A restless wind ravaged the dry, barren plains. There was no sign of life save for an eagle, circling the sky as though it was trying to draw some nutrition from the fruitless plains below.

The merciless, midday sun beat down upon his back as Ajax shifted his heavy armor trying to find a more comfortable position. Silently he gazed out at plains far below him, trying to scour some unknown enemy, but the plains hid nothing.

Suddenly the horn signaling danger sounded from the beach. He withdrew from his daydream, ran along the ramparts and joined the army assembling at the great wooden doors.
When Chryseus heard the horn, she rushed to the balcony to see the great army marching through the doors and across the plains. She knew that soon she too would be bringing death upon some but life upon others.

Sure enough, by the time the sun had sunk below the high walls of Troy, the soldiers returned with an air of defeat. Likewise, in the infirmary, the air was thick with the sounds of moaning and there was a smell of death. After tending to a man that had obtained a spear wound, Chryseus moved to the next bed. There lay a man who was bleeding badly from his left upper arm. The arrow was still in the wound and it looked very painful, yet the man was completely still.

The pain was blinding him yet he made no sound. He looked around to find a young woman standing at his side, touching the wound. Surprisingly, it did not hurt. Maybe because he was numb but probably because he was stunned by her beauty. In no time at all, the arrow had been removed and the pain was subsiding. Slowly Ajax closed his eyes, the last thing he saw was the beautiful woman smiling at him.

Chryseus stared out at the now bloodstained plains. Nine years had passed since the Greeks had taken the Trojan beach and since then things had gone downhill. Yes, Menelaus had been killed and the Trojans had won a few battles but at the same time there was great sadness. The Greek warrior, Achilles, had recently killed the Trojan prince, Hector and since then, the Trojans had lost spirit. Chryseus turned her thoughts to Ajax. It had been love at first sight. It burdened her heart to see him march out the gates as she knew he might not come back.

Suddenly he vision was filled with a magnificent wooden horse being rolled into the city. The word was that the Greeks had given up and left the horse as a tribute to the gods, asking for forgiveness. There was celebration late into the night but finally everyone dropped off to sleep.

Chryseus awoke to a gentle but urgent voice of Ajax. He quickly said something about the Greeks having gained access to the city and that they must leave immediately.

Hand in hand, they ran through the burning remains of what had once been the magnificent city of Troy. Everywhere there were screams of terror as men, woman and children fell to the Greek blades.

Suddenly Chryseus felt Ajax fall behind. She turned, and all air left her lungs as she saw that he had been felled by an arrow. She ran back to where Ajax lay, panting and bleeding. “You must run” he told her. Sobbing, she shook her head and put her arms around him, her dress soaked through with blood. Then the next arrow hit, Ajax crumpled beneath her. She held tighter, feeling his body go limp. Then she felt pain beyond anything she had ever imagined as an arrow pierced her back.

Slowly the lovers crumpled to the ground, wrapped forever in Love’s unwavering embrace.