Andromache already knows of the battle and its aftermath.
She was there on the beach.’
‘I envy you,’ said Hekabe. ‘I would like to have watched those Mykene burn.
Heartless dogs every one of them. I never met a Mykene I liked – nor one I trusted.’
‘Tell mother about the disguise,’ said Laodike. ‘One of my servants heard it from a crewman.’
‘Disguise?’ echoed Hekabe, her brows furrowing.
‘To escape assassins on the cliff,’ said Laodike. ‘It was very clever. Tell her, Helikaon.’
‘It was a small matter. I knew the killers were waiting for me, so I bribed one of Kygones’ guards and borrowed his armour. Nothing dramatic, I fear. I merely walked past the Mykene.’ He suddenly chuckled. ‘One of them even called me over to ask if I had seen Helikaon.’
‘You were dressed as a guard?’ said Andromache. ‘Did you perchance lose your sandal on the beach?’
‘Yes. The strap broke. How odd you should know that.’
‘Not at all. I saw you.’
Laodike looked at her young friend. Her face seemed very pale, and for the first time since she had known her Andromache seemed tense and ill at ease. ‘It was a cheap sandal,’ said Helikaon.
‘Tell me of the ship,’ demanded Hekabe. ‘I have always loved tales of ships.’
Laodike sat quietly as Helikaon spoke of the Xanthos, and the Madman from Miletos who designed and built her. He talked of her seaworthiness, and how she danced upon the waters like a queen of the sea. He told them of the storm, and how the ship weathered it. Laodike was lost in the wonder of it all. She dreamed of sailing far away from Troy, to live on a green island, where no-one would ever call her a stupid girl, or demand that she recite the names of lands she would never visit.
Towards dusk Hekabe complained of tiredness, and two servants were summoned to carry her back into the house. Helikaon left soon after. He had intended to sail today for Dardania, but now would have to wait for the dawn. He kissed Laodike, and hugged her again. ‘She does not mean to be cruel,’ he said.
Oh yes, she does, thought Laodike, but said: ‘I am sure you are right, Helikaon.’
Kneeling beside Kassandra he said: ‘Do I get a hug from you, little friend?’
‘No.’
‘Very well,’ he told her, and began to rise.
‘I have changed my mind,’ she said haughtily. ‘I will allow you a hug because it will make you happy.’
‘That is gracious of you,’ he said. Kassandra threw her thin arms round his neck, and hugged him tightly. He kissed her cheek. ‘Friends should always hug,’
he added. Then he stood and turned towards Andromache.
‘It was good to see you again, lady,’ he said. Laodike expected him to step in and take her in his arms also, but he did not. The two of them looked at one another. Andromache’s normally stern face had softened, and there was colour in her cheeks.
‘Will you come back for the wedding?’
‘I think not. I wish you every happiness. I have always known Hektor was lucky, but now I know the gods have blessed him.’
‘But have they blessed me?’ she asked softly.
‘I hope so – with all my heart.’
‘Are you going to hug her?’ asked Kassandra. ‘You should.’
Helikaon looked uncertain, but Andromache stepped in. ‘I think we should be friends,’ she said.
‘We always will be, Andromache. You have my oath on that.’ His arms swept round her, drawing her close.
Laodike felt a sudden chill in her belly as she watched them. She saw Helikaon’s eyes close, and she heard him sigh. Sadness flowed through her. For several years now she had entertained the fantasy that father might arrange a marriage between her and Helikaon. She knew he did not love her, but she believed that if such a match was completed she could make him happy. When she heard he had refused to be wedded to the beautiful Kreusa she had been jubilant.
He had told Priam he would only marry for love. Laodike had held to the faintest hope that he might come to love her. That hope had shone like a spark in the lonely nights. Now it was extinguished. He had never held her like that.
And she knew in that moment he never would.
You will never know love, whispered the dark fear of her heart.
Andromache broke the embrace. She was flushed and seemed unsteady on her feet.
Swiftly she stepped back from Helikaon, then knelt by the slim Kassandra. ‘Can we be friends too?’ she asked.
‘Not yet,’ said Kassandra. ‘I am going to swim again. The dolphins are waiting for me.’
XX
The Temple of Hermes
i
Karpophorus was uneasy as he sat on the rooftop, staring across the Scamander river at the distant cliff-top palace. Tonight, as the sun set, the feast of Demeter, the Corn Goddess, would begin. People would give thanks for the harvests of the summer. There would be strong drink, fine wines, platters of food and huge roasting pits. People would dance and sing, and throw off their cares and worries for a day. In nine months there would be hundreds of new babes born into the world, screaming and crying. Karpophorus loathed feast days.
However, this one was special.
When he had first been called to his ministry of death he had travelled to the island of Samothraki, to seek the wisdom of a seer who dwelt there. The man was famous across the Great Green. He lived in a cave, eschewing wealth in the search for spiritual perfection. There were always scores of people thronging the hillside below the cave, offering gifts and entreaties. The seer would sit silently in the sunshine, and occasionally call someone forward. Then he would speak in low tones, and the supplicant would listen before walking away quietly through the crowd. People would call out to the supplicant, ‘What did he say?’
But always there was no answer.
Karpophorus had waited for nineteen days. On the morning of the twentieth, as he stared at the old man, he saw that the seer’s eyes were upon him. Then he was summoned. He could scarcely believe it, and glanced round to see if anyone was standing behind him. Finally he rose and walked up the hillside.
The seer was less old than he had thought. Though his beard was white his face was unlined.
Karpophorus sat cross-legged before him. ‘What wisdom do you seek?’ asked the seer.
‘I have been called to serve the Great Father,’ Karpophorus told him. ‘But I need guidance.’
‘How did this call come upon you?’
Karpophorus told him of the death of his co-worker, and of his realization that he was to serve the great god by sending souls on the long journey.
‘You think Hades requires you to kill people?’
‘Yes,’ answered Karpophorus proudly.
The man looked at him, his face expressionless, his large blue eyes holding Karpophorus’ dark gaze. ‘How many have you killed now?’
‘Nine.’
‘Wait, while I commune with the spirits,’ said the seer, then closed his eyes.
