Read Online Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) by Janell Rhiannon - Free Book Online
Authors: Janell Rhiannon
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pulled the loin wrapping away. “You’re not even soiled!” Agelaus had expected to find a carcass or bones or some other gruesome remains of the newborn, maybe even nothing at all if a wild animal had dragged it away. The one thing he never expected was to actually find the baby alive, let alone thriving. The herdsman knew in his heart it was a god-sign. He eyed the sky, “Artemis, you’ve set the child in my care. Allow him your protection in my house.”
He wrapped the baby tightly in the back pack sling. “Well, my little backpack babe,” Agelaus smiled. “That is as good a name for you as any. Paris, yes, that’s what I’ll call you...the little backpack. It’s time to go home. One more mouth to feed won’t break my back.” Fear of discovery unnerved him. He looked around making certain no one spied him, because what he did now was treason and certain death. “I’d better make sure king Priam never even questions my actions or we’re both lost little Paris.” He knew the gods must see and hoped they would take pity on the child as he did. And take pity on him as well.
THE RETURN HIKE covered miles of quiet farmland and empty spaces. Occasionally, a stray cow or goat crossed his path. Birds flew above looking for freshly sown fields to plunder with eager beaks. When the sun hit its searing zenith, Agelaus began to worry about strangers, or worse, people he actually knew stumbling across him and little Paris. In his rush to retrieve the baby, he’d given little thought to the future or the suspicious talk that would certainly surface. Everyone he did business with knew that Lexias was not with child. How would he explain the sudden appearance of the infant? He began concocting a story as he walked.
“I am returning with my cousin’s child. She died and…thank you, you’re very kind. Well, Lexias insisted that we care for the orphan. Unusual I know, but you know Lexias...” He practiced the lie over and over, adding a convincing what-can-I-do-about-it shrug. After a mile of practice, Agelaus convinced himself he could answer anyone’s questions.
It wasn’t long before his resolve was tested. A farmer’s cart lazily approached from the opposite direction. Despite his earlier resolve he jumped off the road to hide behind a tree as the farmer passed. “By the balls of Zeus, I’m such a coward,” he whispered into the tree trunk.
Just then, a woman’s silver voice rang clearly in his ear with am icy air: You are brave to take this child. Fate is served. He shook off the chill, but the words lingered, ripening like a fig in the hot sun. Brave? Foolhardy, maybe. The words Fate is served weighed ominously in his heart. He as yet had no idea why the child stood condemned before the world. He received no premonitions, no messages about why the child must suffer and die. Then it struck him. He recognized the voice as the same he’d heard when he first saw the silver bear. Agelaus sighed, reluctantly accepting that he’d likely never know why King Priam commanded such a harsh judgment on the child.
When the farmer’s distance created safety, Agelaus pulled the baby off his back to rest. “Just a few more miles little one. Just a few more miles.” He held his new son in his arms. Holding babies came naturally for him. The brood he and Lexias continued to raise provided all the practice a man needed for gentle fathering. Over the years, Agelaus realized that his temperate prodding and corrections produced the desired actions of his children. The harshness his father lashed upon his backside while he grew to manhood made him seethe with hatred not respect. “Time to get you home to your mother , little Paris. You’ll get a feeding soon enough. Can’t have you bawling in my ear.” Agelaus wrapped the infant securely onto his back again and began the last leg of their journey home. He hoped Lexias wouldn’t feel too over burdened. Sometimes, when he grew exhausted and wished
He wrapped the baby tightly in the back pack sling. “Well, my little backpack babe,” Agelaus smiled. “That is as good a name for you as any. Paris, yes, that’s what I’ll call you...the little backpack. It’s time to go home. One more mouth to feed won’t break my back.” Fear of discovery unnerved him. He looked around making certain no one spied him, because what he did now was treason and certain death. “I’d better make sure king Priam never even questions my actions or we’re both lost little Paris.” He knew the gods must see and hoped they would take pity on the child as he did. And take pity on him as well.
THE RETURN HIKE covered miles of quiet farmland and empty spaces. Occasionally, a stray cow or goat crossed his path. Birds flew above looking for freshly sown fields to plunder with eager beaks. When the sun hit its searing zenith, Agelaus began to worry about strangers, or worse, people he actually knew stumbling across him and little Paris. In his rush to retrieve the baby, he’d given little thought to the future or the suspicious talk that would certainly surface. Everyone he did business with knew that Lexias was not with child. How would he explain the sudden appearance of the infant? He began concocting a story as he walked.
“I am returning with my cousin’s child. She died and…thank you, you’re very kind. Well, Lexias insisted that we care for the orphan. Unusual I know, but you know Lexias...” He practiced the lie over and over, adding a convincing what-can-I-do-about-it shrug. After a mile of practice, Agelaus convinced himself he could answer anyone’s questions.
It wasn’t long before his resolve was tested. A farmer’s cart lazily approached from the opposite direction. Despite his earlier resolve he jumped off the road to hide behind a tree as the farmer passed. “By the balls of Zeus, I’m such a coward,” he whispered into the tree trunk.
Just then, a woman’s silver voice rang clearly in his ear with am icy air: You are brave to take this child. Fate is served. He shook off the chill, but the words lingered, ripening like a fig in the hot sun. Brave? Foolhardy, maybe. The words Fate is served weighed ominously in his heart. He as yet had no idea why the child stood condemned before the world. He received no premonitions, no messages about why the child must suffer and die. Then it struck him. He recognized the voice as the same he’d heard when he first saw the silver bear. Agelaus sighed, reluctantly accepting that he’d likely never know why King Priam commanded such a harsh judgment on the child.
When the farmer’s distance created safety, Agelaus pulled the baby off his back to rest. “Just a few more miles little one. Just a few more miles.” He held his new son in his arms. Holding babies came naturally for him. The brood he and Lexias continued to raise provided all the practice a man needed for gentle fathering. Over the years, Agelaus realized that his temperate prodding and corrections produced the desired actions of his children. The harshness his father lashed upon his backside while he grew to manhood made him seethe with hatred not respect. “Time to get you home to your mother , little Paris. You’ll get a feeding soon enough. Can’t have you bawling in my ear.” Agelaus wrapped the infant securely onto his back again and began the last leg of their journey home. He hoped Lexias wouldn’t feel too over burdened. Sometimes, when he grew exhausted and wished
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