Free For the Most Beautiful by Emily Hauser

cower before the anger that sparked in his eyes.
    â€˜In Troy, we are known for our hospitality,’ he continued. ‘We are not barbarians, to hand over a fugitive – a woman, no less, and my son’s chosen wife – to her captors. We are not savages, to turn away a guest from our walls. We are men, and we are men who righteously fear the gods, whose strength and justice oversee all. Princess Helen has claimed our protection, and she shall have it.’
    He paused to allow his words to sink in, and then he spoke again, this time in a lower, gentler tone. ‘My people, I am not ashamed to confess that my son may have done wrong when he disregarded the honour of his host, Lord Menelaus,’ he said, ‘but it is not his youth that is to blame. It was by the gods’ will that Princess Helen was brought to our city.’
    People began to mutter, craning their necks to peer at Paris, some shaking their heads, but most gazing up at the king, waiting for what he would say next.
    â€˜The high priest of the Great God has informed me that our holy goddess, Arinniti, daughter of the storm god Zayu, blesses us with the beauty of Princess Helen as the richest treasure to crown our well-built city,’ he continued, bowing graciously towards Helen. ‘Prince Paris has been awarded Helen as a gift, a sign of the gods’ favour towards Troy. They have appointed us the protectors of Princess Helen by the eternally binding laws of hospitality.’
    Helen’s blushing lips arched into a smile as King Priam turned to her. I felt my stomach turn over with a terrible fear, and it was almost as if I could feel the sweeping of some unavoidable doom over the walls as the king looked directly into Helen’s grey-blue eyes.
    â€˜The gods and your king have spoken. Helen has our blessing. She shall stay.’
    The crowd erupted into shouts and cheers as King Priam lowered his sceptre. One of the young lords standing beside me thumped his neighbour on the back and shouted in his ear, ‘And I wager the gold Helen brought with her doesn’t hurt either, eh?’
    â€˜Nor does the king’s liking for a pretty face,’ the other replied, and they both spluttered with quiet laughter.
    Hector stepped slowly back on to the platform at the tower edge to take his father’s place, accepting his spear from the page who carried it for him. His wife, Andromache, stepped out of the king’s retinue to join him, their young son in her arms, her eyes turned up to Hector in a silent plea, but he was unable to meet her gaze, like a man swept away in the current of a sea he cannot fight. He took a deep breath. The crowd fell silent, waiting to hear what Hector would say.
    â€˜My father the king speaks the truth of Zayu. Whatever my young brother has done, he did it by the will of the gods.’
    The people in the crowd were murmuring among themselves now. Prince Hector cast a look at his father, who nodded, smiling. Hector took a deep breath. ‘Now that the Greeks are here, are we going to run, or are we going to fight?’
    They were shouting more loudly now: ‘Fight! Fight for Troy!’
    Hector drummed the end of his spear into the ground. ‘Do we see the forces of the enemy and weep like girls?’
    â€˜No!’
    Hector brought his spear down again. ‘Do we turn over a gift given to us by our gods, a guest who claims our protection, to be torn apart by those Greek unbelievers with their false gods?’
    â€˜No!’
    The spear came down once more. ‘Then, Trojans,
what do we do
?’
    The reply came back at him, as inevitable as an echo: ‘Fight for Troy! Fight for Troy!
Fight for Troy!
’
    Hector raised his spear into the air and shook it, the sunlight flashing off the sharpened blade. He looked at Helen for an instant, spear held in mid-air, and their eyes met.
    And Helen’s lips curved again into a smile.
    Â 
Βρισηíς