"Owning Odysseus"
Part 2
by Beryll
The late afternoon sun was sending warm golden light through the high windows when Hector finally woke up again.
He was not surprised that he found himself alone in the large bed he shared with Andromache. She always got up earlier than him to take care of Astyanax. But for a long moment, he had no idea why she had let him sleep into the day when he had a war to fight.
Then the peaceful calm outside seeped into his consciousness and he remembered that the war was over. With a happy sigh he stretched, realizing that there was nothing at all that needed taking care of. He had spoken to Lysander during the festivities of the previous evening and he had promised to take care of the city's guard for a few days to give Hector time alone with his wife and son.
He was about to just turn over and doze a little more when another memory resurfaced.
Odysseus. Paris would be extremely angry that his brother had taken away his toy. And Hector still had no idea what to do with the Greek. With a slight frown, he sat up. Where was Odysseus? It was unlikely that he had slept as long as Hector.
Hector's frown deepened and fear touched his heart when he noticed that his armor as well as his sword were missing from the stand where he had put them before finally going to bed in the morning.
Cursing himself for trusting the Greek, he got up and quickly put on a tunic, then left the bedchamber to look for his wife and son, afraid of what he might find.
He stopped in his tracks in the doorway, staring in surprise at the scene presenting itself to him.
Odysseus was sitting on the floor near the archway leading out to the balcony. Hector's armor lay spread before him and he was busy mending the various cuts it had received during the last battle. Hector's sword lay close by, obviously sharpened and polished.
The Greek was now wearing a simple but clean brown tunic instead of the rags of the previous night. And he looked like he had washed, the various scrapes and bruises now all the more visible.
Neither Andromache nor Astyanax were there.
Hector took a moment to calm himself, now feeling foolish that he had jumped to conclusions so quickly. Then he stepped into the room, making sure Odysseus heard his approach.
The Greek looked up from his work, then bowed his head deeply. The gesture was entirely appropriate for a slave greeting his master but it made Hector feel more than a little uncomfortable. He just could not forget that this was not a simple slave but a Greek king and a man renowned for his courage and cunning.
When Odysseus raised his head again Hector was almost relieved that he did not find the dull expression of an obedient slave in his eyes but wary intelligence.
He also noticed that the scratch marks on Odysseus' cheekbone had turned an angry red and that the skin was slightly swollen. Obviously, the viper had poisonous claws.
"Have you seen my wife?" Hector asked, still a bit of worry remaining in his heart.
The Greek nodded. "Yes, when I got up."
"And where is she now?"
Odysseus shrugged. "She went off for a walk with your son, I think. She didn't tell me."
Hector went over to him, looking down at the armor. "Did she tell you to mend my armor?" he asked.
Now the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Odysseus' mouth. "Yes, she said that a slave should never sit idle, no matter what you decided was to happen with me."
Hector sat down on a nearby bench with a sigh. "Was she angry?" he asked, feeling relief at the peaceful calm that seemed to blow over the city like a gentle breeze. It was hard to stay worried, hard to frown, hard to wonder if it really was a good idea to have a cunning Ithacan fox in his household.
The smile on Odysseus' lips widened a fraction. "I don't think so."
Hector realized that the Greek probably knew full well what worries were plaguing him. He watched Odysseus carefully when he spoke again.
"For a king captured by his enemies you seem surprisingly accepting of your situation."
Odysseus did not try to avoid his gaze. "The Gods decide a mortal's fate. If they wish me to serve you, there is naught I can do to change the will of the Gods," he stated calmly. "Do not think I haven't considered ways of escaping," he continued before Hector could ask just that. "I had plenty of time for that while I enjoyed your brother's company. But the harsh fact is that I am far from home in a land where many know my face and none of them are my friends."
"You could have taken my wife or my son hostage." Hector voiced his deepest fear.
The Greek laughed mirthlessly. "The archers of Troy are renowned for their accuracy. I doubt I would have gotten more than a few steps from this palace. And even if - where would I go? There is no help to be found in leaving this shore."
