For the Most Beautiful (14 page)

It was the man who had murdered my husband.

Early the following morning, I slipped from my chambers in the dark with a hurried farewell to Cassandra, full of excitement but also – my ever-present companion in these troubled days – fear. Troilus had sent a message the evening before with a young page of the court, paid for his silence, to change our meeting place to the South Gates of Troy. I was puzzled at his request. The South Gates were at the other end of the city, a fair walk from the palace.
I suppose I shall find out soon enough why he wants to meet me there, of all places.

The city was still asleep as I set off through the palace grounds and down into the lower city. The roads beyond the upper walls were lit by sputtering torches hung in brackets on the walls of the houses, and a few bread ovens, set in the courtyards of the bakers' shops, still glowed with the embers of the previous day. Above me, the vault of the sky was a rich black, tempered only by a thin line of palest yellow along the horizon that announced the coming of the sun. I shivered a little in the cold air and drew my cloak closer around my shoulders.

As I neared the towers of the South Gates I could just make out Troilus' outline, standing a few feet from them. Beside him, two finely bred horses were curvetting and tossing their manes in the shadows, their reins held by the guard of the gate.

‘Krisayis,' Troilus said, when I walked up to him. He held out his hands. ‘You came.'

I glanced apprehensively towards the guard, but Troilus shook his head. ‘We can trust Axion with our secret.'

I saw a couple of silver coins glinting in the man's palm, and I understood. Troilus had bought his silence, too. I turned back to him. ‘Why have you brought me here? And why have you brought
horses
?' I asked, in a whisper.

‘You have to follow me,' he said, and moved towards a side-gate.

‘Wait,' I said, catching his shoulder. ‘Wait, Troilus – what are you doing? You cannot go outside the walls! Not when the Greek ships are moored a mere two thousand paces away!'

Troilus looked back at me. ‘We must,' he replied in a whisper. ‘We cannot be seen together, not in the city.'

I felt a sudden chill go through me, and took a small step back. ‘You are ashamed to be seen with me?'

Troilus shook his head. ‘Of course not,' he said, frowning. ‘But there are people who may think differently. We cannot risk being seen – especially not now.'

Again, I lowered my voice to a whisper: ‘But what about the Greeks? You cannot afford to put yourself in danger, Troilus! You are a
prince
! If they find you outside the walls—'

Troilus spoke across me, silencing me. ‘We will be safe. Axion has been on the tower watching the Greek camp since the sun set and all is quiet. We need only a moment.'

I could not think of anything else to say. I allowed him to lead me towards the gates, and tried to ignore the fear that seemed to have taken root in me ever since the Greek ships had arrived on our shores. But if the guard had seen that the camp was quiet then surely all would be well … And yet I could not help but feel a strange dread as Axion nodded to Troilus, handed the reins of the horses to him and unbarred the side-gate, pushing it open.

We stepped outside the walls, the arch of the dark sky above us, the yellow on the horizon shifting slowly to pink. In the distance, to our right, the tips of the prows of the Greek ships were silhouetted black on the horizon, like stark trees stripped of their leaves in winter.

‘This way,' Troilus said, and he strode across the plain towards the forest of Trojan oaks that grew within fifty paces of the walls to the south, the horses following him at a trot.

‘Troilus – what—'

He hushed me. ‘I will tell you in a moment.'

We slipped into the woods, and I looked around, thankful for the thickly woven branches and trunks of the green-grey trees. At least we would be hidden from view there, if any hostile Greeks were upon the plain.

Troilus tied the reins of the horses carefully to a nearby branch, then turned towards me.

‘Krisayis,' Troilus said. His eyes met mine in the dark shadows of the forest.

I remembered then why he had brought me there, the insistent pressing of his body against mine in the grape arbour and his words:
I have to have you
. My fear dissolved into a delicious excitement. ‘Yes, Troilus?' I lowered my eyes to the ground, but I knew he would be able to see the trembling at the corners of my lips.

