Take Me Home

Sorry everyone for the very slow posting. Been TIED UP lately to many things. ^_^ Anyway, sometimes when I don't have time to post at all the sites and groups, I'd update it first in my own site or at least, I'd put up the unbetaed version for those who don't mind going through the small mistakes here and there. I replace them once I get the betaed version from Megan. So, check it out sometime just to kill your boredom. ^_^

http://breathless.shadowess.com

Lastly, thanks so much for all the feedbacks. It's getting into my head now. LOL. Nah, it's good to know that I'm still writing something enjoyable to read. Thanks so much again.

THIS CHAPTER NOT BETAED YET.

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Part 14

Paris had changed a lot in the last three days from a sullen youth to a boisterous and curious child. Their stay in Thetis’ hut away from the palace had made all the difference. Here, they had great adventures – climbing and trekking, discovering places that Achilles had once loved to go as a youth – and spending some time dipping in the sea. The dark haired youth wasn’t very good at swimming so he had some lessons from a very patient lover.

At night, they slept under the stars with the campfire beside them and embracing each other for warmth. They had just had a dinner of fishes that they caught and it was the first time for Paris to share his stories of his childhood years with someone besides Hector.

Memories of his time spent with his eldest brother surfaced; it was a time when he was once carefree and innocent, unaware of the devastating future that he would bring upon them. Hector and he had done a lot of things together, something Paris appreciated and recalled with fondness. He gave him a true sense of belonging to this bigger family; not a poor Shepard boy just discovering his true birthright and barging in to claim what was his.

However, it made him questioned if he was important enough for his family to come to rescue him? The moon had appeared and disappeared once; indicating the length of time he had been kidnapped. Paris was still hopeful though, as many excuses formed in his mind to settle him. Perhaps Hector didn’t know that he was in Phthia. Even if they knew, with the war going on at full scale, it was doubtful if Priam could spare men to come here. Besides, King Agamemnon would surely have secured the entire shore to prevent supplies getting into the city or allowing anyone sneaking out to seek help. In another word, Paris was left to fend for himself – for now.

When the three days was over, the couple returned to the palace. Thetis didn’t come back during their stay, so they tidied the hut before leaving.

While on the chariot, Paris was silent though not in melancholy. He seemed to be in deep thoughts about something. Achilles noticed this and he reached over a hand to stroke his dark curls. This made Paris turned to look at him and offered him an apologetic smile. Their ‘relationship’ had improved a lot, so much so that Paris felt safe enough to lie next to him and using his bicep as pillow at night. If only Achilles suspected that Paris was only seeking him albeit unconsciously for the safe sanctuary from him. Paris had not forgotten his encounter with Neoptolemus.

At night, back in their own bedchamber, Achilles and Paris had shared a quiet dinner. Their conversations now revolved to a more serious side of Paris though sometimes sharing a few funny incidents of a youth’s discovery of the opposite sex to ease the building tension in the Trojan. From these, Achilles was able to piece together Paris’ background and come to understand some of the dilemma the former prince faced.

Despite his blessings being born beautiful, Paris did not always lead a fortunate life. That saddens Achilles. Indeed, Paris was rash sometimes and had gotten into trouble with decisions that he made, but all young men went through the same mistakes, yet this Trojan youth had to bear a higher consequences unfairly.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

King Peleus’ palace was not very big, compared to the majestic marvel of Troy. What it lacked in size was replaced with the rich harvest from its own land, thus the kingdom was self-sufficient in the most basic needs. During his short war campaigns, Peleus had managed to acquire enough slaves to work in his fields and served the household. Thus, when Paris went around, he met many slaves bustling about to attend to their chores. He noticed that they were not mistreated and seemed quite content to be here.

So far, Paris had never met the King, but surely the man had heard of him by now. He was a former prince of Troy and now being the lover or hetaira to put it bluntly to Achilles was no small matter. Was the King avoiding holding an audience even a private one with him due to his contempt towards a citizen of Troy?

This morning, Achilles had reluctantly returned to his official duties that required his attention when he would rather spend time with his lower and show him around. Nevertheless, he gave permission to Paris to roam anywhere he wanted except to step out of the border surrounding the palace ground. Paris did not hesitate to make use of his new found freedom even if his chain was not that long.

This new development of trust in both of them was a wise choice that Achilles had made, setting himself up to a better merit in Paris’ eyes.

Achilles didn’t have the heart to lock up his lover, seeing him falling in gloom and depression once more. He had worked too hard to see his bright smile on his face. To put his mind at ease however, the prince secretly summoned a guard to watch over the youth.

Feeling alienated and without a friend around and not knowing where to go at first, Paris wandered about aimlessly. Minutes later, he decided to stay outside, narrowing the chances of bumping into Patroclus and Neoptolemus, his two greatest enemies that he would wished to avoid at all costs.

Paris made his way out of the palace fort and no guards stopped him. He wasn’t sure if all slaves were allowed to go in and out freely or that the guards were already informed ahead that Achilles’ slave had full access to go anywhere as he pleased. It didn’t matter. He had the sun above his head and the fresh breeze on his face. Once outside the gate, he drew a deep breath, feeling content by the vast open spaces around him.

To his right was the road they had used yesterday to go to Thetis’ hut, bypassing the harbour. On his left, there was a stretch of vineyard; the grapes were half hidden among the lush green leaves. Beyond and dominating mostly on the southern easterly slopes were terraces of olive trees.

Paris was thinking about taking the opposite road, towards the hills to see where it leads when a group of slaves came round from behind the fort. They were a loud bunch, chatting and laughing like noisy children. The men – walking in the front – carried nets and long poles while the women were behind with empty woven baskets on their backs. Either they didn’t notice him or simply ignored him as another slave on an errand to run, the field workers passed him without so much as a glance.

