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"We might be able to trap a rabbit with a snare," he proposed instead.
She shuddered and crunched up her eyes. "Then we'd have to kill it and skin it."
"Well, you'd have to pluck the feathers from a bird."
"I know how to do it, do you?"
He'd seen his mother wring a chicken's neck and shove it into boiling water to loosen the feathers to ease in the plucking. "Yes, I do, but my job is to tend the cattle, not pluck chickens all day."
"Do you even know how to shoot arrows with a bow?"
"I could do it," he claimed without ever having held a bow.
"Get a bow and practice so the next time I come to see you, we can hunt."
She rode away before he could argue, but she always made him feel as though he ought to know something he didn't. That night, he asked his father about making a bow and arrows.
Agelaus gave his back a weary stretch. "I told you not to mention becoming a warrior until I said I was ready to listen."
"I'm thinking only of going hunting. I've seen partridges fly over the meadow and they're good to eat, aren't they?"
"They're delicious, but fly faster and higher than you could shoot an arrow."
"Then I should trap them with snares before they leave their nests. I could go out at first light and hunt before the cattle need to be watched."
"I suppose you could try. I know a bowyer who makes fine bows of yew wood and sharp arrows too. I'll find a way to trade him for them."
Everyone in the village bartered for goods, but his father was especially adept at making fine trades. "Maybe I could go with you and see how they're made," he asked.
"I need you here, Son, you won't be an apprentice for another man."
Paris nodded and went into the house for supper. At least his father hadn't refused to allow him to hunt, but otherwise, he felt trapped on their land despite how often his mother told him to be grateful they owned cattle. His grandfather had been a herdsman, and his father before him. Herding should be in his blood, but he knew deep down inside he was meant to live a far more exciting life than the one into which he'd been born.
He longed to know what lay beyond Mt. Ida and the village he knew so well. He took care at mealtimes not to eat more than was his share, but his dreams could be as grand as he dared imagine them.
Chapter 14
Troy
Home of Agelaus
Seven years later
Paris became so adept at hunting, his arrows hit their mark more often than not. He'd won challenges in town on market day, and while he never uttered the word warrior, he believed he was well on his way to becoming one of King Priam's best men. Oenone had hunted with him as they grew older, but over the years her interest in the sport had waned, while he'd become ever more enthusiastic. Her visits had dwindled to a very few, and he'd never admit how often he searched the horizon for a sight of her.
She'd been a pretty child, but now old enough to wed, she was a dark-eyed beauty with a lush figure that drew every man's eye on market day. She preferred mixing potions with her aunt to flirting with suitors, but she wasn't unaware of the admiring glances sent her way.
* * *
Paris left the cottage early one morning to hunt and caught sight of three men on horseback separating a dozen cattle from their herd. They were so pleased with themselves they failed to glance over their shoulders until an arrow pierced the trailing man's upper arm. The wounded thief screamed and clung to his horse's back to dodge Paris's fury of arrows. Terrified for their lives, the thieves abandoned the cattle they'd stolen and galloped away.
Paris rode after them until they parted into three separate directions at the border of his father's land. Positive they'd not return, he let them go rather than chase down one. He gathered the straying cattle, herded them home and picked up the arrows lying in the grass.
Agelaus met him seated upon his own mount. "I heard a scream. If there were cattle thieves out, you should have come for me."
"There was no time to summon you, and I managed on my own."
"With the bow in your hand?" he scoffed. "Did you wound them all?"
