Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) (26 page)

Achilles retrieved the vessel. “What medicine is this?”

“A mixture only the gods can provide. Dust of Gaia and blood of the immortals.” Chiron proceeded to pour the dry earth from the amphora into a flattened bowl. He poured wine into it and mixed a thick paste. “This will hurt Phoenix. Beyond any pain you have experienced. Peleus, hold his arms. Achilles, hold his legs. Do not release him until I say it is safe.” The centaur placed a dagger hilt in Phoenix’s mouth. “Bite this.”

Chiron set to work. He took a fine, thin bladed knife and reopened the dried eyelids. Phoenix’s body arched in agony. Fresh blood spilled down his cheeks. Chiron looked at both men assisting him and nodded. “Now, do not let go.” He pulled open first one eye and filled the gory socket with the muddy paste. Muffled screams passed the dagger’s hilt in Phoenix’s mouth and he clawed at the bed beneath him. His body writhed in agony. Chiron filled the second socket and again Phoenix thrashed in pain. His screams passing the dagger’s hilt and echoing around the chamber. Sweat drenched his body as he twisted and clawed through the torturous pain. His chest heaved greatly. His limbs convulsed. The dagger fell from his mouth, clanging loudly on the stone. Foam leaked from the corners of his mouth. Peleus and Achilles held him firmly as directed. Many long moments passed before Phoenix’s body relaxed, twitching only now and again. Then, he was completely stilled.

“What is happening, Chiron? Why does he not move?” Achilles asked.

“His body is healing. This was undoubtedly more painful than losing the eyes in the first place. He will be fine. You may release him.” Chiron wiped his brow. “Shall we have some wine, then?”

ACHILLES CREPT IN
the dark along the edge of the field. He piled stocks of dried wheat, and then pulled the flint from a small leather pouch on his waist. The dried wheat smoked and turned red with tender flames. Pleased with himself, he smiled and piled more dry stacks and twigs on the growing fire. A gentle breeze swirled tiny glowing embers into the air. Achilles added more fuel to his fire. The breeze stiffened, blowing larger embers higher and farther than before.

It didn’t occur to him that the dry field, ready for harvest, was a field of tinder. Another breeze whipped a flame far into the tall parched stalks. He blinked and the field was a flame. Achilles panicked. He ran. He ran into the forest and back up the mountain to the safety of Chiron’s cave hall.

“Where have you been, young master?” his teacher asked, pawing the ground impatiently.

“Wandering.”

“With soot on your face? You reek of smoke.”

“I built a fire to keep warm.”

Chiron set his scroll down, considering Achilles with all his attention. “What have you done this time?”

“Nothing.”

“Achilles, we have been at this game before. I know that sheepish look about you. Answer me truthfully.”

Achilles exhaled and hung his head in defeat. “I think I caught a field on fire.”

“You think? You are impossible, Achilles.” Chiron twitched his tail. “I have taught you all I can. You are unwilling to learn more. You are impetuous. I am sending you back to Phthia and Peleus.”

“Apologies, Chiron. I was only―”

“What you always do. I will hear no more. You have done quite enough for one day.”

“ACHILLES!” PHOENIX YELLED
. “Achilles!” Phoenix grabbed a nervous servant by the sleeve. “Where is he? I know you have seen him.”

“Master, I...I...”

“Spit it out man!” Phoenix was in no mood to be chasing after Achilles again.

“He’s to the stables Master.”

Phoenix released the man who scurried off and out of sight. “I should beat that boy,” he mumbled to himself.

“You would first have to catch him. And that, dear friend, would be near impossible as far as I can tell,” Peleus said.

Startled, Phoenix turned his head. He had no wish for Peleus to think him inept at his duty, but the present circumstance only revealed his fear, the truth. “Surely,
you
can compel him to his studies.”

“I have been at war enough times to recognize a losing battle. Achilles will do as he pleases. If Chiron cannot curb his will, then we certainly will not,” Peleus said.

“As young men, we obeyed our fathers without question. Our tutors.”

“Achilles is not entirely mortal. His will is stronger than most. Obedience is not everything. As men, we throw off the word except to the gods make our obeisance.”

