They go out into the place where the demigod Aeneas had led the Greek slaughter, more than a year ago. Red flowers grow now where their comrades fell. All else is quiet.
Ophellios releases the string of his bow and a bird falls from the sky. It was only a small thing, but the arrow pierced neatly its heart; there will be enough meat for feasting later.
There is hunger in the camp.
He turns, looking to his lone companion. “How many have you caught, Lord Aetos?”
"I know you, proud king, and your name and your birth, and the name of your father, and more things besides; for the gods see further than men. I ask rather, who are you to come here?"
His gaze lingers on the Cretan king for a long time.
"If you, My son, trust mighty Aetos to be your companion at the shield, then so be it. Fear: for of all the things that you have chosen in your brief life, some might men of future times sing of in song, some might you regret and lament above all else.
Now tell me: what news?"
“So the bridge is collapsed on both sides? Prophets no longer hear from You, Lord; do You no longer hear from them?”
His eyes are wide.
“My father – there is a blight on our lands. We starve. I starve. In two days, the son of Thetis seeks to mobilise all the Achaeans to assault Troy. Disaster decays us.”
His eyes darken from the first sentence.
"You presume much of the ways of gods. In truth our father lord Zeus has many designs; in truth matters graver than you know are in motion, and perhaps even were I to labour long in explaining, your reason could not grasp them. Suffice it to say that you Achaeans have committed a grave sin, and lord Zeus himself was filled with vengeance and furious anger, and it was I, and not you, who bore the brunt of his rage; well indeed for you, for lord Zeus is above us all, and none last long in his despite."
He looks back to his Olympian father.
“No prisoner of ours is blessed by You. No temple of Yours was ruined by us. You bear the anger of Lord Zeus for us all, benevolent as You are; why would Lord Zeus be angry? Prophecy is altered; affected. I– I do not–”
"Indeed. I am surprised, my child, and saddened, that you could not see this for yourself; have you not wondered as to the nature of your celestial father, and My power of prophecy? Did not she interest and fascinate you? She did Me, long ago."
…
“Forgive me. Long have I wondered about You. Long have I wished to speak with You. But the Trojan princess evaded my notice.”
"He did not know, O Apollo, because we did not tell him. He was not privy to the truth; nor indeed were many of the Achaeans, for I feared lest it cause - division."
"Division it has indeed caused; division between Me and the Achaeans, whom I have favoured and blessed, and loved and treated in ceaseless friendship, now curdled into bitter wrath."
Know what?
He looks as if he is about to fall to his knees, but recalls his father’s admonitions mere moments ago and with effort keeps himself upright.
“Please, my Lord; if I have ever spoken words of praise to You, tell us how to fix this.”
"Why, learn gentleness and soothing sweeter than Hera, and calm the temper of Zeus, or beard ye the Cloudgatherer upon His throne and bring Him to terms, if you would fix this, or indeed weave a better and stronger web than the Fates. Zeus thunders still: this old fane of mine I hope He does not care to watch. For Cassandra's power was great; for I saw in her a possibility, a thing mortals can scarce conceive, a capacity for power: but such things were not ordained by Zeus, and so I saw to it that her words would not be believed, and so her prophecies not break and twist the threads of Fate. And yet I was outfoxed by wretched Ambrosios, and now I know not what my fearsome gift has done, for Zeus keeps His own counsels. Wherefore the Achaeans shall suffer sore, and all Ambrosios would do with his forbidden knowledge be frustrated, and perhaps My own father shall forgive Me."
“What offering would Lord Zeus accept such that his anger may be calmed?” He steps closer, brave, terrified. “I wish nothing more than to help You, my father, who has suffered so much for our actions. I wish to reassure You that we Achaeans are still worth Your trust, Your favour.”
"I do not know, or I would have done it long since, for I fear His wrath if I am wrong. But if you wish it, then: take up Lord Ambrosios, and burn him bound upon the pyre in Zeus's name, and perhaps all shall be well."
Then there is only one thing to do. Ophellios steps forward, heart in his mouth.
“If I may offer an alternative, though Your wisdom is great – another Achaean king, of equal greatness, of equal worth as sacrifice.”
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