Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1)

by Janell Rhiannon

  The priestess raised her arm from her flowing white sleeve and pointed an accusing finger at the bull dancer. She spoke in hushed awe at her revelation, “The Forgotten Prince.” The roar of the crowd drowned out her words to all except the one who wanted most to hear them.

  The queen turned her head in Cassandra’s direction. “What did you say daughter?”

  The priestess of Apollo stared at the man leaping over the bulls and spoke again. “He is the doom of Troy,” she hissed, and then she shouted in desperation, “HE IS THE DOOM OF TROY!”

  Cassandra’s words rose above the din, pricking King Priam’s ears. “What is this? What treason are you spewing now insane girl? Keep your tongue civil. Better yet, keep it silent. We want none of your prattling nonsense this day.”

  Cassandra ignored her father. “He is the Forgotten Prince.”

  Hecuba stood up and went to the railing. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders and fell to the ground. Priam’s gaze followed her accusing finger into the ring. He had been watching the spectacle with detachment, now he looked with purpose. He studied the tall figure of the man facing the bull that was stabbing at the dirt with a heavy hoof sending showers of dust into the air. The beast charged him and he ran at it like a sprinter with the wind at his back and launched himself forward gracefully grabbing the bull’s horns. The force of their collision propelled him into the air with the dancer never releasing his hold on the horns. Priam watched as the young man’s body cleared the dangerous horns and whipped around, his back parallel to the bull’s but never touching. He landed solidly on the ground making his leap appear an easy task. The crowd cheered the dancer’s skill and elegance.

  Priam looked to his wife. Hecuba’s hands clung to the railing. The blood had drained from her face. He moved closer to her. “Do you think it possible?” she asked in a desperate whisper. “I cannot take my eyes from him.”

  “The dead cannot rise and walk among us,” King Priam said quietly, regretfully.

  Hecuba’s grip released the railing. “No, they cannot.” Her hope already fading.

  He reached for her hand, but she pulled it to her side before he could. “I am sorry. Truly.” In all their years together since they’d lost their second son, he’d never been able to reach her heart. “Drop your fucking arm Cassandra.”

  “It is him, Father. Look closely.”

  Her insistence annoyed the king and he decided at that moment she should be locked up for her own safety and everyone else’s sanity. But, he couldn’t resist her words. They tempted him as a sweet wine tempts an old man. He looked hard. The dark curly hair. The towering height. His gait. In fact, from this distance, he might be mistaken for Hektor. “It cannot be...”

  “It is,” Cassandra said simply. She lowered her arm.

  “Bring me that damned cattle herder, Agelaus,” the king yelled over the cheering throng. “Bring him to me straight away.”

  “Where will I find him?” a servant asked.

  “He will be down there.” The king pointed toward the pens under the arena. “He will be with the bulls no doubt.” Priam didn’t even look as the servant scurried away. He sat down heavily in his chair. The young bull leaper had disappeared. Another had entered the grounds with a fresh bull. His mind raced with thoughts of the day he handed his squalling son to Agelaus, who had sent the gruesome evidence of his deed. He dared a sideways glance at Hecuba. She sat staring straight ahead, a single tear streaking down her pale cheek. What if...

  Hektor’s words pierced Priam’s thoughts. “Are you well, Father?”

  “I do not know. In all honesty, I do not know.”

  “Does it have to do with Cassandra’s warning?” Hektor asked, his concern for his father rising.

  Priam looked at his eldest son, and then at his many other children gathered for this special occasion. Of them all, the king knew Hektor remembered. He’d been all of five summers old when his brother was lost to them. “Her words do concern. Impossible...” He couldn’t bring himself to say he was hoping she was right, that somehow the boy had survived and made his way back to the city that banished him. No, he thought, the king who banished him. Worse, the father who had sent him to his death.

  The eldest prince asked, “Do you truly believe Cassandra’s words? She is always spilling some mystery which amounts to nothing.”

  “There is only one man who can provide the answer. I have sent for him.”

