Achilles&Briseis: A Novel

Chapter 18

Trigger Warnings for childbirth and stillbirth

"I'm so miserable," Andromache moaned. It was her third hour of labor.

Briseis held her hand through the pains. The midwives sat around talking or doing what they could to ease Andromache's suffering, though that wasn't much. "It will all be over soon," Briseis promised, "once you hold your son this pain will be forgotten."

Hector was outside the doors pacing. Men were absolutely forbidden from birthing chambers, even the father of the child. When Andromache's screams got too loud Hector would bang on the door and demand to be let inside but the doors stayed locked. Knowing he was there seemed to help his poor wife however briefly.

"The first babe is often the most difficult," a midwife reassured them. "The opening of the birth canal is the cause for this misery. After this child the others will be quick."

Andromache screamed, Hector beat on the door and Briseis worried and sweat. She'd heard the midwives speaking quietly that the lack of activity from the babe in the last two weeks wasn't a positive sign. A roaring fire heated the room to an almost unbearable temperature. The midwives insisted it was necessary for the comfort of both mother and the child once it was born.

Andromache screamed again and did her best to break every bone in Briseis' hand. "Can't you give her something for the pain?" Briseis asked through gritted teeth.

"No, it would risk the child," the head midwife told her.

"Brisies I don't think I can do this," poor Andromache cried.

"You can, I know you can." Briseis smoothed down Andromache's hair and settled in for a long wait. Seven hours later the babe was being cleaned but there was no rejoicing.

"No, no, no," Andromache cried. The heartbroken princess cried on the shoulder of her equally bereaved husband. Though the child was born it had no life. Andromache had been right, she was carrying a son but one not destined to be Troy's heir.

Briseis held her tears in as she finished wrapping the babe. Nervously she carried the child to his parents. "Would either of you like to hold him?" she asked as a tear escaped.

The head midwife had told her not to do this as she felt the baby should be removed immediately so the parents could begin to heal. Briseis couldn't help herself though. Had she been in Andromache's place she would have to hold the child at least once. The midwife turned purple but didn't dare speak against her and continued cleaning and removing the bloodily rags and bedsheets. The lower midwives shot Briseis nervous glances and hurried even faster to finish their tasks.

"Yes," Hector said. Gently he removed Andromache from his shoulder and held his hands out for his son. Andromache flopped face down on the bed and cried harder. Briseis handed over the precious bundle as her tears began to fall in earnest. She went to place a hand on Andromache but Hector stopped her with a shake of his head. "You've been of great service to my wife and I, thank you. I have to ask you leave us, Princess Briseis," Hector whispered.

She nodded. Brisies made it to the solar before she broke down in full sobs. She was sad for Andromache and Hector and she cried for them but she also cried for herself, though the babe hadn't survived, Andromache could conceivably go on to have a healthy child and that was something Briseis couldn't do no matter how she wished it.

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The funeral games for the child of Hector lasted fourteen days. Though the official morning period was over, the entire city still grieved and nowhere was that grief more keenly felt than in the palace. Heaviness filled the halls and mourning ribbons were tied to all the pillars. They flapped gently in the wind, other than footsteps it was almost the only sound one could hear in the palace these days.

Helen's jovial laughter echoed through the halls and in the silence it was so grating. Briseis flinched as she passed the chambers of Helen and Paris. She was on her way to see Andromache, the heartbroken princess had summoned her; for what Briseis had no idea. Hector and Andromache had retreated to their chambers after the first night of the games when their child was lain on the pyre with two coins on his eyes for the ferryman.

The funeral games had temporarily put an end to the councils as the whole city, residents and visitors alike were expected to fully participate. The council would pick up were they left off in a few hours time while its future king and queen still grieved.

She stopped before the door to Hector and Andromache's quarters. One of the guards recognized her and opened the door for her immediately. Andromache was sitting at a low table, her husband by her side. On the table was a plain piece of cloth, three needles, and three spools of thread.

"My heart mourns with you," Briseis told them while placing her hand over her heart. It was the traditional way to convey your condolences in Pedasus.

"Thank you," Hector said, "please sit."

Briseis did as asked.

Andromache placed her hand over Briseis'. Andromache still looked very haggard, her hair was in tangles and dark circles hung under her eyes. Hector didn't look much better. "Thank you for coming," Andromache sounded fragile but calm. It was an odd combination. "I need you here for the ritual."

"Ritual?"

"In my family there is a tradition. When one suffers a devastating loss you stitch a line into a cloth. You weave your sorrow into the stitching and then burn it. It helps to let go of the pain and helps you begin to move on. There needs to be three people, the two most aggrieved and a witness between them to make sure the hurt isn't held onto. I hope it isn't too forward of me to ask this of you Briseis, but the third person is suppose to be a great friend. I don't have many friends here but I feel close to you, Princess of Pedasus."

Briseis nodded. They had nothing like this in Pedasus but it sounded like a therapeutic and meaningful ritual. "I am humbled you would ask me to be a part of this."

"Thank you," Hector said. "This ritual is strange to me but I believe Andromache is right and I am grateful to have you here. Tonight there will be a final mourning dinner for the Trojan family and I would like you to come as Andromache's sister–in–spirit. It's a Trojan tradition for those who have been of great service to us. It is customary to wear the plainest clothing possible as a reminder that we are all equals at the end of life."

Brisies' heart went out to the poor couple before her. "I would be...I don't know if honored is the appropriate word to use," Briseis said haltingly.

Andromache brushed a piece of hair behind her ear and sniffed. She smiled sadly at Briseis. "It will be an honor, the final honor of our child. As a sister–in–spirit I would like us to walk in together."

"We will," Briseis promised.

Andromache nodded and then took a deep breath. "Shall we begin?"

Andromache went first. Briseis had seen her stitch many clothes for the baby in their time together. Those projects though they exhausted Andromache had been done quickly and with great joy and expectation. This single line she stitched took her a quarter of an hour. The cloth was then passed to Hector.

Hector took up his needle, which his wife had to thread for him, and took even longer to stitch his line. In his case the lack of speed had to do with unfamiliarity with the craft. Hector's stitches weren't quite as even or straight but he finished the line.

Briseis was instructed to stitch her line down the middle in between the others. She matched Andromache's stitch size and evenness. As Briseis tied off the thread, Andromache and Hector set up a small brazier on the balcony of their quarters. They burned the cloth in silence. Though Andromache and Hector weeped watching the cloth be reduced to ashes, Briseis felt like her friends were on the path to healing.