Take Me Home

Part 9

From far away, it could be observed a long river of humans and animals of burden mingled together, trudging slowly towards one direction. Here and there, more people and animals poured in, looking like ants attracted to food, causing the procession to become bigger and longer.

The atmosphere although hot under the noon sun was filled with noises of chatters and shouts, laughter and curses; animal grunts and clatter of bells. It looked like everyone was heading to the market, but not today. With the blessing of the beautiful Mediterranean sky and cool, gentle wind, the subjects of Phythia were heading to the palace of King Peleus.

Families traveled together in a tight pack while youths in the age of idolizing heroes romp about causing mischief. Traders and rich lords traveled in their own group, already calculating in their minds of the wealth that they were about to make.

Ambassadors and petitioners as well as actors could be overhead reciting and memorizing their lines to be presented to the king and his audiences; they were seeking fortune and favours from the ruler of Phythia.

Irrespective of each one’s own agenda, everyone was excited for it was not often one would get to attend such a happy occasion. Plenty of food and wine would await them at the palace as they welcomed home the return of the Myrmidons from war, but mostly to give thanks to the gods for the safe return of Achilles.

Those already gathered in front of the secondary gate leading into the palace stood on tiptoe and craned their necks trying to catch sight of the pride of their nation. Realizing that the warrior had not appeared, they passed the time with idle gossips from all over the land; one in particularly was Achilles’ prophecy seen by his own mother. Wasn’t Achilles supposed to attain fame and death hand in hand while in Troy? Had the daughter of Old Nereus made a wrong prediction?

Thetis heard the hearsay, but she ignored it. Her prophecy was never wrong yet she wondered herself. Nevertheless, she was convinced that someday Achilles’ would still choose the fate of glory in the end. She knew her son well. He was born with the sword in his hand and he shall die with a sword in his body.

Nothing bothered her now. It was only important that Achilles came home. What fates would hold for her so the the future she did not wish to dwell. As a mother, she only wished to rejoice in his return.

When Achilles had invited her to return to the palace with him, Thetis had declined. She had not been back there since she moved out and Peleus knew the reason. The confined stone walls of the palace were not agreeable to her.

Her home by the seaside was what she loved most, to be able to wake up in the early dawn and find the comforting sight of the sea from her bedroom windows. She was unwilling to severe all ties with her Nereid sisters when she was captured and became Peleus’ mate, a mortal man whose heart was completely taken by her beauty.

As soon as Achilles was born, she had tried to live on land for long periods, for his sake. It was difficult for her to adjust and she longed too much for the sea. Unable to leave her son and her sisters, she was torn between two worlds and fell into desolation.

Understanding her reluctance to go with him, Achilles hugged his mother and told her that he would come to her later. Then they parted.

All the surviving Myrmidons who had joined Achilles to Troy were released to reunite with their loved ones. The men were tired and had not seen their family in a while. Despite that this was the shortest trip to war that they had gone, it was still a painful experience for the family and lovers because no one would know who would return and who would not.

Eudoras was standing beside his wife, holding his three year-old son in his arms. He was supposed to have gone home with them; instead he told them to return first. He had one last duty to perform before he could join his family without his conscience eating him.

Assuming that Paris was still onboard the trireme because Eudoras could not see the Trojan anywhere, he went on board to search for him. He found the youth cowering behind the last row of the lower level thwarts. Eudoras had expected that Paris would be difficult and therefore was surprised and relieved at the same time that the youth was docile and strangely obedient as he was led away from the ship.

Not wishing to humiliate the former prince unnecessarily, Eudoras opted not to tie his wrists behind his back to prevent escape. The youth followed quietly beside him, his head dropped forward and using his long, dark curls to hide his face.

Despite that they were from the opposite side of the alliance, Eudoras still held pity for the youth. Paris was obviously terrified and his sad attempt to appear as insignificant as possible among his enemies was not working. Eyes followed them wherever they went and not just a few was curious enough to come close and jabbed the new slave everywhere.

The youth could have punched the men who tried to grope him indecently, but he held his temper back. This was not a place to cause a scene when clearly he was at a disadvantage. His master was no more in sight, probably left with the others and had completely forgotten about him. Meanwhile, he could not trust Eudoras to protect him from being harassed to the ground. He would surely be torn to pieces by the angry mob.

Thrice, two merchants and a rich lord approached Eudoras to enquire if they could purchase the young slave. It was not unusual for them to ask; captured war prisoners were often sold off as slaves. However, Eudoras was quite sure it was not labour that they had in mind for this youth.

The Myrmidon patiently explained to them that this slave was Achilles’ war trophy and not for sale. They were disappointed of course, but the rich lord was not easily discouraged. He leaned close to Eudoras, pressed a piece of silver coin in his hand and whispered conspiratorially to Achilles’ second that when the warrior got bored of Paris, he should be informed immediately so that he could buy the unfortunate youth off his hands.

The rich man gave a last suggestive scrutiny up and down Paris’ body before walking away, leaving two disgusted and angry men behind.

“Come, Paris,” Eudoras ordered.

