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Jun. 3rd, 2007 05:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hippodamioFor three weeks, it seemed, Hektor had been too tired during the day to be of any use to anyone. Priam had set one of the servants to keeping an eye on his son, as it seemed very unlike the boy, especially with a task at hand. But Hektor showed no signs of being unwell, beyond being sleeping far too late of a morning, and so he put it out of his mind.
When the fourth week came, and the boy seemed to be his usual self, Priam was pleased enough. More so was Hekabe, who had feared some mischief to her eldest son. It was she who commented that Hektor seemed well pleased with himself, too, as if something great had been accomplished; and for that reason alone, Priam took it in mind to see whether the boy had achieved anything at all with the foreign horse. There was little else, after all, that would account for such pride; Hektor had been relieved of all his other duties for the space of a moon's turning. But it was no small thing, to get away from the daily business of the Trojan court. It was not until three days before the new moon that Priam finally found the time to come to the stables, and then it was a little before sunset.
Alektryon met the King himself, instead of one of the grooms. "He's in the far pasture," he said. "The prince took that horse out there this morning; they've been out there since, the same as all the other days this week."
"Did he, now," said Priam, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I will have to see that, I think."
Alektryon bowed, and the King went on his way.
The sun had crept visibly further down the sky before the sound of hoofbeats at the trot reached Priam's ears. Sure enough, it was the great bronze horse. One could not mistake that shape for any other, even at a distance. The beast was taller than the other horses in Priam's stable by several hands, and none of the Trojan breed could match the curve of his neck. It would be a sorrowful thing if he had to offer the beast on the altar after all. Then he frowned, peering a little more closely. There was something not right at all about that shape, particularly the ears. Priam remembered them as being finely shaped and set well apart. From where he stood they seemed almost to resemble a young ox's horns. If something had befallen the horse. . .
Then he thought no more of the ears, because the horse turned sideways to begin a slow, wide circle around the King; and he had a rider. Priam's breath fairly caught in his throat. None of his stable servants were as small as that rider, and no one else would dare approach the horse, let alone throw a leg over him.
When the circle had finished, the horse wheeled about to face the king again, no doubt at the rider's command. A few short paces later the great bronze stallion stood stock-still before Priam, sides heaving a little. Sure enough, it was Hektor who leaned out from the horse's back to raise a hand in greeting to his father. "As you can see," said the boy, "I have not been idle these weeks."
"No," said Priam, his voice thick with wonder. "No, indeed. And it's paid off handsomely, I see."
Hektor beamed, shifting the reins of braided bronze hair to his left hand. "He has no love of strange noises," he said, and pointed at the cloths he had tented about the ears. "I have had to put worse on him, before this. Every day there is a little less to block out the city's sounds, until he finally needs nothing at all. It will be another week or two before that happens, I think. Also his mouth is very tender; I do not think a bit would be wise, really, or at least not without some means of easing him into one. Lord Roustam's men never made him take one, and that is a thing we ought to have noticed."
Priam nodded. "And was this all that you needed, to bring him to this state?"
"No, I have been about the business of winning him over a little at a time, ever since you gave me his taming as my charge," said the boy. "He'll suffer others to groom him now, or to feed him, but his temper's not ever likely to be any less. I haven't tried ordering him harnessed for the chariot yet. That will take a moon or more at the least; the Turkmen don't use them, so he will need to be introduced to them a little at a time, every day, or he'll go savage again the moment he's asked to put up with the thing."
"But you think that he'll do it?" Priam asked, eyebrows rising.
Hektor stroked the horse's neck a moment, and said, "He will; but you'll need to find some other Turkoman horse to match him. He'll never be teamed with anything less; you might as well ask one of our horses to pull alongside a mule."
"Well, Roustam and his fellows will not be leaving Troy for another month or two," said Priam. "I will see what can be done about that. You will have to take the other horse in hand, of course. It would not do, to have someone else train your first team."
The horse whinnied at that, tossing his head wildly. Priam for a moment thought the beast had understood, but it was only his rider's startlement passing on to his mount; when the horse had gone calm again, Priam saw his son's eyes wide and his face flushed. "Truly?" said the boy, for other words were a little beyond him just then.
Priam smiled quietly, though the look was lost in his dark beard, and nodded. "No one else in the Palace would be willing to approach this horse," he said. "Not even your uncles, and you know that none of them are fearful men. I myself would not have come so close if I could not help it. And there are no other nobles in the city who would deserve such a gift, even if they were accomplished horsemen- so he is yours, and so will any other horse the Turkmen may offer to us be."
Hektor laughed and said, "Why, thank you, Father. I'd be sorry to part with him, that's for sure."
"Is he why you've been so tired of late?" asked Priam. "I had wondered about that."
"Oh, yes; I've been working with him by night, even if it's only to be sure he knows me, and is fond of me," said Hektor. "It's quieter then, and he doesn't have to wear the ear-masks on his bridle. I will apologize to Mother later, as I had to steal some of her roving to make them."
"They don't look right on him," Priam observed. "I shouldn't show him off until he doesn't need them the more, if I were you."
"I was thinking the same thing," Hektor admitted. "Although I thought perhaps they ought to be remembered, if only because they saved his life. When I make the offerings I promised Poseidon in exchange for his life, I will tell the god they are in Boukephalos' name."
