The Heroes of Troy (non-slash)
I told you I was feeling flashes of creativity!
Title: The Heroes of Troy
By Bagoas Alexandros
Summary: A young slave reminds Alexander of the other heroes of Trojan War.
A/N: I admit it, I'm probably one of the few people in any academic field that enjoy the movie Troy. If anything it was the fact that Brad Pitt actually wasn't half bad, and ask any of my friends, I have to be dragged kicking and screaming to see anything with Brad Pitt in it. The story of the Trojan War lacks for having the gods and goddesses absent but otherwise, not too shabby at all. I'm rather disappointed in the lack of Clytaemenestra and Cassandra but you can't have everything, I guess. Haven't figured out the change in Briseis' occupation, but ... details. Either way, I've always thought the women of the Iliad have always gotten less credit than they deserve so here's my rather brief and admittedly pathetic attempt to give them a moment of Alexandrien glory.
******
The Heroes of Troy
The plains were dusty and heat shimmered in waves. The track that the king of Macedon, Greece, and Egypt had just run in circuit with his friend and rumor-lover Hephaestion. A young boy, following the army in the company of his slave mother, had watched the offering to the fallen heroes of that mythic battle with cynical eyes. As a slave he'd lived a hard life, harder than most, and his eyes had seen things better left unmentioned. He no longer believed in myths about gods and heroes. Gods cared nothing for the downtrodden and heroes did not rescue the deserving and faithful.
Dusk came and shadows fell across the large camp of the army following Alexander of Macedon. Following the drunkenly bellowed orders of his master, the young boy walked to the nearest watering hole for water to be heated on the meager campfire. Tired, he sat next to the bucket of water he had just drawn.
"Something ails you, boy?"
"Life," he responded, not turning to the one who spoke.
There was a grin in the tone of the response that came to him. "We sit on hallowed ground. Great men fought and died here, and you are ailed by life?"
The boy snorted derisively and turned to the speaker standing in the shadows of a nearby tent. "Great men whom we do not have in this army that gives us no aide on this quest for vengeance against Persia? I am only a slave, but even *I* know that great men aren't the only heroes in great stories."
There was a long pause and the boy stood, grabbing his bucket, knowing his mother would pay the price for his moment of ease. Before he took three steps the voice spoke to him again. "Who are the other heroes then, boy?"
There was no hesitation. "My mother is slave, I am a slave, but I know the story of Achilles, Patroklos, Priam, Agamemnon, Paris and Odysseus. But was not strong Briseis made a slave and a captive, twice? Was not Andromache a noble woman of spirit, courage and grace? Was Helen not the most cursed of women, doomed by her beauty and inconsistency? Can you not feel sympathy for Clytaemenstra, loving mother and wife, driven insane by the cruelty and malice of her husband's actions? Are these women not heroes in their own right, through their courage and suffering?"
There was startled pause and the man began to laugh, his face coming from the shadow, causing the boy to stop in shocked disbelief.
"Boy, you win. Merely with those statements alone youtell me you have pondered the validity of the arguments on the heroism of women." King Alexander smiled at him. "I would have the name of one so wise in the manner of life."
The boy bowed his head before the king, thrilled and horrified to have spoken so to a great man as this without punishment. "Demodocus, my king," the boy said humbly.
Alexander was impressed. "Another legendary name you spit out, young one. The bard in the court of Alcinous, was he not?"
"Yes, my king."
Alexander chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Who is your master, Alcinous of brilliant mind?"
The boy blushed at the compliment. "Linus, son of Lichas, my king."
"And your mother, she is his slave as well?" The boy nodded. "Take me to your master, young Alcinous."
Demodocus did as he was bade, carting the water with him. There would be enough trouble with him bringing the king to his master's humble tent without bringing the water as well. He snuck a glance at the king once as they passed torchlight and was astonished to discover the king openly studying him. Chastening himself for looking upon that which was greater than himself, Demodocus never looked at the king again until they reached the tent of his master.
His mother, without comment and looking even more exhausted than when he'd left her what seemed only moments ago, took the water without noticing Demodocus' companion.
