Chapter 233: The Last Day of the Truce

By the third morning of the truce, Troy had stopped ringing the bells.

The city was still mourning Queen Hecuba, but the funeral crowds had gone. The streets were quieter now. Men stood beside the walls with their weapons ready, and the women and children who had been moved below the city were no longer visible among the houses.

In the war room, King Hector stood over a table covered with maps.

Prince Paris stood opposite him. Prince Lysander remained near the doorway, listening to the reports brought by the scouts.

"The Greeks changed the watch before sunrise," one of the captains said. "The men at the eastern works were replaced by soldiers from the main camp."

"How many?" Hector asked.

"Enough to defend the position. Not enough to protect everything around it."

Hector looked down at the map.

The eastern works were the closest point of the Greek preparations to Troy. The Greeks had been gathering timber, rope, oil, and iron there for the assault that would begin when the truce ended.

They had not built the final engines yet.

That was why the place mattered.

Paris placed one hand on the table.

"We should strike the camp itself."

"No," Hector said.

Paris looked at him.

"They murdered Queen Hecuba inside our city."

"I know."

"They expect us to remain behind the walls while they prepare to attack."

"I know that too."

"Then why should we choose a pile of timber over the men who planned this?"

Hector raised his eyes.

"Because killing a few men will satisfy us for an hour. Burning what they need will delay their attack for days."

Paris’s jaw tightened.

Hector did not soften his voice.

"We are not going out there to make ourselves feel better."

He moved one of the markers on the map.

"We are going to make them lose something they cannot replace quickly."

The captain pointed at the eastern works.

"If we attack here, they will send the whole camp."

"Only if they understand the target," Lysander said from the doorway.

Paris turned toward him.

Lysander stepped closer to the table.

"If they think we are testing their line, they will send enough men to drive us back. They will not immediately understand that the supply works are the real target."

Hector nodded.

"That is the reason for the first force."

He moved another marker toward the northern side of the plain.

"A small group will leave through the north gate. They will show themselves, fire on the outer watch, and withdraw before the Greeks can surround them."

Paris studied the map.

"They will chase them."

"They will try," Lysander said. "That is what we want."

"The Greeks may ignore them."

"Then the first force moves closer," Hector replied. "Not close enough to become trapped. They give the enemy a reason to believe the attack is there."

Paris looked at the eastern works.

"And while they are watching the north?"

"We strike the supplies."

The plan was simple. That was what made it dangerous.

Hector pointed to the marked road leading from the Greek camp.

"Paris, you will come with the main force. Your archers will keep the guards away from the workers and the carts. Do not pursue anyone beyond the works."

Paris gave him a hard look.

"I know how to withdraw."

"Then prove it."

The words were not an insult. Hector knew his brother well enough to understand how quickly anger could turn a victory into a defeat.

Paris looked back at the map.

"What exactly are we destroying?"

"The oil first. Then the rope and the prepared timber. If the fire reaches the carts, leave them. Do not waste men trying to save what is already burning."

"And the guards?"

"Drive them away. Kill only those who block the withdrawal."

Paris’s expression darkened.

"That is restraint."

"That is survival."

Lysander placed a finger beside the western road.

"The retreat cannot return by the same route. Once the Greeks understand that the eastern works are under attack, they will close the plain."

"I will keep the western gate open," Hector said.

"You should not lead the strike and wait at the gate."

"I will not wait there."

Lysander looked at him.

"I will remain inside the city and watch the Greek movement. If their main force leaves the camp, I will send the signal. If the route closes, I will order the attack abandoned."

Paris glanced at him.

"Will the men listen to you if Hector is already outside?"

"They will if they want to return alive."

Hector looked between them.

"Lysander stays with the reserve. No one leaves the walls without his order."

The decision settled the matter.

A silence followed.

Outside the room, boots passed along the corridor. Somewhere beyond the walls, a horn sounded from the Greek camp.

Paris folded his arms.

"This is because of Hecuba."

Hector’s face did not change, but his hand closed around the edge of the table.

"They killed our queen while calling themselves disciplined."

His eyes remained on the map.

"The truce gave them time to prepare their attack. It gave us time to bury our dead. They believe that makes us weaker."

He lifted his gaze.

"Let them learn what their discipline costs."

No one answered.

A scout entered the room before Hector could give the order to move.

"My king."

"What is it?"

"The Greek watch has changed again. More torches are moving along the eastern road."

Hector looked at Lysander.

"Have they seen us?"

"I cannot tell."

"Are the torches moving toward the works?"

The scout shook his head.

"Some are. Others are turning toward the northern plain."

Paris looked at Hector.

"They may have noticed the first force."

"Or they are changing their patrols for another reason," Lysander said.

Hector studied the map.

For a moment, the plan seemed to narrow around them. One wrong assumption could place both forces between the Greek camp and the walls.

"Reduce the main force," Hector said.

The captain frowned.

"We cannot destroy the entire supply line with fewer men."

"We do not need the entire line."

Hector removed several markers from the map.

"We burn the oil and cut the draft animals loose. If the timber catches, good. If it does not, we leave it."

Paris nodded slowly.

"Fast in. Fast out."

"Exactly."

The scout waited.

Hector turned to him.

"Tell the northern force to begin when they see the second torch signal."

"And if the Greeks are already waiting?"

"Then they withdraw. The purpose is to draw the watch away, not to die proving that the plan was clever."

The men began leaving the room.

Paris remained behind for a moment.

"Your Majesty."

Hector looked at him.

Paris’s eyes hardened.

"And if they are there?"

"Do not let them decide the shape of this battle."

Paris understood what Hector meant. He turned and followed the others.

At the western gate, the soldiers gathered without banners or horns. Their shields were wrapped in cloth, and the torches had been covered until the last moment.

Hector mounted his horse.

On the wall above him, Lysander watched the Greek camp.

The first signal appeared on the northern plain—a brief flash, then darkness.

A second light answered near the outer road.

Lysander’s gaze shifted.

Farther east, a line of Greek torches had begun moving across the field.

They were not heading toward the northern decoy.

They were moving toward the route Hector intended to use for the withdrawal.

Lysander turned to the gate captain.

"Keep the gate closed until my order."

Below the wall, Hector raised his hand.

The soldiers waited.

Lysander watched the torches draw nearer.

Then he saw Hector look back toward the wall.

"Do not change the signal," the king said.

The gate opened.

Troy’s soldiers rode into the darkness.