Young Paris was a bit apprehensive about joining them, not knowing where they were going and if they would accept him into their circle. He wished to make friends, a place where he could go to spend his time when Achilles did not call for his company. He didn’t have to think long because his eyes caught with another, a youth with light brown hair who flashed him a boyish grin. Paris didn’t know how he knew or why, but the youth beckoned him to join them.

Instead of introducing himself with his first name, Paris went by his other name – Alexandros – that was rarely used except by his parents. The tanned youth looking much younger than Paris by a few years called himself Tassos. The other men accepted him gladly, appreciating another pair of hands to help out with the olive harvesting. The women were more cautious with him, exchanging whispers behind covered mouths with their hands and stealing flirty glances at him especially the unattached ones. This didn’t last very long because soon enough they started to break out in unchaste giggles and Paris had a very strong feeling that it had something to do with him.

Unlike the other slaves, Paris wore better linen exomis and a good belt, gifted to him by Achilles. That made him stand out among the other slaves, besides his handsome features. Of course everyone noticed these things, but no one made any references to it. It wasn’t hard to deduce that Paris was an important slave to someone in Peleus’ household.

Before beginning the harvest, the oldest among them made a small offering on the small shrine of Demeter. Once on the slopes, they began to work immediately. The men were putting up the nets under the trees with the help from some of the stronger women. As Paris had no idea what to do, he helped the others unroll the rest of the nets.

When they were ready, the men took up the long poles that had hooks at the end. The trees were already quite ancient and therefore had grown quite tall. They had to crane their necks to search for the right branches and then clawing the hook on a branch, began shaking it until the ripe, black olives rained down to be caught by the nets below.

Tassos and Paris became friends immediately, sharing the same exuberance of youths. The younger explained what they were doing and the next process involved. They stayed together always so that Tassos could make sure that his new friend would do it right.
When the men had moved off to another section, the ones that had stood waiting before now got to the nets and started scooping the olives into the baskets. They had to do it fast because as soon as they were done, the nets had to be taken down and tied to other trees.

No one dared give this expensive slave hard work. They were afraid that his master would get angry with them if he discovered the roughened palms on his delicate hands or bruises that would mar his perfect skin. This made Paris more determined to prove his worth as any worker. He became the centre of attention once again, causing an excited commotion among the women when they discovered that he had not the strength to carry the laden baskets. The youth felt quite embarrassed by that fact. He was not in the least angry that they laughed because they were only tickled by the scene, not by his weakness as a man. Tassos patted his back in assurance, telling him that he would build his strength in no time.

Exchanging amused sniggering between them, they carried the baskets together to an assigned location. Once they were done, Paris and Tassos helped the young girls sort out the ripe and unripe ones so that they could start pressing the olives for oil. It was easy for Paris to build a good rapport with everyone as they found him easygoing and nice. The young girls were particularly smitten by him and they giggled flirtatiously whenever they crossed each other’s path. Meanwhile, Tassos couldn’t stop himself from teasing the shy Trojan about it.

By the time the sun had traveled high above their heads, Paris was so exhausted he was ready to collapse. He looked up above him to gauge the time of the day and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. That was when they heard the creaks of wheels coming towards them. Immediately, the slaves perked up. Paris looked to the direction of the sound and saw a small cart pulled by an ox. There were two girls seated at the end of the cart and one driving the creature.

Immediately, the faint smell of cooked food wafted into Paris’ nostrils. His stomach rumbled very loudly. Tassos heard it and they broke into a fit of giggles.

The cart stopped beside a small hut and the two girls got off. They quickly went to work, setting the huge covered pots onto the long table. There were several logs split in half scattered around the hut that Paris guessed was where the slaves were supposed to sit and eat.

These girls worked very fast under the supervision of the woman who drove the ox. From her better attire and confident bearing, she seemed to be a free woman. She hit the short, thin metal hung under the roof of the hut to announce that lunch was ready and all the slaves dropped what they were doing. They began forming a line at one end of the table.

Plates were passed out and food was distributed as the line moved along. The free woman talked to each slave as if she knew every one of them. This made Paris wonder. When it came to his turn to take the plate from her, she gave him a curious stare.

“You are new here,” she stated. Paris nodded.

“My name is Alexandros. You do not have to worry, Mistress, for my master had given me permission to help out with the olive harvesting.” Paris hoped that she would not inquire further. He didn’t like to announce to the other slaves that his master was Achilles and he didn’t want to lie to her as she seemed like a good person. She didn’t asked anymore questions, but smiled to him and welcomed him cheerfully.

Paris was relieved. After he got his food, he took his seat beside Tassos.

“Who is she?” he asked.

“Mistress Eurixena? She takes care of the slaves working in the fields. She is a good woman and you can rely on her for any help,” Tassos replied.

“Is she a free woman?”

“Why? Do you wish to seek freedom by marrying her? She is already taken,” Tassos teased. Paris did not reply, but smiled cheekily. If only Tassos knew that it wasn’t that easy to obtain his freedom.

As soon as the meal time was over, the slaves were allowed to take a short nap under the shades.

Two hours before sundown, the slaves began to collect the baskets and the amphoras to return to the palace. Once the oil containers were properly placed in the storage room, Paris bid his friends goodbye as they went their separate ways.

Paris received a written message on the table when he got to his bedchamber. Achilles had informed him that he would not see him until tomorrow evening. The Trojan youth did not feel disappointed in the slightest as he was too tired to care. He had a slave brought his dinner to the room. After washing, he retired immediately to bed.