"I think the pigs should be killed too," said Deiphobos. "This winter we will need the acorns for bread; we should set all the young people who are not old enough to fight to gathering them and laying them away. It will be a hungry winter, whatever we do or do not do."
"What is being done in the Sunlord's House?" asked Aeneas. You sit there so still and wise, Kassandra, what says Apollo's wisdom?"
"It does not matter what you do," Kassandra spoke without thinking. "By winter Troy will have no more need of food."
Paris took one great stride toward her. He roared, "I warned you, Sister, what I would do if you came here again peddling your evil news!"
Aeneas caught his arm in mid-swing.
"Strike someone your own size," he snarled, "or strike at me, for I asked the question which prompted the answer you do not want to hear!" He added gently, "Is it so bad, Kassandra?"
"I do not know," she said, staring helplessly at them. "It might even be that the Akhaians will be gone, and there will be no more need to hoard food—"
"But you do not think so," he said.
She shook her head; they were all staring at her now. "But things will not go on as they are now for long, that I know. A change will come very soon."
It was growing late; Aeneas rose. "I will go and sleep in the camp with the soldiers," he said,"since my wife and children have gone."
Hector said, "I suppose I should send away Andromache and the boy, if there is so much danger here."
Paris said, "Now you see why I feel that Kassandra should be silenced at any cost; she is spreading so much hopelessness inside Troy that before we know it all the women will have gone; and then what are we to fight for?"
"No," Helen said, "I will not go; for better or worse I have come to Troy and there is no longer any other refuge for me. I will remain at Paris's side as long as we both live."
"And I," said Andromache. "Where Hector has courage to remain, there will I remain at his side. And where I remain, my son will remain."
Kassandra, remembering that Andromache had been reared for a warrior, thought that perhaps Imandra would be proud of her daughter after all. I wish I had her courage, she thought, then remembered that Andromache did not know what lay before them. Perhaps it was easier to have courage when you could still believe that what you feared would not come to pass. In her ears were the thunders of Poseidon, and she could hardly see across the room for the fires which seemed to rise.
Yet the room was quiet and cool, and all the faces surrounding her were kind and loving. How much longer would she have them round her? Already she had lost Creusa; who would be the next?
She knew she should stay inside the Sunlord's house; but she could not keep away from the palace, and every day she watched with the other women from the wall, so that she was one of the first to see the people exploding into the spaces between the houses so swiftly that for a moment she wondered if it was another earthquake. Then the cry went up.
"Akhilles! It is the chariot of Akhilles!"
Hector swore violently and ran up the stairs to the lookout point on the walls.
"Akhilles has come back? The worst news we could have - or is it the best?" he said roughly, hastening to where the women stood watching. "Yes, right enough, that is his chariot—" and he shaded his eyes with his hand. Then he turned away, scowling.
"By the Battle-God! That is not Akhilles, but somebody else wearing his armor! Akhilles's shoulders are twice that wide! Maybe that boy friend of his. The armor doesn't even fit him. In the name of Ares, what is he playing at? Does he really think he can deceive anyone who has ever seen Akhilles fight?"
"I suppose it is a ruse to hearten Akhilles's men," said his charioteer, young Troilus.
Hector said, "Whatever it is, we'll make short work of him. I might hesitate to face Akhilles, even on a propitious day; but the day never dawned when I would be afraid to face Patroklos; perhaps, youngster, I should put my armor on you and set you in my chariot and send you out to take him on."
"I will do it gladly if you will allow it," said the boy eagerly, and Hector laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I dare say you would, lad; but don't underestimate Patroklos as much as that. He is not at all a bad fighter; not in my class or Akhilles's it's true, but you're not ready for him yet; not this year and probably not next year either."
He called his armorer who came and strapped on his best armor, then they heard the creaking of the gate as Hector rode out.
"This frightens me," Andromache said, hurrying to the best vantage point for watching. "Great Mother, how that wretched boy drives his chariot! Has Hector taught him neither caution nor good sense? They will both be flung out in a moment!"
The two chariots rushed together like rutting stags coming together in the height of the season. Troilus was kept busy with the Myrmidons who rushed against the chariot. He fought one after another back while Hector awaited the champion. Then he sprang out along the axle of the chariot, leaving Troilus to defend it, and faced the man decked in the brilliant gold-decorated armor of Akhilles.
Hector's sword swung up to meet the Akhaian, who rushed at him, swinging. One swift step and Patroklos was down; but as Hector rushed in to finish him off, the youth scrambled up as if the heavy armor were a feathered cloak and backed away. The men exchanged a flurry of blows so rapid that Kassandra could not see that either of them had the least advantage. A small shriek from Andromache told her that her husband had taken a wound; but when she looked she saw that Hector had recovered himself at once and was thrusting violently enough that Patroklos was retreating toward his chariot. His sword drove hard into the place where the armor met the arm-piece; then came free in a shower of blood. Patroklos staggered back; one of the Myrmidons caught him around his waist and lifted him bodily into the chariot; he was still standing, but swaying and white-faced. His charioteer - or was it Akhilles's charioteer?—slapped at the horses and they galloped back toward the beach and the Akhaian tents with Hector in hot pursuit.
Troilus loosed an arrow which struck the leg of Patroklos, who lost his balance and fell; only the quick grab of the charioteer kept him from being flung out of the chariot. Hector waved to Troilus to abandon the pursuit; Patroklos was either dead or wounded so gravely that it was only a matter of time before he died. Hector's chariot turned back toward Troy. Andromache started to dash down the stairs as she heard the creaking of the ropes that opened the great gate, but Kassandra held her back and they waited until Hector came up the stairs. His arms-bearer came and began to help him out of his armor, but Andromache took his place.
"You're wounded!"
"Nothing serious, I assure you, my dear," Hector said. "I've had worse wounds in play on the field." There was a long gash in his forearm, which had not injured the tendon. It could be dealt with by cleansing with wine and oil and a tight bandage. Andromache, not waiting for a healer, began at once to care for it, and asked, "Did you kill him?"
"I'm not sure whether he's dead yet, but I assure you, nobody really ever recovers from a thrust to the lungs like that one," Hector said, and almost at the same minute they heard a noise from the Akhaian camp; a great howl of rage, and grief.
"He's dead," Hector said. "That's one in the eye for Akhilles, at least."
"Look," said Troilus,"there he is himself."
It was indeed Akhilles himself; wearing only a loincloth, his great shoulders bare and his long pale hair flying. He strode from his tent and toward the walls of Troy. Just out of bowshot he paused and, raising his clenched fist, shook it at the walls. He shouted something, lost in the distance.