Free Troy 03 - Fall of Kings by David Gemmell Page A

mobilized. No. I have already promised King Ektion that you and the Trojan Horse will ride south to Little Thebe. Enemy armies are ravaging his lands. They need to be crushed or at the least forced back.” Stepping in, he patted Hektor’s shoulder. “Have faith, my son,” he said. “Aeneas is a fine sailor, and I trust him to master the perils of the sea.”
    “It is not the sea…” Hektor began. His words tailed away, and with a shake of his head, he walked out onto the balcony.
    Thirsty now, Priam called out to Polydorus. The door opened, and the young soldier entered. “Fetch wine!” the king ordered.
    “Yes, lord, but you said—”
    “Never mind what I said!”
             
    Hektor stood out on the balcony, taking deep drafts of air into his chest. Then he returned to the Amber Room. Pausing before Priam, he said, “As the king orders, so shall it be.”
    With that he turned toward Helikaon, who rose from his seat. Hektor gazed upon his old friend and felt a deep sadness sweep over him. This was the man his wife loved, whose son she had borne. Forcing a smile, he said, “Take care, Helikaon. And bring Andromache safely home.”
    Helikaon said nothing, and Hektor understood. No promises could be made, for the Great Green in winter was hazardous enough without the added perils of pirates and enemy ships.
    Stepping forward, Helikaon embraced him. Hektor kissed his cheek and then pulled away, turning back to his father. But Priam was not looking in his direction. Instead he was gazing hungrily at Andromache. Without a farewell to his wife or his father, Hektor left the room.
    He paused outside and leaned against the wall, feeling the cool of the stone against his brow. The turmoil in his mind was like a fever, and his heart was sick.
    During the campaign in Thraki, all he could think of was returning home to Troy and to the woman he adored. He knew that Andromache loved another and that Astyanax was Helikaon’s son. Yet when he was with his wife and the boy, he could put those hurtful facts out of his mind. He had never considered what it would be like when Helikaon was in Troy as well, knowing Andromache’s heart belonged to the Golden One and not to him, knowing the child who called him “Papa” was really another man’s son.
    Hektor had spent all his young life trying not to be like his father, treating other men with honor and respect and women with gentleness and courtesy. When Andromache had told him she was pregnant with Helikaon’s child, he had accepted it, knowing he could not give her sons himself. But then he had not known her; they had scarcely met. Over the years he had grown to love her deeply, while she still thought of him as a brother, a good friend. He never had shown her how much that had hurt him until today, when she had spoken so blithely of bringing Helikaon’s boy, Dex, to the palace. And now she was to set sail with her lover on a long journey by sea, where they would be together all the time.
    Never in his life had he wanted so much to throw himself back into the war, to fight and, yes, to kill. At this moment war and perhaps death seemed wonderfully simple. It was life that was so hard.
    He looked up. Coming toward him along the corridor he saw his brothers Dios and Paris. They were speaking together in hushed tones. Dios saw him, and his expression brightened. Then Paris saw him, too. Despite the sadness in his heart, Hektor could not help smiling as he saw that Paris was wearing a breastplate and carrying a bronze helm under his arm. No one, he thought, could look more ludicrous in armor. Paris always had lacked coordination, his movements clumsy. To see him masquerading as a warrior was almost comical. Dios was wearing no armor, merely a white tunic and a leaf-green cloak.
    “Well, what did you decide without us, Brother?” Dios asked, his smile fading.
    “Nothing that need concern you, Dios. We talked only of Helikaon’s planned voyage to the west.”
    Paris