The nervous servant reentered the chamber.

“What is it now?” the king asked.

“A man my lord. He claims...he claims...” he stammered.

Peleus looked him in the eye and read the fear. He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head back in disbelief. “How old was his daughter?”

“Widowed,” the servant answered.

“He chooses the older ones every time.” Peleus looked to his friend. “Why is it that with age we desire the slender flesh of youth, tender breasts that have never milked a child...and he, strapping youth, who causes any female in his wake to wet her thighs...chooses the older women weighed down by children and sagging breasts?”

Phoenix laughed. “We are old. There that is your answer. The young ones lay beneath us quietly.  Let us heave our business and roll away. The older ones are more...
vigorous...”

Peleus addressed the servant. “What does the man ask for in compensation? Does his daughter make complaint?”

“No, my lord...she claims...” he stammered again.

“Out! Out with it!”

“She claims she carries his child,” the words tumbled out, as the servant shrank back in fear of being beaten for bringing such unwanted news.

Phoenix laughed out loud. “Peleus! Maybe you
should
send him back to Chiron.”

“I cannot have a fucking peasant woman wondering around the city claiming to carry the child of Achilles.” Peleus roared in frustration. “I will send her away. Far away. Her entire fucking family will have to be sent. I will have to compensate them for their trouble and their silence, of course.”

“My lord, there is more.”

“What more can there be? What could be worse than this shit?”

“Thetis has arrived and asks audience.” The nervous servant, already on his knees, hunched like a turtle, backed up even more. Peleus’ wrath was legend among the servants and the slaves.

“Thetis?” he asked. “Thetis.” His eyes narrowed to angry slits. “That bitch dares to step on these grounds after what she did?!”

“She will not be moved, my lord.”

“Of course she will not be moved.”

“She says she has urgent news regarding Achilles.”

The king acquiesced. Where his son was concerned, he would hear her. Achilles was a weakness of sorts for him. He loved the boy. “Grant her audience.” Within moments, Thetis appeared in the hall. Long years had passed since he’d seen her. She stood silently waiting for his greeting. “You have not changed with the years,” he finally said. Her beauty had power over him still, and until this moment, he had not realized it.

“You have more silver in your hair than I recall,” Thetis replied.

“Always the observant one.”

“It is a gift.”

“You did not leave your pond to spar words with me. What do you want?” Peleus asked, his annoyance audible beneath the calm.

“Achilles has returned from Chiron’s protection?”

“I should have guessed the reason. You wish to see the child you so carelessly tossed in a fire? Or have you forgotten you tried to kill my son?”

Thetis took several steps toward Peleus. “Is that what you think of me, truly? That I would bring harm to my only son? My only child? Our only child?”

Phoenix interrupted, “I will take my leave friend. I see you have family matters to attend to.”

“No. Do not leave. This nymph will be gone momentarily.”

“Peleus, my dear husband. Will you not hear me out after all these years?”

The king considered her request, as her beauty began its intoxicating effect on him. She had left him to his own decisions regarding the boy, he reasoned. “Speak, then.”

“Those long years passed, when Achilles was new in the world. I was filled with great joy.” Thetis took several more steps toward Peleus. “I had never known more sweetness in all my days than the day he first suckled at my breast.” The nymph pressed closer to the king. “I loved him.”

Peleus gruffly responded, “What of it?”

Thetis smiled disarmingly. “I was trying to protect him, Peleus. Achilles’ birth came with a price.”

The king recalled Chiron’s warning that Achilles would be greater than his father, but he failed to see the connection. “What do you mean ‘a price’?”

“A prophecy had been revealed to me.”

“Nymph, you try my patience,” Peleus said. He crossed his heavy arms across his broad chest, building a wall between them. He was determined that she would not move him.

Thetis reached a slender hand, touching his arm. “Peleus.” She came closer. “Husband.”

The king shifted his feet. He grumbled, “Speak already. What do you know?”

“Our son will die in battle.”

“Your words bring no revelation. Warriors die in battle.”

“He will die in battle against the Trojans...and he will die young.”