"Linus, son of Lichas, stand before me!" Alexander's voice was strong and confident but not unfriendly.
There was an irritated snort from inside the tent and Demodocus' master stumbled groggily from the shelter. Drunk before the tent was hardly erected following a hard days' march, Linus recognized not his king, but focused instead on the slave boy. Linus distinctly recalled sending the boy for water and, seeing empty hands, grew enraged almost immediately.
"You lazy ferret!" he bellowed. "I sent you for water before the sun left the sky and here you still stand, empty handed and empty-headed!"
"Linus, son of Lichas, mind your manners and your tongue." Alexander's voice remained strong and confident but an edge of steel now laced the words.
Demodocus' master squinted blearily at the short-statured figure across the campfire, blanching a moment later when his brain comprehended that the king that had him on payroll stood before him. "My king, Alexander, welcome to my humble camp. Woman!" he shouted at Demodocus' mother, "fetch the king my best wine!"
"I'm not here for hospitality, Linus, I am here to purchase your slaves." Casually, Alexander pulled his pouch free and tossed it at Linus' head. It bounced off the man's forehead without seemingly to cause any damage, which didn't surprise Demodocus or his mother. Linus stared stupidly at the pouch on the ground, a few coins that had fallen out shining brilliantly even in the dim firelight.
"Buy them?" he repeated stupidly. He gestured at the pouch at his feet. "For that gold?"
"You catch on quick," agreed Alexander in an amiable tone. "I require someone with a quick mind, and I am assured your slave boy has it. In fact, he has demonstrated it to me quite admirably. Any woman who can raise a boy like him deserves her freedom just as the boy who owns the mind. Alcinous, your mother will gather your belongings and I will have one of my pages find you proper shelter."
Demodocus could only gape, stupified, at the warrior before him. His mother, shocked from her tired lethargy, fell to her knees, kissing Alexander's feet. Alexander laughed, pulling her up again, assuring her that her groveling was not needed.
"Assure me that you will tell others of the heroism of the women of Troy, my lady, as you have taught your son so well."
"I have taught him nothing, my king!" she protested.
"What is your name, my good woman?" Alexander asked pleasantly, ignoring the now astonished sputters from Linus.
"Helia, my king."
"Of the sun," mused Alexander in a thoughtful tone. "Appropriate. The sun illuminates to us the world, helps things to grow, as you have illuminated things to your son, who in turn does so for me, thus creating the growth of thought and wonder."
Helia could only turn to look at her son, who shrugged helplessly. He'd never have thought fetching water would lead to such a strange happenstance. All he did was draw water and sit down to ponder the injustice of the Fates.
"Fetch your things," Alexander gently reminded her and Helia dashed off to do as she was bid. The king gazed at Linus, who stared back dumbfounded. When Helia returned with two bags, one that she handed to her son.
"My king, you cannot be serious!" protested Linus, finally gaining his few wits about him. "They are but slaves! Nothing to your greatness! While I appreciate the coin, these things are not worth such generous giving." He sneered a moment.
Alexander spoke one last time. "Nothing can be revoked or said in vain nor unfulfilled should I nod my head." He turned and walked away, leaving Helia and Demodocus to follow in his wake.
"My king Alexander?" Alcinous called.
"Yes, Demodocus?"
"I thought wrongly earlier today when I saw you and the Lord Hephaestion pay homage to the heroes of Troy."
"How is that?" Alexander stopped but did not turn to face the youth.
"I thought heroes were for stories, gods for the gullible. No heroes ever helped my mother in her life nor did any god or goddess answer my pleas for aid. Until now. The gods surely sent us a hero this night." Demodocus, desperate to show his thanks and appreciation, stumbled over awkward words.
Alexander chuckled. "The gods sent you yourself, Demodocus, I only but listened. Hephaestion and I paid homage to the wrong heroes you thought. Perhaps you were right. Along with your new tent, I will furnish you the offerings to make to the other, less considered heroes of Troy. Sacrifice to Helen, Andromache and Clytaemenstra, noble and cursed women of wartime that they are. If warriors like myself can pay homage to the men of the battlefield, then you and your mother can sacrifice with equal fervor to the wdiows of orphans of the same battlefields."