‘Krisayis, I cannot marry you.'

It took a moment for the words to reach me. I looked up at him, not understanding. A crease had appeared between his eyebrows. ‘I cannot marry you,' he repeated, his fists clenched. ‘My father has forbidden it.'

I opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. My heart was pounding in my chest as excitement turned to dread. I felt as heavy and as dull as new-felled oak. I could not think of anything to say.

‘I asked my father last night for his blessing on our union. He refused it. He told me that I am to be betrothed to Princess Tania of Dardania,' he said.

‘A princess,' I repeated. ‘Of course.'

‘He ordered me, before the whole court, never to speak to you again, and he has given instructions to your father to send you to the temple this very day for your initiation.'

I gasped. ‘My
initiation
?'

Troilus reached for my hand. ‘I will not allow my father to part us,' he said, his voice low and full of emotion.

I stared at him. ‘How?' I breathed. ‘You would defy the king?'

‘We will leave Troy!' He was speaking faster now, his eyes shining, his face alive with adventure. ‘I have horses – if we ride fast we can flee the city and my father's anger.' He lowered his voice again to a whisper. ‘We can marry, Krisayis, once we reach the lands of the Hittites in the east, far from my father's kingdom. It will be just you and I, always.'

‘Far from Troy?'

He nodded. ‘As far as we can go.'

‘And we would never come back?'

‘Never. Your life would be forfeit – mine too, perhaps. We would be outcasts.'

I looked down at the ground, the thick bed of the forest floor carpeted with leaves and pale pink wildflowers among the grass.

He took my other hand. ‘Krisayis, will you do this for me? Will you leave Troy and be my wife?'

‘This – this was not what I had expected,' I said slowly.

‘I know. I did not think my father would refuse me anything. I—'

I shook my head. ‘No. That was not what I meant. I mean – I did not expect to spend my life running from Troy and the people I love.'

His forehead creased again in the slightest of frowns. ‘But you would have me. Is that not enough?'

I gazed at him. His clear hazel eyes were filled with hope. I remembered my dreams of sitting beside Troilus upon our thrones, dealing out justice to the Trojan people. When I had thought of us together, I had always thought of us in Troy – seated upon the tower, helping the Trojan poor, walking the streets to meet the people and laughing in the palace with Cassandra.

And it was at that moment that I realized, if I had to choose between Troy and the young prince standing before me, I would choose Troy.

No matter what it cost me.

‘I am sorry, Troilus,' I said, my heart breaking. ‘I truly am. But I cannot live my life as a fugitive. I – I am meant to be here. My father, no matter what he has done – Cassandra – my city – I – I cannot simply leave them.'

His frown deepened, and he let go of my hands. ‘Not even for me?' He swallowed. ‘Not even to escape the priesthood?'

‘No.' My voice broke as I said it. ‘I am so sorry. I can't even explain it. I feel as if – as if I am needed here, somehow. As if this is where I am meant to be.'

Troilus turned away from me. ‘This is your final choice?'

I nodded. ‘I—'

But then I stopped.

Somewhere within the woods, a twig had snapped. The
crack
echoed sharp in the air.

Troilus tensed and turned back to me, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

‘What was that?' I whispered.

Troilus looked sharply up at the city gates, but all was silent. Then the sound of voices floated towards us on the still air: male voices. He motioned to me to crouch and I knelt down, trying not to make a sound, my mouth dry, fingers brushing the dry leaves.

‘That's what I keep telling Nestor,' someone was saying in a low voice. ‘It's not going to be long until the Trojans start snooping around the forest and find that the path into the camp is unguarded. It isn't wise to leave the forest unprotected. I say we go back to the king and tell him to send a permanent guard.'

Another snorted. ‘So you say. I agree with Odysseus and Diomedes. The trees grow too close to the walls, and if the Trojan bowmen torch the forest while we are beneath we're done for. Safest to guard the camp and trust that they don't dare venture out too far.'