Together, they approached the young groom who was still standing beside a riderless horse. The adolescent was looking around among the crowds that were slowly drifting away as if waiting for someone.

“I am Eudoras. Is this my horse?” The boy looked up at the tall man, with a fierce face who suddenly appeared in front of him with a young companion. He swallowed once, a small fear rise in him.

“Yes…yes, sir,” the boy stammered and swallowed again.

“Good. I’ll take it from here,” Eudoras dismissed the lanky boy. He gave a stiff nod and scampered away, to join the rest of his friends who were waiting for him under the shade from a beech tree. They had seen what happened and quickly crowd around the teenager. They whispered among themselves as they watched Achilles’ trusted man and his meek companion.

Young Paris involuntarily stretched out his wrists together in front of the Myrmidon, waiting to be tied with a rope. He had presumed that he was expected to run behind the horse to wherever the man was going. Eudoras ignored him and got on the horse.

“Get behind me,” Eudoras bid as he leaned to the side slightly and proffered a hand to help Paris mount the horse. In spite of his surprise, Paris did as he was told.

After the pair had departed, only then the boys went around in search for a carriage to hitch a ride back to the palace stable. When they couldn’t find any, they decided to race each other. It wasn’t far anyway, about an hour walking distance.


Big, blocks of limestone cut into flat pieces were used to pave the main road. As this was supposed to make traveling easier, however today was not due to the throngs of people using the same thoroughfare. Once they neared the palace, Eudoras took a smaller road. Since it led to the side of the fort, this path was mostly used by servants and slaves as well as carriages carrying cargoes as demonstrated by the twin well-worn grooves on the limestone.

Eudoras had no difficulty entering the palace even though he hardly used that entrance. He was easily recognized and no one dared question Achilles’ second-in-command.

Once inside though, he faced a dilemma of finding a suitable room to house Achilles’ slave temporarily. He didn’t want to make the decision to put the youth in one of the chambers used by the palace’s concubines. He wasn’t sure what position Paris held in Achilles’ heart.

In the end, the youth was locked in one of the small rooms in a less utilized wing of the palace. Peleus used to keep his beautiful war prizes there until such time that the King had decided what to do with the slaves. A soldier was posted to stand guard outside and a message was sent immeely ely to Achilles, informing him where he could find Paris.

Alone finally, Paris felt relieved to be away from the crowd and the leers. It had been a frightening experience for him and he thought it would never end. He was afraid that Eudoras would hand him over to the guards and surely, they would take liberties of his person when he was entirely helpless. That was one of the prospects he was DEFINITELY not looking forward to.

He let out a staggered breath and slowly unwound the tensed muscles around his shoulders. His exhaustion was creeping up on him now because being a pampered creature, he was used to soft beds and rich food and since becoming a prisoner, he had lacked both.

Standing in the middle of the room with his feet planted apart, a habit he picked up while on the trireme, the former prince found it strange to be on solid ground once more after twelve days at sea. His body still remembered the rocking motion, so he didn’t realize it that his body was swaying slightly on its own accord.

The relative silence inside the room, except for the chirps of the birds outside, was simply too ‘loud’ for him and had caused a constant ringing in his ears. He missed the sound of the waves lapping against the ship as he had fallen asleep countless of times while listening to it.

Paris looked about his room without much interest. There wasn’t much to see anyway – a bed and an old arm chair beside and a smwindwindow, crisscrossed by strong iron bars. The frescos on the walls were very much faded, losing to time and neglect over the years.

Before the youth could use the bed, he had to pull away a dull, ugly brown cover draped over it; stirring a cloud of dust unintentionally into the air and causing him to suffer a coughing fit. After the dust had settled, Paris found underneath the cover a soft and comfortable looking bed with a nicely folded blanket placed atop one of the two pillows provided.

He quickly stripped off all his clothes and crawled into the bed that was large enough for two people to share. He was glad that at least he had minimal comfort in this miserable existence.

While staring at the ceiling, his stomach rumbled. He was hungry, but doubted anyone would care to see to his needs. Being too exhausted to care anymore, he turned to his side and went to sleep.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The very next day, around late noon, a young boy with large brown eyes came into Paris’ room. In his hands were several rolls of dry bread placed on a poor metal plate and a jug of clean water. Paris made no fuss about the food he was given because what he had now was better than the gruel he received from Patroclus. He didn’t even want to think about what the jealous lover might have added into that gruel.

He accepted the items with a heartfelt gratitude and a smile, being terribly hungry by now. The boy giggled in response and batted his eye lashes flirtatiously. He gave a meaningful glance at the beautiful Trojan yo

It surprised Paris that the boy so young was already making passes at him because usually, he received such attention from someone older. With tact, Paris declined the servant boy’s offer. The youth shrugged without getting offended and left immediately.

After he was gone, Paris sat on the bed and placed the jug of water between his thighs and the plate beside him. He took a roll, broke it in half and dipped it into the jug. Once the bread had softened, he ate quietly while watching the grey sky outside. He contemplated on his future, expecting that it would be as bleak as the weather right now.

Perhaps in the next few days, his master would decree how his life should be dictated.