"May that be what the Gods will," said Hector. "Agamemnon is an honorable enemy; Akhilles is mad. I prefer to fight sane men."
Kassandra had her namesake, Creusa's daughter, in her lap. She said, "I do not think any man who would fight in this war is sane."
"We all know what you think, Kassandra," said Hector, "and we are tired of hearing it."
"Hector, do you truly think we can win this war? If the Gods are angry with Troy—"
"I have seen no signs of their anger," said Hector. "Now it seems that the Sunlord at least is angry with the Akhaians; with Akhilles gone, I have no fear of the rest of them. We will fight them and win honorably, and then we will make a truce and live at peace with them - if we are fortunate, for the rest of our lives."
And what will happen to us?" asked Paris. He was sitting beside Helen, who was feeding one of the twins mashed fruit with a bone spoon; she looked quiet and peaceful; lovely, Kassandra thought, but without any trace of the uncanny beauty she had shown when she was inhabited by Aphrodite.
"If peace comes to us," Andromache said,"there will be peace for you as well, and you may make such lives for yourselves and your children as you desire."
"It will be a dull world without war," Hector said, yawning. Paris disagreed. "I have already had as much war as I care to see. There must be better things to do with a life."
"You sound like our sister," Hector said. "But peace will come, like it or not; if all else fails, there's peace in the grave, and an end to all fighting and talk of honor."
Kassandra said wryly, "It sounds like a heaven specially designed by Akhilles's God!"
"No heaven for me then," Paris said. "Enough to fight here; I don't intend to spend the afterlife doing it."
"You mean you wouldn't choose to spend the afterlife doing it," Hector remarked. "I'm not sure we will be given our choice."
At this moment there was a loud outcry; the children had been playing at the far end of the hall, and there were whacking sounds from wooden swords and loud childish shrieks; Hector and Paris saw that little Astyanax and Helen's son Nikos were sprawled on the floor, struggling and punching at each other, both shouting incoherently, their faces red and tear-stained.
Helen and Andromache each ran to reclaim their child, and when they returned, each with a wailing small boy under her arm, Hector gestured to the women to set the boys down.
"Here, here, lads, what's all this? Isn't there enough war outside the gates, must we have it at suppertime too? Astyanax, Nikos is our guest in Troy; a guest deserves our hospitality. Besides, he is smaller than you. Why do you beat him?"
"Because he is a coward like his father," Astyanax scowled, digging his fists in his eye.
Nikos kicked out at his shins, and Astyanax muttered, "Well, you said it, father."
Hector struggled to keep his face straight. "No, Astyanax; I said that his father Menelaus was an honorable enemy; Paris is not his father, you know. And besides—" he interrupted as both boys began yelling at once, "whoever said what, there is always a truce at dinnertime. If Agamemnon himself came to this table, it would be my duty as an honorable man to feed him if he was hungry; the first duty we owe the Gods is hospitality. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir," muttered Astyanax, and Hector turned to Helen.
"Lady, I beg you to keep your son in order at dinnertime, out of respect to my father and mother, or send him away with his nurse," he commanded.
"I will try," she murmured. Paris looked like a thundercloud, but he did not venture to contradict Hector; no one did, these days.
Kassandra applied herself to the honeyed fruits which had appeared in her dish at the end of the meal, and asked Priam, "Has there been any sign that my mother's waiting-women can be exchanged or returned?"
"Not yet," Priam growled. "That damned priest's daughter - a plague on her - for all Apollo took her part," he added with a pious gesture, "has brought all other negotiations to a stop so sudden that if it were a chariot we'd all be head over heels in the road! When we can, we'll try again, but just now I'm afraid there's no hope."
Creusa rose, cradling her child in her arms. "I must take the little one to bed," she announced to the company at large. "Helen, will you accompany me?"
Kassandra rose too.
"I too will say goodnight," she said. "Mother, Father, good night, and thank you; I have certainly dined better at your table than in the refectory of the priestesses."
"Don't see why it ought to be that way," Priam said thickly. "They get the best of everything up there."
Aeneas said, "By your leave, sir, I will walk through the city with the Lady Kassandra; it's late and there may be riff-raff about, now that all the decent able-bodied men are with the soldiers down below."
"I thank you, but really, Brother-in-law, it's not necessary—"
"Let him go with you, Kassandra," Hecuba commanded firmly. "It will ease my mind; Polyxena was not with us tonight because the Temple of the Maiden could spare no able-bodied man to escort her."
"Why, where is Polyxena?" Kassandra asked. She had noticed her sister's absence, but for all she knew, Polyxena might have been married to some king or warrior at the far end of the world.
"She serves the Maiden Goddess; it's a long story," Hecuba said in a tone indicating that long story or short, she had no intention of telling it now. Kassandra kissed her mother and the children, and let Aeneas, rather than a servant, fold her into her cloak. Hector rose too, embracing his wife and son, and at the palace doors, took leave of Aeneas and Kassandra.
"You are prettier than when you went to Colchis," he said kindly. "There is some ballad which calls you beautiful enough for Apollo to desire; if you want to come home I am sure Father could find you a husband, without all the nonsense that drove Polyxena into the Temple of the Maiden."
"No, dear brother; I am happy in the house of the Sunlord," she replied, but she returned his embrace with real warmth, knowing he meant her well.
It was not particularly dark as they moved up the steep streets, for the moon was rising, round and bright. Aeneas paused at one point to look out over the plain where the Argive army lay.
"If Agamemnon and Akhilles had not quarrelled, this is the sort of night when it would hardly be wise for Hector to dine at home with his family," Aeneas said. "Usually, on nights with a full moon, these last three years, we have had an attack from seaward. But look, everything is dark down there, except in Akhilles's tent where, I dare say, they are still arguing over their wine."
"Aeneas, what's all this about Polyxena?"
"Oh, lord," he said, "I don't know the whole story; nobody does. Akhilles - well, Priam offered her to Akhilles, hoping to make trouble in the Akhaian ranks. Your father - after that he went about saying she was as beautiful as the Spartan Helen and he would award her to the most powerful—"
"What? Polyxena, as beautiful as Helen? Is his eyesight failing with age?"
"I think he was trying to make trouble with the Akhaians; he offered her to the King of Crete—"
"Idomeneus? But I heard he was joined with Agamemnon on the Akhaian side - it's treachery of course; the Minoan folk have been our kinsmen and allies since before Atlantis sank."
"Well, however it may be, Priam tried to offer her as wife to many of the island people; but all those who wanted to accept were among the supporters of the Akhaians. And in the end Polyxena rebelled—"