"The Fall of Troy - Helen" by João M. Oliveira

The Fall of Troy

Chapter 1 - Helen

Helen washed one more tear with her hair, hoping she could cleanse her mind as easily. She knew who was to blame for all that was happening, the war, the murders, the loss; she knew it was all her fault. One more tear fell down from her eyes, but she did not bother to wipe it away. Instead Helen slipped into the activity she got so accustomed with in the last ten years: thinking of ways to punish herself and end the war.

If she was the cause of the problem, only she could end the lusting war; or so she thought. Breathing deeply she arose from her bed and wandered the room. Once she tried to give herself up to Menelaus, leaving Troy and ending the war, hoping that would work and wipe away all the torment she caused. But King Priam of Troy, Paris father, had stop her.

'Menelaus might be stopped with that, but you know Agamemnon wants more, you know the horde of men wont stop until they see our golden walls fall, he said. And she knew it was truth. She knew Agamemnon had lost his daughter because of her, she knew the other Greeks had lost years of their life, they didn't see their children grow, their parents died of old age, their friends were lost in a war fought in her name. They would not be satisfied with just taking Helen back; they wanted others to suffer, to experience a loss and pain as great of theirs, because of her.

She knew all that, but somehow she felt that if she surrendered they would be satisfied with just punishing her and leave Troy alone. She would give her body to all the men in the Greek army if only to save the life of a single Trojan child. Being daughter of Zeus, Helen was accustomed having others blaming her and wanting her to solve the problems, so much so that she grew absorbing that conviction and it became the very fabric of her actions. Since the war began she had tried suicide, cut herself, abstained from food, searched for ways to convince others she was the one to blame, but Priam never let her sink very deep in the angst, except during the dark nights, when, since Paris was killed, she planned a million ways to punish herself and end the conflict.

How did she allow herself to cause such war? Why did she let her love overcome her responsibilities if she already knew that anything that would bring pleasure to her would, inevitably, cause pain to others? She could still see the first day she met Paris, ten years before, with the clarity she saw her blood running through her hands and dropping in the floor.

She was married to Menelaus since her 16th birthday and falling in love, two years later, was a surprise for Helen. Never had she felt such emotion, like if she could be happy even though she knew others were suffering. But angst caught up with love and the pain in Menelaus eyes every time he saw her was quite revealing of how he felt about the rumours that flooded the palace. Helen could not stand to cause such suffering in someone who loved her so much and who had always respected her and took care of her in her worst times, when the blame was so great she felt like ending herself was the only thing that would bring order back.

In the past she had already lost all the people who concerned about her; Theseus was murdered, her brothers died, Clytemnestra married and went to Sparta… She would not risk loosing Menelaus too.

When she was about to give up her love and again dive in a whirl of blame and punishment, Aphrodite came to her.

-  -  -

The light in the room was dim as the last rays of sun light slipped inside through the windows. The last minutes of the day were running and soon Paris would enter the room and ask her to go with him and run to Troy. But she could not; she could not be the cause of more suffering, except her own. Helen stopped crying and washed her face, putting on the mask of apathy she wore so many times.

Suddenly there was a rumbling outside and the door to her room slammed wide open. Paris entered with his golden hair covered in a cloak. He glided toward the daughter of Zeus and let the cloak fall, revealing his body, covered with a small sailor outfit and wearing the symbols of the golden city of Troy. Striving to show no emotion, Helen patted his tanned skin while he played with her curly copper hair.

'Your eyes remind me of the green fields in Troy. Helen coldly smiled.

'Troy is in the desert, it has no fields, was her answer.

'Helen, is something wrong? Paris gazed her eyes and as she worked to express coldness his own eyes began wetting. Helen, won't you come with me?

'No. Please leave. Guards, she called and continued when the men came in, the Prince of Troy came to say goodbye. He is leaving now, escort him to the port and make sure he doesn't get, accidentally, lost.

When the door closed and Helen was alone again the emotions finally broke the barrier of reason and blame; she cried. She would have lingered on through the night if the fair Goddess did no came in her aid, filling the air with the essence of thousands of roses, lighting the dark and colouring the greys of the palace.

'Why do you cry? Were the Goddess first words. She held the girl in her golden arms and let her cry and spill all that was burning inside of her. When Helen had finished, the Goddess merely said If you love him, it will bring no harm. I should know. Do you not realise how you hurt him? Do you think Menelaus is more worth of your suffering than Paris of your love? Go after him now and you shall find your burning love. Stay and only blame awaits you.

-  -  -

And the Goddess was right. She came with Paris and she did find love, but it was a burning love that incinerated everyone around it, bringing war, death, murder, pain, loss and blame with it. And now she lost the prince Alexandros as well, her beloved Paris with whom she spent the happiest time of her life, the only time she was truly happy, truly herself, truly free, in the ship from Sparta to Troy. Then she got to the city of the golden walls and with her came the news of Iphigenia and a pain that seized the region for long ten years. From that window she had only seen evil and she developed an instinct that kept her away from it.

But now she was feeling an irresistible power drawing her towards the cursed window of her room. She tried to fight, but gave up when she saw Apollo calling for her. The God of truth could only show her the truth and the truth could not hurt, or so she thought. Slowly, step after step, she approached the window, seeing the flames around it, the souls it claimed screaming for her. She looked down and what she saw fleshed her heart out of her breast. The God of truth, pure as light, but as He approached night and darkness always followed close behind.

The vision of Cassandra was finally proving truth. At the plaza in front of the temple of Poseidon the wooden horse was expelling Greek soldiers. She recognized the son of Achilles, Neoptolemus, advancing towards the palace as the soldiers slew any who dared to cross their way and the statues of the rulers of Troy spontaneously fell as he opened his way.

A chilling wind entered her room and blew the torches, leaving the moonlight as the only means of illumination. But she did not see it. She looked towards the room where she knew the kind Andromache, wife of Hector, and their son, Astyanax were sleeping. It was the only room left with torches lighted up as if it was the one everyone was meant to look at.

She saw through the large windows the Greek soldiers entering and surrounding the princess and her son, a baby, prince of Troy, the heir of the throne. And the she cried has Neoptolemus stolen the child and coldly threw it out the window. Her eyes followed the newborn as he fell from the highs and she closed them when he smashed at the floor beneath.

Helen screamed in pain and saw Menelaus among the men. She slid and sat on the floor, crying, screaming, and hallucinating. Why couldn’t she have stayed with Menelaus…? When her sister knew she was to marry to the prince of Sparta she got all excited: Menelaus was Greece most wanted bachelor, but not to her, no, Helen needed something more. She was so punishable. Helen scratched her own face, trying to rip off her skin.

And now she could already see the ghosts of the dead people of Troy, the ones being murdered outside. She could hear them screaming, the children’s crying suddenly shut by the blow of an arrow, the women’s voice rapidly cut and their body quickly desecrated. All because of her.

The door slammed open and an enraged Deiphobos entered. He scanned the room and after seeing the princess advanced towards her. Helen closed her eyes and let the punishment enter her body and throw away anything pure that might still inhabit that filthy self. She knew she deserved and Apollo’s whispers that it would be the worst moment of her life and after that she would be happy were nothing more to her than a soft breeze in the storm.

And then Menelaus entered and gazed his wife in the floor with her eyes shut, her face hurt and all her body bleeding as tears fell from her eyes, and the soldier above her.