Sacrifice

Chapter VIII: “New horizons”

The brilliant rays of the sun were sharp and blinding, just like they are in the morning, when they first rise from behind the horizon, shattering the dark mist of the cold night. Hector assumed this, finding himself incapable of opening his eyes, as he was lying somewhere –he did not know where; it only felt to him that he was on the bare ground, on a grassy plain.

“Get up, Prince,” he heard a mild, feminine voice that sounded a bit familiar.

“I cannot open my eyes, nor can I move my body,” he acknowledged once he tried to push himself up and fell back down. “What has happened to me?” he demanded while he made another unsuccessful attempt to get up.

“You were reborn,” the voice responded.

Making what seemed like an inhuman effort, Hector forced his eyes open, but then quickly shut them back when he met the powerful glow of the sun.

“Why do my eyes hurt so much?” Hector thought and finally managed to get on his feet. To his great surprise, the voice responded.

“Because you have never used them. You are in a completely new body, though it is identical to your old one.”

Hearing this, Hector opened his eyes in an instant, and strove to keep them wide opened in spite of the pain. He looked around him and saw that he was in a green valley, surrounded by tall mountains, in front of a crystal clear lake. What he was actually looking for was the person to whom he had spoken, but there was absolutely no living creature anywhere in sight. Before he could say anything, the voice, which seemed to read his thoughts, offered an answer for his inner uneasiness.

“You are now in the realm of the living and I can no longer show my form before you, but you know who I am. Try to remember what happened …… after you died,” the feminine voice spoke again in the Prince’s mind, emphasizing the last few words, at which point Hector suddenly understood who she was. He remembered everything, up to the point when he threw himself in the river Styx.

“What happened on the other side? Did I ever reach it?”

“You did, but you could have never been allowed to return in the mortal world bearing such memories. Nevertheless, you were successful.”

“Then why have I returned alone?”

“He will come soon. The journey to the surface is a difficult one.”

Before the woman finished speaking, Hector’s attention was directed towards the lake, from where came a startling sound of splashing water, disturbing the complete serenity of the valley. He saw someone bursting out of the water, coughing loudly and gasping for air, before collapsing to the ground. In the same moment, Hector realized he too was wet from head to toe. He also realized he was wearing the same outfit he was wearing when he had been killed, and the man who had come out of the lake was wearing Achilles’ armor. Approaching the man, Hector kneeled down besides him and removed his long, wet hair from his face to discover Achilles’ cousin, Patroclus, behind it.

“This is unnatural. How will everyone who knew us react upon seeing us if they watched our bodies burn?”

“The two of you are the only living men who know what really happened in the Trojan War. In the eyes of the others, you never killed Patroclus and Achilles never killed you. They believe you have both disappeared in the night the Trojans attacked the Greek encampment. Some think you have died in battle and your bodies were never found, others still hope you might return some day.”

“Where are we? I do not know this place. Is it far from Troy?”

“Quite far. You are in Greece.”

“Greece? How is this possible?”

“I am sorry, Prince, but this was the only way to bring you back from the dead. Now I must go. I wish you well in your new life.”

“No! Please, wait! At least tell me what has happened to Andromache. Where can I find her?”

Two months after the Trojan War had ended, when the Greeks were not far from the shores of Syria, the group of Trojan refugees, led by Aeneas, reached the city of Bergama after venturing from one village to another. The King of Bergama, a good friend of the late King Priam, did not hesitate to receive them in his palace, being aware of the tragedy they had endured. He offered them unlimited support and told them that from that day on, they could consider Bergama their new home. But Aeneas though differently. Deep in his heart he had a secret desire: to return to Troy, rebuilt it and start a new dynasty.

Having been offered the same conditions she had enjoyed, as princess, back in Troy, Andromache was happy, but only because her child was out of danger and in Bergama he could have a chance to grow up well and be everything his father would have wanted him to be. Sadly, there was no other joy in Andromache’s life. With the exception of her handmaidens, for Andromache there were no others she felt close to. She was among strangers, even though they were kind people and sometimes she could not help it but weep at night, thinking back at the hard times she and the other Trojans had lived through. But Andromache was a strong woman and there were two things that gave her the strength to go on: her duty as mother to raise and educate her son, offering him the best life she could, and the hope that someday she might be reunited with her family and friends.

By the time Aeneas and the Trojans reached Bergama, Hector and Patroclus had boarded a merchant ship that took them from the shores of Greece to the port-city Milet, situated southwards from Bergama. Time passes differently in the realm of the dead, so, when they returned among the living, only a day had passed from their death. Though it was not easy, especially for Patroclus, the two of them learned to trust each other. Both of them knowing the rules of war, they understood that it would have been foolish to hold personal grudges against each other. Hector did not hesitate to subtly express his apologies and in the same way, Patroclus gave Hector to understand that he forgave him. A possible, supplementary reason which determined him to do so could have been the respect and admiration he still held for the brave Trojan Prince, whom he now regarded as a second mentor, even though he kept this hidden in his heart.

Upon reaching Milet, Hector was confused to hear rumors about Trojan refugees taking shelter in Bergama, since the spirit had told him he would be rejoined with his family in Syria. Patroclus had also heard the spirit’s voice in his head, telling him that his cousin and the entire Greek army were also in Syria and he was anxious to join them in whatever battle they had gone there to fight, despite all that he had gone through in the last battle in which he had participated.

Due to this, Hector found himself in a difficult situation. On the one hand he wanted to go to Bergama and see for himself whether the rumors about the Trojan refugees were true, but on the other hand, he could not let the young Patroclus venture by himself into unknown territories. He felt responsible for the boy’s safety, because of everything he had put him through, and because, to a certain extent, Patroclus reminded him of his brother Paris –except for the appetite for battles and other such traits resembling his cousin’s personality.

Though he was not the kind of man to blindly believe in what the priests called “signs from the gods”, Hector took the decision of consulting an Oracle in the temple of Dionysus, patron of the city. Interpreting the Oracle’s intricate predictions, he came to the conclusion that they were identical to what the spirit had told him. Having no time to spare, Hector and Patroclus boarded yet another ship and continued their journey to the far desert lands of Syria.