I feel your eyes on my retreating back as I head toward my battle. My
armor is heavy and the glare of the sun hurts my eyes. I do not look
back to take in what you feel is my last sight of you. I do not glance
back to the child you hold in your arms. Your image in engraved in my
mind, and my heart clutches as I remember your tresses that ripple over
your shoulders, the thick lashes that frame your eyes, your tear-stained
cheeks as you beg me to stay. I disappear from your sight and only then
do I turn back to breathe in the scent of our farewell.
Goodbye,
beloved Andromache. Soon you will be back in my arms and I will be there
to wipe your tears away. For now I must face the fiend who comes
between us.
I lift the sword in my hand. This battle I dedicate to
my king and country. But my fiend's last breath I give to my dear
Andromache.