  “I shall stay with you Father and hear what he says,” Hektor said.

  They didn’t have to wait much longer, as the servant returned with the requested man. King Priam signaled Agelaus to approach. The bull herder bowed his head and then knelt before his king.

  “Agelaus, many years ago I made a terrible request of you. Do you recall?”

  “I can never forget that day,” Agelaus responded.

  “Good. Tell me what happened to that child.” Beside him, Priam heard Hecuba gasp.

  The bull herder twisted uncomfortably as he knelt. “In front of the Queen?”

  “She has as much right to hear the truth as any,” King Priam said.

  Agelaus swallowed hard under the hot gaze of the royal family. “I left him to die as you commanded my lord. I cut out his tongue and left him to die.”

  Hecuba nearly fainted with his telling. Andromache stepped to her new-mother’s side.

  The king pressed him further. “Who is the young bull dancer who resembles my sons?”

  The question stunned Agelaus. Suddenly, his nightmare was unfolding before him. He always feared that one day someone would mistake Paris for a son of Priam, but he’d not anticipated that the day would be this day. Fear overwhelmed his senses. He would have to confess everything, he knew, so he prostrated himself before addressing Priam. “My king, please forgive me.” He sent up a silent prayer that his life would be spared. For the first time in all his days, he feared death.

  Priam stiffened with equal measures of hope and horror. “You did as you were commanded. I will find no fault in you.”

  “If I had only done as you requested...” the bull herder’s voice broke over the stone beneath him.

  “What riddle is this, Agelaus? What did you do with my son?” There it was. The truth of the past that he’d avoided for over twenty summers.

  “I...I...couldn’t my king. I just couldn’t let the child die. I went back for him. He survived.”

  Priam stood up. “Where is my son? What have you done with my son?!” he demanded.

  “The bull dancer, my lord. He is the bull dancer.” Agelaus confessed face down to the stone before his king’s feet.

  “How do you know this? Is it certain? There can be no mistakes herder or that you will pay for.”

  “It is true. And certain,” Agelaus paused terrified the next sound he’d hear would be the quick swoosh of a sword cleaving his head from his shoulders. “I raised him myself.”

  Hecuba’s hand flew to her mouth stifling a cry. Priam sat back down slowly as the herder’s words undid his most regretted act as king and husband. “Bring him to me,” King Priam commanded. “I will see my son.”

  DESPITE HIS ACHING bones, Agelaus quickly stood. “Yes, my King.” He bolted from the royal compartments and made straight for the stable holdings. As he rushed to obey his king, his mind whirled with worry about the future of his family. What would Lexias say? How would she take the news? What punishment would the king give him? He’d stolen the prince from him...he reasoned against the latter as his own fear. Priam said it was no fault of his own.

  He spotted Paris talking with some men. “Paris!”

  The tall handsome man turned. “Father! Did you see that last pass with the bull? I may have won with that leap.”

  “I did. And perhaps it was enough.”

  “Perhaps?” Paris asked incredulously.

  “Paris, there is no time to talk about bull dancing.”

  Paris threw his head back laughing. “The heat is making you mad. No time for bull—”

&n
bsp; Agelaus grabbed Paris roughly by the elbow and pulled him close speaking directly into his ear. “I barely have time to tell you what you need to know. All will change for you I fear.”

  “Concerning what, Father? The purse is not so large.”

  “Everything.”

  “You make no sense, Father.”

  “Paris, you know I love you. Lexias loves you as if you were our own.”

  Paris pulled his arm from his father’s grip. “Now, you cause concern. Why are you speaking as if you are about to punish me?”

  “Have you never wondered about your true parents?”

  “Often, yes and you have failed to speak regarding the matter.”

  “I am ready to speak. I must speak.”

  “Father, what has happened? Why now? Has someone threatened you?”

  “It is none of that. But your real father has seen you and wishes you to come to him.”

