Troy: Lord Of The Silver Bow by Gemmell David

Author:Gemmell, David [David Gemmell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409084600
Publisher: Transworld

XIX

Wings over Olympos

i

THE DAYS WERE BECOMING INCREASINGLY STRANGE FOR Hekabe the queen. The statues that lined the garden path often smiled at her, and, yesterday, in the sky above she had seen the white winged horse, Pegasus, flying off to the west. It was an effort of will to rationalize these images. The opiates were strong, and the statues did not smile. Pegasus had taken a little more thought. In the end she decided it was probably no more than a flock of gulls. On the other hand, it was more pleasant to think that dying gave her greater sight, and maybe, after all, she had seen the white horse flying back to Olympos.

Her back was aching now but she did not have the energy to move the down-filled cushion to a more comfortable position. A cool breeze blew off the sea and Hekabe sighed. She had always loved the sea – especially at the Bay of Herakles. From the high, cliff top garden she could look down on the Great Green, and merely by turning her head to the right cast her gaze across the shining Scamander river to the high golden walls of Troy in the distance.

The summer palace of King's Joy had always been her favourite place, and it seemed entirely right that she should die here. Priam had built it for her when they were both young, when life seemed everlasting, and love eternal. Pain flared in her belly, but it was dull and thudding, not sharp and jagged as it had been only a few weeks before.

Some twenty paces ahead of her the young prince Paris was sitting in the shade, poring over Egypteian scrolls. Hekabe smiled as she watched him, his stern expression, his total concentration. Not yet twenty-five, he was already losing his hair, like his brother Polites. Slim and studious, Paris had never been suited to the manly pursuits his father so loved. He did not care for riding, save to journey from one place to another. He had no skill with sword or bow. His enthusiasms were focused entirely on study. He loved to draw plants and flowers, and, as a youngster, had spent many happy afternoons dissecting plant stems and examining leaves. Priam soon tired of the boy. But then Priam tired of everyone sooner or later, she thought.

Sadness touched her.

At that moment Paris looked up. Concern showed on his face and he put aside the scroll and rose. 'Let me move that pillow, mother,' he said, helping her to lean forward, then adjusting the cushion. Hekabe sank back gratefully.

'Thank you, my son.'

'I shall fetch you some water.'

She watched him walk away. His movements were not graceful like Hektor's, and his shoulders were already rounded from too many hours spent sitting and reading. There was a time when she too had been disappointed by Paris, but now she was grateful for the kindness of his spirit, and the compassion he showed her. 'I raised good sons,' she told herself. The pain began to worsen and she took a phial from a pouch at her belt and broke the wax seal.

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