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His wife laughed at the thought, reached for the baby and smoothed his dark curls. "Well, little Paris, you cannot be more than a day or two old. He needs milk."
"We can make a cloth nipple and give him goat's milk."
She didn't know whether to laugh or weep. She watched the babe's face pucker up for a faint cry and nodded toward the door. "See to it now. I'll not have this fine babe starve to death in my arms."
Agelaus paused only long enough to give her a fleeting kiss and hurried outside. King Priam never traveled near his small home, and he had been forbidden to ever speak of the doomed child. If they never spoke of the babe, he would never have to admit that he could not bear to carry him to his death. A herder's son would never attract a king's notice, and the secret of Paris's birth would never have to be revealed. Comforted by the thought, he grew even more assured he had made the right decision.
* * *
Apollo, Deity of Light, Music and Prophecy, found mortals endlessly amusing. The depth of Cassandra's sorrow touched him, however, and when she came alone to weep at his temple in Troy's citadel, he appeared in a radiant shimmer. "You needn't pray before my shrine when I'm here close enough to touch."
Casandra drew away from the blinding light. "Have you heard my prayers? I've given no prophecies since the one condemning my infant brother, but my whole world has come to ruin because of it."
He reached out to touch the braid coiled in her tousled hair. His voice was low and tender, "How so, my pretty one?"
"My mother cannot bear to look at me. My father winces each time he does, and my poor brother Helenus, is treated no better. My family wants only good prophecies that foretell Troy's victories in battle or its enrichment with great wealth. They shun me because of my dire warning about my tiny brother, and yet how could I have kept quiet when so much could have been lost? You've given me a means to protect Troy, and I could not have remained silent, could I?"
"Of course, not." He lifted her from her knees and embraced her. "They should know not all prophecies could possibly be good."
"They may know it, but they still blame me. No, they hate me for revealing what I saw." Her eyes glistened with tears.
He lifted her chin with a fingertip. "What do you see now?"
The light around him had dimmed so she could appreciate him in all his beauty. He was taller than mortal men, with shinny curls and dark eyes alit with mischief. He had wrapped her in his strength, and she relaxed against him. "You are too handsome to describe."
"Thank you. I find you lovely as well." He bent his head to kiss her, lightly at first, and then with a lustful vigor.
She pounded her fists on his bare chest and struggled to break free. "No, you must not. I'm meant to be a mortal's bride."
He laughed and the sound echoed in the hollow temple. "In time. First let me show you what passion is meant to be."
The scent of frankincense floated on the air, the dark heady fragrance had seemed reverent until now. She had come seeking solace, not an ardent lover, and Apollo's power terrified her. "It's not passion I need," she begged.
He played kisses along the smooth swell of her breasts. "You came seeking me because I am precisely what you need."
She shook her head. "No. My life is in tatters because of a single dire prophecy. I have no wish to make everything worse."
He tightened his embrace. "You've no desire to lie with me?"
Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. "No, but I cannot compare to a goddess."
"Perfection becomes tiring," he assured her. He cupped her breast and ran his thumb over the crest. "You are a delightful creature, Cassandra. Bend to me."
Terrified she would be consumed by his heat, she shut her eyes tight and fought to make him understand. "I sought only a moment of peace."
Greatly annoyed, he released her with a quick shove. "You pray to me, but refuse to feel me deep inside you?"
Shocked by the bluntness of his question, she shook her head, and her curls flew in a dance of terror. Her voice caught in her throat, "I want only your comfort."
"Yet you've refused the way I generously wish to give it," he scoffed. "Gifts given can be taken back, and from this day forward, you'll escape all blame, for people will no longer believe in your prophecies. Your voice will become as a rattling wind."
He vanished in a soaring spray of light leaving her dizzy and sick clear to her soul. What had she done? She hadn't meant to anger her god Apollo so badly he would curse her, and she sank to the cold flagstone floor and wept until she had no more tears.
* * *
Aphrodite, goddess of Love, laughed at Apollo's downcast expression. "Whatever could be wrong? Have you finally found a woman who refused to melt beneath your magnificence and heated ardor?"
He snarled at her, "Be careful what you say."
