Read Online Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) by Janell Rhiannon - Free Book Online Page B

walked into the house never once looking back, the future the only path from that day forward. Paris’ parentage was safely sheltered in the secrecy only a husband and wife share, for their futures entwined until death.
     
     
    “SIRE A BASKET has arrived for you with instructions that your eyes alone should view the contents,” Damianos said.
    “Who is it from?” asked Priam.
    “Agelaus, the herdsman. He claims you alone will know the meaning.”
    “Fetch me the basket.” Dread pounded through his veins upon hearing the ominous message. Had Agelaus done the deed? Troy must be saved. His heart cried out for his son. The mask of king did not protect him from himself. Damianos returned with the basket held casually in his hands.
    “Where is the queen?” Priam asked, taking the bundle from his slave.
    “I do not know, my lord.”
    “Leave me.” Priam commanded. The slave disappeared on silent feet.
    Whatever the basket held the weight of it hefted little more than air. A rough spun cloth lay neatly tucked around something. He unwrapped the contents noticing small traces of crimson on the cloth. Blood. Stains of blood. A slender piece of meat fell onto the floor. He picked it up between two fingers. It was stiff and bumpy. Is this some jest of Agelaus ? Priam’s throat soured the back of his throat when he realized it was not just a piece of bloody meat, but a small tongue. A child’s tongue. His son’s tongue. He quickly rewrapped the gory bit in the cloth and hid the basket where no one would stumble across it by accident. He’d burn it and scatter the ashes to the wind...his son was gone as a passing breeze through this world, through his life. He’d obeyed the god and killed his son. The proof documented in flesh by his faithful servant.
    When Priam entered Hecuba’s chambers later that evening, he hoped his wife was in a more forgiving mood than the previous evening. He found her standing on the balcony over looking the upper citadel and the city and harbor below. Her hands entwined behind her accentuated her long, narrow back. Her dark hair was pinned up in simple coils exposing the gentle curve of her neck. Priam thought of all the kisses he had planted there. He approached quietly, tentatively.
    “Wife,” he said tenderly.
    “What do you want?” she said without enthusiasm or turning to face him.
    He stepped closer. “Join me for dinner, my love.”
    “I am not hungry, Priam.”
    “You must eat. Little Hektor is asking for you.” Priam stepped behind her, slipping his arms around her waist still swollen with the roundness of childbirth.
    She stiffened at his touch. She spoke. Her voice low and controlled, “You think I wish to sit across from you? Look into your eyes...” She turned her head toward his. “And see the very eyes my son had? The son you stole from me?” Anger and grief mingled together in hot tears. “You have broken me, Priam.” She looked out, again, at the sprawling polis below at the clay tiled rooftops, the stone lined streets beyond, and the hazy blue horizon stretching past sight. “All the Trojans are safe tonight because you believed our son a threat to them all.”
    Priam dropped his arms helplessly to the side. “It was Apollo’s word, not my will, Hecuba.”
    “I do not care.” When she looked up, her face twisted anew with heart break. “He was my son, Priam! Mine!” She wrapped her arms around middle, hugging the swell of where her son used to be. Her shoulders shook slightly at first and then with violence. “Mine,” she wept over and over. The queen slid to her knees weeping tears that the stone cutting into her flesh drank like drops of rain. Priam stooped to hold her in his arms, wishing to comfort her, but she pushed his hands away. “My son...and you took him from me...” Her words turned to a wordless howl. 
    Priam straightened and gazed across the balcony ledge to the buildings below the citadel and out across the Trojan plain to where the