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

milking the goats, and grinding grain for bread called for her attention. If she had spare time in the afternoon, she would card wool and weave in the shade. Her brooding husband had proved of little use these last several days around the farm. His worrying made him ill and made her impatient. She reasoned the tragedy was not her husband’s fault. He did the bidding of his king, but he certainly did it against his will, against his heart. Punishment would be handed the man who disobeyed a king, or a king who disobeyed a god. Agelaus was cleared of the first. He obeyed his king avoiding a death sentence. Only the gods knew the truth of Priam’s heart and what secrets he held there, so any fault of the king’s lay between him and the gods. If a king disobeyed a god, an entire kingdom might crumble to dust and ash. Lexias sighed and looked up at the climbing sun, sweat matting a few stray tendrils of her hair to her neck and face. She wiped her forehead on her sleeve. Let Agelaus do what he must and be unstained. “Quit these morbid thoughts woman. Get to your goats,” she said to herself. She gave one last glance upwards and went about her day, her thoughts at war in her mind as she worked.
     
     
    THE PATH ALONG the Scamander passed by faster than before beneath Agelaus’ feet. His anxiety and worry pushed him at a frantic pace. He didn’t stop to eat the entire way there. His stomach twisted and complained, but he pressed forward feeling that every moment he lingered might negate his late effort. The herdsman’s head pounded as the heat of Helios rose with each passing hour in the clear blue sky. Sweat trickled into the corners of Agelaus’ mouth and stung his eyes. He trudged forward undeterred, his mind set stubbornly to purpose that he would at least find the infant to bury it, easing his guilt for his part in its death with a proper burial. King Priam would never know.
    Agelaus recognized the terrain as he neared the area he’d abandoned the infant. He blinked the heat from his eyes, catching a flash of silver in the sunlight. He froze in fear when a silver-furred bear emerged from a small patch of brush ahead of him. He hadn’t thought to bring a weapon of any kind. He stayed back far enough hoping the animal wouldn’t catch his scent. In horror, Agelaus watched as the bear headed straight for the very spot he’d left the baby. Horrifying images of the bear sucking the little bones dry filled his head. He scratched at the prickling sweat on his neck. His heart thudded with remorse in his ears. He willed himself to stop breathing so hard, fearful that the bear would hear him and eat him, too.
    Then, in the midst of his panic, a woman’s gentle singing carried on the breeze hypnotizing Agelaus with its sweet melody where he hid. He didn’t understand her words but fell to peace inside. It struck him then, this is the language of the gods! In the temples, he’d heard this divine tongue spoken by the priests and priestesses when under the influence of the gods. What is a woman doing this far up the sacred mountain ? He pressed closer to the brush. The lullaby faded to soft feminine speech. A twig snapped under his foot. He froze. The voice stopped. Agelaus, wide eyed and certain he was about to die, watched as the silver bear reemerged from the brush. Its shaggy silver coat shimmering in the bright sun. The bear’s glittering black eyes found Agelaus’ face and then lumbered away. Could it be? Fearful for the child, he rushed to the spot where he’d left the prince. What he saw stunned him in his tracks.
    There, lying as peaceful and serene as ever, lay the carefully swaddled baby. He was unharmed by the bear. “It must have been Artemis...the bear...Lexias will never believe this.” Agelaus stooped to pick the child up. “I’m sorry little one to have left you here.” The baby felt much heavier than before. He undid the cloth wrapping and checked the baby for injuries. “Why, you’re fat!” He