The first voice sighed. ‘Well … if you think so …'

The voices were coming nearer now. The sound of twigs and dried leaves crunching grew louder. The first daylight was filtering through the trees, turning the tips of the leaves a pale gold and casting shadows through the wood.

‘
Greeks!
' I mouthed at Troilus. ‘
They're Greeks!
' I could feel my heart throbbing in my ears.

‘Quick – on the horse!' Troilus hissed, and he ran over to untie the grey mare from the tree where she stood tethered beside his stallion.

She was tossing her head nervously, her nostrils flared as if she, too, could sense the danger. I tried to get close enough for Troilus to help me up, but she shied away, stamping on the ground fretfully.

‘
Hold
–
still!
' Troilus muttered, grasping her reins and stroking her nose as she tossed her head, trying to calm her.

‘What about the lookouts to the east, then?' a voice said, as clear as if he were standing beside us. ‘If you're all for guarding the camp, then why has King Agamemnon posted most of the lookouts on the southern side?'

One of the others gave an easy laugh. ‘It's the main gates that need guarding, Acamas. The palisade will hold up to an attack well enough.'

‘Krisayis, quickly!' Troilus took me around the waist and lifted me on to the horse's back. I grasped at her mane to keep my balance as she shied, then tightened my thighs against her flanks.

‘Now go!'

‘Wait!' I breathed, twisting around, ‘Troilus, you have to come too!'

Then five black-bearded men rounded a corner between the trees not even forty paces away.

Our eyes met.

‘
Go!
' Troilus shouted, slapping the mare on the haunches and running to untie the reins of his own horse.

The mare's dark eyes widened in fright at the sound of Troilus' voice and the slap upon her rear and she bucked.

The Greeks were shouting to each other and running through the trees towards us.

I clung on desperately, my fingers gripping the horse's mane as she reared. Branches swiped across my vision and I ducked forwards, trying to grasp the reins, now swinging around her neck. But she was tossing her head, whinnying wildly with fear, and they swung far out of my reach, tangling and knotting around a branch, swinging round and round, looping and knotting more tightly. And still, the mare was rearing, her eyes wide, her front legs kicking out in front of me …

I heard Troilus shout from somewhere nearby.

I looked around in terror and, as I did so, a branch swung out of nowhere and hit me full across the back of the neck. I cried out, let go of the horse's mane, and then I was falling, falling …

I slammed to the ground, the oak leaves carpeting the earth cushioning the worst of my fall, my bones splitting with pain and my lip bleeding. I could hear Troilus drawing his sword and the sound of the mare's hoof beats as she tore herself free and bolted into the woods.

Ahead, a dark-bearded Greek was approaching me. Before I could do anything, before I could even move, he had hauled me upright, grasped me by the wrists and tied them behind my back. Then a rag was knotted around my eyes and another pushed into my mouth. I tried to scream, but I could not make a sound. I could not see. The sounds of a fight surrounded me, confused shouting, and the thud of sandalled feet running over earth. Then I felt rough arms around me, and I was picked up, belly-down, carried and thrown over a horse's back, like a rolled-up carpet. I kicked and struggled, and someone slapped my face, setting my skin stinging with pain.

‘Shouldn't you kill her?' a voice said nearby. ‘She might have heard us talking. It would be safer to be rid of her.'

Another man, beside me, laughed. He was tying a rope around my legs – I could feel the knots tugging against my skin as I tried in vain to struggle against them. ‘She's a woman, Teucer. What can she do? Besides, she's nice to look at. Even the king might want her in his bed.' He snorted with laughter. ‘She would certainly find a warm welcome in mine!'

The other Greek laughed. At that I tried again to shout, but my voice was gone, muffled, and I could neither see nor move.

There was a jolt as the horse was urged into a gallop; and then there was nothing but dust.