With dry amusement, Hector noted that there were definite advantages to a slave who thought through possible plans before acting.
Still wariness remained in Odysseus' eyes and his posture was tense.
"So what do you plan to do with me?" the Greek asked the question that his mind must have been revolving around ever since Hector had taken him.
Hector sighed softly. "I guess I will keep you.," he said after thinking a while.
He wasn't sure what reaction he had expected but the relief he saw in Odysseus' eyes pleased him. It reassured him that at least for now he could trust the Greek.
"Tell me one thing: Had you remained in my brother's possession, would you have been as accepting of your fate?" Hector asked curiously.
Odysseus face hardened immediately. "No," he said softly, "sooner or later I would have killed him."
Hector nodded, satisfied that Odysseus had not lied.
He got up and stretched. "I'll get some salve for those scratches," he said, "one never knows what that viper has under her nails."
Odysseus blinked at him in surprise but then smiled slowly when he realized that Hector wasn't exactly fond of Helen either.
"You're too kind, master," Odysseus said with a sparkle of mirth to his eyes, when Hector returned, "you will spoil your slave."
Hector scowled at him. "It's hard enough to see you as a slave as it is. Don't make it even harder by speaking out of turn." he grumbled but there was mirth in his voice as well.
He took Odysseus chin and turned the other man's head so he could examine the scratch marks as well as the head wound. He could see that the wound had been taken care of already. Probably ever sensible Andromache's hand. The scratches looked like they were infected. Carefully Hector applied some of the numbing salve.
Odysseus hissed with pain and his hand shot up instinctively, grabbing Hector's wrist hard to pull it away.
Hector remained motionless, curious what the Greek would do next. He was not disappointed when Odysseus let go of his wrist and looked down.
"I'm sorry." Odysseus said.
Hector smiled, strangely reassured that not all the fire was gone from his enemy. His former enemy, he corrected himself. The war was over. Then again, there was no peace to be found between master and slave, was there?
"It's not that simple to be a slave, is it?" Hector asked quietly.
Odysseus looked back at him, sharp eyes searching the Trojan's face for mocking, finding none.
"I'm sure I will have plenty of opportunity to learn.," he answered after a while.
Hector just nodded and handed the pot with the salve to Odysseus. He watched him apply some more to the scratch marks and then sigh in relief as the pain lessened. Unconsciously, Hector rubbed his wrist where the Greek's strong hand had grabbed him, his eyes raking over the man realizing after a while that he quite liked what he saw.
This was no lithe youth but a seasoned warrior and ruler. A body trained for combat, not to please the eye. But the feeling of that strong fingers on his wrists had tickled an appetite in Hector that he had thought forgotten ever since he had married Andromache.
Maybe he did have a use for this slave after all. Although he was not at all sure how Odysseus would react to an offer like that. The Greeks were known to favor boys. Hector hardly counted himself as a boy anymore.
And he knew that he wouldn't be able to simply demand the other man's service in his bed. Even had he not felt respect for a honorable foe and still seen the king in Odysseus. He would never be able to treat a slave as carelessly and cruelly as Paris did.
Then Hector realized that he had been staring at Odysseus for quite a while and quickly turned his attention to the armor to check on the Greek's work. He had done well. So there was more than that one use for him.
With a smile, Hector thought that Andromache would find more than enough ways to keep a slave's hands busy. She managed pretty well with Hector too when he wasn't on duty. Maybe she would even be happy about an additional set of hands to help her with running their small household.
Odysseus handed the pot of salve back to Hector. "Thank you.," he said.
Hector nodded. He got up and stretched once more, now noticing the smell of wine and smoke that still clung to him from the previous night.
"I'll be off to bath.," he said. "Tell my wife I'll be back shortly."
Odysseus again bowed his head and then turned back to his task.
Still Hector could have sworn he felt the Greek's eyes on his back when he left.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
go to PART 3