managed, inclining her head slightly
towards him. Laocoon considered her for a long moment. Andromache worried that
he may turn them away, disbelieving of her identity, but then he was muttering
to the head of their escort and waved them to follow him.
“I will inform the King and his council of your arrival,” Laocoon called over
his shoulder as he led them up the road, his bald head already shimmering with
sweat, and Andromache felt relief course through her body. “I will have
Sarpedon,” he gestured towards the head of their escort, whose face remained
impassive at the mention of his name, “Guide you to some chambers, where you
can wash and prepare yourself.”
Andromache did not know whether to be slighted or not by his words, but she was
too relieved that she had been received and would have an audience with the
King that she could only smile. The palace rose mighty and beautiful before
them, perched atop what surely must be the largest hill within the confines of
the city. The walls were of white stone, towers and arches rose high above
them, and Iliana and Ilisa gasped. Andromache herself had to fight to keep her
awe from showing on her face, though Laocoon must have read her inner thoughts
for he smiled indulgently at her.
“Many a greater princess has been brought to silence upon the sight of the
Royal Palace of Troy,” he shared with her, and Andromache felt her feelings
soften towards the man. Before the huge doors to the palace, Laocoon stopped
and glanced towards the cart.
“The cart may come no further,” he said primly. “I can send for a doctor to
come and see to your mother,” he suggested, when her mother made no effort to
move from her position. Andromache nodded, a blush creeping up her face at her
mother’s behaviour.
Leaving
her mother in the cart, they passed through the main doors, between two guards
who showed no expression as they passed.
Laocoon came only as far as the entrance to the palace, and departed along the
cool, shaded corridors and disappeared around a corner out of sight. Sarpedon
took a different path and Andromache followed, savouring the shade of the
palace after days beneath the baking sun.
Sarpedon showed them to their chambers, high in the palace, with a balcony that
overlooked the great city sprawling beneath them. As he left them in privacy,
leading his men out, Andromache saw Axion visibly relax as he watched his
retreating back. She thought, once again, of how well he and his two comrades
had served her these past few days.
She dismissed them, and Axion looked grateful as he and the other two men went
in search of a hot meal and a bath. Iliana and Ilisa watched their retreating
backs, and Andromache thought of how well these two girls had served her too;
she only hoped that Hector and his father wanted her hand in her marriage so
that she might somehow reward these loyal maids. If she was rejected, what
would become of them? She shook her head, willing herself not to think on such
things.
The baths of the palace were huge and lavish, and Andromache allowed Iliana and
Ilisa to bathe with her, the three of them savouring the scented hot water on
their skin, washing away the dirt and sand and aches of the journey. Iliana and
Ilisa washed her hair, scrubbing her scalp until she felt her head might burst,
and she languished in the waters whilst the sisters took it in turns to wash
their own hair.
Andromache wondered if her mother had been bathed yet. Word had arrived on the
way to the baths that she had been found rooms in the palace and was being
looked after. Andromache longed for her mother to recover, but how could one
overcome such crippling grief? Seeing her maids frolicking in the water,
reinvigorated now that the journey was done and they were clean
Learning to Kill: Stories