The Children's Hour, Volume 3 (of 10): Stories from the Classics
General
The Children's Hour, Volume 3 (of 10): Stories from the Classics
Children's stories; Classical literature -- Adaptations
So spake the glorious Hector, and went his way to his own well-furnished
house; but he found not Andromache there; for she had gone to the tower,
with her fair-robed nurse and with her boy, all bathed in tears. Hector
asked the servants whither the white-armed Andromache was gone; and the
busy matron of the house replied, "She is gone to the tower of holy Troy;
for she heard that the Trojans were defeated, and the Achaians
victorious." Then Hector returned, by the same way, down the wide streets,
and came to the Scæan Gate.
And his peerless wife, even Andromache, daughter of the high-minded
Eëtion, king of Cilicia--she whom he had won by countless gifts--came
running to meet him. And with her came the handmaid, the nurse, bearing in
her arms Hector's tender boy, Astyanax, beautiful as the morning star. And
Hector smiled, and looked on his darling boy, while Andromache stood
beside him weeping. And she clasped his hand, and called him by his name.
"O my dear lord, thy dauntless courage will destroy thee! Hast thou no
pity for thy infant child, and for thy hapless wife, who soon will be a
widow? It were far better for me to die, if I lose _thee_; for nevermore
can I know comfort, but only pain and sorrow. For I shall be utterly
alone. I have neither father nor mother; for Eëtion, my royal sire, was
slain by great Achilles. And all my seven brothers went down to Hades on
the selfsame day! they too were slain by swift-footed Pelides. But my
mother was smitten in her father's halls, by the gentle arrows of the
archer Artemis. Lo! now, _thou_ art all in all to me, father, mother,
brother, and dearly loved husband! Come, then, take pity on us, and abide
in the tower, and make not thy boy an orphan, and thy wife a widow!"
And the glorious Hector of the glancing helm answered her, and said, "Dear
Wife! I too think of all these things. But how can I shun the battle, like
a coward, to be the mock of the Trojans, and of the Trojan dames with
trailing robes? I, who have always fought in the van of battle, and won
glory for my father and myself? I know that the day will come, when sacred
Ilium shall be leveled with the ground, and Priam and the people of Priam
shall perish. But it is not so much the fate of Priam, and of my mother,
Hecuba, and of my brethren, which fills my soul with anguish; but it is
_thy_ misery, dear one, in the day when some Achaian warrior shall bear
thee away, weeping, and rob thee of thy freedom. Thou, alas! wilt abide in
Argos, and ply the loom, the slave of another woman; or bear water from
the Hypereian fount, being harshly treated! And one will say, as he
looketh upon thee, 'This was the wife of Hector, the foremost of the
horse-taming Trojans in the war round Ilium.' But may the deep earth cover
_me_, ere I hear thee crying in the day of thy captivity."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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