Odysseus liked the boy. Possibly it was simply because the son of the muse had been the first mortal, god, or shade to speak to Odysseus in a long time. And Robin didn't ask about the war, or the journey home, or even Odysseus's time with Calypso.
No, Robin wanted to know about Ithaca. He wanted to know about hunting the boars with his grandfather Autolycus. He wanted to know the games Eumaeus, Ctimene, and he had played as children. And he wanted to know about Penelope's wedding; what she had worn, who the guests had been, and what sacrifices had been performed. He wanted to know about when Telemachus was young and just learning to walk.
And then he wanted to know about after the war. What had Odysseus done with his life after fighting? When Odysseus was forced to admit "not much", Robin had insisted the ghost tell him more. Overseeing his house. Farming. Arranging Telemachus's marriage.
As he spoke, Odysseus began to wonder. Wondered if the reason Robin was interested was because Robin had never known these things, maybe never would. Robin had lived long enough to have lived all these things dozens of times over, but he had never known his grandfather, or had real friends. He had never married or had any children, or owned a house or farm.
Robin had taken the horse omen hard. Odysseus could see that.
He wasn't sure why he considered doing something about it. It was probably tempting the Fates. But then again, Odysseus was already dead and his eternal judgement passed.
The book was tucked away at the bottom of the boy's bag. Robin probably had forgotten it was there. Odysseus found it ironic and yet appropriate that such a book should be buried under weapons.
The book was a lot like Odysseus's own story, the Odyssey. It contained the story of a great man who had been highly respected by his people. The man had not killed as many monsters as Hercules, nor fought as many battles as Achilles. He had been inclined to brag and possibly even lie. A proud fellow, a loyal subject, and a great king. Not particularly clever, Odysseus thought with a frown, for he relied too much on brawn rather than brain.
Odysseus took the book and placed it on Robin's bed near the boy's hand so that when he woke up he would find it.
Robin woke up at dawn as usual and his hand fell on the familiar cloth cover of a book. He was startled; Robin couldn't remember reading when he had fallen asleep last night. He opened his eyes and caressed the cover.
It was a copy of Beowulf. Robin frowned; he couldn't remember having put the Old English epic in Perseus's wallet.
Never one to question signs, Robin sat up and carefully opened the book. He sat there, reading. Long after the sun rose and even Andy had stumbled out of bed, Robin sat reading.
Suddenly his lips curled into a small smile. He traced one of the lines with his finger and mouthed the words:
"Gæ∂ a wyrd swa hio scel!"
Robin grinned, leaping out of bed and bounding up to the deck.
"Robin?" Andy asked, looking over at him with surprise. "What's wrong?"
She had her sword out in a moment. Nasim thundered up, purple fire crackling around his fingers.
"Gæ∂ a wyrd swa hio scel!" Robin told them, then gave a cartwheel in delight.
"Okay, this time I'm sure it's Swahili," Andy said, sheathing her sword.
"Old English," Nasim identified. "An early form of the English language between the mid-5th and the mid-12th century. But I've no idea what it means."
"Wyrd goes ever as she shall!" Robin translated, leaping up and catching one of the ropes. He hung there for a moment, hanging back and forth. "The Anglo-Saxons had a very different idea of Fate than the Greeks. They called it wyrd. And it could be twisted to one's own devices. You could change it to suit yourself."
"Great!" Andy said, giving the thumbs up. "So, is that good?"
"It's amazing!" Nasim said, looking excited. "This means Robin can interpret the omen as he'd like!"
Robin laughed again and let go of the rope, landing lightly on the deck. "Gæ∂ a wyrd swa hio scel!" he shouted, throwing his head back to the skies and giving a crow of delight.
"Gæ∂ a wyrd swa hio scel!" Nasim and Andy repeated, laughing as well.
For Robin was one of those few people who, when they are really and truly happy, can infect others with that same naive hope that they themselves possess.
And in the shadows, the ghost king of Ithaca smiled, both at their hope and at Robin's infectious delight.
Now, only Robin knew the true reason he had been depressed. It was not for fear of his own death - Robin would have laughed at the idea of such fear - but for fear that he would be too late to save Oenone. Or that Nasim or Andy would die. But wyrd could be changed and Robin could change it to save his friends. He was sure of it.
A/N: Footnotes:
Autolycus: Odysseus's grandfather
Eumaeus, Ctimene: Odysseus's swineherd (who was his playmate when they were children) and his sister.
Telemachus: Odysseus's son
Wyrd: mentioned several times in Beowulf, it is a difficult concept to fully understand. It does not really mean Fate as we would understand it, because it is not well defined and definite. It is determined through ancestry, but also through your own actions. Shakespeare used it to describe the three witches of Macbeth: the weird sisters.