helikaon shrugged. “Forgiveness should never be given lightly. How is Penelope?”
“She is strong, far stronger than I. But I do not want to speak of what she must have suffered before we arrived. To think of it fills me with a rage I can hardly control.
“You spoke of the madness of war, and this attack on Ithaka is an example of it. The son of Donkey Face wanted revenge, but even without that, the pirates and raiders are growing in strength. As we gather to destroy Troy, our own kingdoms are neglected. When we conquer—and we will conquer, Helikaon—what will we come back to? I fear this conflict will consume us all. There will be no victors then, and even the treasury of Troy will not contain enough gold to rebuild what we have lost.”
Helikaon looked at his old friend. There was more silver than red now in his hair and beard, and his face was lined and anxious.
“All that you say is true, Odysseus, save for the treasury of Troy. I have not seen Priam’s hoard of gold, but it would have to be mountainous to maintain the expense of this war. Gold passes from the city every day to hire mercenaries, to bribe allies. And there is little coming in now; the traders are leaving. If the fighting goes on much longer and you do take the city, you may find nothing of real worth.”
“The thought had occurred to me,” Odysseus told him, nodding. “If that proves true, then we are all doomed to poverty and ruin.”
He sighed again and looked into Helikaon’s blue eyes. “I hope I do not find you in Troy when we take the city.”
“Where else would I be, Odysseus? The woman I love will be there, and I will protect her with my life.”
“I fear for you, lad.” Odysseus looked suddenly weary. “You and Hektor are the two greatest fighting men of Troy,” he said, his voice low. “What will happen, do you think, when he discovers his wife is your lover?”
Helikaon pulled angrily away. Then his shoulders sagged. “Is it so obvious?”
“Aye, it is when you never stand close to her in a room or look at her when you are in company, when you stare at the floor whenever she speaks but leave for your rooms within heartbeats of each other. Before long—if not already—there will not be a man among your crew who does not suspect.”
Odysseus laid his hand on Helikaon’s shoulder. “Take her back to Troy, then leave the city. Defend the north, hold open the trade routes, fight battles at sea. But stay away from her, lad, or I fear for the future of you both.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE PEASANT AND THE PRINCESS
The winter was the harshest that anyone living in Troy could recall. Storms blown down from the north brought icy sleet and then, remarkably, snow. Icicles formed on windows and walls, and out on the pastures north of the city, sheep, trapped in snowdrifts, froze to death. Blizzards raged for twenty days, and even when they passed, the routes remained blocked.