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"He's a gift from King Priam." Paris rushed through the astonishing change in his circumstance in as few words as possible. "I'm to live
in Troy's palace with the rest of his sons, but I'll come back to see you often."
Oenone choked back her tears. "No, you won't." Green fields stretched out all around them, and she marveled at the earth's beauty. The simple life they'd shared would no longer appeal to him. He'd never build the house he'd promised, nor would he become her husband. His dreams for their future had meant so much to her, but she hid how deep her hurt ran.
"You'll forget me before the next moon rises."
"We've grown up together, Oenone, and I'd forget myself before I forgot you. You're much prettier than the girls in the city, and I'll bring you a gift the next time I come."
All she'd longed for was his love, and he'd never spoken the words. "I don't need gifts."
"Then I'll bring something for your aunt."
"You mustn't make promises you won't keep."
He gave her an affectionate squeeze. "I mean what I say. I plan to come home often, and maybe you'll be happier to see me the next time." He turned the bay and let her down gently in front of her cottage. He nodded to her aunt. He'd seen her once in the village, but the woman didn't appear any happier to see him than Oenone had been.
"I wish you both a pleasant day," he said in farewell, and headed back to the city with Orthis and Kastros following close behind. The whole world had opened to him and he didn't look back.
* * *
Chrisoula listened as Oenone recounted Paris's astonishing story. "So he's been a prince all alone," she mused aloud. "When he returns, and he will, you must convince him that if he's ever wounded, you'll be the only one who can save him."
Frightened by the thought, Oenone's voice grew shrill, "Why would he ever have need of me? Wouldn't the palace have many talented healers?"
"Perhaps, but none will have remedies as effective as yours. Promise me you'll tell him."
Oenone looked down at her hands, they were chapped from doing the wash. Paris would meet beautiful young women in the palace, who never lifted a finger to do any sort of work. Their skin would be pale, their long hair glossy, and their perfumed bodies slim and graceful. They'd be dressed in gorgeous clothes and gold jewelry. She doubted any could hunt as well as she could, but most women couldn't and the thought made her smile.
"I'll tell him, but I'll not hold my breath until he returns."
"That's wise. Now let's finish the last of the laundry and be done with the work for today."
They heated more water and the steam rising from the kettle hid Oenone's tears. She preferred gathering herbs and mixing potions to the hard labors of housekeeping. She felt numb, as though someone dear had died, and what she'd lost were her own precious dreams.
* * *
Before they were in sight of the city, Paris pulled his mount off the trail. "I need to learn how to use a sword. Can one of you teach me?"
"Now?" Kastros asked, swinging down from his horse.
"Yes, why not? We can let our horses graze awhile and not be late returning to the palace."
Orthis also dismounted and led their horses toward a promising patch of grass. Left with Paris, Kastros understood he'd be the one giving the lesson. "We'll need to borrow your sword," he called to his fellow warrior.
"Take care with it," Orthis replied. He handed the bronze sword to Paris, who'd not expected it to be so heavy.
Kastros removed his helmet and set it aside. They'd not carried their shields, and one wouldn't be needed for this practice. "How much do you know?" he asked Paris.
"Know about what?" Paris replied. "I hunt with a bow and arrows, or a spear, and do well, but swords are meant for fighting men, and I've never held one."
"Hold it with both hands," Kastros instructed. "It must become part of your arms."
Paris swung the sword in a wide arc and liked the heft of it. Without considerable practice, however, he doubted he could fight long with it. He was strong, but wielding a heavy bronze sword was something new and his muscles soon began to ache. "Can you work with me everyday? I want to be able to handle a sword as well as Hektor and Deiphobus."
"They began with wooden swords as boys," Kastros replied.
"Then I'll have to work very hard to match them now."
