Song of Princes (Homeric Chronicles #1) by Janell Rhiannon Page A

thin tears smudging his tiny cheeks. His little belly ached for something with no relief. His hazy blue eyes were incapable of focusing on the dark form blocking the blinding light of day.
    As the silver bear sauntered its bulky form up to the child on wide padded paws, the filthy infant stretched out his tiny palm toward the shadow. Silver paws gently scooped up the pathetic child. The goddess-bear placed him on her breast and he suckled her rich milk until his limbs went slack with warmth and peaceful slumber. Everyday for nine days and nights, the gleaming beast came to feed and care for the child, all the while sending Agelaus bad dreams and ominous signs. Artemis knew the herdsman eagerly bent his ear toward the gods like a big-headed sunflower turns to the heat of the sun, striving to live a pious life. She began insidiously imposing her will into his mind after he turned his back on the forsaken child. Fate demanded the demise of Troy and Agelaus would play his part, as would the child despite Apollo’s interference for love of Troy and Agelaus’ fear of retribution.
     
     
    FOR DAYS, SLEEP refused to come. Dark shadows crept into the corners of his dozing eyes to startle him awake. Haunting cries of a newborn filled his ears drowning out the sounds of the ordinary day. On the tenth day, Agelaus woke drenched in sweat again.
    “What’s wrong?” Lexias asked groggily.
    “The cattle keep dying in my dreams,” he whispered into the dark, fearful the gods plotted to strike him dead or worse. “I see myself walking around their carcasses. What do you think it means?”
    Lexias rolled over. “That I shall never sleep again.”
    “Are children not innocents? He showed no deformity,” Agelaus agonized.
    “I know. I know. We will never know. Be satisfied, husband. Go back to sleep. None of it is our concern.”
    “Lexias?”
    “What now, Agelaus?”
    “Can you keep your lips sealed tightly with a secret?”
    Lexias sat up. “What do you mean ‘a secret’?”
    “About the child.”
    “If you intend on telling me the child is your bastard and you left him out to rot in the sun—”
    “Lower your voice woman,” Agelaus hissed. “The child isn’t mine.” His voice conspiratorial now. “He is the son of Priam.”
    “You mean...,” she dug her fingers into her husband’s shoulders and pulled his head close to hers. “As in a son of king Priam?”
    “Yes.”
    Lexias shook him. “By Apollo! You must fetch the babe!”
    “Apollo commanded Priam do this. I doubt he cares at all for the child.”
    “The gods! The gods! What do they do but rain misery on us? What good are the gods?” Lexias scoffed.
    His wife’s disbelief shook his security. “Keep your voice down, woman. They may hear you.”
    “You need to get that baby.”
    “Are you certain, Lexias? Once done, it can’t be undone.”
    “The child may already be dead! Most likely is. We must provide proper burial. Lessen your part in this affair...if the queen should change her mind….if the king should regret his decision…perhaps you will be spared.”
    Agelaus grabbed his wife’s arm. “Me? Be spared?”
    “Ouch. Let go husband.”
    “Explain your words.”
    “You’re so concerned about the gods, you haven’t thought about the world we live in, the world of men.”
    Agelaus sat bolt upright, veracity dawning quickly on him. “By the balls of Zeus, you speak truth. I must do what I can. Perhaps it may all come to nothing, but if it should turn the other way…” Agelaus closed his eyes against such imagined punishments. “Are you certain Lexias?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    A rosy dawn veil swept across the sky as Lexias packed her husband a hearty lunch of flat bread, sweet purple grapes and a hunk of wrapped goat cheese. She filled his worn leather flask with a mixture of tart wine and water.
    Lexias kissed her husband on the cheek and sent him on his way. “Travel with care, my dear.” The chores of feeding all the penned calves,