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Jun. 3rd, 2007 02:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hippodamioWhen Hektor returned to the Palace, he thought for a moment. Alektryon, he knew, was not the sort to take being wakened from his sleep lightly. No good could come of disturbing the Horse Master to do what needed doing. So he only nodded to himself instead, and crept off to the kitchen store-rooms, coming away with a few old apples and a lump or two of salt that nobody would miss. Luckily, the slave who oversaw one of the pantries was no great watchman.
It took more care to make his way to the stables without being seen; the pride of the Palace was in its horses, and one did not place such animals in the hands of careless men. Still, Hektor knew of a few ways in not much used; he'd caught a servant at it once, coming away from a secret meeting with some girl. No one was about such business tonight, a thing for which he thanked the gods. There would be extra offerings later to Apollo, who blessed cleverness, and Hermes, who so often worked in the dark. But for now there was only one god to pray to, because once in, there was no turning back. Blue-Haired Poseidon, Father of Horses, I would not deny you any tribute you had set your heart on. If this plan has not your blessing, send me a sign.
There was no sound, no change in the air around him. If the Horse Father did not outright bless the venture, at least he did not consider it grounds for anger.
In silence, Hektor undid the latch to the stall where the great bronze stallion was kept. The horse was considered too dangerous to have a half-door, as he had bitten one of the grooms when the man had shouted at him. It would be all or nothing. The horse, as he had half-expected, was awake; it whickered quietly, a patch of deeper shadows in the darkness. "Easy, there," murmured Hektor. "No harm meant, this time."
He stayed where he was, his back to the stout wall. The horse snorted again; he swallowed and murmured something, he didn't know what. Better that the horse hear him, and know he was there, than think him some night-stalking predator. There was enough room in the stall for the horse to spin about and split his skull with a hoof. No such strike came, so he stood there as long as he could; eventually the horse gave off trying to sort it out, and ignored him. It was a start, if nothing else. He bowed a little and set the bits of apple in the horse's feed-bucket, with a lump of salt nearby. Then he crept out and went to find a wax tablet to send to the Horse Master:
The horse given the King by Lord Roustam is to receive his feed from Prince Hektor. He may graze as he wills, but any other feed given him is to come from Hektor's hand, or it is not to come at all.
It took more care to make his way to the stables without being seen; the pride of the Palace was in its horses, and one did not place such animals in the hands of careless men. Still, Hektor knew of a few ways in not much used; he'd caught a servant at it once, coming away from a secret meeting with some girl. No one was about such business tonight, a thing for which he thanked the gods. There would be extra offerings later to Apollo, who blessed cleverness, and Hermes, who so often worked in the dark. But for now there was only one god to pray to, because once in, there was no turning back. Blue-Haired Poseidon, Father of Horses, I would not deny you any tribute you had set your heart on. If this plan has not your blessing, send me a sign.
There was no sound, no change in the air around him. If the Horse Father did not outright bless the venture, at least he did not consider it grounds for anger.
In silence, Hektor undid the latch to the stall where the great bronze stallion was kept. The horse was considered too dangerous to have a half-door, as he had bitten one of the grooms when the man had shouted at him. It would be all or nothing. The horse, as he had half-expected, was awake; it whickered quietly, a patch of deeper shadows in the darkness. "Easy, there," murmured Hektor. "No harm meant, this time."
He stayed where he was, his back to the stout wall. The horse snorted again; he swallowed and murmured something, he didn't know what. Better that the horse hear him, and know he was there, than think him some night-stalking predator. There was enough room in the stall for the horse to spin about and split his skull with a hoof. No such strike came, so he stood there as long as he could; eventually the horse gave off trying to sort it out, and ignored him. It was a start, if nothing else. He bowed a little and set the bits of apple in the horse's feed-bucket, with a lump of salt nearby. Then he crept out and went to find a wax tablet to send to the Horse Master:
The horse given the King by Lord Roustam is to receive his feed from Prince Hektor. He may graze as he wills, but any other feed given him is to come from Hektor's hand, or it is not to come at all.
