Outside the golden city of Troy, Prince Hektor leads the Trojan cavalry in daring raids against the forces led by his young rival, the peerless warrior Achilles. Meanwhile, burning for vengeance after the brutal murder of his wife, Helikaon commands the Trojan fleet, sowing misery and death among the Mykene navy and supply ships. But even these mighty efforts are of scant avail against the hordes of battle-hardened Mykene infantry, the Myrmidon soldiers of Achilles, and the cunning strategies of Odysseus, compelled against his heart’s urgings to aid the cause of Agamemnon. Now, before the gates of Troy, Hektor and Achilles will find themselves inexorably drawn into a battle of champions that will decide the fate of the innocents trapped within the city walls. There, as King Priam slips into madness, Andromache–wife of Hektor, lover of Helikaon, mother, warrior, and priestess–must navigate a maze of treachery and danger to save her children and her city from the massacre about to unfold. “If Hollywood wants to find a new book-based, war-filled fantasy franchise that repeats the success of The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia . . . it may want to look to Gemmell for inspiration.”— Wall Street Journal “Unexpected twists and turns . . . This imaginative retelling breathes new life into [this] tale of intrigue and deception.”— Booklist “Strong characterizations and sturdy plotting evoke the horror of the conflict, and the story’s mythic power.”— Publishers Weekly David Gemmell’s first novel, Legend , was first published in 1984 and went on to become a classic. His most recent Drenai and Rigante novels are available as Corgi paperbacks; all are Sunday Times bestsellers. Widely regarded as the finest writer of heroic fantasy, David Gemmell lived in Sussex until his tragic death in July 2006. Chapter One Farewell to the Queen Helikaon stood at the stern of the Xanthos, staring back at the burning fleet. He felt no satisfaction as the flames lit the night sky. Removing his helm of bronze, he leaned against the stern rail and turned his gaze toward the east. Fires also were burning in the distant fortress of Dardanos, and the Xanthos headed slowly back toward them. The breeze was cool upon his face as he stood alone. No one approached him. Even the sailor at the great steering oar kept his gaze firmly fixed to the east. The eighty oars of the great vessel slid rhythmically into the night-dark water, the sound as regular as heartbeat. Halysia was dead. The queen of Dardania was dead. His wife was dead. And his heart was a ruin. He and Gershom had climbed the steep cliff to where her body lay, little Dex snuggled up beside her, the black stallion waiting close by. Helikaon had run to her, kneeling and lifting her into his arms. There had been a savage wound in her side, and the ground around her had been slick with blood. Her head had flopped back, her golden hair hanging loose. Dex had cried out, “Papa!” and he had hugged the three-year-old to him. “We must be very quiet,” Dex whispered. “Sun Woman is sleeping.” Gershom lifted the boy into his arms. “We jumped over it,” Dex said excitedly, pointing to the chasm and the burned bridge. “We ran away from the bad men.” Helikaon cradled Halysia to him. Her eyes opened then, and she smiled up at him. “I knew . . . you would come,” she said. “I am here. Rest. We will get you back to the palace and staunch your wounds.” Her face was pale. “I am so tired,” she told him, and his vision misted as tears formed. “I love you,” he whispered. She sighed then. “Such a . . . sweet lie,” she said. She spoke no more, nor ever would, and he knelt there, holding her close. Across the chasm the sounds of battle grew closer. He did not look up. Hektor and the Trojan Horse had driven the Mykene along the defile toward Parnio’s Folly, and there the enemy had made its last stand. But Helikaon did not care. He stroked his fingers through Halysia’s golden hair and looked down into her dead eyes. Other men came climbing the cliff. They stood around him silently. At last he closed Halysia’s eyes. He gave orders for her body to be carried back to the fortress, then slowly made his way to meet Hektor. “There is still some fighting to the northeast,” Hektor told him. “The enemy general tried to battle his way to the coast. We have them penned.” Helikaon nodded. “We took a few prisoners,” Hektor said. “One told us Agamemnon and a war fleet are on Imbros. I don’t think we can hold here if they come. The Seagate is ruined, and my men are weary.” “I will deal with them,” Helikaon said coldly. “You finish the resistance here.” Calling his men, he had returned to the Xanthos and set sail into the night. He had expected to face battle with a screen of war galleys protecting the main fleet, but the Mykene, with the arrogance of conquerors, believing themselves safe from attack, had beached their entire fleet on Imbros for the night. It was a mistake Agamemno