“No state quarrels with Troy. Who would dare attack the Great Walled city? It is impregnable. Your oracle lies.”

“It is true. The war has not come, but it will. And with it, we will lose our son. There will be none to take your place as king in Phthia.”

Peleus ran his fingers over his lips. He thought of the bastard grandchild he was exiling.
True, there will be no heir worthy enough to succeed me
. “I considered he would die in battle perhaps when he was a man with wife...and children.” He stabbed Phoenix with a warning glance to keep his silence. “You have come with some remedy?”

“May I explain what you saw years ago? That now it may make some sense to you?” Peleus relaxed his shoulders slightly, his guard dipping lower. Thetis continued, “Achilles has a choice to make regarding Troy. If he goes, he will die. If he stays, he will live to be an old man.”

“Again nymph, your words offer no revelation. It is hard to die in a battle if you are not in it.”

“You misunderstand, Peleus. If he goes to war, he will die but his fame and glory will be infinite. Songs will be sung. Stories will be told. He will be equal to the gods by immortality of his deeds. He will make this choice and you know it. He has been trained to make this choice. Yet, it will leave you without a son and future king.”

The king nodded. “I agree. He will choose war. He will not believe that he will die a young man. No one has bested him in practice. He will not foresee that anyone could. Besides, the young never think of death.”

“We agree then. He will not believe our warning. It is why I was preparing him for immortality as a babe.”

Peleus whipped his head toward Thetis. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I was burning him, preparing him with ambrosia invoking his immortal blood as protection against this very fate. If he had become immortal, it would not matter if he went to war or not. My son...
our
son would live.”

“Thetis, you know it is impossible to outwit the Fates. We are all doomed by those harsh goddesses.”

“But he has a choice, Peleus. It is a rare gift. One that most mortals do not receive. Keep him from Troy and he will live.”

“How do we do that?”

“Send him to Skyros.”

PARIS CRADLED THE
tiny baby in his arms. “I had all but given up hope that we would have a child.”

“Our son,” Oenone said. “He is beautiful, is he not?”

“Yes. Smaller than I imagined. Much smaller than the calves.”

The nymph laughed softly. “Much smaller than a calf. He carries your blood, my love. Dark curls already.”

Paris gently thumbed his newborn son’s chin. “The dip. I did not realize it such a prominent feature.”

“A handsome one,” Oenone sighed, contentment coursing through her at the sight of her husband and child together.

“What shall we call him?”

“Corythus,” Oenone said.

“A good strong name,” Paris said. He tucked the edge of the swaddling cloth under his son’s tiny dimpled chin. “Someday, you will see the world from atop the Great Wall. You will see the land of your father and grandfathers. It is a sight little one.”

“You are not going to take him from me, are you?” Fear rose in Oenone’s heart like a dark cloud. “You cannot take him from me.”

“Peace, Oenone. He belongs with you. But someday he will see the palace and the world of Troy.” Paris returned the squirming baby to his mother. Oenone pulled her chiton so Corythus could take her breast.

“Paris, I have seen an awful image in my mind.”

“What have you seen?” Paris asked.

“I am afraid to speak it aloud, my mortal. It is all smoke and fire.”

“Tell me. I am not afraid to hear it,” Paris said.

A silver tear slid from Oenone’s eye and turned to crystal. “There will be a great warrior who comes to Troy. He will carry a sacred spear of Pelian ash. And he will lay the city to dust.”

“You sound like Cassandra with all her ill tidings. No one can bring Troy to its knees. The city is well-guarded. Fortified by a wall built by the gods themselves. Our Hittite allies and all the other cities stand behind us.”

The smell of smoke filled her nostrils. She knew the end would bring more pain than she could bear, than any survivors could bear. Knowing that her beloved would forsake her before the end stole the joy she should be having. Oenone pushed the dreadful image of Troy in ruin aside. She forced her vision into the deepest, darkest part of her mind. She reasoned that she could be wrong. She wanted to be wrong.

She watched as Paris kissed his son’s little hand with its fingers wrapped around his thumb.
Father let me be wrong.