Title: The Heroes of Troy
By Bagoas Alexandros
Summary: A young slave reminds Alexander of the other heroes of Trojan War.
A/N: I admit it, I'm probably one of the few people in any academic field that enjoy the movie Troy. If anything it was the fact that Brad Pitt actually wasn't half bad, and ask any of my friends, I have to be dragged kicking and screaming to see anything with Brad Pitt in it. The story of the Trojan War lacks for having the gods and goddesses absent but otherwise, not too shabby at all. I'm rather disappointed in the lack of Clytaemenestra and Cassandra but you can't have everything, I guess. Haven't figured out the change in Briseis' occupation, but ... details. Either way, I've always thought the women of the Iliad have always gotten less credit than they deserve so here's my rather brief and admittedly pathetic attempt to give them a moment of Alexandrien glory.
******
The Heroes of Troy
The plains were dusty and heat shimmered in waves. The track that the king of Macedon, Greece, and Egypt had just run in circuit with his friend and rumor-lover Hephaestion. A young boy, following the army in the company of his slave mother, had watched the offering to the fallen heroes of that mythic battle with cynical eyes. As a slave he'd lived a hard life, harder than most, and his eyes had seen things better left unmentioned. He no longer believed in myths about gods and heroes. Gods cared nothing for the downtrodden and heroes did not rescue the deserving and faithful.
Dusk came and shadows fell across the large camp of the army following Alexander of Macedon. Following the drunkenly bellowed orders of his master, the young boy walked to the nearest watering hole for water to be heated on the meager campfire. Tired, he sat next to the bucket of water he had just drawn.
"Something ails you, boy?"
"Life," he responded, not turning to the one who spoke.
There was a grin in the tone of the response that came to him. "We sit on hallowed ground. Great men fought and died here, and you are ailed by life?"
The boy snorted derisively and turned to the speaker standing in the shadows of a nearby tent. "Great men whom we do not have in this army that gives us no aide on this quest for vengeance against Persia? I am only a slave, but even *I* know that great men aren't the only heroes in great stories."
There was a long pause and the boy stood, grabbing his bucket, knowing his mother would pay the price for his moment of ease. Before he took three steps the voice spoke to him again. "Who are the other heroes then, boy?"
There was no hesitation. "My mother is slave, I am a slave, but I know the story of Achilles, Patroklos, Priam, Agamemnon, Paris and Odysseus. But was not strong Briseis made a slave and a captive, twice? Was not Andromache a noble woman of spirit, courage and grace? Was Helen not the most cursed of women, doomed by her beauty and inconsistency? Can you not feel sympathy for Clytaemenstra, loving mother and wife, driven insane by the cruelty and malice of her husband's actions? Are these women not heroes in their own right, through their courage and suffering?"
There was startled pause and the man began to laugh, his face coming from the shadow, causing the boy to stop in shocked disbelief.
"Boy, you win. Merely with those statements alone youtell me you have pondered the validity of the arguments on the heroism of women." King Alexander smiled at him. "I would have the name of one so wise in the manner of life."
The boy bowed his head before the king, thrilled and horrified to have spoken so to a great man as this without punishment. "Demodocus, my king," the boy said humbly.
Alexander was impressed. "Another legendary name you spit out, young one. The bard in the court of Alcinous, was he not?"
"Yes, my king."
Alexander chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Who is your master, Alcinous of brilliant mind?"
The boy blushed at the compliment. "Linus, son of Lichas, my king."
"And your mother, she is his slave as well?" The boy nodded. "Take me to your master, young Alcinous."
Demodocus did as he was bade, carting the water with him. There would be enough trouble with him bringing the king to his master's humble tent without bringing the water as well. He snuck a glance at the king once as they passed torchlight and was astonished to discover the king openly studying him. Chastening himself for looking upon that which was greater than himself, Demodocus never looked at the king again until they reached the tent of his master.
His mother, without comment and looking even more exhausted than when he'd left her what seemed only moments ago, took the water without noticing Demodocus' companion.
"Linus, son of Lichas, stand before me!" Alexander's voice was strong and confident but not unfriendly.