"Ah, so I was not alone in thinking they make him look more an ox than a horse. . ."
When the fourth week came, and the boy seemed to be his usual self, Priam was pleased enough. More so was Hekabe, who had feared some mischief to her eldest son. It was she who commented that Hektor seemed well pleased with himself, too, as if something great had been accomplished; and for that reason alone, Priam took it in mind to see whether the boy had achieved anything at all with the foreign horse. There was little else, after all, that would account for such pride; Hektor had been relieved of all his other duties for the space of a moon's turning. But it was no small thing, to get away from the daily business of the Trojan court. It was not until three days before the new moon that Priam finally found the time to come to the stables, and then it was a little before sunset.
Alektryon met the King himself, instead of one of the grooms. "He's in the far pasture," he said. "The prince took that horse out there this morning; they've been out there since, the same as all the other days this week."
"Did he, now," said Priam, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I will have to see that, I think."
Alektryon bowed, and the King went on his way.
The sun had crept visibly further down the sky before the sound of hoofbeats at the trot reached Priam's ears. Sure enough, it was the great bronze horse. One could not mistake that shape for any other, even at a distance. The beast was taller than the other horses in Priam's stable by several hands, and none of the Trojan breed could match the curve of his neck. It would be a sorrowful thing if he had to offer the beast on the altar after all. Then he frowned, peering a little more closely. There was something not right at all about that shape, particularly the ears. Priam remembered them as being finely shaped and set well apart. From where he stood they seemed almost to resemble a young ox's horns. If something had befallen the horse. . .
Then he thought no more of the ears, because the horse turned sideways to begin a slow, wide circle around the King; and he had a rider. Priam's breath fairly caught in his throat. None of his stable servants were as small as that rider, and no one else would dare approach the horse, let alone throw a leg over him.
When the circle had finished, the horse wheeled about to face the king again, no doubt at the rider's command. A few short paces later the great bronze stallion stood stock-still before Priam, sides heaving a little. Sure enough, it was Hektor who leaned out from the horse's back to raise a hand in greeting to his father. "As you can see," said the boy, "I have not been idle these weeks."
"No," said Priam, his voice thick with wonder. "No, indeed. And it's paid off handsomely, I see."
Hektor beamed, shifting the reins of braided bronze hair to his left hand. "He has no love of strange noises," he said, and pointed at the cloths he had tented about the ears. "I have had to put worse on him, before this. Every day there is a little less to block out the city's sounds, until he finally needs nothing at all. It will be another week or two before that happens, I think. Also his mouth is very tender; I do not think a bit would be wise, really, or at least not without some means of easing him into one. Lord Roustam's men never made him take one, and that is a thing we ought to have noticed."
Priam nodded. "And was this all that you needed, to bring him to this state?"
"No, I have been about the business of winning him over a little at a time, ever since you gave me his taming as my charge," said the boy. "He'll suffer others to groom him now, or to feed him, but his temper's not ever likely to be any less. I haven't tried ordering him harnessed for the chariot yet. That will take a moon or more at the least; the Turkmen don't use them, so he will need to be introduced to them a little at a time, every day, or he'll go savage again the moment he's asked to put up with the thing."
"But you think that he'll do it?" Priam asked, eyebrows rising.
Hektor stroked the horse's neck a moment, and said, "He will; but you'll need to find some other Turkoman horse to match him. He'll never be teamed with anything less; you might as well ask one of our horses to pull alongside a mule."
"Well, Roustam and his fellows will not be leaving Troy for another month or two," said Priam. "I will see what can be done about that. You will have to take the other horse in hand, of course. It would not do, to have someone else train your first team."
The horse whinnied at that, tossing his head wildly. Priam for a moment thought the beast had understood, but it was only his rider's startlement passing on to his mount; when the horse had gone calm again, Priam saw his son's eyes wide and his face flushed. "Truly?" said the boy, for other words were a little beyond him just then.
Priam smiled quietly, though the look was lost in his dark beard, and nodded. "No one else in the Palace would be willing to approach this horse," he said. "Not even your uncles, and you know that none of them are fearful men. I myself would not have come so close if I could not help it. And there are no other nobles in the city who would deserve such a gift, even if they were accomplished horsemen- so he is yours, and so will any other horse the Turkmen may offer to us be."
Hektor laughed and said, "Why, thank you, Father. I'd be sorry to part with him, that's for sure."
"Is he why you've been so tired of late?" asked Priam. "I had wondered about that."
"Oh, yes; I've been working with him by night, even if it's only to be sure he knows me, and is fond of me," said Hektor. "It's quieter then, and he doesn't have to wear the ear-masks on his bridle. I will apologize to Mother later, as I had to steal some of her roving to make them."
"They don't look right on him," Priam observed. "I shouldn't show him off until he doesn't need them the more, if I were you."
"I was thinking the same thing," Hektor admitted. "Although I thought perhaps they ought to be remembered, if only because they saved his life. When I make the offerings I promised Poseidon in exchange for his life, I will tell the god they are in Boukephalos' name."
"Ah, so I was not alone in thinking they make him look more an ox than a horse. . ."
