Alexis of Troy (Book I)

κβ′ - Eikosi Dyo

Twenty-Two

Paris staggered backwards as Hector's sword collided with his. It was like watching a bull ramming into a sheep. We all could picture how that would look. The younger prince tripped over his feet, sand splashing up around him as he hit the ground. Hector swung his sword casually, eyes narrowed.

"Get up prince of Ilios," he sneered, "you cannot defend your kingdom on your back."

I rolled my eyes as Paris climbed to his feet. "This really isn't a fair fight."

Either no one heard or they ignored me.

For his part, I could not see how Hector was taking it easy on Paris. He slashed and struck blow after blow while Paris only feebly managed to keep his sword upright. He put in a valiant effort though. He held onto his sword, and met each blow with a pathetic defense, but he was tiring quickly. Even from where I sat I saw the sweat dripping down his face. Hector barely worked up a pant.

Then he fumbled.

His sword slipped and Hector used that moment to elbow Paris hard in the gut. The younger prince curled over it before collapsing to the ground with a grunt. I winced. The fight finished as soon as it started.

Paris propped himself up onto his elbow, his other arm wrapped around his stomach as Hector knelt down in front of him. The older prince's voice was deliberately clear when he spoke. I couldn't see Paris' expression, but I imagined the humiliation and hurt in his soft eyes. This was not the welcoming he'd been expecting.

"It'd be wise to train," Hector said, "though you are too soft to be a soldier. You cannot be a true prince unless you have gone into battle for your anax."

He gripped Paris' chin and then said something that was too low to be heard from where us spectators sat. It couldn't be good, judging by the way Paris yanked his chin away from his brother. Hector climbed to his feet and turned to face the viewing platform. He waved a hand at Paris, who was still on the ground. I clenched my hands into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms.

"This is who we welcome home? This is who you want as a future anax, father?" he asked, "let him return to his humbled life as a shepherd. He has no future here."

Silence filled the grounds and I glanced at Priam. Hecuba's hands were clasped in her lap, a silent prayer to her gods to perhaps let Paris stay. She'd just had her child come home and now there was a chance she could lose him again. I mean, she didn't have to give him up in the first place but what can you do about it now?

A cool breeze drifted by, though it wasn't enough to cool down my anxious sweating. Overhead a large bird flew by, its shadow skimming the sandy surface of the ground. It didn't even make a sound, as if it also knew that this was a precarious moment.

Paris was still on the ground, back facing us. He was too embarrassed to face his new family. I wished he would. He shouldn't be embarrassed for failing in an unfair fight with Hector. Paris was a toothpick compared to the tree that was his brother. The fact that he agreed to do this trial was a big deal. It showed he wasn't a coward. But no one saw it like that. What they saw was a young man who wasn't fit enough to fight for his kingdom.

Finally Priam stood and glared down at his two sons. "I will not hear anymore talk about sending a son of mine away. We made that mistake once and he has come back to us, proving the prophecy wrong. Who are we to question the gods' intentions or spurn their gifts?"

Paris glanced over his shoulder, the shock apparent on his face, while Hector may have broken teeth with the way his jaw clenched. But Priam wasn't done.