There was an irritated snort from inside the tent and Demodocus' master stumbled groggily from the shelter. Drunk before the tent was hardly erected following a hard days' march, Linus recognized not his king, but focused instead on the slave boy. Linus distinctly recalled sending the boy for water and, seeing empty hands, grew enraged almost immediately.
"You lazy ferret!" he bellowed. "I sent you for water before the sun left the sky and here you still stand, empty handed and empty-headed!"
"Linus, son of Lichas, mind your manners and your tongue." Alexander's voice remained strong and confident but an edge of steel now laced the words.
Demodocus' master squinted blearily at the short-statured figure across the campfire, blanching a moment later when his brain comprehended that the king that had him on payroll stood before him. "My king, Alexander, welcome to my humble camp. Woman!" he shouted at Demodocus' mother, "fetch the king my best wine!"
"I'm not here for hospitality, Linus, I am here to purchase your slaves." Casually, Alexander pulled his pouch free and tossed it at Linus' head. It bounced off the man's forehead without seemingly to cause any damage, which didn't surprise Demodocus or his mother. Linus stared stupidly at the pouch on the ground, a few coins that had fallen out shining brilliantly even in the dim firelight.
"Buy them?" he repeated stupidly. He gestured at the pouch at his feet. "For that gold?"
"You catch on quick," agreed Alexander in an amiable tone. "I require someone with a quick mind, and I am assured your slave boy has it. In fact, he has demonstrated it to me quite admirably. Any woman who can raise a boy like him deserves her freedom just as the boy who owns the mind. Alcinous, your mother will gather your belongings and I will have one of my pages find you proper shelter."
Demodocus could only gape, stupified, at the warrior before him. His mother, shocked from her tired lethargy, fell to her knees, kissing Alexander's feet. Alexander laughed, pulling her up again, assuring her that her groveling was not needed.
"Assure me that you will tell others of the heroism of the women of Troy, my lady, as you have taught your son so well."
"I have taught him nothing, my king!" she protested.
"What is your name, my good woman?" Alexander asked pleasantly, ignoring the now astonished sputters from Linus.
"Helia, my king."
"Of the sun," mused Alexander in a thoughtful tone. "Appropriate. The sun illuminates to us the world, helps things to grow, as you have illuminated things to your son, who in turn does so for me, thus creating the growth of thought and wonder."
Helia could only turn to look at her son, who shrugged helplessly. He'd never have thought fetching water would lead to such a strange happenstance. All he did was draw water and sit down to ponder the injustice of the Fates.
"Fetch your things," Alexander gently reminded her and Helia dashed off to do as she was bid. The king gazed at Linus, who stared back dumbfounded. When Helia returned with two bags, one that she handed to her son.
"My king, you cannot be serious!" protested Linus, finally gaining his few wits about him. "They are but slaves! Nothing to your greatness! While I appreciate the coin, these things are not worth such generous giving." He sneered a moment.
Alexander spoke one last time. "Nothing can be revoked or said in vain nor unfulfilled should I nod my head." He turned and walked away, leaving Helia and Demodocus to follow in his wake.
"My king Alexander?" Alcinous called.
"Yes, Demodocus?"
"I thought wrongly earlier today when I saw you and the Lord Hephaestion pay homage to the heroes of Troy."
"How is that?" Alexander stopped but did not turn to face the youth.
"I thought heroes were for stories, gods for the gullible. No heroes ever helped my mother in her life nor did any god or goddess answer my pleas for aid. Until now. The gods surely sent us a hero this night." Demodocus, desperate to show his thanks and appreciation, stumbled over awkward words.
Alexander chuckled. "The gods sent you yourself, Demodocus, I only but listened. Hephaestion and I paid homage to the wrong heroes you thought. Perhaps you were right. Along with your new tent, I will furnish you the offerings to make to the other, less considered heroes of Troy. Sacrifice to Helen, Andromache and Clytaemenstra, noble and cursed women of wartime that they are. If warriors like myself can pay homage to the men of the battlefield, then you and your mother can sacrifice with equal fervor to the wdiows of orphans of the same battlefields."