silent and empty, save for a few stray dogs seeking scraps. She liked walking, particularly in the fresh air of the early morning, and thought she must know more about the city and its everyday life than any soldier or common worker. She knew which baker had the first loaves fresh and aromatic outside his bakery before dawn. She knew the prostitutes and their regular patrols as well as she knew those of the Trojan regiments. She knew when the first lamb was born on the hillside at the end of winter because Poimen the ancient shepherd, blessed with four generations of sons, would open his only jug of wine of the year and get rolling drunk, then sleep it off in the street in the dawn air, barred from his home by his tiny ferocious wife. Laodike walked on out of the town, her sad steps taking her across the new defensive ditch by a bridge, then down towards the Scamander. Mist lay heavy and grey in the river valley. Beyond it the hills were touched with pink still, though the sun was rising in the sky behind her. She could hear no sounds but the crowing of cocks and the bleating of sheep in the distance. She walked on towards the tomb of Ilos, on a small hill between the city and the river. Ilos was her great-grandfather and a hero of Troy. Hektor would often come here and talk to his ancestor when he was troubled. So she came now, hoping to find comfort.
She plodded up to the small cairn of rocks and sat down on the short, sheep-cropped grass, facing the city. Her body no longer busy, her grief overwhelmed her again and tears welled in her eyes. How could he be dead? How could the gods be so cruel? Laodike could see him now, his infectious smile lifting her heart, the sun glinting on the gold of his hair. He was like the dawn, she thought. Whenever he entered a room spirits lifted. When she was young and frightened Hektor was always the rock she would run to. And he was the man who would have persuaded Priam to allow Argurios to marry her.
Shame touched her then, and with it the weight of guilt. Are you sad because he has passed to the Elysian Fields, or are you thinking of yourself, she wondered? ‘I am so sorry, Hektor,’ she whispered. Then the tears flowed once more. A shadow fell across her and she looked up. The sun was behind the figure, bright and dazzling, and, just for a moment, as her tear-swollen eyes took in the glinting breastplate, she thought it was the ghost of her brother, come to comfort her. Then he knelt beside her, and she saw it was Argurios. She had not seen him for five days now, and she had sent him no message.
‘Oh, Argurios, I cannot stop weeping.’
His arm curved round her shoulder. ‘I have seen the same throughout the city. He must have been a great man, and I am sorry I did not know him.’
‘How did you know I would be here?’
‘You told me that when troubles were weighing heavy you liked to walk through the city in the dawn light. You talked of an old shepherd in these hills.’
‘And how did you guess I would be here today?’
‘I did not. I have been at the Scaean Gate every day at dawn for the last five days.’
‘I am sorry, Argurios. It was thoughtless of me. I should have sent a messenger to you.’
There was a silence between them, and then Laodike asked, ‘Where are your bodyguards?’
He smiled, a rare event. ‘I am stronger now, and faster. I walked through the city a few days ago, then doubled back and came upon them. I told them I had no more need of their services, and they agreed to leave me be.’
‘Just like that? So simply?’
‘I spoke to them… firmly,’ he said.
‘You frightened them, didn’t you?’
‘Some men are easily frightened,’ he replied.
His face was inches away from hers, and as she looked into his eyes Laodike felt the pain and sorrow of the last few days ease away. This was the face she had so often summoned to mind. His eyes were not just brown, as she’d remembered, but had flecks of hazel and gold in them, and his eyebrows were finely shaped. He watched her steadily and she lowered her gaze. There was a warm flowering in the pit of her belly and she became aware of the rub of cloth against her skin.
She felt a touch on her arm and saw his hand lightly graze her skin, barely stirring the fair hairs. The warmth in her belly flared.
Reaching up she began to untie the thongs holding Argurios’ breastplate in place. His powerful hand closed over hers. ‘You are a king’s daughter,’ he reminded her.
‘You do not want me?’
His face was flushed. ‘I never wanted anything so much in all my life.’
‘The king will never allow us to wed, Argurios. He will order you from Troy. He will send me away. I cannot bear the thought. But we have this moment. This is our moment, Argurios!’ His hand fell away. Even as a child she had helped Hektor don and remove his armour. I have few skills, she thought to herself, but taking off a cuirass is one of them. Her nimble hands untied the thongs and Argurios lifted the breastplate clear.
Unbuckling his sword and laying it by the breastplate, he led her into the circle of stones by the tomb of Ilos, and they lay together on the grass. He kissed her then, and for a long time made no other move. Taking his hand she lifted it to her breast. His touch was gentle – more gentle in that moment than she desired. Her lips pressed against his, her mouth hungry to taste him. His hands became less hesitant, pulling at her gown, lifting it high. Laodike raised her arms and he threw the gown clear. Within moments they were both naked.
Laodike revelled in the feel of his warm skin against hers, the hard muscles under her fingers. Then came the swift pain of entry, and the exquisite sense of becoming one with the man she loved.
Afterwards she lay in a daze of joy and satisfaction, her body warm and fulfilled, her mind swimming with shame and exhilaration. Slowly she became aware of the grass under her and the uneven ground pressing into her back.
She lay with her head in the crook of Argurios’ shoulder. She realized he had not spoken for a while. She twisted to look up at him, thinking him asleep, but he was staring up at the sky, his face, as always, grave.
Laodike was suddenly filled with foreboding. Was he regretting his actions?
Would he leave her now? He turned to look down at her. Seeing the look on her face, he said, ‘Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?’
‘No. It was wonderful.’ Feeling foolish, but unable to stop herself, she said, ‘It was the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. The maidservants told me…’ She hesitated.
‘Told you what?’
‘Told me… told me it was painful and unpleasant. It was a bit painful,’ she conceded, ‘but it wasn’t unpleasant.’
‘It wasn’t unpleasant,’ he repeated, smiling a little. Then he kissed her again, long and tenderly.
She lay back, all doubts in her mind vanished. The look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She had never been so happy. She knew this moment would live with her for the rest of her life.
Suddenly she sat up, her shawl falling from her naked breasts, and pointed to the east.
A great flock of swans were beating their way on silent white wings over the city towards the sea. Laodike had never seen more than one or two swans before and she was awestruck by the sight of hundreds of the great birds flying overhead, for a moment blotting out the sunlight like a living cloud.
They watched silently as the flock winged its way to the west, disappearing at last into the grey mist on the horizon.
Laodike felt a touch on her bare leg and looked down. A soft white feather lay curled on her skin, motionless as though it had always been there. She picked it up and showed it to her lover.
‘Is it an omen?’ she wondered.
‘Birds are always omens,’ he said softly.
‘I wonder what it means.’
‘When a swan mates it is for life,’ he said, pulling her to him. ‘It means we will never be parted. I will speak to your father tomorrow.’
‘He will not see you, Argurios.’
‘I think he will. I have been invited to the funeral gathering tomorrow night.’
Laodike was surprised. ‘Why? As you said, you did not know Hektor.’
‘I said the same to the messenger who came to the temple two days ago. He told me that Prince Agathon had requested my presence.’
‘That was all he said?’
