For the Most Beautiful by Emily Hauser Page A

loud bang of a door being thrust open, and sounds of commotion by the entrance to the tower. A messenger had burst on to the walls, wearing a deep blue tunic, the colour of Hector’s servants. He was panting hard, clutching at a stitch in his side, but he ran straight to King Priam, half bent over, until he was standing before the king’s throne. Then he knelt on one knee and touched his forehead to the ground in a deep bow.
    He drew a deep breath. ‘My king,’ he said, in a loud, clear voice. ‘I bring news from Prince Hector and Prince Paris.’
    The murmuring of the nobles quietened to a low buzz, then died away.
    â€˜The princes have arrived,’ the messenger continued, ‘but they do not come alone.’
    King Priam gazed down at him. ‘Whom do they bring?’ he asked. ‘An ambassador from Sparta, come to return our pledge of friendship? Lord Menelaus himself, perhaps?’
    The messenger bowed. ‘No, my king,’ he said. There was a long silence. It seemed he was struggling to find the words. ‘They have brought …’ The messenger swallowed. ‘My king, they have brought Lord Menelaus’ wife, Helen of Sparta.’
    There was a sudden low buzz, like the humming of a swarm of angry bees.
    I could see Troilus standing very still, gripping the arm of his father’s throne, his knuckles white.
    â€˜I do not understand,’ Queen Hecuba said, looking from her husband to the messenger. ‘What queen travels without her husband? Is this some foreign Greek custom? Why would she come to pay her respects alone?’
    King Priam held up a hand to silence his wife. ‘Go on,’ he said to the messenger, his voice deep with foreboding.
    The messenger bowed again. ‘Helen of Sparta is Helen of Sparta no more,’ he announced, his voice ringing in the deep silence on the tower. ‘Prince Paris begs that you accept her into the Trojan royal household. Helen has come, my queen, not to pay her respects, but to stay. She is Prince Paris’ chosen wife.’
    The crowd of nobles erupted into exclamations of shock and surprise.
    I stared at the messenger, one hand still tight around Cassandra’s limp fingers, the other still clasping the goblet.
    Queen Hecuba leant back on her throne, her lips pressed tight together, her eyes on her husband.
    King Priam looked as if he was still trying to take in the news, to understand the enormity of what had just happened. ‘She comes with Paris?’ he asked slowly. ‘She comes as his wife? Does her husband, Lord Menelaus, know of this?’
    The messenger opened his mouth to speak, but the hubbub around him was still too loud for him to make himself heard. Slowly, the nobles muttered themselves into a scandalized silence, waiting to hear what the messenger would say.
    â€˜My king, I have not yet told you all,’ the messenger said. ‘We stopped at Athens on our way from Sparta. We had news from their ruler that Lord Menelaus has sworn to burn the city of Troy to the ground and to take Helen’s life with his bare hands. The Athenians told us that every one of the Greek lords pledged a binding oath of protection to Menelaus and his wife, and that Menelaus’ brother Agamemnon, king of all the Greeks, has already sent out the summons to muster their forces. They say he is gathering the greatest expedition the world has ever seen. There is word of a thousand ships being called to his command.’
    There was a stunned silence.
    King Priam sat forwards on his throne. ‘When was this?’
    â€˜About two weeks ago, my king.’
    The king leant back, frowning. The crowd of nobles was as hushed as the sea before a storm.
    The messenger took a deep breath. ‘My sovereign king, we have it on good authority that Achilles, the most fearsome warrior alive and son of a god, has agreed to join them.’

On Olympus

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Mount Olympus, Greece
    â€˜I don’t care what