  Paris snorted disbelief. “My FATHER?!” He turned and grabbed the post of the pen behind him to steady himself. “I had hoped one day I might find my parents, but I gave that up years ago. Now, you tell me he is here? That he desires to meet me?”

  “Yes, that is what I am saying.”

  “What if I do not wish it? I have a wife and work your land...what would a new father wish of me? I see no reason.”

  “Paris, my dear son, you have no choice.”

  “What do you mean, I have no choice?! I have a fucking choice and I choose not to visit this man.”

  “Paris, trust me. If you do not go, he will find me and run a sword through me for certain.”

  “No one has the power to compel you or I to do what is against are wills.”

  “Paris, it is the king. King Priam.”

  Paris dropped his hands to his sides, and turned to Agelaus in the eyes. “You are a crazy fool. By the balls of Zeus, what are you talking about? I am no king’s son. I am no prince.” He shook his head. “Why are you doing this? Why would you jest regarding such a thing?”

  Agelaus spoke, “It is no jest, Paris. You are the Forgotten Prince.”

  Paris recalled the story. A prince born years ago who the king had put out to die. It was rumored the queen never forgave the king. “What has this to do with me? Nothing. I was an abandoned and unwanted child. You found me and raised me.”

  “Paris, I was the servant chosen to leave the prince, you, in the wild. I left you there. For days I couldn’t sleep. The gods sent me nightmares so I went back. Found a silver-bear feeding you. Artemis I suppose. You were dirty, but your cheeks were rosy. I brought you home. We raised you as our own. Paris, I took you directly from the hands of Priam himself. I have no reason to speak untruth.”

  Two armored guards appeared behind Agelaus, alarming him and his urgency grew to desperation. He must make Paris understand. “You must come with me to meet the king, your true father.”

  Paris sized up the guards and considered his father’s words. He knew deep within that his father, the only father he’d ever known, was speaking the truth yet the words refused to take hold in his mind. He’d wanted to know the truth for so long, and now after finally hearing it, the truth sounded foreign in his ear, not at all the welcomed news he’d thought it would be. To be a prince would change everything about the life he’d come to love.

  One guard stepped up, “Are you Agelaus?”

  “Yes, yes I am,” the bull herder acknowledged.

  “The king orders you return with the bull leaper.”

  Agealus looked to Paris and said, “We’re coming presently.”

  The guards escorted Paris and Agelaus straight to the royal compartments. As Paris approached he caught the eyes of several younger princes and princesses. They looked curiously at him. Then, he caught the image of a man a few years older than himself whose visage was almost a silvered mirror’s reflection of his own. His fingers touched the dip in his chin. The king rose to greet him.

  “You are...” He turned to look at Hektor, then back to Paris. “You are him. I see the blood of my fathers in your face now that I can see you closely.” The king smiled broadly and tears filled his eyes. “You are him.”

  Paris bowed his head. “I do not know who I am, my lord.”

  “Agelaus tells me he has raised you as his own?”

  “Yes, he has been father to me my entire life,” Paris said.

  “He has told you, then, how you came to his household.”

  “He has recently told me a tale I cannot believe.”

  Priam nodded. “It is hard to hear the unbelievable and believe,” the king sighed, “Yet, it is true what he tells you.”

  Paris grew angry. “Why?” He looked to the faces staring coldly and disbelievingly at him. Paris gestured at the royal family. “Why was I cast aside from among your jewels? What wrong had I done? You cannot be my father.”

  “I am your father. You had done no wrong. A warning prophecy was given that your birth would bring destruction to Troy. So you were sent away...” There was a prophecy about your birth that caused me to send you away...”

  “Sent to die, you mean.”

  “My decision was only to protect Troy.”

  Paris stepped away from the king, placing distance between the dawning truth and the world he yearned to keep. “Yet the city stands, as do I. Perhaps your seer was more practiced in deception than truth.”

  “Your words are true enough. The seer must have misread the signs and the gods intervened through Agelaus to save you.”

  Hecuba stepped forward without saying a word. She raised a hand and gently laid it on Paris’ cheek. Her large brown eyes softened with fresh tears and joy. “You are my son. I would know this face anywhere; even in the depth and fire of Hades I would know this face. My son...the Forgotten Prince to all, save me. You have lived in my grieving heart my entire life.” The queen embraced a surprised Paris and held him tightly to her and she wept quietly. Slowly, Paris brought his arms around the weeping woman.

  Hektor watched his mother embrace the stranger and smiled for her joy and release of pain. He pulled his new wife to his side and whispered in her ear, “This will change everything for her.”

  Andromache whispered back, “You are happy then?”

  “Yes, yes I am glad. Her heart has suffered long.”

  “You hold no jealousy or ill will toward him?”

  “None. Curiosity, perhaps.”

  “Then you are more generous than Deiphobus. His face holds hate than curiosity.”

  Hektor noted his younger brother’s squinting eyes and slight sneer. “Jealousy serves no purpose here. If he is the Forgotten Prince, it is his right to return and claim his rank after me.” Andromache nodded agreement and nestled closer into Hektor’s embrace. The appearance of the man would seem joy, but she felt a shiver run through her of some cold future.

  While the queen wept and chatted with the bull leaper, Priam pulled Agelaus aside to ask him a question in confidence. “What of the tongue you sent me, years ago?”

  Agelaus cast his eyes to the ground and replied, “It was a dog’s tongue, sire.”

  “WHAT?! DO YOU jest at my expense?!” Lexias screamed.

  He ducked as a clay plate whizzed past his ear. “There was nothing I could do to stop the king,” Agelaus defended himself.

  “You could’ve lied! Isn’t that what we’ve been doing these many years? Who would know?”

  “The priestess, Lexias, she singled him from the crowd. Called him the Forgotten Prince. She wouldn’t be silenced.”

  “Some ranting of a lunatic girl and you give up our son?” Lexias dropped the cup from her hands and it cracked to pieces on the tile floor. “He is our son.” She pulled her bare breast from her chiton. “I suckled him with my own tit! He is mine!”

  Agelaus judged it safe to approach his wife. Angry tears stained her face, and he knew her heated words only covered her hurt and betrayal. She loved Paris as he did. “Lexi, he is a Prince of Troy. Priam’s second son. One day he may even rise to bec
ome King of Troy, the gods forbid Hektor should fall.”

  “Do you remember when he would talk to the cows? The chickens? He believed he could get them to lay more eggs...,” Lexias cried freely now. “I know what you say is true, Aggie. But my heart refuses to give him up.”

  “We must. For his sake we must allow him to take his rightful place.”

  PARIS GAZED OUT at the green meadow lined with slender pines. He shielded his eyes from the sun, when from the corner of his sight he caught a flash of gold and silver. A shadow formed in the distance landing on the ground as gracefully as a bird. It made straight for him. Paris recognized the form he’d seen before, years ago, so long ago he’d almost forgotten the encounter and the judgment.

  “Aphrodite. It has been as a life time,” Paris greeted the goddess with the appropriate deference.

  “I am pleased you remember,” she said.

  “One does not simply forget...Aphrodite.”

  “Careful and as charming as I recall.”

  “What brings you to the mortal realm goddess? Another contest?” Paris asked.

  The goddess closed the small gap between them. “You have grown quite pleasing to the eye with the passing years. I had not noticed how much so until now.”

  Dread knotted the back of his neck. There was nothing he could offer a goddess that she could not take for herself. “An undeserved compliment, Aphrodite.”

  “I understand your true bloodline has been revealed to you? That you are a son of Priam?”

  “Apparently, it is so.”

  “You do not sound so pleased with this discovery? Apollo and Artemis played their parts well.”

  “What has Apollo to do with me? And Artemis?”

  “It was Apollo’s curse upon Priam for Hesione’s, shall we say, departure from Troy. That led to your...circumstance. It was Artemis who suckled you as a she-bear until the herder returned for you.”